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[center][b]Kalar Splint, Chief Ranger of Galuntrung Keep.[/b][/center]

[center][b]Ten miles north east of Merandin, along the Geshmere Road.[/b][/center]

[color=82ca9d]"I know of no man who can do this."[/color]

Uncertain words boded ill in uncertain times, and the slight faltering of Liara's tone carried on the gathering wind like an omen of things to come. Something evil stalked the land, something unnatural; the aging Ranger sensed it, though he could make no claim to being more than just a man. He'd seen many terrible things in his years, but this was the first time in a long while that he felt a stirring in his gut. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but reminded him of the [i]early days[/i], where he would nervously lay in wait for those who had done wrong to others. Fear? Anxiety? 

He shook the thoughts away and refocused himself.

Kalar stood over his Ace, looking past her shoulder at the ruined remains of what was once a man. Presumably. Entrails, caked in soot but still red with blood, snaked their way into the ruins of a nearby wagon. The expression on the man was not the one of horror, nor the one of anger, but something altogether more eery. Kalar stared into that scorched face, and after a few moments, he shuddered a little. 

"That's a face of lost hope, if I ever saw one," he growled, taking time to wipe some of the rain from his face with the back of his sodden sleeve. "This man accepted his fate the same way I'd accept mine if I came upon the Great Reaper himself. Whatever happened here, whatever beast tore this man asunder, we must be wary." 

Kneeling down beside Liara, he started to move his hand over the corpse. The man's flesh had gone cold, but Kalar gripped a blacked limb and tried to move it; the extremity was as stiff as iron. "Dead a few hours," he muttered. "Not long enough for the rigor to fade. Our foe cannot be far." 

He stood back, uncertain of how to proceed. They had no leads, and no idea where the ones responsible for this slaughter had headed. Was he dealing with men, or with beasts? Or both? The plains were a large place to lose yourself in, and Kalar would know. He wanted vengeance for these people, but he wasn't going to risk his men chasing ghosts in the endless expanse. 

"To answer your question, Liara, this caravan was likely carrying furs to Merandin from Okly - a little trading village about ten miles east of here; deals primarily in animal wares," he said, not looking at her, but at something in the dirt. A brass circle, with some partially obliterated embroidery. "I recognize the seal of Okly," he continued, picking up the brass, "they're good people, shrewd but agreeable in most cases. A lot of coin goes through there considering how small the place is, and I reckon someone must be missing the dead - if not the goods. I reckon we'd best pay a visit, and see if the traders have any information that may help piece things together." 

Throwing the brass circle back into the wreck, he turned to his rangers who remained scattered throughout the caravan and started barking a command. "We're moving east to Okly, make yourselves ready in five minutes. String bows, keep swords loose in your scabbards. I don't want to blunder into ... into whatever did this." 

The rangers scrambled to obey, forming up into a column besides the caravan. As if agreeing with their intent, the storm started to retreat into a patchy down pour though the wind increased its tenacity. 

Kalar knelt down again besides Liara and hushed his tone, "Liara, I want you to head out a league ahead of us. Your eyes and your grace put an old codger like me to shame, and I don't trust the boys not to walk us into an ambush. Stop when you reach the village, or double back at the first sign of trouble. I fear for Okly, though I know not why."