[center][h1][color=dimgray]Caractacus[/color][/h1][/center]
The zombies did their work with alacrity, grabbing whatever murlocs they could, and dragging them ashore to tear them to shreds. Caractacus watched from the lake, not moving as the woodsman, and yet another newcomer did their bloody work. At this point, Caractacus hardly cared to wonder where the horseman came from. Just another warrior to join the mob, and as bonus, he was doing Caractacus' work for him, skewering and chopping apart murlocs. Soon the lake was silent, the corpses of over a dozen murlocs near or in the water. Caractacus called his zombies to gather the lot and pull them together further upshore, away from the campsite.

Caractacus turned around and faced the shore, looking to Alberich as he approached. [color=dimgray]"Ah, yes yes, of course, the v-villagers. I suppose they've served a purpose, yes? It is fair I release them. I shall...send them into the woods, and let them lay th-there. That is acceptable?"[/color] With the murlocs gone, Caractacus had regained his nervous, awkward nature, as though by transformation. He nodded in quickly, starting toward the campfire. [color=dimgray]"I do n-not wish to be rude, but I am in sore need of some rest. It has been a rather, shall we say, long day."[/color]

Wading his way back to dry land, Caractacus crossed past the horseman. He looked up at the knight, giving a nervous smile. Hopefully he wasn't the pious type, one that'd despise his undead. Caractacus knew they must already unnerve some of the group. All it would take is someone speaking up to get the group to drive him away, he was sure. Caractacus continued past the knight, and went to join his zombies. Safe at last. He looked at the pile of murloc corpses, and shuddered. He hated the things, but if using them over his own kept the others from open hostility, they would have to do. Kneeling by the bodies, Caractacus knew he couldn't animate them all tonight. He would need a night's rest, and a full stomach, both of which he did not have. [color=dimgray]"Very well. All of you, march into the woods. Do not stop."[/color] With a sigh, Caractacus ordered his zombies away at last, loath to be without protection for so long. 

Caractacus found a comfortable enough spot near the edge of the wood, wrapping into his cloak to draw whatever warmth he could from the damp cloth. No doubt he'd be unwelcome with the others by the fire. He didn't mind terribly. The cold was a necromancer's home.