The Forsworn continued to work, cutting cleanly through the corpse with his dagger. It glowed faintly, indicating some sort of magick was set upon it. When finally the hunter found the words, he did so slowly and with a bit of distaste in his mouth. Despite being a manmer himself, Bruoch had no intention of becoming too friendly with the latter half of his racial namesake. One could imagine the backlash that he, a Daedra worshiper, would have received from knife-eared folk of all kinds. His own ignorance left little difference in his mind between a Dunmer and an Altmer. He'd never even heard of Maomer. He'd only met one Bosmer. His experience was limited, so his prejudice was broad.

"[i][b]Keep your thanks to yourself. I'm from the Reach. A little nook in the hills between Falkreath Hold and the Reach my family called Hircine's Cradle.[/b][/i]" His tone was aggressive, and matter-of-fact. As if it should have been known simply by looking at him. Truth be told one probably could know simply by looking at him, but asking questions has harmed few. "[i][b]I care less for where you... One, two, three? Three are from and more where you go. Heading South or moving North? Though... Only two pouches? Looks like you aren't all together.[/b][/i]"

His dislike of mer was still superficial at most, and he knew it. 

So, the least he could consider doing was warning them of the civil war and of the witches hold up in the mountains in the south of Falkreath Hold and the very southern edge of Whiterun Hold. Hags and Hagravens weren't unlikely to cause problems for this handful.

Sure, one might say they look capable enough. Frankly though, he didn't care. Plenty of people [i]look[/i] capable. Plenty of people end up being used to feed the alchemic pursuits of witches, too.

Finally, he stood up straight. While he was mostly obscured in his headdress, a little bit of the glint of his eyes could be seen. "[i][b]You've all heard about the rebellion up North, I assume? That's a place I'd suggest against going towards. War is bad for just about everything but brigands and bounty hunters. Though perhaps none of you take issue with that latter portion.[/b][/i]

He drifted closer, inspecting the burns and the corpse. The tracks along the ground. Those from the night before and from this morning.

"[i][b]This kill is older than a few hours. Man shaped but no head it looks like? No head nearby. A zombie, I'd bet? Whoever uses the crossbow couldn't do much to it, then the mage, mages, or witch burnt the thing down?[/b][/i]" The man tossed out his guess, being careful to avoid assumptions. Internally though, he had an idea of who was who. One of the elves was the pyromancer, but only one of them. Little suggested that a third non-zombie combatant had been in the area. 

Perhaps the Dunmer? They tended to drift towards magic. Fire especially, considering their own immunities to the stuff. This one had a bow, though. There were no arrows, only the remains of bolts. A Nightblade, certainly, but no indication of magic. The girl, however, was another story altogether. She had a bolt quiver. 

The crossbow was hers.

Which left the Altmer. The [i]gross[/i] thing was probably the mage that did the fire damage.

"[i][b]Let me guess, actually. Zombie breaks out of a crypt and harasses a local villager and someone calls for aid. The woman shows up, and tries to shoot a dead thing as if that will have any sort of impact on it.[/b][/i]" He bends down, and feels across the corpse's breast, before finding the impact point of the crossbow bolt that had entered its breast. He put three fingers into the wound, and pulled a charred bolt-head from the creature's injury. "[i][b]High-And-Mighty Elf shows up and burns the zombie to the point where it can no longer move and the animation ends as a result. If it was indeed an animation and not a natural occurrence. Our friend the Ash-Face either chose to not be involved in the fight, or only now arrived with you all. Innkeeper fulfills the bounty payment between two of you, meaning I'd bet that the Dark Elf is a recent arrival to the scene.[/b][/i]"

He was showing off. Of course he was. There were [i]elves[/i] here and he felt quite the need to display a little bit. Time and time again he'd seen Elves act in a way that was contrary to the good of others. He couldn't help but resent that, and saw himself as righteously and kindly displaying the grandeur of his own kith.

"[i][b]How right am I? Wrong?[/b][/i]" He set his dagger in its place on his bag, then placed his hands on his waist.

[@SoulChrysamere][@josephb][@Mixcoatl]