[h1][center]Kapti Van Ken[/center][/h1]

The man turned his head away from the pit, and gripped his splitting maul in both hands with a ferocity that ramped suddenly. The whispers in the pit, the tracks around it, and the strangers that burst from the crypts. He barked very suddenly, and with an intensity that rivaled that of a raging mut. His words seemed monstrous for the first moment before the sound and shock twisted up into those hateful and inquisitive words:

"[b]What goes on below the town? What queer majiks do yu employ to make thisere desecrated grave call for my company?[/b]"

His words gave themselves power as he seized forward with great steps that shook his gear and made it dangle with some amount of intensity. He planted himself adjacent to their path, not intent on blocking their progression. Instead he kept his maul extended gently so as to ensure he had the advantage of distance while he questioned the strangers with as much harshness as he could muster. The animal moving in the sack seemed altogether representative of their strangeness, and what the individuals themselves might have been up to.

"[b]Dump the sack.[/b]" He gestured, his right hand sparing a finger to point at the squirming vessel, before resettling his grip on his weapon and continuing to snarl while he spoke. "[b]Whot's on. One o' yu tell me before I go'nd call for thee churchmen and the Lord's officiators of the law.[/b]" There was an ambivalence in even the way he moved. He didn't recognize all too well this plethora of creatures in front of him: The dark one, the older fellow, the girl, the woman. These alien individuals. He would proceed with such uncomfortable presentation of himself for the time being. Not as though he had particular control over the moment. Something dreadful about the beckoning of the void, stronger than his normal urges, had brought him great and ferocious horror.

[@LordOfTheNight][@shylarah][@Rosenrot][@Overlord Thraka]