"Good job," Markus told her, letting his blade linger in the dark elf's throat for a few moments as the blade lapped up the blood. He wasn't quite sure what purpose it served when Markus was relatively uninjured, but he felt the thing thirst and saw no harm in it. Pulling the sword out, he sheathed it with an ease despite his eyes gazing at the corpses rather than his scabbard. 

"I doubt those are the last two dark elves in Naggaroth." Emmaline said, dropping the bough to the ground and wiping her hands on her dress.

"For once, you're right." The pirate agreed, kneeling down and searching the still-warm cadavers. He found a few coins of unusual mint, a green vial of Sigmar-only-knew-what, as well as a simple steel dagger. Pocketing the coins and the liquid, he spun the knife betwixt his fingers and presented it to Emmaline, hilt first. Once she took it, he unclasped a cloak and experimentally wrapped it about his form. There was a small splotch of blood on the tail end, but he doubted that was an anomaly in drucchi society. "Take off the elf's shirt and shoes, and wrap the cloak around yourself." 

"I suppose that would work," she pondered, considering. "The armor?" 

"Not sure. It might fit me, but it would never fit you. You'd be best acting keeping yourself cloaked." He said, and when he saw her looking at him dubiously, he smirked a smirk that showed his teeth. He looked somehow both handsome and yet very much like a shark. "You're not fat, but no elf has tits like that." 

They got dressed quickly, and whilst Emmaline asked for and gazed at a few of the coins for her 'magic' which Markus was certain was her only motivation, he dragged the naked corpses into the reeds to keep them hidden from any more wandering patrols. Afterwards, he took the knife he had granted Emmaline and shaved as closely as he could. No elf he had ever seen had facial hair, and though he only sported a small fraction of what could be considered a beard, he needed to be as elf-like as he could. 

"Do we know where we're going?" Emmaline asked as Markus slid the knife up his left chin. 

"I'll follow their tracks." He explained. "They stepped lightly, but with luck I can do it. Do us a favor and don't breathe too loudly or stumble. And we won't go exactly where they came from. Just close enough to see if we can find any sort of settlement. We don't want to be where others are expecting our dead friends. We just want to walk in as if we already belong."