[h3]Irah and Lhirin, Outside Healer's House, Borstown[/h3]
With both of the deigan travelers examining the scene, each perceptive and intelligent in their own way, it was not too difficult to deduce a general state of affairs and series of events.
Lhirin's casting of [I]elucidate[/I] revealed that the only magical energy glowing in the area was what he was spending on the spell itself. Whatever had happened here, it did not appear that magic had been involved.

Looking at everything else, a vague outline of the situation began to crystallize for the two of them:
The door to the healer's house had been beaten in from the outside, and the pattern of cracks in the wood seemed to suggest that it had been smashed in by multiple impacts side by side. It was not localized enough to suggest the use of an actual battering ram, nor did the door seem sturdy enough to call for such measures. It rather seemed as though someone, perhaps multiple someones, had destroyed it just by repeatedly throwing their body-weight against it.
Outside the house the tracks were chaotic, overlapped and made it difficult to follow any one set of specific tracks. It was clear that there had been at least a dozen people here in fervent motion, boots digging up ground and kicking up bits of grass and soil.
Blood was similarly going this way and that in the area, having been splattered and sprayed over the ground in a way that clearly suggested that fighting had happened here, with numerous injuries. There were also four much more localized puddles of blood in places where the grass had been flattened top-down rather than in any particular direction, in ways that seemed to draw a contour that could be a close approximation of a humanoid figure.
Combined with the other signs of a skirmish having taken place, it would not be a stretch to deduce that the broken wooden handle on the ground was either from a spear or another polearm that had snapped during the fighting, though it appeared the weaponized end of it had been carried away.
Two distinct trails seemed to leave the scene: one that seemed to have fewer drips of blood along it and thus be less obvious that lead around the right side of the healer's house and seemingly toward the forest to the northeast; and one that was much more obvious owing to the smears of blood along the ground starting at the puddles, suggesting that bodies had been dragged along that path. This trail headed up the road to the northwest, toward the crossroad.

Pushing aside the broken door hanging off its hinge, Irah would see that the inside the house was remarkably mostly intact. A small table and a chair seemed to have been knocked over near the door, but there was no blood inside the house. Otherwise the house was about what one might expect from the home of a healer and pharmacist: a pleasant, if slightly cramped, space in the front to live and receive patients, and a combined workshop and storage in the back, with cupboards and cabinets lining the walls and a table with quite a kind of assembled alchemical equipment that would be quite familiar to Irah.
All of the cabinets and cupboards were open, however, and many of them seemed to be empty. Otherwise the interior of the house seemed untouched.

[h3]Yanin and Jordan, outside the Fadewatcher station, Borstown[/h3]
Yanin listening at the door would not hear much in terms of voices other than the sounds of pain and injury he had already identified at first. After a couple of seconds, however, he might have been able to hear the sound of quickened footfalls on a wooden floor for just several seconds, followed by a male voice, muffled by the door, seemingly speaking in a soothing, if panicked, manner.

The children being addressed by Jordan – five human children, seemingly with ages ranging from around eight to thirteen – stared at him with nervous fascination, though none of them seemed particularly inclined to follow his instructions to leave.
When Jordan mentioned bringing a healer, the presumably oldest child – a thirteen year old boy – sniffed loudly before bluntly stating: “The bandits took our healer. There's no one to get.”

Yanin yanked the door open and revealed the interior of the station. The interior itself was somewhat familiar to him, standard as it was for this type of minor Fadewatcher station: the end furthest toward him was occupied by tables, chairs and a fireplace that was faintly smoldering, but practically burnt out. On the right side of the room there was also a stairway going down to a basement. Past this living area were the rows of beds lined along each wall.
Blood dotted the floor in here in varying degrees, most of it in relatively sparse drips, others in more worrying, larger and more frequent splotches, and others yet that seemed smeared from a body being dragged. The smears seemed to mostly go from the door Yanin had just opened and down the stairs.
Six of the fourteen beds arrayed in the other end of the barrack were occupied by people, many of which were still in partial armor with only obstructing pieces having been removed, with bandages covering various wounds. Some bandages looked fairly clean still, others with dots of blood. A few bandages looked as though they had been soaked through entirely. While four of the six were making noise and gently writhing in place, the last two – the ones with the most obviously drenched bandages and mattresses – lay completely still.
A seventh figure, a young man that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, was on his feet, drenched in sweat and in the middle of changing a bandage of one of the wounded. He was still in his almost gear, including the tabard with the Fadewatcher-insignia on it, though he had discarded his helmet and gauntlets for the moment.
The intact-seeming Fadewatcher jolted upright when the door was opened and stared at Yanin with eyes wide in panic, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment. “Please, no more!”