There is nothing magical about either the birds or the straps they wear. They must have been trained. Although I fail to see the purpose of why they were sent here to attack. Unless of course they were meant to find Mr Rogue alone scratching his head wondering where the house went. If that is the case, I believe you can thank my companions for preserving your life Mr Rogue.
He stares at the man meaningfully before turning back to his companions.
I recognise this brand, I believe. G ... for Gabbiano ... that sounds about right. A noble Venzan house. A noble's game indeed. If the tracks lead nowhere, I'm sure asking the owner of these birds will shed new light on our growing mystery.
He turns back to Roug scratching his beard thoughtfully.
And yet you say a dirty woodsman sold you Mr Ryall's fine house with purple stained windows you say Mr Rogue? Or did I hear you say hut? Why don't you be a little more explicit with your description of events when you bought ... the ... err ... hut. How much did you pay? And be so kind as to describe this shabby hut that you bought, if you'd be so kind. And this dirty woodsman? Did he have a name, a face, a race ... come Mr Rogue, think! You are lucky to be alive! And if it can happen once it can happen again. For some reason someone wants you dead, and right now only we stand between them and you!
He patiently waits for Roug's response. Then he turns to Ryall.
Now, Mr Ryall, my simple farmer friend ... you mentioned knowing a bandit with a stash ... of what exactly?! Daylily, perhaps you'd like to show Mr Ryall the blood on your sword, it might help him refresh his memory ... and loosen his simple peasant tongue. Why is it you know a bandit at all Mr Ryall? Speak ... let loose with tight lips and tongue before tongue is loosened from head!!