Thrayn watched as his companion sat down into his trance. "Make this quick. Masking the magic within us will do no good if someone sees you working sorcery," he grunted in the Norther tongue. He grimaced and took a step between Carith and the village. Staring down at the rubbish heap, he waved Rongald to his side.
Rongald had yet to become used to Thrayn's current appearance. The masking ritual he had worked on himself and Carith had done more than just hide their sorcerous nature - the aura of magic that infused them, Thrayn especially. Now, he and Carith looked much like the other two men - non-descript Dornish travellers equiped for a hard journey. However, always stoic, Rongald approached the snow Elf and peered down to where he pointed. "Aye, a rubbish heap. I don't understand."
Thrayn spoke without looking away, merely cocking his head to one side. "There are bones in that heap, human bones. Armor too, possibly more. Oruks or raiders would have taken prizes and Legate's men would have taken the useful items to bolster their stores. Something may be wrong here." He let the words hang in the air accompanied only by Rongald's grunt of acknowledgement.
Whisper shuddered as the connection was made with his master, and Carith received an image of the bird eating from his hand. For Whisper, this was a sure sign of happiness. Banking on an updraft the raptor soared out over the village, keen eyes picking out many details for Carith to decipher.
Of note, not a single orc was visible, and Men carried weapons openly within the walls of the village. There was a burnt-out building, probably a warehouse, by the main entrance, which was kept closed unless granting a villager passage. Open, closed. Open, closed. ANd there were over two dozen armed men, certainly.
The walls had recently been reinforced with earthworks, leaving something like a dry moat around the village wall, and spikes rose up within the trench, looking like so many blades of grass from that high altitude.
Outside the village, the remnants of a bonfire with numerous skulls and bones. The bird's sharp eyes had no difficulty determining that these were Orc skulls, at least the ones Whisper looked at. There were charred weapons within the pile too, and small bits of armor, some of which looked quite serviceable. ~Very odd~, he thought to himself.
The biggest note of interest, however, was the figure of a large man tied spread-eagle on a wooden "X", which was held upright by two stout wooden poles. The man wore torn and rent armor, near-priceless platemail, but his hands were nailed and tied to the wooden frame, as were his legs. The figure twitched violently, constantly, though it was clearly highly decayed.
Whisper gave the figure a long look before slowly banking again, now towards the red pillar of stone. It was massive, standing at least twenty feet high. The top was nearly smooth, an irregular circle some 30 feet in diameter. About the edge, a wooden pallisade, some of the wood still green. A means of entry or exit was not visible, however. Men worked with hammers and chisels and axes atop the unnatural stone formation.
Carith urged Whisper to fly back, and then broke the mental link. After the moment of dizziness passed, which always followed the disconnect with his feathered friend, Carith stood slowly. " I do not think we will have much to fear from this village, at least if we can convince them that we are not their enemies. There are no orcs in the town, and men walk with weapons held in the open. They have started to build defenses around the village, and to fortify the pillar of rock over there. They burned a lot of orc bodies recently, and some buildings in town, and I think they killed their Legate and left him to rise as one of the Fell. These men are dangerous, but I think we can win them to our side. Besides, they will need all the help they can get if any of them are going to survive the retributive assult that is sure to come."
Carith hoisted his pack up onto his shoulders and started to walk towards the village, Whisper landing on his shoulder after half a dozen steps.