Branches bend but never snapped, bushes swayed but never rustled, the shrouded men and women weaved through the shadows as they followed suit, stalking the members of the Nightfall as they approached the secluded manor of Lord Ravenholt. With their decades of training and experience, their skills would still beat their guests, even though their view of concern should be the worgen members; bestial humans cursed beyond the walls of Gilneas.
Crossbows were strung to take aim as the sharpshooters took their places among the small hideouts within the small secluded claw of the mountains. Though they were invited to stay, they were still taking in with the utmost concern and preparations. The cloaks of Ravenholt did not feel the pure safety among creatures of the muscle packed and ferocity that worgens could bring in small confined areas. Aim taken upon the characters they had scouted out to be officers, or at least champions of the Nightfall Brigade.
The Marshal's ears flicked and twitched but was never able to fully pinpoint the soft sounds within the green of the land, the grey of the mountain or the shadows that was bathed across the little valley. His nose was in a fit of confusion and he was not the only one. His staff, his people, officers, champions and soldiers - all who was cursed had their senses bombarded by odours that did not smell to belong and sounds, that sounded forced.
Lieutenant Blackweald reached out to signal the brigade to be careful. Without the gift of the curse, Natascha was bound to strain herself more to compete against her furry subjects as she kept her attention peaked, and right now she saw something she had not expected.
The Ravenholt Manor were prepared for the Brigade, in this case, more than they thought. The guards at the entrance were clanking their blades against the stone walls in harmony with the sentries on the balcony who were thumping their feet on the wooden boards as the loomed over the training ground, were members had seen themselves to put up more an act than a fight - all to play with the bestial senses of the Brigade.
You can quit your games, Ravenholt! We're here as guests and not threats, ye might be confusing the best of our senses but we aren't all stupid
, Natascha Blackweald chuckled as she realized that she might've cause a slight insult upon some members of the Brigade, she would most likely have to pay for that later. Even as a lieutenant, you still had off-duty time. This'll most likely cost her a wet blanket, or someone praising their concern by explaining their sheer intellect of them to be that of something, someone - she's had all the excuses before.
Seems we are the first?
she spoke calmly and direct as her own keen ears caught the sound of the Marshal closing in on her, though it wasn't difficult to track the man. He was wearing plate and his strode was that of a man with his unit at his side. Proud and loud. Something to admire but also something that made her annoyed. She swung her leg up on the saddle for a more casual perch as the Highland steeds closed up around her, as well as unmounted paws padding along the graveled surface.
"We're almost home", echoed through the Brigade as they heaved their packs around.