The blood trail on the road fades to nothing after about a half mile and the hoof-prints get softer after about 5. 10 miles down the road, you come by a grey war-horse in Fask barding. She is slumped down on her side, in pain and dying of exhaustion. Myran kneels down and says “Fask bastards don’t give a crap about their horses. They pushed her far past the breaking point. There’s nothing we can do for her by mundane means”
You hear a voice say “try magic”. A human male appearing to be in his mid 30’s steps into view out of the underbrush. He wears a chain-shirt under a grey and green trench coat with a hood. Hides are put into place in various locations on the coat and threaded with grass and fresh branches from the local flora. He wears a pair of loose fitting green leggings and a pair of knee-high leather boots. His lower face is covered with a wool mask and he has an oak-leaf tattooed over his left eye. He carries a warhammer and a sickle and has a bow slung over his back.
The man gives a traditional salute recognized by the elves among you. “Harxen Jethralli.” he says “You must be Milo’s friends. He sent word you were on your way.” Harxen sheaths his sickle on his hip and slings the warhammer over his back.
“I’ve been tracking that caravan since last night. Right now I have my eagle, freefeather, tracking them from the air. They aren’t exactly subtle. Any untrained idiot could track them with the trail they’re leaving. Weslyth won’t risk war by going after them, so they don’t need to worry about being sneaky anymore. They’re going heavy. Some of the escort split off after they crossed the border, but it’s still not a group we should go after head-on. Last count, I had 4 knights, 12 musketeers and a general supervising the whole force. In a cruel efficiency typical of Fask, the prisoners are being made to pull the supply carts now that the horses are dead. Racist fucks have already started branding the elves and gnomes.” Enfys shifts uncomfortably and starts massaging her left shoulder-blade. She fumbles for a cigarette and lights it.
Harxen continues: “Also, I’ve found out they aren’t being taken to Fask. The caravan is bound for Kaptal and the prisoners are being sent to work there in the foundry at Gorch’thul.”
Myran loads her crossbow and says “No way in the seven hells is that going to happen. Let’s go hit these fuckers.”
Harxen offers to lead you through a shortcut in the woods which will head the caravan off and he hands you three maps of potential ambush sites he and freefeather have discovered and offers to fill you in on details he wasn’t able to put on the maps while you walk with him.