A hush fell over the group at Crow's question and after a few seconds of them all exchanging awkward glances he scoffed throwing himself backwards into the grass.
"On'y thing we can do manling, even if no one else wants to say it. We find 'er and we kill the bitch."
Crow pushed himself up a bit too quickly, wincing in pain and holding his chest as he did so. He looked briefly as if he was going to argue before nodding. "But... where do we find her? This crowd is vast, families are probably split up and looking for each other, how are we supposed to find one woman, who probably doesn't want to be found?"
"We could find whoever is representing the mages guild down here? They might be able to find her with magic?" Eliana suggested, but Grundown shook his head.
"They're gon' be too busy lass. Even if it is one of their own we'd be findin'..." he looked thoughtful for a second, though a look of defeat passed over his face. "I know someone who could find her, usin' that locate spell. The one that Gregory used to find those missin' children late last year."
Grundown raised his eyebrows. "Who?"
The dwarf braced, hating the idea long before it reached his lips. "Gregory."
Aylix was first through the trees into a small clearing where the fighting was coming from. In the clearing chaos was strewn about the place, the long wild grass flattened and stained with blood. One corpse lay in a oddly shaped circle in the centre of the clearing and another lay just outside it. Two men were fighting with a single werewolf, their blades useless against its thick fur and even as the pair arrived, one of the men started to back away to leave his companion on his own. Using the space, the werewolf swatted its opponents sword away, before driving its claws deep into his chest. A brief gurgled cry of Krygan passed his lips as the werewolf threw it to the ground roughly, advancing on the last opponent who had made a break for the treeline where Aylix and Gregory had emerged, chanting Seraklan's name like a litany - oblivious to the Crowan and the militiaman - constantly looking over his shoulder at the approaching werewolf.
Exchanging a look, Aylix brought up his foot to land a heavy kick to the Seraklanites gut, doubling him over and leaving him sprawled on the grass. The man gasped for air, staring at disbelief at the two man as they stepped back. A werewolf landed heavily on his head and then - he knew no more as the wolf tore out his throat.
The wolf stood cautiously, blood dripping from his muzzle, looking at the two newcomers, taking in their appearance and smells, very interested in Gregory with his holy symbol and robes.
"Praise be to Crowa. Praise be the Seven." Gregory said with a small bow of his head. "We are not your enemy."
The wolf snarled and bounded past the pair, disappearing into the trees that they had come from. There was a loud cracking of bones and several seconds later High Father Aston emerged from between the trees. "How can I be sure you are who you say you are, with so many of the followers of the Liar abroad?"
"Yer can't, and despite the fang around yer neck, we can't be sure you're a Longstorian either by that logic. But, I'm Cap'n Aylix Goth of the Mercia militia, and this sourpuss is 'igh Father Greg Chrace of Crowa. We're escorting a group of escapees to Netherthong, includin' a little girl of about nine. We heard your fight, thought we'd come to see if we could help, then realised you had it covered." Aylix's lips twitched into a smile. "Course you were a bit slow catchin' that last one."
The Longstorian narrowed his eyes in a glare at Aylix before letting out a snort and a wolfish grin appeared on his lips. "Well met. High father, Captain. I am High Father Aston Fillion of the pack of the Fang. Today - it seems - is a good day to hunt Kryganites and their allies."
Gregory shook his head almost perceptibly, obviously not enamoured by the Longstorian. "What were they doing here?"
"Some kind of ritual from what I can gather. They'd completed it as well before I got here..." Aston snarled, walking over to the oddly shaped circle they had seen before which - they could see now - was actually in the shape of a two halved mask. The outline had been marked out with a white power that had a musty smell to it, and candles - a couple of which were still lit while others were scattered.
"Who's the poor sap in the middle?" Aylix asked looking over the body. It looked like their throat had been cut, almost sacrifice style but there was, oddly, no blood in the patch of ground.
The werewolf shrugged. "I know not. He has his peace with the land now though. Does it matter?"
The militiaman shook his head. "I guess not. It would be nice to know what they're doing here though."
"I know not, though they aren't the first we've seen. Always followers of the Liar doing rituals with a sacrifice... and they're always in places that followers of the Mother of Monsters did their rituals first." Aston bore his teeth. "Or started to."
"So whatever they're doing is designed to interrupt something the Kryganites did?" Gregory frowned.
"Or... they're doing it on places of great power." the werewolf said grimly.