Lachyn froze as he finally reached the mountain's summit and looked down into the village.
Or, rather, what was left of it.
It had been decimated, burned to the ground, and nothing remained of the houses but smoldering ruins. He blinked down at the wreckage, and his hand hovered, for a moment, between his sword, and his lute.
His fingers closed around his lute, his other hand automatically reached back to undo the straps, and he sat down and began to play, softly. The tune was an old one, one his mother had sung to him as a child, but he changed the chords, giving it a more melancholy feel. Under his breath, he began to sing, making up a few lines about the tragic, senseless destruction of a village at the mountain's foot, then abruptly stood, swung the lute back onto his back, and began the hike down the mountain.
He reached the village, and now it was his sword that he drew, and used it to dig through the still-smoking remains. There were footprints in the dusty road, and he bent to examine them. Not, he was certain after only a glance, Kellith's. It didn't seem like the sort of thing the Medallion caused, anyways. A fair fight, one-on-one, was much more the style of someone possessed by that charm.
He looked again at the footprints, curious. They were very strange, one of them ordinary, the other one larger, flatter. They continued down the road. At one point, they turned, and then walked on.
Lachyn wasn't much of a tracker, but he knew no ordinary person could have made those tracks. Who would have destroyed a village like this, without hesitation, without mercy?
He sang of few more lines of his earlier song and kept walking.
OoC: Hope you don't mind my jumping in. I've got no experience, but this should help me.
