Whenever they went over a rut or pothole he tensed his legs and core. Preventing himself from being thrown around and potentially bludgeoning the other passengers with his bulky body. His eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously whenever Bert decided to scowl at him. The big reptilian mans arm looked as thick as Bert's leg, the dragonborn barbarian was not one to be fucked with by common human muscle.

Soon the carriage ride came to an end and they all piled out of the rickety thing. Kharne stepped down into the mud and shifted away from the group before stretching himself out. His joints crackled and snapped loudly as he twisted and moved. [color=red]"Going by foot is fine, a little exercise never hurt anyone."[/color] He rumbled to the old man. A haunted village? Well his language could potentially banish spirits. Hell, could spirits even do anything beyond attempting to scare you?

After getting his kinks worked out he looked around slowly. Looking at the chimneys of the buildings that made up the village. It was clammy, cool because of the fog and humidity. But he didn't really smell any smoke nearby. Instead his nostrils flared, hunting for any odd scents that might be in the air. Blood was familiar, the smell of fog and bog, mud, water, old rotting wood. He bled those smells out, his nose up in the air a bit for anything on an errant breeze.

While using his snoz he was listening to the others. Some wanting an inn, some wanting to look for potential survivors, Bert and Chance seemed ready to get going deeper into the territory. Well, Bert did, Chance was going to get dragged along.