The dirt road made no sound under Taluin's soft yet sure-footed steps as he slowly crossed it, from one side of foliage to the other. His eyes peered ahead for a few moments, taking in the sight of the empty road, before they scanned the tree line and beyond. He was no stranger to being assigned the role of scout, especially when he was one of few with elven blood traveling through a wooded area. He never disclosed that he had not been raised in the green, as none really asked, but he had the same abilities and sensibilities his woodland brothers had. He merely lacked the familiarity with the area and plant-life. He was still agile and perceptive enough to fill the role adequately. He raised his honey-colored gaze to the sky, knowing that the caravan was stopping sometime around high-sun for a midday break, and sighed. He was not tired, would not tire before the day was out, and would rather push on, but the decision was not his to make. His head swiveled around first, to look backwards, even though he knew he was too far to see the caravan. Staying in the tree line, he double-backed, his steps as silent in the trees as they were on the road.
Taluin had not strayed so far ahead that the caravan could come to any danger on the road in the gap between them, and he and some of the other guards had worked out a flare system to alert him if something happened while he was ahead (the same, of course, was communicated to any rear guard of the caravan as well, had any been appointed). Because it took him some time to return he realized they had stopped before he had turned back. The caravan came into his view eventually, and he could see it from far off, but he also noticed the lack of movement that usually came along with it. He paused, viewing the clearing from his spot in the forest through trees and leaves aplenty. It made him uneasy to not see at least one of their guards milling about the perimeter. No flare had alerted him. He wondered briefly if they were just all huddled over something particularly interesting, but he knew these men, not in a personal but a professional sense, and that even if that were true there would still be at least one guard in sight. They hired him because he was efficient (and cheap, but he knew he had more to offer than that), and they were not the kind to open themselves to attack just because their guards saw something shiny. They were too experienced.
Slim fingers caressed the hilt of Tal's longsword. He did not want to approach too hastily. He knew not how far any hostile force had gotten on his side of the road, but he also didn't know if there was any hostile force at all. His first idea was just to approach the caravan through the forest, but he didn't know if said hostile force had come from the forest. With a grimace, he decided on staying on the edge of the road. This way, he wasn't out in the open, but not deep in the forest where he could be easily ambushed. There was no perfectly safe option. His hand dropped from his sword and he moved forward without a sound. Once set on his approach he moved quickly.
The sight of the caravan was not what he expected. He could soon make out the details of the camp, and the figures inside of it from his spot in the trees. He realized was what going on relatively quickly once he saw the horned figure shrouded in flora on the other side. Taluin had spent most of his days on hire as something, a scout, a guard, a thief, and almost all of that time was spent on the road in some way. He had traveled wooded areas countless times and was no stranger to those who called it home.
Satyrs were an annoying sort. Their only purpose was to cause problems and delays for those traveling through their domain. When Tal got his way in dealing with the things in the past, he chose to do so by driving them away with a threat of force before they became a true nuisance. The creatures weren't evil, but they lacked respect for anything other than their own amusement. He’d rather scare them off than have to deal with their childish pranks. Most satyrs, as he figured this one would, would move on relatively quickly once they realized their antics were not humored by the victims. The elf was actually impressed the satyr managed to catch such a large group in his song, but he was a fool to reveal himself before the targets were completely asleep. There were too many people in the caravan for one satyr to be powerful enough to fight against all of their wills at once, especially when there was both a spellcaster and several dwarves in their midst (or, at least, it would be both unlikely and unlucky to find one who was). Maybe if he wasn't alone he could have kept control over them, but no ally appeared to help him sing his song. Offhand, Taluin know of at least ten bodies in the camp. And that was only the guards he knew, the two merchants he knew of, and the few other travelers who had also joined the caravan. Having realized where their newfound drowsiness had stemmed from, the members of the caravan would surely become much harder to enchant, and then the sheer larger number of them would swing things in their favor.
He was going to approach things more calmly, until he got close enough to catch the sight of own of their dwarf flinging himself at the goat once he emerged from the tree line. Tal stifled a laugh, his mouth cocking to the side for a moment. The dwarf’s aim, at least from the elf’s distance, looked true, and Tal would be surely impressed if the animal could keep up his song after that. Still, he walked toward the clearing, grabbing a rock the size of his fist and tossing it up and down a few times as he went. He didn’t get too close to the satyr, and started singing a song under his own breath, not wanting to hear the creature’s song as more than a muffled melody under his own. He looked again to see the outcome of the dwarf’s strike.
