Amy
"Coward." He says, "And calling them 'two-legs' is an odd choice, but I suppose it makes sense for a werewolf... Even though they still walk on two legs." He says to himself, giving chase to the dunmer, staying in the treetops, "Afraid of a little confrontation?"
Brenda
The dunmer had some legs, propelling himself up a hill, over a log, past a bit of jagged rocks, and then landing lightly in a hunker in a bed of leaves, where he lay there listening to the commotion outside the woods. 

Talking voices, some high, some low. Panic, disgust, outrage. The usual, when you're a caravan of *Maybe-bandits* Coming across your peers in pieces. 

"Can't track dead men back to their stores with no scent leads can you? You sound like a treed fop, not a necromancer."
Leroy
He chuckles, keeping decent pace with the dunmer, "I don't need scent, I can see you through the trees, you're alive, aren't you?" He says, spell casting can be heard, only one spell, though. "If by 'treed fop' you mean Bosmer, no I'm not. Just an elf who likes staying out of sight." He says nothing on the Necromancer remark. He also seems oddly dedicated to keeping up conversation
Brenda
"Whatever you say you are, you're a bit dimwitted. This conversation is going to draw attention. Do I need to shoot you out of the tree? Maybe climb it and chew you up?" The dark elf growled from his leafy bed. 

One ear was craned on the commotion on the other side of the trees. Someone was weeping like the world had ended for them.