Brent
*Sherlock would've walked among the glistering forest as his hands touched the tough as rock oaks whenever he passed any-previously before this he had done a job for a wealthy dwarf with information or a clue that was personal info to him, so much so that he murdered a few innocent civilians for it. He of course felt remorse for them as anyone would after murdering a parents with their children peaking to see this assassination that would leave them as orphans. Though he quickly got over the guilt feeling that would drive people to insanity and have it be replaced with his primary goal set in mind that had him do this act like replacing a sword.*

*Looking at the tracks and investigating the area for any clues that he might find his mother's kidnappers like a mice looking for food, he found their insigma of this group. Grabbing the bloody silver piece he inspected it further and noticed a trial of blood. He glanced back at the piece and he immediately felt anger at the fact that he was to late to kill and get the info for himself. Someone had beat him to it. Following the crimson river he came across two wolves dead with deep slashes on their black tough of a fur skin, and the man's right thigh chewed on, flees slowly feasting on the wound, the man looking pale as snow. Another trail that indefinitely made this man's colour truly define this investigation as cold. He approached and immediately sweared at the dead corpse before punching it a few times like a ragdoll.*

*His anger slowly flying away, he further inspected the wounds on the man, noticing arrow shots from the neck which he looked around. He felt uneasy at this area...*
Tara
*To add to his nervousness, after just a few moments of looking around he would feel a vibration in the ground, accompanied by a bassy crashing sound. 
Followed closely by a tree hitting the ground with a loud crack. 

Heavy footfalls are heard, and said tree is then being moved rapidly, causing twigs and branches to crack and break. 


The one who is causing such a ruckus is Ellasarra, a 8 foot woman with wings twice as long as shes tall. 
Apart from her upper torso her entire body seems made of stone, explaining why ever footfall sounded like that of an elephant. She probably weighed just as much. 
Around her shoulder hangs a pouch, about the size of a regular backpack, apparently all she needed stuffed inside. 

Having flown all day, a miracle that she could at all, her wings had gotten tired and most her magic depleted. Finding herself forced to land she tried her best to find a clearing, but still took one of the trees out clean. 
Currently, shes trying to put it back the way she found, dragging it around and trying to erect the wooden club, futily so. 

A second crash echoes through the forest as the tree bark underneath her grip slips away from her, and the tree hits the floor a second time.

She's oblivious to anyones presence, be it sherlock or others, and is currently whispering something to herself, while trying to fix her mistake*
Louise
Think you can get a GM or any at all? Or you gonna one shot the bandits and then talk with Sherlock.
Brent
*Sherlock immediately sensing the intense vibrations of what seemed to him like clouds falling and stars dropping, he immediately thrown his hood over himself and ran towards a tree-where he accidently bumped into the sight of Ellasarra-which he glared at her for a moment before making a run for it but then immediately being stopped by an arrow, nay! A bolt, looking to see where that shot came, he noticed some people hiding behind a bush. Around 6 people with 2 crossbows were aiming at him, seeing one tried to kill him-the other bolt hit near Ellasarra.*

*Surprised and out of plans or having his ideal scenery ruined by a few hunters or at first it seems that way, he immediately ran towards a boulder, taking cover. Looking behind him, he would've tried his best to avoid her but now seeing that they both are being targeted at for whatever reason he looked back over the rock to try and take a peak. Bolts flew once again, both of them hitting the boulder. While thinking of a plan, he started to think who did this to him-or who men they were, it was the Dwarves. To his mind, the Dwarf wants a human head to be displayed in his case of trophies or perhaps being sold in the black market or whatever is left. Though the real reason of him being targeted will have to be found by the crouching shadows among the trees like bushes.*