Apparently 'prowlers' were some sort of sub-humans... wretched things that seem to live in the swamps.  Tyr is tired, injured... but he can't let that stop him.  He does glance back behind him, watching townsfolk tend to the injured  man back there.  Too many things to worry about.  He can't rush in blindly this time, but at the same time, he can't give up his well being for Lady Murn, either.  And that means he needs a way to try and give her an advantage.  Moving forward cautiously, glancing around briefly to make sure that he doesn't have too much attention.<br/><br/>Whispered words under his breath, a prayer to Tyr.  The blind, the stupid, the foolish... easily trickable.  Easily deceived.  He's praying that things things are also.<br/><br/>What a coincidence, that at the same time that happens, from behind the prowlers, comes a terrible howl, the baying of hungry wolves straight from hell.  You can almost taste the menace in that sound, something not quite natural about the piercing sound of it.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body">A roll over 8!!!: 1d20a3 Result: 16 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=96265) &lt;note&gt;  I left the +3 accidentally from my last roll.  I have base Initiative, so this is actually a 13.<br/><br/>Currently locked out of this particular map, so assume a move action towards Murn, followed by casting <em>Thaumaturgy </em>for the sound effects.<br/><br/></div></div>