Well, whatever killed them, they were dangerous enough to kill three armed men (though all three of the weapons are currently secured in their scabbards). If you’re asking about mistwolves in particular, they’re as physically capable as a normal wolf, but completely fearless and wounds caused by mistwolf bites tend to become infected very quickly.
None of the riders’ bodies have anything but their weapons and the clothes on their backs.
"Competent? I suppose I am, at that. I will cast around for leads around these corses; wolves are not unfamiliar and I know their habits. Keep thy dog back, that he may not destroy any sign left by who or what assaulted these men.
Cyrus manages to pull back his excited dog. The ground is firm and any tracks are faint but Walter identifies marks left by at least five more horses heading north-northeast. They can only be traced about fifty yards before the ground becomes unreadable. It’s difficult to gauge how old the tracks are. There are no signs identifying the attackers. Whatever killed these men didn’t leave tracks in the hard ground.
To Hrothgar: “Keep your wits about. I don’t want to die with weapons still sheathed, like this lot did. It looks like those beasts work quickly.”
To the group: “It’s clearly not safe here. Once Walter’s finished, we’ll ride through the night to the edge of the Greatwood. We’ll rest tomorrow.”
To nobody in particular: “Oh yes, mistwolves. Frightful beasts. I have read about them before. And that’s not all that comes from that strange mist. Dread the day we ever meet up with a groo or jabberwocky! Ah, there was never any need to fear such terrible creatures around the castle grounds. Isn’t that right, brother?” Baldur’s squirrel pokes his cute, fuzzy head up from his vest pocket. The squirrel chatters excitedly.
“Yes yes of course, Týr, you are right as usual. We mustn’t tarry here. Onward we go.”
“I also say we continue onward as to not become the next set of corpses.”
Needing no second telling, Hrothgar has his axe within easy reach and his crossbow ready for action.
“May be that these poor devils were slain treacherously by other humans, and the bite marks come later, from carrion beasts. Murder be likelier than magic wolves, any day.”
*The group rides on through the night, the temperature plummeting. The cold nights in the Greatwood are eerie; the darkness is oppressive and the frosty air painful to breathe. The hours march on slowly until at last morning arrives and life seems to return to the forest.
A few miles from the edge of the Greatwood the party arrives at the first sign of civilization; a small stretch of farmland has been cut into the woods, dormant for the winter. Up ahead is a single squat shack facing south and a barn about sixty yards beyond that. On approaching the first building a young girl appears in the doorway and calls back inside for her father. He steps out a few moments later, joined by his wife, who shoos the girl away and shuts the door behind her. The farmer makes for the group, meeting them about halfway.*
He gives the group a bow of his head. “We don’t have food enough for your group, m’lords,” to whichever Faramond seems in charge.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” *Cutter dismounts and walks to the house with horse in tow, making sure to shoulder in passing the farmer, who doesn’t bother protesting.
The farmer is older with middle age a few years gone. He wears sackcloth clothing typical of his station and bears the weathered face of a long, hard life. He declines to speak first and simply waits, arms crossed, eyes downcast.*
“have you seen another group passing by here?”
He regards Naimar calmly for a few moments before answering. “Aye, that I did. Night 'fore last a group sought shelter from the rain in the barn. Left yesterday afternoon. Seemed like decent enough folk.” Cautiously, “Friends of yours?”
“No, Did you see a girl with them?”
“Two. I didn’t get too good a look, only met the one who asked to use the barn.”
Naimar is confident he’s telling the truth.
“Did you get there names?”
Unwilling that his lord should have to bandy words with such as these:
“Churl, how comes it that tha’rt naught to set before thy betters - aye, and not a half-score of us? Be all thy crops failed, all thy stock died off, aye, and the very fowls in the yard off lay?”
“No.” Naimar can tell by the farmer’s change in aura that he’s hiding something. He hasn’t necessarily told a lie yet.
“You’re the second group through here. I already had to feed the last-” The farmer trails off as he sees Cutter return with a basket of eggs, liquid, likely water, beer or wine, freshly glistening in his beard. “- just take what you will.”
“Belike we will, and if thou wilt feed every rag-tag and bobtail that comes by, little cause hast thou to squeal when thy lord comes calling. If thou must beg from thy neighbour when we are gone - better thou than a gentleman, surely. An be the ones ye fed earlier be whom we seek, it may ease thee to know we shall collect payment from their hides. Not on thy account, but mayst share in the satisfaction at that.”
“What aren’t you telling us?”
"Oh brother, look, peasants! Aren’t they charming? The way they live off the land, it’s so… rustic. What’s that you say? They are bad peasants? With-holding food and beverage from their betters is an offense punishable by death? Mhmm, Mhmm…
Well yes brother, surely we could put them all to the sword, but please, calm yourself. This isn’t like you. … Yes, the recent journey has put a strain on me too. Let’s listen to what they have to say first."
If I might be able to speak to these folks, perhaps I can make some headway.
:Sohan approaches the peasant couple:
:Sohan stares at the family intently for one minute:
Did the party that stayed in the barn say anything odd or interesting? Did you overhear their conversations? Tell the truth.
You must give us all your food and drink. We have nobility amongst us. You will have to find replacement sustenance for your selves later. Nothing to be done about it.
When the party left your barn, which way did they go? And at what time? Tell the full truth.
Lastly, I’ll take some beer right now in my flask.
:Sohan locates a nearly empty water flask, empties its contents into another flask, drinks what remains. Then, she proceeds to fill the now empty flask with beer.:
:Sohan tends to her hair while taking a sip: