Lewis steps out of nothingness, leaving the non-space with the sound of a dull thump.
He immediately reaches into his vest for a GPS device. He's careful, he's had the sound muted and the obscuration spells covered his traces from most means that weren't magical, so he was pretty much covered when it came to the werewolves and vampires out on patrol. He was a near-expert in non-detection as well, able to step lightly and agilely into places that only the best of trackers were able to find, something he's pretty sure is a sense only humans or lesser-powered creatures would have to rely on, as vampires and other 'kin' relied heavily on their higher senses, rather than on basic skills, another thing to be glad for.
If anybody were to notice him, which while unlikely wasn't impossible, they would see what looked to be a shadow that slowly faded into something like a person, then into the armored figure that he would be seen as close-up.
He turns on the GPS, then slowly navigates through the woods, pausing at every snap and noise to analyze his surroundings. He stops around a rotted tree to remove a shovel, a black, folding affair, and quietly navigates to a tree, where he cuts a line wrapped around the trunk.
A large, black bag falls to the ground, which the armored man moves deftly to catch. He lowers it to the ground, opening the straps to reveal an assortment of knives, as well as one hatchet and a short machete. He removes both of the larger bladed implements, attaching them to sheathes at either side of his belt, and then tucks four throwing knives into a strap across his chest. He throws the bag back on after closing it, and then sets off to the next point.
He continues on, gathering a compound bow and quiver at the next stop, and then moves on to his final point, when he comes to a clearing. Well. There were two individuals standing over his next point, about seven yards from where he buried. He supposes he could throw a knife into an eye or fire an arrow from a distance, but he doubts that would prevent him from being noticed. Werewolves, as one of them seemed, were notoriously hard to kill, and he couldn't take it out from a distance with the weapons he had. He might be able to take it in melee, but that would require a grapple, and he didn't have time to spend fighting some dog-blooded freak.
He decides to remain with his anonymity, and just stands where he is, bow in his hands, an arrow nocked, staring directly at the two from some shadows.