Soledad found herself trudging through yet another torturous day. It was truly awful. She had stepped in a cow pie! A COW PIE! Had it not been for a little magical assistance, the day would have been completely lost to laundering her boots. Whichever toothless bumpkin was responsible for this particular patch of land would pay, dearly. Devising her plans for retribution had provided a pleasant distraction through the less eventful parts of their journey... which was most of it.

We have found nothing! A day of golden sun has been wasted beloved. Nasty fools they are! Why do they torture us so???

With a soft hiss the little witch traced a gilded finger along Z’zzip’s head, gently assuaging some of the anger. She was inclined to agree with the snake. They had found little evidence that could be of any real use. Only more questions, and vague questions at that. Something didn’t make sense.

As the elf contemplated their dilemma, Silver and Steel padded up to see about the next destination. They were a strange pair, an elf and a war forged... not an everyday sight for sure. It was Ewyn that suggested returning to town, and their tavern beds. Soledad agreed, vigorously.

“Yes, another night in a bed will be welcome. Perhaps they’ll have something for us to eat that hasn’t been cooked beyond recognition... We can investigate the recent caravan raids in the morning.”

By midafternoon the group finally had to admit that their attempts at tracking had gone nowhere.  If those original tracks had been made by goblins, they were good at covering their tracks.  The fact that they were several days old didn’t help things at all either.  But for whatever reason, that path had led to a dead end in the woods.  They now stared around them with no direct route anywhere.  They could continue on to the river and assume the goblins had gone that way.  Or they could go back to town and regroup.  Neither way was overly promising, but standing here and counting trees wasn’t likely to accomplish anything either. 

               After a little discussion it was decided to head back into town.  There they could see if any new information had arrived and get a good night’s sleep before heading out in the morning.  Decision made, the group retraced its steps through the woods and reappeared in the pastures near town.  When the group entered the common room of the Bent Hook several of the patrons looked at them with excitement briefly before turning away in disappointment.  The young barmaid that had brought them to the home of the twin’s mother, Elaida, ran up and started to ask a question but was forestalled by a shake of Dok’s head.  The dwarf spoke briefly saying, “No, no luck.  But this was just step one.  I assume, from your question, that the twins did not return in our absence?  Has there been no news?”

               The young woman was saddened by the announcement – the group had not returned as champions on day one.  “No, no, they are not back.  Not yet.  You found nothing?”  She sighed.  “Their mother doesn’t need more grief.  And . . .uhm, no, you asked about news.  No, nothing.  I don’t think.”  At this point a young man walked into the tavern – a man that Dok recognized as the sheriff’s assistant Erhardt.  “Ahh . . . Erhardt!  Come here!  You are just the man we need!”  As he approached she turned back to the group, “Erhardt is just the man to let you know about what is going on.  In the meantime, what can I get you hungry heroes?” 

               The group ordered some food and were joined by Erhardt.  “So, from the look of things you didn’t find much on your trip to the pasture.  Those goblins were stealthy.  That isn’t normally something they are great at.  Where did you go for the rest of the day?”  The group explained the brief outlines of their path and the sheriff’s assistant nodded his head.  “Yeah, that makes sense.  But you found no signs whatsoever?  I didn’t either.  I think I headed a little more riverward then you did, but either way – nothing.   I do suspect they probably crossed the river.  Everything we know seems to put the goblins on the other side.  I’d bet they went down to the bridge to cross.  Goblins don’t generally swim or use boats.  But I don’t actually have any proof of that.”  When asked about further news he didn’t have much to add.  “New?  No, thankfully things have been quiet.  We had one farmer claim that something scared his cows, but I don’t think it was anything.   As for the caravan attack a few days ago, you can probably find the remains of the caravan about half a day’s hike north out of town.  It will be just to the riverside of the road.  You really can’t miss it.  A couple of burned out wagons.  The bodies have been removed and buried.  The wagons were pretty well looted.  There wasn’t much.  I’m pretty sure the raiders left via the road – they wouldn’t leave tracks that way.”

               He paused before continuing about the attack on the caravan.  “It was a small group – 3 wagons and a handful of guards.  The goblins attacked them as the cam around a corner.  Dropped a tree in front of them to stop them from continuing on.  We know this was goblins – two of the merchants ran for it and got away.  To the best of our knowledge nobody else survived, although we only found a couple of bodies.  They claimed it was 30 goblins at a minimum, but I’ll be honest, those two lit out of there so fast the only way they counted goblins was if they had eyes in their backsides.  I’d put the number at half of that at best.  That is based on a combination of the tracks at the scene – hard to see much given the chaos of the scene, but it isn’t like it was a major battlefield – and the number needed to take out a half dozen armed guards.  For what it is worth, the raid seemed well planned.  There was no evidence of goblin blood.  They took out the armed guards quickly and efficiently.”

 At this point he paused to listen to any questions the group had and to order his own meal.  “The merchants made it sound like their escape was heroic, but it seemed more cowardly to me.  They cut and ran.  And the goblins seemed to let them go.  I found the merchant’s tracks hightailing it through the woods, but goblins only followed long enough to make sure they weren’t circling back.  They didn’t chase ‘em down.  And I doubt those two could have hid from a deaf and blind infant, let alone a goblin.  Oh, and if you want to ask them about it, you can’t.  They lit out back to Ludenshiem the next day.  I haven’t had time to really look for a path beyond the battle site.  But if these are coming from across the river, then they’d need to get back over there.  And that means either finding a way across the river North of town, or getting back South of town to the bridge.”  He sat with the group for awhile to answer any more question they might have and to finish his meal and a couple of mugs of Orville’s Sludge. 

There didn’t seem to be much else to learn in town that night.  The twins had not returned and no further raids had yet occurred.  So the group ate dinner, got rooms and got their rest for the night.  At least those who needed rest did so.  In the morning they got up early and headed North out of town to search for the other recent site of a goblin raid – the caravan attack.  It was exactly where it was expected to be – about half a day’s walk North of town. 

Two wagons were a little to the side of the road.  There wasn’t much left of either of them as they had been burned.  There were no bodies – Erhardt had said they had been removed for burial.  There was nothing left in the wagons – whatever had been there had either been burned or looted.  There were some signs of the battle.  Clearly there had been some fighting along the road.  The place was hardly “blood soaked,” but if one looked closely it was fairly obvious that some grievous wounds had been delivered here.  In addition, a few broken arrows and bolts could be found in the area – some of what you would expect a normal arrow to look like and a few others of, perhaps, goblin manufacture.  The big question – where had everyone gone, did not have a clear answer.  There were no obvious tracks leading away from the scene.  The road itself was hardly a highway, but was used enough that it didn’t give any obvious indication of anything.  There had been a fight, but then what?

OOC: Some questions Ewyn has for Erhardt...

 

"Can you think of any reason why someone, goblins or others, would want to nab the twins? Do they have some value? Do they, their mom, or other family members have any bad relationships with anyone else in town?"

 

"What is the name of the farmer with the spooked cows?"

 

"Who buried the dead bodies from the caravan raid and where were they buried? How many were there? How many were merchants?"

 

"What merchant guild did the caravan belong to? What were they carrying in their wagons?"

 

"What were the names of the merchants who survived?"

Erhardt listened to the question the group asked and did his best to answer. 

"Can you think of any reason why someone, goblins or others, would want to nab the twins? Do they have some value? Do they, their mom, or other family members have any bad relationships with anyone else in town?"

“The Molkin twins?  Honestly, no.  The sheriff did look into that angle a bit when they disappeared, but . . . no.  There is nothing remarkable about the Molkins.  They are just small farmers with a few cows.  Came here to the Hook every now and then.  No real enemies as far as we know.  Just your average farmers.  You could pick any two young men from a dozen families around here and not know the difference.  They seemed like good young men.”

 

"What is the name of the farmer with the spooked cows?"

 “I wouldn’t put much in that story.  Edgar Meekal is always talking about how there are “evil things a’flittin’ about now.”  Truth is, he’s right, of course.  There are dark things on that Ridge, but Meekal and his son are often talking about spooks in the woods.  Usually after a few mugs of Ortolf’s sludge.  And that stuff would knock a cow on its behind!”  This last was said a bit louder as the tavern’s owner walked by.  The big man just grinned and snapped back, “And yet you suck it down yourself Erhardt.  Perhaps you have more in common with those cows then your lettin’ on!” 

               Grinning and taking a swallow the sludge, Erhardt got back on the story.  “Anyway, Meekal is always seeing something.  I’ve never seen anything come of it.  This last one – nothing there.  His cows were just grazing away like any other cow you’ve ever seen and there was no sign of anything in the area.  So, if they were spooked, it wasn’t much.  There farm is on the Western Edge of town.  It’s actually not far from the front gates of the keep.”  (#9 on the map)

 

"Who buried the dead bodies from the caravan raid and where were they buried? How many were there? How many were merchants?"

“The bodies were brought back to town by myself and the other deputy.  They were brought up to the keep and then buried in the town cemetery.  Services and such were taken care of at the Chancel – everything religious is done there, regardless of your specific god.  Ol’ Hermanuss Tersteeg runs the place, but young Bertis does a lot of the work now.  Either one of the two acolytes or some hired farmer would have done the actual digging. (#3 on the map.)  We brought back 3 bodies – all guards.  Supposedly there were two others with the caravan, another guard and a third merchant.  Both were just gone.  The two that escaped were sure they were dead.  That seems likely, but with no bodies, perhaps they have gone the way of the twins.  But they were outsiders, so it doesn’t upset the town the way the twins did.”

 

"What merchant guild did the caravan belong to? What were they carrying in their wagons?"

“Not a major house.  Merchant Tabosa is a medium sized merchant up in Ludenshiem.  One of the two that survived was his nephew, Mathias.  Supposedly it was his first mission with his brother Ortho – Ortho is the one that disappeared.  Not much of a first mission, it seems.  The other one that lived was a hired man of the family, Ned Tester.   Apparently, he’s been with the family for a couple of decades.  For a house of that size, the loss of a small caravan won’t be crippling, but it will hurt.”

               “What were they hauling?  A variety of goods.  Some of it was some fine cloth headed for the keep.  There was also some finer liquors – part for sale here for those who don’t have the stomach for the sludge and part up at the keep.  Past that it was a mishwash of things.  Some finer metal goods, and some spices from up Ludenshiem way round out most of the rest.  It was a pretty typical load.  You can find similar coming down every couple months.      

 

"What were the names of the merchants who survived?"

*Covered above*

While disappointed that the trail for the twins had gotten cold and frustrated that the information they did find didn’t seem to match up with what they assumed about goblin behaviour, Ewyn was glad they had decided to sleep in a real bed for the second night in a row. Truth be told, the man also liked Orville’s sludge.

 

Meeting up with Erhardt was an extra bit of good fortune. “Master Erhardt! Just the man we need indeed! Come, join us! The meal is on me this evening.”

 

OOC: Ewyn will pay for Erhardt’s meal.

 

OOC: The conversation with Erhardt takes place, as noted above.

 

OOC: Nomad, can you check to see if Ewyn (having a Guild background) knows anything about the Tabosa mercantile house? Or about the members of the house?

 

“Well, thank you, Master Erhardt, for sharing a meal with us! You have been more than generous with your time.”

 

Looking around to the rest of the group, “Well, I imagine tomorrow will be much like today… a lot of travelling and thinking. I’m going to go get some rest. Good night, friends.” Ewyn left the table with a slight bow and settled his tab with the tavern keeper before making his way to his room.

 

The next day, after breakfast, Ewyn prepared Rory for travel. “We’ll let you do the work today, lad.” The mule brayed a protest. “Ah, come now, Rory! I gave ya the whole day off yesterday.  You ain’t got any cause for fussin’ or fightin’ me on this.”

 

The mule settled down and Ewyn hitched up the wagon. Pulling up to the Bent Hook, he tried to gather his companions. Those that wanted to ride within the covered wagon were invited to do so.

 

OOC: Ewyn is offering his companions the opportunity to ride in the wagon rather than walk to the caravan site.

 

The day was about half done when Ewyn and his companions reached the ambush site. The man wasted no time and went to work quickly investigating the scene, but came up with little more than questions unanswered.

 

OOC: Ewyn will look for the tree the ambushers fell to block the road, or at least the tree stump, looking for tracks. He’ll also try to find the probable places where the ambushers would have shot their (cross)bows from based on the landscape and positioning of arrows/bolts, and then look for tracks and blood in those bush lines.

 

Ewyn will cast Guidance on himself and others for perception, investigation and survival checks in this regard.

 

 

 

OOC: If nothing of note is discovered, Ewyn’s vote is to go back to the Bent Hook for another evening and then head south across the bridge to explore the Ridge tomorrow.

((OOC: Sorry that I'm late posting questions, Nomad!))

Thäoran listened intently as the sheriff relayed news that didn't sound too encouraging. The elf's mind was a blur as thoughts and suspicions chased each other around, unwilling to give Thäoran a moment's peace until he solved this mystery and discovered what had befallen his father.
The description of the caravan raid and how those who had been taken had just seemingly vanished into thin air like their kidnappers, leaving little to no evidence as to where they had gone, was suspiciously reminiscent of how the elf's father was taken that Thäoran couldn't dismiss the possibility of there being some kind of connection between his father's abduction and the disappearance of the merchants. With this in mind, the elf cleared his throat a little before speaking up.

'Sheriff Erhardt, could you please spare another moment of your time?' Thäoran bowed his head politely. 'I know you must be extremely busy and I am very grateful for all the time you have already given us.' ((OOC: I'm assuming Erhardt agrees to answer Thäoran's questions)). 'Much obliged, my friend,' the elf smiled, inclining his head again. 'The way you described what had occured at the caravan raid is very similar, if not the same, as how my father disappeared while he was with a troop of fellow elven knights slaying the goblins around our lands. He too was taken and try as they might, the other soldiers could find nary a trace of him. Nothing, that is, except his sword,' here, Thäoran placed a slender hand gently upon the sheath of his father's falchion that hung from Thäoran's waist. 'You said that the twins that were taken were just your normal everyday farmers, young, strong and hardy boys. I wonder if they were taken as slaves? They seemed to be no strangers to hard work and would therefore be perfect candidates to be taken and enslaved by the enemy to work for them. Though for what purpose, I know not. Have you, perchance, heard tell of any whisperings of an elf other than I around these parts? Any sightings or evidence at all of a male elf with long silver-blonde hair?'

Thäoran held his pent up breath as a spark of hope kindled his weary heart.

Dok was grateful for the opportunity to return to the Bent Hook, but he was saddened by the fact that the Malkin Twins had neither been found, nor had they returned to their home.

He did his best to encourage those who were listening in to their conversation, but the Hill Dwarf Cleric sensed a bit of uneasiness in his own heart that any progress seemed to be as a fleeting dream.

Digesting both food and the information provided by Earhardt, the Hill Dwarf Cleric finally excused himself to get a refreshing night’s rest in a rented room, complete with a soaking hot bath before retiring, in an effort to finally relax!

He tossed and turned a bit on the bed, almost because of being too comfortable, after spending countless weeks snatching his rest beneath a wagon on the open road and rough terrain.

But mostly his restlessness was due to a deep desire to penetrate the mysteries of the beckoning Blacktooth Ridge, where the bounty for right-goblin-ears were promised to be found in abundance!

It took the disciplined focus of prayer to his deity for the Dwarf Cleric to finally fall into a deep, restful sleep, where Helm the God of Protection seemed to speak direction into his dreamless state!

((OOC: In the morning Dok will prepare the same Spells that I have submitted to Nomad. He will follow the lead of Soledad and the rest of the Party, but he has a sense of urgency to journey into the maw of the Blacktooth Ridge in search of the Malkin Twins and to hunt Goblins!))

With the search for the two boys having come up empty so far, the party regrouped and under Soledad’s leadership headed back to town. As the food eaters needed to eat Steel sat quietly watching the crowd seated around them to see if perhaps they had become the object of greater scrutiny. (Using my passive perception ability 12)

Though he could not feel emotion as those made of flesh he could still empathize with their feelings having been around them for so long and knew the failure to find the boys had saddened the town’s folk. For now all the group could do was check out the place of the caravan attack tomorrow. As Dok and Ewyn asked questions and the rest did as needed, Steel slowly fell into his sentry’s rest...

               The group scoured the caravan site looking for evidence.  They found the tree Erhardt had mentioned was used to block the road, but it had been pulled off to the side.  But it was obvious that the road had been blocked at one time.  And there had been a fight.  There were indications of goblin sized attackers and human sized defenders.  There was a lot of evidence of a small battle.

               But that was it.  There wasn’t much more.  Certainly, there was no map with “X marks the spot” to indicate where the twins might be located.  In fact, two more people had been added to the list of the missing.   Twice now the group had looked at locations where the village of Botkinburg and its surroundings had been attacked, but they had learned little.  Frustrated, they headed back to the village with plans for heading to the Ridge the next day.

               When they got back to the village, they again sought rooms in the Bent Hook.  The common room was again reasonably full of locals including the Sheriff’s deputy, Erhardt.  He approached the group and from their grim looks easily deduced the lack of success of their day’s efforts.  “Another blank?  I wish I could tell you where the attackers went.  Or the kidnappers of the Molkin twins.  If you have any questions, I’d be happy to do my best, but I was stuck myself.  A search of the Ridge provides a lot of territory to go over.” 

            When Thaoran asked his questions about elves Erhardt sadly shook his head.  "Elves are rare around here.  I have seen them.  The Barren Wood was once home to many elves many, many, many years ago.  But these days, few come here.  Your presence has been noted by many as unusual.  I'm sorry to say, I have seen noone.  I'll ask the sherrif if he has, but I'm pretty sure I know the answer.  Sorry."  He shook his head as he said it.  "And slavery?  Well, the twins were solid farm lads - no strangers to hard work as you said.  And goblins, well, I wouldn't put it past the little buggers.  They hate doing work themselves.  But slavery usually implies some bigger system - slavers and whatnot.  I've seen no evidence of it.  But things do seem to be happening - if you do find anything, please let me know.  Information is our best weapon.  And right now we don't seem to have much of it. But I guess you know that quite well right about now."

The deputy waited to see if the group had any more questions.  When he was finished answering questions, he left the group to their dinners and headed out into the night.  The group got rooms and prepared to leave early to head to the Ridge to begin the search.

 

               The next morning the group was ready to head South towards the bridge and whatever the Ridge might have to offer.  There was a road that ran parallel to the river.  It was an old road that almost certainly dated from the glory years before the Horned Ones Minions had dominated the region.  (This is the same road you had followed North towards Ludenshiem when investigating the caravan.)  The road had been very well made, but was showing its age.  Originally paved there were now weeds poking up through the stones and the edges of the road crumbled into the surrounding vegetation.  Still, it was never hard to follow and offered an easy path.  At times it approached the river within a few yards and at others it moved away by a few hundred feet or more, but it never strayed too far from the water.  It was an easy day’s travel with the river bubbling along on the left and the quiet of the wood walling you in on the right.  Nothing happened throughout the day beyond the buzzing of the ever present flies.

               It took the entire day to reach the bridge and the group reached it just as the sun was going down.  Here the Hreusen River bends lightly away from the base of the ridge and spreads out in rocky shallows.  A large stone bridge arches over the entire width of the river.  It is a blocky, utilitarian bridge, big enough for two wagons to pass abreast.  Along both sides are low stone rails.  The stone is worn smooth from uncountable footsteps and years while wagon wheel grooves scar the center of the bridge.  Statues once adorned each corner of the bridge, but all but one have long since been destroyed.  At the east end of the bridge (the far end) is a broken and cracked statue of a predatory bird perched atop a helmet.  The giant beak is stretched towards the sky as if looking for direction.

               The bridge connects with a timeworn, paved path on the ridge side.  This is Fromkin’s Pass – the only passage over the ridge line for many, many miles in either direction.  The path is broad and wide and created in such a manner as to allow wagon traffic, and so angles up the ridge in a series of about 10 switchbacks.  It looks as if at each turn in the path there is a small, stone building.  Seven or eight of these are clearly visible, while the expected locations of the last two are hidden by the ridge and/or trees.   From a distance they look long abandoned.  At the top of the pass you can see the crumbling top of a ruined tower.  Back in Botkinburg you had heard of this referred to as Fromkin’s Aerie.  Beyond the ridge are the Plains of Karoth – a wide expanse of open lands and hills populated mostly by nomadic peoples.  No settled kingdom has claimed that land for many generations. 

               All along the river the ridge has risen on the eastern shore.  The height has varied form a few hundred feet to as high as 5 or 6 hundred feet.  In some places it is impossibly steep.  In others it could be climbed – carefully.  There are many washes and gullies scouring its surface and leading down to the river.  Trees, shrubs and bushes grow at the base of the ridge, but also up and down it.  In some places there appear to be flatter ledges that support larger numbers of trees while in others greenery clings to the sides of cliffs.  In some places the ridge plunges right to the shore of the river and there is no way to walk along the eastern shore without either getting your feet wet or clinging to the cliffs edge and carefully working your way around.  But in many places there is a thin strip of land, sometimes forested and sometimes marshy, along the shore.  It is likely possible to move up and down the eastern shore of the Hreusen, but it would not be easy.  (You are guessing that a mule could probably do it, but would likely need to get its feet wet on occasion.  A mule pulling a cart could not.) 

               It is now late in the evening and the sun is setting quickly.  It will be dark very soon.  You stand on the western shore of the Hreusen River looking across and up at the ridge. 

(As always, feel free to post comments on any part of this.  Ask more questions of Erhardt or something on the journey out.  Then what is the plan for the evening?)

As the companions met up with Erhardt after a day scouring the campsite, Ewyn raised a question with the deputy that had been nagging him the ride back, "You had mentioned the caravan was made up of three wagons, but only two were found burned at the site. Any idea what happened to the last one?"

"You had mentioned the caravan was made up of three wagons, but only two were found burned at the site. Any idea what happened to the last one?"

Erhardt looked at Ewyn and shook his head.  "That is a puzzler, isn't it?  According to the merchants there were three wagons - both of them swear to it.  In addition to their word I have two other reasons for believing them.  1.  House Tobosa sends a train down every few months.  Ninety percent of the time it is three wagons.  Almost always.  2.  The tracks on the road leading to the site indicate several wagons arriving.  It is hard to tell much on the road because of all the stones, but there was a mud patch shortly before the battle site that made three look likely.  Even better, there are very clear indications of three wagons leaving the road at the battle site - the two that are burned out and one other." 

Erhardt held up three fingers.  "Three wagons.  Unless the goblins pulled some trickery to make it look like three.  Goblins might not make much of a wizard, but they are cunning little gits.  That third wagon that left the road?  Its track just goes off the road and stop.  Dead end.  But no wagon.  If you look really closely at the tracks it looks like the wagon backtracked over its own trail back onto the road.  A horse going backwards doesn't leave the same hoof mark as a horse going forward.  Both types of marks were there.  Coming and going.  The backward marks were on top." 

At this point the deputy took another drink and looked at Ewyn again.  "Interesting isn't it?  Because if it went back onto the road, where did it go from there?  It didn't go back to Ludenshiem.  The Tinkers were coming South on that road and they swear that they never encountered anyone going Northwards.  That mud patch was also clear of Northbound tracks.  So, South along the road?  That's the direction towards the only bridge - as you know based on your plans for tomorow.  But that road runs smack dab, straight-through Botkinburg.  And they didn't go through the town.  So, what happened to wagon #3?"

Thäoran was listening closely to what the Sheriff had to say about the mysterious missing wagon and a random though flashed into his mind. At first, he dismissed it as ridiculous and almost let it go unmentioned, but then he reasoned 'no harm in suggesting, I suppose.'

So, he spoke up:
'If I may interrupt? I hope this doesn't come across as folly, but I have just had a thought. If there is no trace of the wagon on the road-neither hoof prints or wagon wheel tracks-then could there be any underground passageways? Any tunnels and such? The wagon could not have just vanished so if it didn't travel on the surface, then the only other place I can think of is that it went underground. Unless the horse pulling the wagon sprouted wings and flew.' He added with a small chuckle.

Though not one to ever say much Steel felt with the dropping of the sun they should find shelter as it looked like they would not be able to return to town before nightfall.

“So I say we go to buildings for you all to rest up. I stand guard. What say you all?”

For a moment quiet the Soledad nodded her head and the group moved towards the old buildings. With Silver and the Hornet in front they made good time reaching the first of the buildings with the last rays of the sun.

“So which house you want to rest?”

(OOC: Ok took a little liberty with Nimu and Keeper’s characters just to get us here.)

 

Dok was glad to finally be heading to the Blacktooth Ridge after another seemingly wasted day of not finding any real clues among the burned-out wagons.

He listened with interest to the conversations at the Bent Hook, but what he really needed was a relaxing bath and time of meditation, which were both provided in his rented room, so that he was well rested for his time of morning prayer to prepare his spells for the day.

The Hill Dwarf Cleric of Helm the God of Protection held his conversation to a minimum during the journey to the Ridge, although he did converse at length a time or two with his new friend Thor.

What occupied his interest was any signs of Goblins or any other traces of disturbances that may have been overlooked by any untrained eye the past few days.

Dok chose to allow the other members of the party to decide where to camp for the night, but the Cleric of Helm chose the best position possible to be forewarned of a Goblin attack, or any other intruders for that matter, along with getting an early rest so that he could stand watch well before dawn, followed by Thor, so that he could prepare his spells for his early morning prayer while Thor was on watch.

He chose to sleep wearing his chain mail armor with his weapons at hand, as he had learned to do as a Priest of Helm many long years ago.

   Hornet was glad when his job with the caravan was finished.  He wasn't really cut out for guard duty.  If he hadn't run afoul of the local thieves guild he wouldn't have had to take the job in the first place.  How was he supposed to know the trader he swindled out of a large bag of coins with the help of weighted dice was related to the guild leader?  At least he had been lucky enough to escape with half of the coins.  It seemed that the guildmaster was more inpressed with the offer to split the gold then he was with the idea of helping his relative.

   In the new town talk of goblin raids gave the small group thoughts of glory and they set out to investigate.  So far they had little luck.  But tomorrow was another day and hopefully it would bring better fortune,