Rebirth

For a job... well, done.

with a small sigh you take a seat at your seat at what is becoming your regular table at Waftrons Inn, the beer is cheap if not cold and the food hasn’t managed to kill you yet.

Today is the fourth day of waiting for Pendrag to return to see your party at the inn, after returning from quarry with nothing but a small black hand mirror

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Money isn't everything...

Ages come and pass, leaving memories that turn to legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Fourth Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Nentir Vale. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the march of Ages. But it was a beginning…

The dull wind passes through the trees with a mournful howl driving snow into your eyes. You stop at the foot of a berm to clear the snow and take stock of your soundings. Three days ago the storm overtook you making your way toward Fallcrest along what the locals refer to as the Old Kings road, it’s not much of a road this far north, but it was the only thing leading you towards civilization. You watch your breath puff in front of you and wonder how much longer your meager provisions will hold out. You didn’t start out this journey with much, and what you did have has only gotten smaller along the way.

A crashing through shrubs and underbrush in the distance rises above the wind for a moment. You drop to a crouch your hand instinctively rests on your weapon. A single goblin staggers through the brush slowly, hobbling and stumbling in the snow before collapsing with a muffled cry. You wait, making sure it’s not a trap or being pursued by something bigger.

You slowly make your way over to the fallen goblin, as you get close it’s clear to see a broken spear haft protruding from the goblin. Kneeling you search the goblin for anything of use, he’s not going to be needing it and anything he does have is stolen like as not knowing goblins.

Among the odds and end you find on the goblin are two crumpled and stained pieces of parchment. Reading over the notes it seems clear that this goblin is one of the ones that the town of Winterhaven is so keen to be rid of, you’ve killed goblins before, and 1,000 gold can go a long way in a town like Fallcrest you think.

Your sigh is lost in the wind as you make your way toward Winterhaven, map in hand.

Adv needed

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