we all love hanging out in the woods but we all dont love being knifed in the back…
as our party eats their breakfast of salted meats the drunkard dwarf Veit makes small talk about bearded women and tales of his family lineage. In the middle of his explanation of why his ale is holy’er than Peylors spit, he hears a snap of a twig behind him and leans left as a cloaked halfling stumbles past dagger in hand.
- a moment of silent confusion is heard
The halfling looks around and sizes the party. all confused but not startled, with one hand on their weapon and the other scratching their head except for Veit. He has his battle axe above his head and slurs a loud, ” What reason is this? You are small and gay and have no respect for my face!” He then proceeded to slap the halfling, not as hard as possible, but not soft either, more of a bitch slap if you will. ” What are you doing here attempting to stab me?” he proclaimed.
“Are you not the one who was the destroyer of my fathers life force?” inquired the halfling.
“What the hell are you talking about?” stutters Viet
” You have the apearence of a stout bearded wraith that murdered my father in cold blood! But upon further inspection of you and what i assume to be your adventuring party are not the ones who murdered my father in the coldest of dark blue blood. Is that meat and drink I smell?” The halfling sheathes his dagger and makes for the fire pit. Prometherin was the second to ask the haflings reasoning for attempt to shank and got lost in his wild storytelling… the hafling wowed the party and was invited to stay a while. They told of their recent quarrel with the kobold party and that they were looking for a path back to Winterfell. The halfling tells that he knows a way back and the party set out after packing camp.
The trail is long and wooded, large trees and green brush dominate the cramped landscape and trails split and reconnect like the rivers of the savage frontier. The Halfling they have come to trust leads the way climbing over logs and searching through bushes… As the party grows tired of aimless walking the dwarf begins to scan the surrounding area. Unusually large trees, and strange bushes with strange sounds and a strange foot protruding out! ” In the name of Thor!” shouts the startled Dwarf who inspects the foot, finding that it is no longer conected to its original owner! He who was once a dwarf lays dead in the brush. Bite wounds filled with writhing maggots is a good sign that giant rats are abundant.
“the poor fellow!” Viet takes a mighty gulp from his ale. “I shall give you a proper burial!” The one with no people grabs the torn tunic of the young deceased dwarf and drags it alongside him as they make their way down the winding road to Winterfell. The rest of the party look at eachother and shrug, its best not to disturb a drunk and ill tempered dwarf holding a corpse. Everyone on Toril knows that. But with the recent findings Prometherin decided it would be wise to send out his hawk and scan the surrounding area.
As a bird does naturally only sees mice and other birds most of what it found was mice, snakes, large spiders and a group of humanoids standing around a fire.
Prometherin stops in the trail. “there are four small humanoid creatures around a fire pit directly east of us” he pauses ” what’s our tactic?” Viet steps forward, “I bet they have something to do with this!” holding the corpse.
"wait a moment Veit." Dorrak interjects, "How do we know their motive! They may be worshipers of my lord Peylor, divine god fearing, sun loving, free wanderers of our world..."
“I belive that they are rock gnomes, they dwell under ground.” states Premetherin
“BLAST THE CRETIN!” shouts Dorrak!
Premetherin closes his eyes and murmurs a spell of sleep that he casts through his hawk that is circling the the camp of the rock gnomes.