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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7114645" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 34</p><p></p><p>The cave was cramped and dismal, the single torch burning low in a niche in one wall doing little to push back the gloom. The single figure that sat in a sagging wooden chair made the place seem even smaller, especially when he reached out and his hand enveloped the stein that sat on the table next to him. A large double-bladed axe sat propped up against the wall within easy reach.</p><p></p><p>A shadow materialized in the mouth of the passage that led to the room. It lingered there a moment until the huge figure looked that way.</p><p></p><p>“What did you hear?” the man with the axe asked.</p><p></p><p>The shadowy figure came into the room. The torchlight didn’t do much to reveal details of his form. He was clad in a patchwork coat that looked like it had been crafted from a dozen other garments. Over that he wore an inky cloak that included a cowl that hung low over his face. “Hello to you as well, Jargo. Did you manage to eat all the food and finish the ale while I was gone?”</p><p></p><p>“Have your little friends scare us up some more,” the giant said, punctuating the comment with a deep belch.</p><p></p><p>“I fear our allies’ resources are quite nearly depleted,” the cloaked man said. He walked past the table and peered into the darkness that filled the back of the cave. As he moved past the torch the cloak briefly fell back to reveal a hand that was covered with an ugly hybrid of scales and tufted bristles of black hair. “How is our guest?”</p><p></p><p>“Alive,” Jargo said. He lifted his cup and drained the last of its contents.</p><p></p><p>“I received word from the north,” the cloaked man said.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p></p><p>The other waited to see if more questions would be forthcoming, and finally sighed. “We may need to relocate.”</p><p></p><p>“Why? We got a good setup here, Cthel.”</p><p></p><p>“War is coming to Arresh. Such things bring opportunity. More opportunity than the occasional wagon or unlucky traveler.” He lifted a hand, and metal clinked in his palm.</p><p></p><p>That got the big warrior’s attention. “So what do you suggest?”</p><p></p><p>“There’s going to be a lot of men heading north. Men who would otherwise be guarding settlements, or protecting caravans. Softer targets, soon. We play our cards correctly, we can make a few big scores then be on our way before anyone’s the wiser. Big enough that we can set ourselves up nicely somewhere far away from here. Someplace with finer… accommodations.”</p><p></p><p>Jargo grunted at that, but it was clear that his companion’s suggestions had drawn his interest. “And what about our prisoner?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>Both men turned to stare into the darkness, where a pair of eyes was just visible on the very edge of the torchlight, watching them in turn.</p><p></p><p>Cthel appeared to consider for a moment. “Our guest is still valuable for the moment,” he finally said. “But if we have to leave suddenly… well, sometimes one must sacrifice a small boon in the cause of gaining something greater.”</p><p></p><p>He laughed, a harsh, jarring sound that echoed uncannily off the walls of the cave.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>Orin Lesar did not return, but they hardly spent a restful night and got a late start the next morning. Fortunately the difficult ground they’d been covering grew earlier around midmorning, and they passed into a series of rolling hills covered in scrub with light forest in the spaces between. Water was again easily located and they were able to both refill their bottles and wash off the dust of their hike.</p><p></p><p>It was still early when they came to one of the campsites that Laddrick had marked on his map. It was located in a sheltered nook surrounded by large boulders in the lee of a slightly larger hill. It was close to a small spring that fed a trickling stream that ran down the lower slope of the hill until it culminated in a pool about ten paces across.</p><p></p><p>Laddrick had marked the site as one occasionally visited by hunters and trappers that operated in the hills. But it was clear from even a cursory examination that the campsite had been used recently, and not by common hunters. The dull red stains that marked the rocks in a number of places were faded but recent, given that the recent rains hadn’t washed them away. And Glori found something else, a broken arrow that apparently had shattered on the rocks.</p><p></p><p>Kosk examined the arrow. “This isn’t civilized work. Humanoids, maybe.”</p><p></p><p>“Over here, there’s some tracks,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>They all went to take a look. The tracks were scattered around the campsite. The marks were faint, too faint to make out much about them, but they could all see that the prints were significantly smaller than any they left behind.</p><p></p><p>“What do you think, goblins maybe?” Bredan asked.</p><p></p><p>Kosk frowned at the marks. “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure, the ground’s too hard here. Too much stone.”</p><p></p><p>“Can we see which way they went?” Quellan asked.</p><p></p><p>Bredan began widening his search, but he’d barely begun inspecting the ground outside the nook when Kosk held up a hand in warning.</p><p></p><p>“What is it?” Glori asked, loud enough for Bredan to hear and stop what he was doing.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know,” the dwarf said. “Something’s wrong.”</p><p></p><p>Quellan sniffed the air. “I feel it too.”</p><p></p><p>They all started scanning the surrounding area, so it only took a moment for Glori to notice the threat. “There,” she said, pointing to a spot along the shoulder of the hill near where they’d first entered the camp.</p><p></p><p>The hound stood in profile atop a small shelf of stone that jutted from the hillside. It looked almost normal at first glance, if larger than even the largest domestic breed. But as it turned to face them they could see that it was not even close to normal.</p><p></p><p>The hound had two heads, both filled with jaws full of sharp teeth that trailed tendrils of slather as it slowly, almost casually, approached the campsite.</p><p></p><p>“A death dog,” Quellan said.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7114645, member: 143"] Chapter 34 The cave was cramped and dismal, the single torch burning low in a niche in one wall doing little to push back the gloom. The single figure that sat in a sagging wooden chair made the place seem even smaller, especially when he reached out and his hand enveloped the stein that sat on the table next to him. A large double-bladed axe sat propped up against the wall within easy reach. A shadow materialized in the mouth of the passage that led to the room. It lingered there a moment until the huge figure looked that way. “What did you hear?” the man with the axe asked. The shadowy figure came into the room. The torchlight didn’t do much to reveal details of his form. He was clad in a patchwork coat that looked like it had been crafted from a dozen other garments. Over that he wore an inky cloak that included a cowl that hung low over his face. “Hello to you as well, Jargo. Did you manage to eat all the food and finish the ale while I was gone?” “Have your little friends scare us up some more,” the giant said, punctuating the comment with a deep belch. “I fear our allies’ resources are quite nearly depleted,” the cloaked man said. He walked past the table and peered into the darkness that filled the back of the cave. As he moved past the torch the cloak briefly fell back to reveal a hand that was covered with an ugly hybrid of scales and tufted bristles of black hair. “How is our guest?” “Alive,” Jargo said. He lifted his cup and drained the last of its contents. “I received word from the north,” the cloaked man said. “Yeah?” The other waited to see if more questions would be forthcoming, and finally sighed. “We may need to relocate.” “Why? We got a good setup here, Cthel.” “War is coming to Arresh. Such things bring opportunity. More opportunity than the occasional wagon or unlucky traveler.” He lifted a hand, and metal clinked in his palm. That got the big warrior’s attention. “So what do you suggest?” “There’s going to be a lot of men heading north. Men who would otherwise be guarding settlements, or protecting caravans. Softer targets, soon. We play our cards correctly, we can make a few big scores then be on our way before anyone’s the wiser. Big enough that we can set ourselves up nicely somewhere far away from here. Someplace with finer… accommodations.” Jargo grunted at that, but it was clear that his companion’s suggestions had drawn his interest. “And what about our prisoner?” he asked. Both men turned to stare into the darkness, where a pair of eyes was just visible on the very edge of the torchlight, watching them in turn. Cthel appeared to consider for a moment. “Our guest is still valuable for the moment,” he finally said. “But if we have to leave suddenly… well, sometimes one must sacrifice a small boon in the cause of gaining something greater.” He laughed, a harsh, jarring sound that echoed uncannily off the walls of the cave. * * * Orin Lesar did not return, but they hardly spent a restful night and got a late start the next morning. Fortunately the difficult ground they’d been covering grew earlier around midmorning, and they passed into a series of rolling hills covered in scrub with light forest in the spaces between. Water was again easily located and they were able to both refill their bottles and wash off the dust of their hike. It was still early when they came to one of the campsites that Laddrick had marked on his map. It was located in a sheltered nook surrounded by large boulders in the lee of a slightly larger hill. It was close to a small spring that fed a trickling stream that ran down the lower slope of the hill until it culminated in a pool about ten paces across. Laddrick had marked the site as one occasionally visited by hunters and trappers that operated in the hills. But it was clear from even a cursory examination that the campsite had been used recently, and not by common hunters. The dull red stains that marked the rocks in a number of places were faded but recent, given that the recent rains hadn’t washed them away. And Glori found something else, a broken arrow that apparently had shattered on the rocks. Kosk examined the arrow. “This isn’t civilized work. Humanoids, maybe.” “Over here, there’s some tracks,” Bredan said. They all went to take a look. The tracks were scattered around the campsite. The marks were faint, too faint to make out much about them, but they could all see that the prints were significantly smaller than any they left behind. “What do you think, goblins maybe?” Bredan asked. Kosk frowned at the marks. “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure, the ground’s too hard here. Too much stone.” “Can we see which way they went?” Quellan asked. Bredan began widening his search, but he’d barely begun inspecting the ground outside the nook when Kosk held up a hand in warning. “What is it?” Glori asked, loud enough for Bredan to hear and stop what he was doing. “I don’t know,” the dwarf said. “Something’s wrong.” Quellan sniffed the air. “I feel it too.” They all started scanning the surrounding area, so it only took a moment for Glori to notice the threat. “There,” she said, pointing to a spot along the shoulder of the hill near where they’d first entered the camp. The hound stood in profile atop a small shelf of stone that jutted from the hillside. It looked almost normal at first glance, if larger than even the largest domestic breed. But as it turned to face them they could see that it was not even close to normal. The hound had two heads, both filled with jaws full of sharp teeth that trailed tendrils of slather as it slowly, almost casually, approached the campsite. “A death dog,” Quellan said. [/QUOTE]
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