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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Guilt Puppy" data-source="post: 620260" data-attributes="member: 6521">As days and nights pass, you follow the road up along the coast, until it veers off west through the hills. When the air is clear it is bright and picturesque; most of the time, the mist is heavy and the road seems mysterious, and strangely ominous.During the day he seems cheery and full of life, but as cold night descends you can see clearly the signs of Exantrius' age. His sleep is busy and bothered; his mornings are slow and weary, as though he carries an unseen weight from every limb. Still, his spirits are high, and he fends off deftly any signs of concern.A week into your journey, early morning, you spot smoke from dying campfires weaving through the trees of the small valley nestled between the hills to the west. Your elder companion seems interested:"I've heard some rumor of hobgoblins in this area... Perhaps this is them. It may be a good idea to pay a visit, perhaps barter: If they are bandits and thieves, then at least we might give them a good deal, that they may spare the roads for a space of time."He looks about for agreement before guiding his steep down the rough slopes.</blockquote>