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Goubido mutters, "My left foot, generous... when kicking purty man's arse," to himself in goblin. "Who is leading this caravan," Goubido asks as he begins to take stock of his belongings.
D'Bruuhl goes to his church and returns. You set off the next morning, where a small group of Goblins wave you goodbye. The mules seem temperemental, but don't give any trouble. Ashgyad has some trouble with his; it tends to go in different directions.
In the afternoon you lose sight of the city. The merchant caravans that you saw on the way out are gone. The road is long and lonely, except for the caw of ravens.
[gob]"I dunno, in this kinda situation I've always been preferential to trail rations,"[/gob] Rakanishu says, [gob]"But then again who could turn fresh meat? If we're lucky it'll taste like chicken."[/gob]
"Aren't ravens a sign of..." Goubido tilts his head slightly and his eyes glaze over for a moment. His left eye quickly twitches open and closed several times before his head snaps back upright. "What?" The question sounds half desperate, half angry.
[Gob]"Then I'll just shoot the bad out of omen."[/Gob]
Glorath pulls out an arrow from his quiver and trains the bow, aiming for the bird. When he thinks he has a good shot, he lets the arrow fly.
[gob]"Glorath! Ashgyad said it could be a familiar, and I think that a raven which tries to warn us of something is more than likely to be someone's familiar! Are you sure you want to nail it?"[/gob] he says hurriedly.