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Message: <blockquote data-quote="doghead" data-source="post: 1678579" data-attributes="member: 8243">The journey is long, longer than it would normally be as the Seventh seeks paths that keep them clear of goblins. You see numerous signs of the goblins. Including what look like a battle between two groups of them. But fortunately, you yourself have two only contacts with them. The first is a fairly straight forward engagement. The second is a night raid that leaves Gwender dead and Hewik unaccounted for.So it is that only four of the Seventh (if you can still be called that) finally arrive at a top of a low ridge from which Killingtom can be seen a couple of miles down the valley. A few people can be seen moving around. Smoke drifts from numerous chimneys. It looks quiet enough. But no one make a move. The surrounding trees give you some welcome cover from prying eyes as you take a moment to consider the town that lies below, lost in your thoughts. For a while there is silence.Let us take a moment here to consider our heros. Ordinary people, like you me. Not a week ago they were but blacksmiths and farmers, goat herders and lay-a-bouts. Now a no-small-number of their companions are dead. Others have been consigned to fates perhaps worse than that. And the raggedy arsed band of survivors faces a world that grows more alien and dangerous each day. Where once their days were spent amoung the citizens of the rather un-extraordinary towns of Seven and Trolluc, now death, dark magic and madness become disturbingly familier companions. Is it no wonder they seem reluctant to abandon the protection afforded them by the trees? Is it any wonder that their eyes rove restlessly over the scene that lies before them. Do you, like me, wonder what they are thinking as they crouch atop that lonely ridge so close to their destination but so far from everything that they know?</blockquote>

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