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Message: <blockquote data-quote="doghead" data-source="post: 2145218" data-attributes="member: 8243">In the hill top ruinsThe goblins are moving even before the first light of dawn appears in the sky. They gather up their things and clear away the remains of their campsite in almost complete silence. Their movements are quick and efficient suggesting that they have done this together on more than one occassion.By the time the sky has brightened enough for those without the benefit of darkseeing to start being able to work by more than touch, the goblins have finished and are gathered in the center of the open courtyard of the ruins. They seem tense and watchful. They cluster together and talk in hissed whispers. The worgs eyes also follow you as you crawl form blankets, pull on gear and pack away what little you have with you. Can they sense their rider's feelings? Or are they just trying to decide how you would go down as breakfast?As you finish and begin to emerge from the meger shelter of the ruins, the two goblin warriors mount up. The shaman remains standing beside her worg, her two companions flanking her."I have been away from my tribe for too long. If I am gone any longer, it will be noticed, and questions would be asked. I can't allow that to happen."I came to find you, to tell you of the readings, and to urge you to go to the place that the traitor looks for and to stop him from obtaining what it is that he seeks. All that remains is to pass on the last part. There is no reason for me to go back to your town. And I doubt that you would be able to convince me to do so even if there were good reasons. For most of your kind," and here she slows, as if taking care to get the expression correct, "the only good goblin is a dead one."The sharman falls silent. The worg at her feet is perfectly still, but thrums with tension. The two riders shift nervously and their fingers curl and uncurl around the haft of the spears that lie across their laps.</blockquote>

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