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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Grim" data-source="post: 1115313" data-attributes="member: 132">Skye keeps trudging east towards Bellhold. Hours pass with nothing but the trees, the birds, and a sleight breeze to keep him company. A little after midday, a bird flies, spooked, out of a bush. Skye looks at the bush and sees a small figure lying beneath it, clawing at the ground limply.He hurries over, lifting back the branches to reveal a small… thing. It’s human shaped, two legs, arms, eyes, ears, but definitely not human. The thing is small, maybe 3 or 4 feet at most. It, well, his, skin is a dusty tan or yellow, leathery to the touch. His ears are pointed and huge, its face a sad twisted thing, like a soufflé that collapsed in on itself. Stubble grows around its slim lips and weak chin. The thing is dressed in rotting leather armor and frayed black pants and reeks of far too much travel. His belt holds up an empty sheath. Those woven into his armor are also empty. He had, in fact, nothing of any value on him, at least obviously.“Man thing…” it said. “Wa… wat…. Water.” The thing coughs, a deep, hacking thing, but dry as dust.Skye reaches to his belt and unties a canteen, which he puts on the ground. He slides it near the thing with his foot, and the small yellow goblin drinks deeply, grasping the canteen with both of his tendoned, frail-looking hands. Then he chuckles.In one swift motion, the goblin undulates into a standing position, dusts himself, off, passes the waterskin back, and begins walking westward. “Thanks, manthing.”“What are you doing out here, trickster?” Skye calls out as he grabs the hilt of his sword.“Prukk doesn’t answer to humans, and it’s none of your business, manthing.”“I’m looking for the four adventurers who saved Bellhold. I wish to join their efforts. Have you seen them?”“Oh, you mean the four who did my work for me, and then took all my things? Yah, I saw them. Last I heard the three left were heading towards Fool’s Pass looking for some old lady.”Fool’s Pass was one of they ways through the mountains east of Bellhold, but following it’s name, it is a dangerous road, full of bandits and snow and ice and death.“Thank you, Prukk.”“Well, if there is nothing else you are just dying to ask, goodbye manthing” says Prukk. They both turn to walk away, look back at the other, suspicous, and then keep walking, the goblin heading west and the man west.“Be careful in the woods, Prukk,” Skye calls out, “lest you meet someone not as caring as I.”“OK!” Prukk calls back.Skye just barely hears the second part.“… Manthing.”Some hours later, Skye comes to a clearing. Picture it. The woods in late afternoon. The sun sparkles in the sky, the air is luciously scented, the trees are bursting with green, as is the grass of the clearing. Centered in it is a splash of white and red. A doe lies dying, its entrails spilt upon the ground like red greasy maggots.Over it stands a dark brown horse, a stallion. From the horse's forehead a spike of blue crystal has forced its way through, and along its spine more crystals poke out, like the jagged teeth of some strange beast. To the side is a dead human, his own knife lodged in his throat.The horse looks up at Skye. Their eyes meet, both icy and blue, but the horses more crisp and metalic.A deep voice resonates in Skye's mind.Hello. Care to join me for dinner?</blockquote>

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