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Message: <blockquote data-quote="wysiwyg" data-source="post: 4883849" data-attributes="member: 16985">Leading a small party of scouts, moving stealthily through the forest as fast as they can while the trail is still fresh, Athos is calm while sensing the growing apprehension of those with him. This is the difference between me and the: they let their imagination run wild instead of focusing on the task at hand. A great journey always begins with a small step. The lack of light in the forest makes every shadow a demon, every root a tentacle waiting to grab and devour. It is just a run in the night, the forest is no different now then what it was a few hours ago. Greyhay the tracker has spotted some wolf footprints crossing those of mounted horses a mile back and we have heard their yelping no far from here. We must be close. I could swear that it is the foul spirits that the dwarf drinks that I smell. Someone should talk to him about that odour. Peering through a clearing Athos spots feint light through the thick woods. Gesturing with his hand he orders the group to halt. Athos peers from behind a thick oak to see the sight of Martomum kneeling over a prone young man who looks like a new recruit. Probably knocked him out with his smell. “Have some pity on the poor sod Martomum and move a mile away from his nostrils. I saw wolves running from here too – probably maimed their sense of smell for life too.”</blockquote>