The party and especially Duroin, who is stealthily scouting ahead, begin to smell a campfire and cooking meat.
[sblock=Duroin]The old track comes to an abrupt end in the shadow of a fairly large hill that looms up from the surrounding woodlands. At the hill’s base sits the collapsed ruin of what was once a massive and probably quite impressive wooden fortress. Entire trees were used to form the walls of this building, but now the whole thing is little more than a heap of moss-covered, rotting logs. A thin curl of smoke rises up from a great fire pit, where an enormous boar sizzles on a spit the size of a lance.
A giant sits by the fire, turning the spit and muttering to himself in his own language. He is extraordinarily tall and lean, with stooped shoulders, earth-yellow skin marked by angry red blotches, and a wild mane and beard of tangled green hair. He easily tops ten feet, even while sitting on the ground.
Duroin can make out snippets of broken common.
“Not as good as owlbear, but good enough for an old wretch like me. Cook you wretched piggy! Warklegnaw hungry!”
The old giant then slumps over “All gone, all dead, all but me. Poor old Warklegnaw.”
Duroin needs to make a spot check [/sblock]