Chapter 1: Burnt Offerings

"We come to you because I believe you can help us. I thought you and my father exterminated those vermin. Do you think they risen back up or is this a new threat?"

"It has been suggested that we seek out their lair like you did the Bonegrinders."

"Two attacks in the same city each with their own gang boss seems a bit more coordinated than a roving band looking for some fun. True we were able to drive them off but things would have gone much differently if we hadn't been there. No offense but you seem to be brushing this off a bit too lightly." Gongar leans in a little toward Hosk "Maybe me and Urthask here just have our blood up from the recent fight but it seems best to root out any potential enemies than just let them be."

"Do you mean an enemy within the city? Innocents were hurt in these attacks! Who might plot such a thing?"

Urthask glances at Gongar and shrugs helplessly. Turning back to Hosk, he says, "We thank you for your help, Daviren Hosk. I leave Arktos in your able hands. My friends and I will be lodging at the Rusty Dragon tonight. If you should require our assistance - or if you would care to join us for a meal and a drink - please do not hesitate to seek us out. Good day!"

Once out of earshot, Urthask turns to Gongar. "I had hoped he would be more helpful. What do you think of the notion that these are the machinations of some enemy of the church? Do you think we should seek out Father Zantus?"

"It might be a tad premature to think there is a larger plot against the church, but it could be possible. Who ever is behind such an endevor if it even exist would have to be quite powerful to get a large group of goblins involved." Gongar shrugs "I would be more inclined to head outside the gates tomorrow and try and track the little devils to their lair and wipe them out there."

"Agreed. Let us join the others at the inn."

Urthask is far more comfortable sleeping outdoors, under the stars, than in an inn. However, he is eager to become acquainted with his new companions.

Outsiders often think of his tribe as brutish barbarians, hardly more civilized than animals, but his people are warrior poets, composing epic skalds and songs telling of mighty deeds and the beauty of the land they call home. Furthermore, the frostkin are astronomers. The tundra of his home is littered with stone circles and monoliths, complex monuments built by his ancestors, that study the movements of the heavens, and tracking the journey of the sun across the sky, marking equinox and solstice.

Xandak had followed behind Urthask and Gongar quietly, as is usual for him. Once they are seated at a table in the inn, he retrieves his chalk board from his sack and begins to write. After moment, he presents it to the group, and it says:
We should speak with Belor tomorrow and see what he knows of the attack.

Daire had been at the inn for some time before Gongar, his quiet companion, and the orc entered once again. Daire greet's his new friends "Have you learned anything interesting about the attack?".

Malik follows Daire, staying quiet. It's been a long while since he's been around so many other people, and he's feeling apprehensive. Quietly he asks, "How is your mount?"

Arktos is in good hands, thank you. Unfortunately, we did not learn anything helpful. Hosk believes today's attack was simply a fluke and unlikely to be repeated. I for one do not share this belief. He did suggest the possibility that the attack may have been part of a larger plot by a powerful enemy of the church. But he has no idea who that enemy might be. Friend Gongar here suggests we speak with Sheriff Belor Hemlock tomorrow. For now let us refresh ourselves. But let us remain vigilant. Even though we are in a comfortable inn, I suggest a watch.

Malik starts the day by apparently having a small private conversation with his bird. If anyone bothers to listen in, it seems like the bird is speaking back, in words you can understand. Malik is otherwise quiet through the morning, still looking apprehensive at everything.

Urthask, who has been up at the crack of dawn to fetch Arktos from Daviren Hosk's stables, reins up in front of the Rusty Dragon. His armor is newly polished, and the pennant flying from his lance point has been washed clean of the goblin blood that soiled it only yesterday.

Last night, as Urthask spent his watch patrolling the yard, his thoughts had turned again to his father and the Lost Riders. Whatever became of them? He had looked up at the stars: high in the night sky The Great Bear was upside down opposite The Sword. An ill omen.

Urthask strides into the inn and finds Malik and the sheriff already seated at the table. "Good morning to you both. I trust there was no more trouble during the night, Sheriff Hemlock?"