Episode 1: The Salvaged Job

The horses remain in place after stripped of saddle and blanket. As the reins are removed, it only takes a prompt from Coda to send them on their way. They disappear into the forest, in the direction of the grasslands.

The white-haired goblin takes all this in with only a nod to confirm that the party wishes to continue on. Whether it approves or not is uncertain, its posture and demeanor neutral to the decision. It begins to lead you out of the forest and back the way you first arrived, following the same path.

"Do you still wish to pursue the direct path?" it asks after a while, not looking back to see if you follow.

You exit the Tenby Woods at the same point you first entered. The remains of the caravan are still there, including the bodies of the slain. Nothing of immediate value stands out, unless one finds worth in scrap wood and the odd nail.

Without sparing the wagons another glance, the white-haired goblin heads north into the Trackless Barren, picking its way through the dry scrub and across the parched soil. "Look there," it says, pointing at the ground with its staff. The goblin directs your view to a series of canid prints that head off to the northwest. The prints are heavy in the dirt as though supporting greater weight, and the digital pads tipped the claws appear bigger than any domestic dog you know of. What is distinct about these canid prints is that they clearly denote a walking gait from something standing on two legs.

There are at least half a dozen trails that can be seen from where you are, all heading northwest. "The dog-men lair that way. We will head north and make our approach from the east."

As you trek further into the desert, a hot wind swallows you for the barest second before passing by. Clouds of dust kick up in tiny twisters, stinging your eyes as small bits of dirt and brush patter against you. When you look back the way you came, you notice that the dog tracks are gone.

You find little more than small lizards and insects during your trek through the Trackless Barren. Each rise and rocky outcrop in this desert looks like any other, leaving you with unreliable landmarks to gauge your progress. The white-haired goblin does not take you on a straight path, instead meandering around patches of scrub in seemingly different directions; sometimes you feel as though you move east for hundreds of yards and north for only twenty. It always feels like the sun hangs high in the sky for hours, giving you no bearing. It is only during the early morning and early evening when there is a discernible angle to orient yourselves in the cardinal directions.

The nights are cold. The goblin sets a very small fire, only enough to warm the evening meal. It offers to take its turn at watch, and bundles up into its robes to sleep with its staff tucked into its arms.

After a few days, you no longer have any idea where you are in the desert. Thankfully, your guide never seems to lose confidence in your direction, and in time you arrive at the remains of an ancient riverbed. Long-dried into a shallow canyon of rock, this scar in the desert would be easily missed from afar. The white-haired goblin takes you down, following one wall of layered and striated stone.

"Here," it says, pointing to an area of rock that looks like everything else. It takes a few more steps to reveal a narrow crack in the canyon wall, nestled in shadow.

The opening is wide enough for everyone to pass through single-file. There is a puff of cooler air from within the dark interior that immediately dissipates in the heat.

"Snakes, scorpions... other desert creatures, perhaps," says the white-haired goblin. It stops a few feet from the entrance and continues, "This is a natural passage underground. At the very end there is a place where the cavern wall has collapsed to reveal a section of carved stone; part of the dog-men's lair."

"Will you be taking your pack animal, too?" asks the white-haired goblin.

Maribel doesn't really respond to Coda, standing contentedly in the shade of the canyon wall.