D. Rex
Magic Eight Ball
Hinkiro
It was not long after he had left that place that he had felt the pull. No... not a pull. A feeling. A sort of longing for a place that he had never been. Why was it that he looked to the Paizu mountains? Why was it that when his gaze swept the cloud covered peeks that his eyes stopped at the same spot every time?
It could not be for nostalgia... he was born further south. Besides he hadn't before had any inclination to return. So why now? It had bothered him... he had learned to trust his instincts during these years in the wild... but what where they telling him? That he wasn't yet ready for Ryken? That he needed to go home first? No that wasn't his home... but still, his gut was telling him to go.
There were many things that Hinkiro did not know... but he did know that he would go. If nothing else. It would give him time to think.
The village of Kronum
Howl Elvario
The village small, quaint. But like its people, it was solid. With the forests of Ryken to west, and the Paizu Mountains to the east, Kronum sat at the edge of the Glattzdan Hills, and was no stranger to defending itself from the various monsters that saw fit to try and nab livestock from time to time. Of course... larger dangers often presented themselves. While rare, greater monsters have left their scars on the village. Long healed scars, filled in by mortar and thatch and left as if they never happened.
The residents of Kronum prided themselves on their resiliency. Always picking themselves back up from whatever befell them. In part, this pride came from a sense of duty. Villages like this were scattered across the region. Each of them sharing a unique feature. A stone tower in the middle of their settlements at the crest of a tall hill. A signal tower. The light could be seen for miles, and night or day, burning heat or freezing snow, the towers would always be manned. Ancient duty, now simple tradition. To watch and send word to Ryken should a giant, or worse, wonder in from the mountains. Only once in the past two decades has the Kronum tower been lit. A story still told to the children here. Every telling more fanciful than the last.
The shadow of Kronum Tower was cast over the village by the late morning sun. The long slender shadow pointing towards the forests if Ryken, where lumberjacks felled trees and stacked them in large piles to be sorted out. And farmers to the north tended fields of various crops. The melons here famous for being sweet and firm, and the tobacco mild and subtle. Sheep wandered the hills to the south, crazing with the cattle while shepherd boys watched over them with cautious eyes.
A simple place. A friendly place. And the inner village was much the same... the homes had a warmth to them. Housewives did their laundry by a well, gossiping over the news from the forest village of Dalin, or who old Fet Grouher would marry despite the bachelor protesting he never would again. Word on the wind said it would be Neri Termigril. Everyone knew that they already bickered like a married couple.
The smell of bread wafted through the air as a strong breeze brought the welcome scents from the villages bakery. It served as the only tavern as well, with ale and wine as sweet as the melons, but never let Master Grin hear you say that. He didn't want his establishment associated with those rowdy drinking dens you heard about in those other village. No drunkards here. Only hard working, folk.
Grins Bakery was lively today. As it well should be. Theril had come in from Dalin last night with his shipment of bolts of cloth. And the things he had said took to the town like fire in dried grass...
Lanost had been completely destroyed.
Theril had brought in all the news he had heard. Nobody had known what to think. But he had spoken to some of the refugees himself.
They said that the town was burned and most of the occupants had been killed. But nobody could agree on who did it. Many of the rumors had claimed that it was bandits. This made sense as bandits were a frequent problem in the forests. Some of the roving bands were growing concernedly large. But bandits didn't just BURN villages and massacre the people there. Sure they would rob a place. But genocide?
No... the rumors that worried people the most was that it was a dragon attack. This was serious news. A single dragon could raze an entire village in minutes. But heavens! There hadn't been a dragon that came from the mountains in decades! Or least none that they heard of. And surely the watchtowers would have noticed something as big as a dragon.
But no! Some of the rumors claimed it was a tiny thing. Some said it was no bigger than a dog, others said it was at least the size of a cow. And others still saying it was bigger than house. Some said it had killed and devoured all the bandits before turning its sights on the village. Others were quite fervent that the bandits had been trying to defend the village from the dragon. No! The bandits were working WITH the dragon! No. The dragon had been the villages guardian, awoken from its deep slumber when the village had been attacked. There had been a few that claimed to have been enslaved by the bandits and freed by the dragon.
Whatever the case... the rumors of there being a dragon were persistent. A Dalin ranger had even seen tracks, suspecting it might be heading back towards the mountains. Said it had to be huge. But... a dragon...
The village council were discussing the possibilities and what to do over ale and Grins fresh bread. Those in the tavern with them sharing the rumors they had heard back and forth. Some frightened by the prospect, others excited for the prospect of a good hunt.
Ryken Forest, the outskirts.
Dr.Sturgeon Surgeon
For monsters, it never was nice to live near the edge of the forest. Safety laid much deeper within. But there were always so many more opportunities the closer they came to human civilization. Especially with all the woodsmen looking to make claims on the best trees.
Sadly... they were wise to monsters trying such things. And few wondered deep into the forest without guard.... but there were more guards than usual today. Where once a team of woodsman might have a handful, now they had a dozen. Kronum seemed awfully cautious... perhaps they were getting tired of the goblins sharing their woods.
I mean... sure they would harass people every now and then, but they hadn't attacked the village in at least a year. So it couldn't be that. Could it? Humans and fae did odd things sometimes. Maybe they thought that them not attacking the village for so long meant they were going to soon? No... that was just worry of young goblings who hadn't learned how to master their fear.
No, if anything it was probably related to the same news that the tribe had heard. A dragon had been sighted by the Mosstooth tribe heading west towards the mountains. But they also said that it had ignored the goblin scouts that were following it. That wasn't too surprising. But still, if a dragon was coming this way, it was enough to worry about.
Much of the tribe was hopeful, however. Dragons attacks normally left good scavenging to take advantage of. Very good scavenging. Maybe if the dragon destroyed the village, then the tribe could move in? Perhaps. Perhaps. The burrows were comfortable enough to consider staying. But still much to be had. Or they could kill the dragon! A dangerous thought... but a dragon corpse had many riches, and would make a fearsome trophy that would frighten other tribes into submission at just the sight of it. Or they could do the safe thing and stay out of its way.
Wind rushed through the woods, a warm westerly wind... shaking the canopy above and letting dappled sunlight dance across the forest floor. Oh yes. Many possibilities. Possibilities that the shaman needed to think about. Goblins were not famous for their wisdom. So all the more important they have shamans and chiefs to do the thinking for them. Of course... few goblins were smart enough to realize that. Those that did normally being the cheifs and the shamans. Annoying how that worked out.
It was not long after he had left that place that he had felt the pull. No... not a pull. A feeling. A sort of longing for a place that he had never been. Why was it that he looked to the Paizu mountains? Why was it that when his gaze swept the cloud covered peeks that his eyes stopped at the same spot every time?
It could not be for nostalgia... he was born further south. Besides he hadn't before had any inclination to return. So why now? It had bothered him... he had learned to trust his instincts during these years in the wild... but what where they telling him? That he wasn't yet ready for Ryken? That he needed to go home first? No that wasn't his home... but still, his gut was telling him to go.
There were many things that Hinkiro did not know... but he did know that he would go. If nothing else. It would give him time to think.
The village of Kronum
Howl Elvario
The village small, quaint. But like its people, it was solid. With the forests of Ryken to west, and the Paizu Mountains to the east, Kronum sat at the edge of the Glattzdan Hills, and was no stranger to defending itself from the various monsters that saw fit to try and nab livestock from time to time. Of course... larger dangers often presented themselves. While rare, greater monsters have left their scars on the village. Long healed scars, filled in by mortar and thatch and left as if they never happened.
The residents of Kronum prided themselves on their resiliency. Always picking themselves back up from whatever befell them. In part, this pride came from a sense of duty. Villages like this were scattered across the region. Each of them sharing a unique feature. A stone tower in the middle of their settlements at the crest of a tall hill. A signal tower. The light could be seen for miles, and night or day, burning heat or freezing snow, the towers would always be manned. Ancient duty, now simple tradition. To watch and send word to Ryken should a giant, or worse, wonder in from the mountains. Only once in the past two decades has the Kronum tower been lit. A story still told to the children here. Every telling more fanciful than the last.
The shadow of Kronum Tower was cast over the village by the late morning sun. The long slender shadow pointing towards the forests if Ryken, where lumberjacks felled trees and stacked them in large piles to be sorted out. And farmers to the north tended fields of various crops. The melons here famous for being sweet and firm, and the tobacco mild and subtle. Sheep wandered the hills to the south, crazing with the cattle while shepherd boys watched over them with cautious eyes.
A simple place. A friendly place. And the inner village was much the same... the homes had a warmth to them. Housewives did their laundry by a well, gossiping over the news from the forest village of Dalin, or who old Fet Grouher would marry despite the bachelor protesting he never would again. Word on the wind said it would be Neri Termigril. Everyone knew that they already bickered like a married couple.
The smell of bread wafted through the air as a strong breeze brought the welcome scents from the villages bakery. It served as the only tavern as well, with ale and wine as sweet as the melons, but never let Master Grin hear you say that. He didn't want his establishment associated with those rowdy drinking dens you heard about in those other village. No drunkards here. Only hard working, folk.
Grins Bakery was lively today. As it well should be. Theril had come in from Dalin last night with his shipment of bolts of cloth. And the things he had said took to the town like fire in dried grass...
Lanost had been completely destroyed.
Theril had brought in all the news he had heard. Nobody had known what to think. But he had spoken to some of the refugees himself.
They said that the town was burned and most of the occupants had been killed. But nobody could agree on who did it. Many of the rumors had claimed that it was bandits. This made sense as bandits were a frequent problem in the forests. Some of the roving bands were growing concernedly large. But bandits didn't just BURN villages and massacre the people there. Sure they would rob a place. But genocide?
No... the rumors that worried people the most was that it was a dragon attack. This was serious news. A single dragon could raze an entire village in minutes. But heavens! There hadn't been a dragon that came from the mountains in decades! Or least none that they heard of. And surely the watchtowers would have noticed something as big as a dragon.
But no! Some of the rumors claimed it was a tiny thing. Some said it was no bigger than a dog, others said it was at least the size of a cow. And others still saying it was bigger than house. Some said it had killed and devoured all the bandits before turning its sights on the village. Others were quite fervent that the bandits had been trying to defend the village from the dragon. No! The bandits were working WITH the dragon! No. The dragon had been the villages guardian, awoken from its deep slumber when the village had been attacked. There had been a few that claimed to have been enslaved by the bandits and freed by the dragon.
Whatever the case... the rumors of there being a dragon were persistent. A Dalin ranger had even seen tracks, suspecting it might be heading back towards the mountains. Said it had to be huge. But... a dragon...
The village council were discussing the possibilities and what to do over ale and Grins fresh bread. Those in the tavern with them sharing the rumors they had heard back and forth. Some frightened by the prospect, others excited for the prospect of a good hunt.
Ryken Forest, the outskirts.
Dr.Sturgeon Surgeon
For monsters, it never was nice to live near the edge of the forest. Safety laid much deeper within. But there were always so many more opportunities the closer they came to human civilization. Especially with all the woodsmen looking to make claims on the best trees.
Sadly... they were wise to monsters trying such things. And few wondered deep into the forest without guard.... but there were more guards than usual today. Where once a team of woodsman might have a handful, now they had a dozen. Kronum seemed awfully cautious... perhaps they were getting tired of the goblins sharing their woods.
I mean... sure they would harass people every now and then, but they hadn't attacked the village in at least a year. So it couldn't be that. Could it? Humans and fae did odd things sometimes. Maybe they thought that them not attacking the village for so long meant they were going to soon? No... that was just worry of young goblings who hadn't learned how to master their fear.
No, if anything it was probably related to the same news that the tribe had heard. A dragon had been sighted by the Mosstooth tribe heading west towards the mountains. But they also said that it had ignored the goblin scouts that were following it. That wasn't too surprising. But still, if a dragon was coming this way, it was enough to worry about.
Much of the tribe was hopeful, however. Dragons attacks normally left good scavenging to take advantage of. Very good scavenging. Maybe if the dragon destroyed the village, then the tribe could move in? Perhaps. Perhaps. The burrows were comfortable enough to consider staying. But still much to be had. Or they could kill the dragon! A dangerous thought... but a dragon corpse had many riches, and would make a fearsome trophy that would frighten other tribes into submission at just the sight of it. Or they could do the safe thing and stay out of its way.
Wind rushed through the woods, a warm westerly wind... shaking the canopy above and letting dappled sunlight dance across the forest floor. Oh yes. Many possibilities. Possibilities that the shaman needed to think about. Goblins were not famous for their wisdom. So all the more important they have shamans and chiefs to do the thinking for them. Of course... few goblins were smart enough to realize that. Those that did normally being the cheifs and the shamans. Annoying how that worked out.
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