A cart trundles down a dirt road, a horse pulling it along, old and tired. The evergreen titans that dot the sides loom overhead, casting long shadows from the unforgiving sun.
The driver takes a glance at his hooded passengers. One was large and took up half of the cart. Something stook out from his hood, and he seemed generally uneasy. The other two passengers looked far more human. "Well, no one around for miles, and this is a decent journey. Might as well get to know each other." The driver said, turning around to his old stallion.
The large hooded one froze, and then relaxed. He pulled off his hood to reveal a scaled face, black in colour. The eyes shone yellow, blinking from the sunlight. Putting his hand up to block the sun, the dragonborn said in a voice that had been through far too much, "Uh, hi. My names Dourgan. I take contracts as a hired mercenary."
The male human form across from him recoiled slightly. "Shit, I thought you were an oversized tiefling!" the man exclaimed. The man pulled back his hood to reveal a handsome man, no more than 20 years old, and yet he still had the scars of a veteran. At his feet was a large polearm with what looked like an axe head on the end of it.
"And yet I had no delusions on who or what you are, Yorick of Rosenbridge, cleric of Ioun." Dourgan replied. "Your face is all over the wanted boards of Greywall, what the hell did you do?"
"I said the truth." Yorick replied coldly. He started shifting nervously, but nowhere near as much as the woman beside him.
In fact, the woman had been shifting nervously ever since the driver had first spoke up. When the driver turned to her, she recoiled away. He sighed, turned back to his horse and said, "The journey ahead is gonna take us 2 days. I got a campsite is usually use when I go through the mountains, I'd say we'd reach it before nightfall." He chuckled. "Can't say you aren't the least interesting group I've brought through here."
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The cart slowly came to a stop beside a used fire pit. It smoldered slightly, ashes blowing from a gentle breeze. The surrounding area was beautiful. A small water fall caused small rainbows in the evening light, the rockface accompanying it smooth. There were stumps around the fire pit, as if nature wished for this to be a meeting place for her children.
The occupants hopped off the cart, and silently started doing their business. Dourgan took off his cloak, revealing a huge greatsword. He unsheathed it, laying it on his knee, and started sharpening it. The blade itself had no engravings along it or anything unusual from a normal greatsword, although Dourgan treated it as though it were his child. He had a bandolier across his chest, with knives in every slot.
Yorick stepped off the cart and set to getting water from the waterfall. When he took off his cloak, it revealed a ornate but sturdy set of plate mail, engravings of Ioun all over.
The woman sprinted off of the cart, and lay shivering as far away as possible from the stream. When the driver got the fire started, she got but a bit closer.
The sun was setting, dusk was upon them. The driver turned to his passengers. "Im going to go secure food. Stay here and do not go anywhere." The dragonborn put a hand in front of theit driver. "You aren't going anywhere, not at your age."
The old man opened his mouth to protest. "You didn't notice the chimera watching us by the roadside. I need to deal with it, before it kills one of us in our sleep. This is my job old man." The mouth of protest promptly closed. Dourgan smiled a little at lack of resistance. "If I'm not back in an hour, don't stay here overnight." The dragonborn turned and strode out into the woods, sniffing the air as he went.