Exodus of Hope

Dear Cousin Grakune,

Goblin Poop

My travels have brought me into the strangest of company, a mixed and motley gang of sullen souls and disenchanted wenches. I cannot speak upon the errand I now pursue. However, suffice it to say that said task has taken me to Neverwinter, a city that is most distinguishable by its smell and lack of discernible culture. Gigantic oafs crowd the muddy streets, pushing and shoving and howling the inflated value of their wares. I have been fortunate enough to glean from what few merchants of merit worthy of my business a crossbow and the appropriate ammunition. A clumsy weapon, one that lacks the finesse and artistry of our blades. Given the danger I currently find myself in the utility and convenience of such a device outweighs my predilection for more elegant weaponry, which I seek with an abundance of haste.

Did I mention the dolts to which I’ve been assigned left me behind? A lead presented itself which I could not ignore after a brief and bloody encounter with a few goblins and their odious worg pets, a lead which could grant further insight into the disturbing trend of garden defecations to which the highest of considerations must be assigned. But, instead of patiently awaiting for my return the pack of pollywogs blundered out into the wilderness without the boon of my experience and counsel. Fools! It is all but certain the marauding muglucks have landed themselves in a snarl of peril the likes of which can only be undone by yours truly. Fortunately, I have a very good idea as to what their destination is and the most likely route they’ll pursue. I must make haste. Their fragile lives depend upon it. As such I must conclude this brief missive and trust that it finds you in good health.

Ta ta for now.




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