Urfengar: More Treasure Hunting

Gurind Renar, the earl's contact with the map, told us of a man who might be able to help us in Tyrduk, a hole of a place situated right at the base of the mountains we needed to reach. We set out with Veya in tow the next morning. As we traveled, we came across weird dimensional pockets of goblins popping up at random intervals. Veya's little lecture on the Planes gained a little more substance every time a horde of the little buggers would come charging at us like lemmings off a cliff.

After riding for two days straight, we decided to camp for the night. As it turns out, things didn't stop with just goblins. No, we got several visits from the undead through the night. I finally consecrated the area around our campfire and that (along with the mercy of the Gods) allowed us to sleep in peace long enough to recover our spells.

We managed to reach Tyrduk without further incident, late the next day. This collection of hovels got far more attention from the wandering goblins than it deserved. The humans who've been wasting their lives here were busy trying to rebuild as we rode through. Some of the party stopped to talk with some adventurer about who knows what, but I made sure to keep the local tavern in sight. It, at least, had survived the goblin raid. I guess the little beasts show reason from time to time after all.

I'd barely had time to sit down and savor the fresh brew of pigslop the barkeep passes off as ale when my companions found the man we were looking for. Valen is his name. I wasn't really impressed on first sight. And he later gave me no reason to change that. He did agree to take us up to the mountains for a hundred and fifty gold pieces, which is absolutely ridiculous. Nalathisor coughed up the coins, though, so we decided to head out at once. Which was fine by me, another swig of that hogspit and I'd probably be joining Thelonious.

As we plodded up the mountainside, Rath began to get a little suspicious about the path our man Valen was leading us along. Maxwell, to his credit, also began to suspect the smelly human. I offered to call on Moradin for some truth-defining spells, but the filthy malingerer would have nothing to do with it. Being very tired of dimwits, we hogtied him after a short scuffle and got some real answers out of him. Turns out he was paid to lead us into a trap. He begged and pleaded for his life, but we were too busy discussing how to deal with this turn of events to pay him much mind. After mulling it over, we tied him to one of our horses and headed up the mountain, hoping to spring the trap the other way.