After leaving Halm and traveling two days into the Long wood we find ourselves around a campfire. After relaying the full story of the frogs, the ogre and the mine to the merchant, Bethermel smirks. “Too bad about the Watsons, buggers had nothing but sheep but they deserved better. Still get that mine out of your head though. Supposed to be haunted. Story goes, that silver was something special used in Holderness to silver weapons to fight in the Dark invasion. Anyway guess that brought too much attention to the place and something dark come over the miners. Wiped them out in a heartbeat, some special investigators too if I remember the story.   If you didn’t get that ogre the mine probably woulda. I thought I heard the entrance had been covered by a landslide but I guess I’m off. It all kind of rolls into one after a while.”

“Any of you good with repairs? My back wheel caught a rut back there. Well, Maybe we can get it fixed in the next town, dry creek. Not much to look at couple huts and a stockade. They buy the mage-weed, pay in smooth silver pebbles.  We’ll pick up furs so the wagons may be a bit heavier.”

"Lords of Light....... A WIZARD!!!"
"You made no mention of your companions wielding sorcery barbarian!"  Bethermel looks aghast." I think it best we part ways in Dry Creek. I'm sure I can find some young men who can drive the wagons without bringing such ill fortune upon my house. Mind you you've done well enough for me but I cant take chances..." His voice trails off and he retires for the evening you can hear his mumbles ..."Should have known better two dwarves, a barbarian and the wee one who looks like he'd steal the wet from water given half a chance..."

Luke shakes his head slowly.  "People around here are just weird, is all I can say.  Back in that village, they didn't even bother to warn us to stay away from the lake because it's got frogs in it that can SWALLOW ME WHOLE for godsake.  Nooo, they're perfectly fine with that . . . But now a dwarf fixes a wagon and all of a sudden this guy's scared to death!"

Thir understands the wagon master's reaction, though he is surprised that the wagon master would have expected anything else given the motley collection of races he was traveling with.  Holderness is a large city with several wizards, not like many of the ignorant human backwoods in the region.  Over the course of his travels, he has learned to hide the power he wields, even going so far as to cover his mithril armor with a rough cloth coat.  There is no hiding the war hammer, though he would never want to anyway.  He does have his pride.

In any case, he will be glad to part company with the merchant.  As much as he enjoys the familiarity of wagon travel, he finds it moderately repugnant to work under the thumb of a human.

Imagine how poor Ladron feels I think he was involved in a spit fight between two frogs and "took" the tour of the inside of a frogs mouth several times. Its not easy being green.

Ladron squares up with Bethermel, raising himself to his full (still short) stature.
"Listen ya old coot, I'd calm down with the name calling. We just overcame a bunch of monsters and wild animals that shut down an entire farm operation one which was a big part of your profits.  We also left it open for you to repopulate with your own people so you can pull in even more loot.  We didn't even ask for anything extra.  Our deal was to drive the wagons in exchange for free passage and we even have to feed ourselves.  You didn't say anything about protecting your hide or your buisness.  You say I look like I would steal the wet from water given a chance, but fact is your little strongbox with it's pathetic outdated lock is as intact as the day we left.  You take on a crew of young toughs, with no money or means of thier own, you're gonna be feeding them and if you run into another snafu like that farm back there, you won't have to feed any because any that managed to live will be running back to thier one-room mama's house as fast as thier serf legs can carry them.  That's if they don't shiv you on the first night right after you fall asleep and bust open your money-box with a cudgel.  What you've got on your hands is the deal of a lifetime.  Four or Five hard-bit characters who aren't going to see a hair on your head harmed or a penny lost from your pocket as long as they're in your employ.  And you don't even have to feed them.  If you ask me, the worst thing you could do is let us go at Dry Creek.  Your best policy right now I'd say to to admit to yourself that the sun plays some horrible tricks on the eye in the middle of the day and that dwarf is a hell of a smith to have fixed the wagon so fast.  Then let's get on our way before a giant mosquito drives a shaft through somebody's eye.

During the night, Brenna stirs and shifts a few times as the embers glow is at its lowest point, a faint shimmer of very dim light overshadows the embers soon and it grows gradually brighter.  Seconds later, Brenna wakes up, the light becoming so bright it shines past the thin cloth of the bedroll.  She moves slowly, her combat instincts taking over and she does not want to alert anyone who might see her, although as she slowly pulls the blanket back, it seems so bright that it must be morning.

She gets up slowly, still feeling a bit tired and as she does, she realizes that no one else is up yet it seems to be almost mid-sun.  She moves around the first wagon and sees no sign of anyone either in the wagons or near them.  As she turns back towards her bedroll, a warhammer sits atop it.  She instinctively reaches down to her own belt and finds that she has none of her weapons at all.  She drops lower and scans the tree line, searching for any enemy but finds no one there and the warhammer still sits there.

Moving closer, she notices that the warhammer is glowing slightly but with the bright sunlight, it is difficult to discern at all.  She picks it up and sees the symbol of Moradin upon it, etched into the mithral hammer head, surrounded by symbols of power and strength written in dwarvish.  As she holds it in both her hands, she feels the power and strength of Moradin within her, surrounding and enveloping her in a soothing strength she has not felt since she was still amongst only the dwarves of the Star Forger clan.  The light from the weapon slowly ebbs away, and she is standing alone before a great forge that is white hot and feels warm, like the sun upon one’s face, not the oppressive heat that one would expect from the forge.  She recalls the first time she crafted her first suit of armor, just days after her first weapon, a warhammer dedicated to Moradin.

An owl’s call can be heard as Brenna wakes with a start, her Mordenkrad in her hands as she sits up, lying in the same place she bedded down, earlier that evening.  Most everyone is asleep except the one on watch, his back to her and part of the wagon obstructing her view.  It is still night and the warhammer in her dream is nowhere to be found and at once she realizes that Moradin has entered her dreams and reminded her that she serves him and that the skills and abilities she has have been given by him and that no dwarf should ever allow themselves to feel ashamed at their God given abilities.  She feels a calm that she did not possess hours ago and in fact feels foolish about being worried about the simple peasant’s scorn and derision.  Her companions knew her worth in such a short time and she was once again reminded of its value.  Knowing the coming days would have more martial tests than those of the will, she was calmed in knowing that one more battle had been finished.  She moved towards the person on watch, clearing her throat softly enough not to wake the others but to alert whomever was on watch where she was without being alarmed. 

She smiled as she stepped around the wagon to take her shift and thought, “The next day would be a better one!”