Rangers

Godric is set to help the good folk of the hillside refuge. They speak of men driven to plunder old graves by lack of food and hardship. So respect dies in the north it seems; pushed to the edge by hard times. The local folk speak of evil-enamoured men and women, moving towards the ruins of the lake-side city. Leaving Godric to work with them may reveal more of what is happening here.

One contact now, amongst these lakeside wardens at Tinnudir. I had observed him one or two days amongst his fellows, before he began to speak to me. Tall, even for one of these northern men, not badly presented, tho' apt to slouch. A good reach to his arms, and a keen eye for detail - even if he lacks discipline, and indeed, regular bathing. I warrant however he is a handy lad to have beside you if trouble is near. ....

Eh Steora Star-bright! I am a clever lass! I sold five old helms today! Two to the sour faced armor smith in the northmen camp, and three to a grim old giffer, tall as a house and face like an arguement gone wrong, for nine bits o' silver. heh. they were horrible things too.

Got most o' 'em offen these dead goblins i found. Some lad had stuck 'em good - an' good fer him I say. I got the arrows out o' them too, grey fletched, nice bit of work. 'Wine might make sommat out of 'em.

Pft. I dursn't see what Gyth is seeing in 'em. Wealas men. She's fluttering her eyes at them like there's no good men in the Mearc. iffen I was Bawde I'd give her a good slap. Heh... put Wine's nose out o' joint though. He's looking as pale as a greensick lass seein' Gyth swooning at these bloody northerners.