The Brotherhood of the Wyvern journeyed north to the town of Winterhaven. The details of where they’d come from and how they met were unimportant, for they had a job to do. Winterhaven had a problem with kobolds, and they had their minds set, that for the right price, the kobolds would have a problem with them.
“Couldn’t we have gotten horses to carry us here?!” The journey north had taken longer than it should, and Denethor feet were sore. “How poor are we?”
“Poor enough, it seems.” Gilbrecht, jingled the few coins that remained in his purse. The tall dragonborn struck his scale mail shirt, “I’d rather have sore feet and something between me and the enemy, than ride in comfort with an arrow through my chest.”
“Hey, I told you guys you didn’t need weapons.” Braed smiled as he held up an empty hand. “Can’t the rest of you smite your enemies from afar?”
“What exactly is a kobold?” Quil mused to pass the time. “If we’re going to fight them, we should know what they look like.”
Duke smiled. The ranger had faced his fair share. “They’re what you’d get if dragons and rats had sex.”
“So like a smaller version of big ugly here?” Quil jibed as he narrowly avoided a Gilbrecht fist. As he turned to appologize, or send a worse insult Gilbrecht way a javlin pierced the ground where the Quil had stood a moment ago.
“No, more like those,” Duke said as he drew his blades, and faced the band of Kobolds who emerged from the woods to cut off the Botherhood’s path.