Hired Help

The ringing in your ears is slowly replaced by the sound of heavy rain drumming against the overturned cart. The road to Blackwood is a slurry of grey mud, now streaked with the bright crimson of fresh blood. Three men lie dead in the muck before you—bandits, by the look of their ragged leathers and rusted iron. Your breath comes in ragged, white puffs in the cold air, and your grip is slick on the hilt of your weapon. You, Alf, are alive, but the merchant you were hired to protect is nowhere to be seen. A twig snaps in the dense tree line to your left