As the summer sun began to break through the night I arrived to the appointed meeting place, as the missive instructed.
Soon, thereafter, I was joined; first by a Cassius, a bard, who had enlisted in the Vanguard with high hopes for adventures and the epic works that they’d prompt. Next came Gareth, the District’s most respected, albeit entirely untrustworthy dreg, who hoped to please his great patron. Then, a fearless barbarian, named Drogon, arrived, who was as tired of being stuck in the District, as the District was of having him in it, and more than ready to test himself against the world beyond the outer curtain wall. Finally, we were joined by Maxwell, a Paladin, who until recently had been a fairly well known heretic, but having taking the mantle now only professed love and faith in order, structure, and civilization that rivaled my own.
Once we’d reached our full compliment we quit the central plaza and made our way toward the inn by the outer wall. We asked for Dan, as instructed, only to find that he was no longer serving at the inn. Fortunately, a man named Paul, who instructed us about this change, gave us enough help that we were able to proceed on, each consuming a bean that wiped clean our inner arms leaving only a spearhead in its place – the symbol of the Vanguard.
After we’d all received our new brands Paul stumbled through the contract that we’d just agreed to; promising us the ability to enter the city freely through the district’s gate in return for information about the outer world, our being able to sell anything that we wished to from our journeys to Paul (or whoever replaced him in his position), adventure, and glory or death.
We left the safety of the walls behind through the great gate and headed out into the world in search of a Goblin Camp.
Luckily, before too long we found tracks and while they were a few days old, they were still fresh enough to follow. They headed off North-East toward one of Argentia’s great outworks.
By the mid afternoon we’d come across relics from our ancestor’s past in the form of “Frost Bulbs:” 3 foot tall bulbs that sprouted vines, which would ensnare anyone who came within a few feet of them, sprout thorns, as it wrapped you up and drew you back into itself before it froze you.
By the day’s end we’d reached the forest’s edge. We made camp just inside the tree line and divided out the night into shifts. Drogon woke me up during his watch, the first watch, to the sound of rustling in the underbrush. Thankfully, by the time the noise made itself fully known Drogon’s javelin had already put an end to the pig’s life.
Come the next morning we were returned to the trail following it deeper into the forest until we came across a Goblin chilling high up in a tree and though some of us had high hopes of questioning him, he was shot off his branch pretty quickly only to end up a bloody mess among the rocks at the base of the tree he’d been hanging out in.
When we found nothing on his person we pressed following the trail to a cave. Drogon and I led our party into the dark. We cleared the first room we encountered with relative ease earning two Goblin heads for our time. The next room we secured offered us up five more heads, which brought our total to seven, and while we had hopes of securing more, we soon came to realize that we’d disturbed a whole horde and quickly beat our retreat – out of the cave, back through the forest, and towards the outwork.
Unfortunately, our own inefficiencies prevented us from securing access and room for the night and so we once more slept in the open.
We returned to the little in on at the wall the next day and handed over both the location of the Goblin Camp and the seven Goblin heads that we’d taken to Paul, received 120Gp (24Gp each), and were told to await further instructions.