“Man it’s getting hot,” complains Utarchus to know one in particular as he removes his helmet and wipes sweat off his brow. Trevvis, hiking behind him overhears.
“Quit your bitching and keep an eye out.” Two days ago, Garavel ordered the three mercenaries to scout out to the north fork of the Kelmarane River. Gnolls have been spotted on the horizon since after the defeat of the Mouth of the Carrion King.
“There it is,” Brotus announces. “Now we can finally turn around and head back.”
“Whoah” exclaims Utarchus. “Look at it. What the hell?” The river is a mess of rapids as far up and down as they can see.
“Spring thaw of the snow from the mountains.” Trevvis stares at the horizon. Very little snow is left on the peaks. “It floods the river for a time.”
Thunk. An arrow lands in the dirt a few yards in front of the group. Thunk. Thunk. Two more arrows land, just falling short. The trio look across. A squad of gnolls is standing on the opposite bank, waving bows and taunting them in broken Kellish. Trevvis squints his eyes, trying to get a closer look. These gnolls are not provisioned for a long scouting. Then he spots various streams of smoke rising from several location up slope.
Brotus raises a spyglass to her eye and studies the hills. “It looks like a troop movement. At least a hundred, maybe a couple. Oh wait!” She scans the hills, farther down river. “It looks like a they are herding bison.”
“Let me look,” Trevvis takes the spyglass from the woman. “Well well. A supply train. They are definitely up to something. We should report this to Garavel. That river won’t remain raging for long. Then it looks like there may be a war.”