We head north to Shadowdale, I must admit I do appreciate the druids foresight in granting the snowshoes.. I guess this is what it is like for fist time travelers in the wastes, and it only reenforces my belief that they should avoid it. Combination of the wet and the cold is near unbearable… I confess it puts me in a foul mood.
My companions are fascinating, they seem to feel the need to inject themselves into every affair we encounter. Some tout it is for sport, others use the veil of protecting ourselfs in the future, or simply to feed their pet but I suspect it is more out of a feeling of right or wrong, yet none of them know the laws here and this is simply not our fight.
I have gotten ahead of myself, we encountered a small town by the riverside that was attacked by what appears to be two mercenary groups. I tried to mediate the situation with guile and intimidation but the dwarf… well, Dwarfs are not exactly known for tact or subtleties. The raiders fell and we revived the dying, homage was paid by sacrifice of a sheep.
We learned a bit about the wars, the raiding groups, and that someone named Ezelar Falconhand is being sought by the raiders.. I do know of a Florian Falconhand.. perhaps a relation. We are resting the night, the town will use the armor of the raiders to disguise as a town under martial law and we will be on our way.