The signs were clear. Goblin tracks. Many of them, and they were still headed in the same direction.<br/><br/>Ugnar had been following the trail for days. It had been slow going as he lost the trail, spent time patiently searching for it, then picked it up again. He concealed his frustration, focusing his thoughts inward with plans of what he would -do- to the goblins once he found them. It fueled him. It drove him on. And it kept him from remembering...<br/><br/>His fingers traced the out line of the boot print before him in the dirt. One, maybe two days old, perhaps more, perhaps less. He remembered the rains that came three nights ago, so it had to have been since then, or the tracks would not still be here. He raised his head, looking out toward the rising sun with his amber eyes. His flattened nose twitched, eager to smell the goblin stench that would promise him that they were near. Disappointed, he rose up to his feet, pulling the cowl of his cloak back up over his head, and set off in the direction that the toes of those prints pointed.<br/><br/>------<br/><br/>Early the next morning, the trail was lost. Rather, he lost the trail the previous evening, and right at sunrise he tried again, without success. He sighed, but remained calm. He had plenty of time, now, with nothing else to do but seek his vengeance. Two years on the road, and countless goblin scalps claimed. He didn't do it for a reward, nor did he do it to save the lives of innocents.<br/><br/>He did it because he -enjoyed- it.<br/><br/>Though he had lost the trail, he had come across a dirt-packed road that had obviously seen significant road traffic in its time. Without a trail to follow, he assumed the road would lead to a village or town. Perhaps he could find an inn, clean up, get a warm meal and recuperate for a day or so before continuing his search. He looked both ways along the trail, picked one, and began to walk.<br/><br/>Within a partial hour, he saw the village in the distance, and now could make out the smell of the sea salt. His eyes saw the ocean spreading to his left and to his right, and a few ships could be seen in the distance, bobbing up and down in the water very slightly from this distance. He was sure the goblins hadn't come through this town and taken to ship, so he knew what he had to do: turn around and begin his search in the opposite direction.<br/><br/>But first - a rest in this village. Restocking his supplies. Warm food and perhaps a warm bath and a warm bed with a whore, if the place had any that would service his kind. Again his feet set out, and a short time later he found himself approaching the village proper.<br/><br/>A pair of guards stood watch, but neither challenged him. Cowards they were, or perhaps they were there simply to pull the gates shut in the event of an attack. An attack by whom, he did not know... or, perhaps he did. Without pause, he stalked into the village, his eyes glancing from beneath his hood and eventually he saw what he was looking for: a sign that indicated an inn, the partly faded image of a half human woman/half fish painted upon its surface.<br/><br/>Silly humans and their fantasies.<br/><br/>Ugnar headed in that direction, ignoring any looks that might be cast his way. He had no desire to start any trouble, and by now was used to the untrusting glares of humans, elves, halflings and dwarves alike. It mattered not to him and he put such thoughts aside as he pushed through the inn's front doors. His gold and silver spent the same as the next man's. If the innkeep was stupid enough to turn it away, Ugnar would leave and head to the next one.<br/><br/>Upon entering, he noticed a smattering of patrons gathered in the common room. Much of their attention was focused on a halfling woman standing upon one of the tables. She was shouting something to them, challenging them and their manhood. She had spunk, that was for sure - but then she mentioned -goblins-, and Ugnar's ears perked up. Gone were thoughts of food, provisions, whores, and sleep. She had said the magic word, and slowly he made his way towards the table to get a closer look.<br/><br/>Most of the others around the table ignored her, sighed at her, or laughed. Clearly they were not taking her seriously, or they were simply cowards - a common trait amongst humanity, Ugnar had learned. As he watched the halfling woman glancing around, Ugnar reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing his face to her. That was how one with any sort of balls spoke to another - face to face, without masks or false pretenses.<br/><br/>"I am not afraid of goblins, little one," he said, his voice deep and only with a hint of a growl. "And the idea of profit only makes your story sound even better." He stood well north of six feet in height, with broad shoulders and dark grayish skin. His eyes were a dull amber in color as they focused on the halfling standing on the table, and his dark brown cloak and scale and leather armor, down to his boots, were covered with the dust of the road.