Dusk was falling over the foothills of the Torskop uplands. Here on the very edge of the civilised lands those still abroad hurried to find safe shelter for the night. Outlaws and bands of demihumans ventured down from the lawless hills at night and preyed on anyone camping out along the high road.<br/><br/>The lights of the Goblin Gibbet tavern shone out like a beacon of security in the fading light. Stout stone walls with an iron studded oak gate encircled the tavern and offerred a defence against all but the most determined raider. A crudely painted sign outside read "Last safe rooms for twenty leagues". Above the sign the gibbet from which the tavern earned it's name creaked as the iron cage with the mouldering corpse of a goblin inside swung in the stiffening breeze. Cyrus Pike, a retired adventurer and the tavern's owner replaced the corpse every couple of months, venturing out to hunt down a straggler from Goblin raiding parties "to keep his hand in the old game" as he put it.<br/><br/>Dellon, the stableboy, bottlewasher and general dogsbody of the tavern dozed on a stool outside the tavern's stable. The sound of clopping hooves roused him from his daydreams of earning enough spare coin to purchase a night with one of the tavern's two wenches. He pushed himself out of his seat and peered into the gloom. It was a fair bet that anyone travelling at this time would be looking for lodging and if he fawned appropriately as he stabled the traveller's horse he could maybe be rewarded with another coin to add to his hoarded wench fund.<br/><br/>"Stable your horse, err Sir?" Dellon cried out as a mounted figure approached. "Secure stabling and baggage storage, I'll give your mount a good rub down and feed her your honour."<br/><br/>The gangly teenager trotted forward, ignoring the bulge in his threadbare pants caused by his daydreams of bedding the tavern's wenches. He pushed back his mop of unruly straw coloured hair and bowed as he saw the armoured knight astride a fine charger.<br/><br/>"Rooms still available your lordship." Dellon informed the rider, "Best in the tavern is empty with hot food and indentured wenches to warm your bed."