Location: A barn in the village of Clun<br/>Date / Time: March 15, late afternoon<br/>Tagging: Eztli<br/><hr/>"Aye, the river will be high alright," Krolus agreed. "But half of it, at least, will spill out the south bank and flood the meadows near the river. The road should be dry most of the way, if anything can be called dry this time of year. It's raised high enough to get us to the ford without too much trouble. And if we can't make the ford there are farms this side of the Thane where we can find a roof and dry ground to rest our heads. But at least we'll be on safe ground tomorrow, no beasties or bandits this close to Kirborg, I fancy."<br/><br/>One of the merchant's retainers snorted as he passed the bottle back to the dwarf. "Beasts? Heh. I've seen worse in some dark alleys of Scarborough. A half-starved fox crossing our path yesterday was the worst I've seen so far." His companion grunted his agreement and clapped his fellow on the shoulder. If some people could be believed, the Frontier Baronies were a place where giants loomed behind any tree, hordes of goblins lay in ambush behind every boulder, and demons and dragons sprang from the pages of fairy tales every day. "You and the elf are just for show, if you ask me." His companion tightened the grip on his shoulder, but I had been too late. "<br/><br/>"That so? Really? What say you, elf, are we just ornaments in a merchant's crown?" There was tingle in Krolus's voice, a chime of half-suppressed laughter. "What could possibly go wrong?"