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Newest: Troyu
The Heartwood
******In the Public House, Cathracharraig******

A hooded figure sitting in the shadows sips on a quart of
some dark liquid and listens as a conversation rises in volume.

"...and I say you're a liar," snarls a gravelly voice.
"'An' what would you know 'bout it?" comes the sneering reply.
"You greys ain't exactly famous for knowing much about what goes
up top, 'specially out in the wilds where you ain't got a roof
over your head to keep you safe from nasty ol' Pask."
"Bah! The sun hasn't got anything to do with it, fool," snaps
the duergar in reply. "I don't have to be some kind of sage to have
heard of the Heartwood. That's the point isn't it? People have heard
of it, because it's famous for them NEVER COMING BACK!"
The hardened looking mercenary chuckles into his drink in his best
patronising manner and takes a long sip. "Well now, it ain't no big
thing really. It's just a forest like any other. People say the same
stories 'bout the Wildwood and it's only greenhorns like yourself
who have any trouble."
"The dwarf's right," rumbles a new voice suddenly as one of
Mistress Machadae's elite troll guards joins in the conversation.
"I know, 'cos I once was fool enough to wander there and I barely
made it back alive."
"Yeah, but you made it back, obviously," objects the human, even
as the duergar looks on expression torn between satisfaction at being
backed up and by another braggart with false claims.
"Only 'cos I hardly set more than a foot inside. Me and my troop
were out to do some hunting in the Wildwood. We'd heard all about
the trog hunting grounds and how the trogs like to hunt folk who
wander in just as much as they do a stag or panther. That didn't
worry us though. A trog's no match for a troll, there were four of us
and to be honest a bit of trog bashing suited us just as much as
anything else. We were working for the sorcerer Kheffin and needed
some time off, so thought we'd go out and kick loose in the Wildwood.
We'd just left the mountains when I suddenly realised I'd forgotten
to fletch up arrows for the hunt, and that takes bloody ages to do
and my troop weren't in any mood for waiting. So I told them to wait
around for half a bit while I dashed off to buy some splints. I know
a fletcher in a village deeper in the wood who wont turn his nose up
selling some arrows to a troll if his gold is good. So I dash off,
taking care to avoid the mess that's the seige at that stronghold
and buy myself a couple of hundred splints and head on back double
time."
The troll pauses here, seeing he has an attentive audience and
motions for the barkeep to draw him another pint of duergar stout
and put it on the grey dwarf's tab. "Well, I get back and my troop
are gone! Damn fools had headed off without me and expected me to
catch them up. Now, I'm a better tracker than most. I'm no ranger,
mind, but I can track some three sodding great impatient trolls in
armour through a forest, alright. And they hadn't gone far... and it
wasn't the trogs hunting ground they had found. Straight away I
could see things were different there. Don't ask me how, but that
forest was different. And of course, there were the signs of a
fight.
"I checked the signs and figured it was an ambush by a treant.
Not something which would normally bother my boys, but it looked
like the fight was a hard one, but seemed like they drove him off
and then headed on deeper into the wood to finish him off. I
had no idea which way though, the tracks just disappeared into the
ground. I was just making up my mind which way to go when I heard
the screams. First one... then another... then a last one. From
somewhere deep in that forest. I took a look around, and then I
can tell you I turned around and I got the Tarterus out of there.
Never went back to the old job, either. I headed up to take
service with Mistress Mach there and then, far, far away from
any gods be damned forests and I've never looked back. No one
makes it back from the Heartwood alive!"

The listening figure slips out of the door, a smirk on his
lips. He pauses for a moment outside to adjust his hood and for
a moment a delicately pointed ear is revealed. "No one..." he
chuckles. "Yeah, right." And then he is gone.
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