Thinking of his evening in Crumbald Centre, Slagfid smiled to himself as he fished his keys from his belt.
Goblins? Slagfid felt a thud on the back of his head and the starlit sky vanished..
Suddenly, the air was full of the smells of filth and sweat and...goblins.
The crack of a twig, and another footfall, were followed by a guttural sound.
His ancestral, subterranean eye site tried to compensate to bring the blurred shadows into focus, but the starlight was too bright.
He moved toward his woodpile and surveyed the grounds in the starlight.
He listened.
He moved quietly around to the back of the cabin.
He gripped his Warhammer and slid into the shadows.
Besides, he had another set secured in a case hidden at the Musty Mule.
He could pick his own locks later.
Slagfid bent down and tossed his keys through the gate into the forge porch.
Again, a noise, it came from behind the cabin.
His thoughts returned to the tattered man at the tavern.
The lock and key swayed gently above his head in the night breeze.
The dwarf stood still.
He listened, nothing.
A sound caught his ears before the keys reached the door.
Thinking of his evening in Crumbald Centre, Slagfid smiled to himself as he fished his keys from his belt
