Bel's RHoD: Chapter 1 [IC]

[BelGareth]

DAY 2
Weather: Cloudy
Time: Late Morning

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As dawn breaks, the air is cool and misty, with tendrils of fog still clinging to the lower branches of the dense forest trees. The weather remains overcast, casting a somber gray hue over the landscape, which seems to mirror Jorr's increasingly grim mood.

"You lot ready then?" Jorr grumbles as he checks his gear one final time. His tone suggests impatience, perhaps sensing the looming troubles ahead. With a curt nod, he gestures for you all to follow and leads the way out of the ranger's hut and back onto the forested path that will take you towards Vraath Keep.

As you trudge through the underbrush, the path becomes muddier and more obscured. Jorr sets a brisk pace, clearly eager to cover ground but also visibly on edge. "Keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready," he warns without looking back. "This ain't no stroll through the park. We're heading into the belly of the beast, and those hobgoblin bastards are not known for their hospitality."

The atmosphere is tense, and the dense woods around you seem to close in, the silence punctuated only by the distant call of a raven or the rustle of leaves. After several hours of marching, Jorr's irritation begins to show more openly.

"Dammit, keep up! And keep it down," he snaps when a branch snaps loudly under someone's foot. "You want to announce our arrival to every cursed scout in these woods? Because that's how you do it."

Approaching a small forest ford—Jorr's mood darkens further. He scans the area, his eyes narrowing. "This is a known patrol area. We could have hobgoblin scouts around any bend. Stay sharp."

Crossing the ford proves challenging; the water is colder than expected, and the crossing is slippery. Once on the other side, Jorr doesn't pause for long. "No time to dry off. We need to keep moving." He pauses for just a moment, muttering under his breath, touching each one of you as you leave.

The path to Vraath Keep grows increasingly perilous, and Jorr's curses become more frequent and colorful. "If you lot don't start moving with some purpose, I swear to the gods—"

Suddenly, he stops, holds up a hand for silence, and crouches low. "Patrol ahead," he whispers harshly. "Get down, and for the love of—stay quiet!"

Peering through the brush, you can see a pair of hobgoblin scouts mounted on worgs moving parallel to your path, about a hundred yards away. Their presence confirms Jorr's warnings: you are now in enemy territory, and every step forward is fraught with danger.

"Let 'em pass," Jorr instructs, his voice barely audible. "If we're lucky, they won't circle back this way for a while."

As the hobgoblin patrol moves out of sight, Jorr leads you forward, his irritation now mixed with a grudging respect for the seriousness of your mission. "Alright, we're close now. Vraath Keep is just beyond that ridge. Get ready for anything. And I mean anything."

The final approach to Vraath Keep is cloaked in tension, the group moving silently under Jorr's terse guidance, every sense alert for the next challenge.