Olaf and Beringar are here.
Somewhere out in the heathlands south-west of Ket, Beringar has been trapping leverets for their pelts. He's had less than his fair share of luck, he reckons, the little animals being scarcer than he'd hoped, and a good bit more wary too. Having caught just two of the blighters in as many days he resolved to return to Ket... but that was when the burning started. Seeing the grim smoke palls, he instead resolved to wait out whatever trouble it augured in the heathlands and return in a few days.
Now, along comes Olaf, a lanky young hunter with sharp eyes, and kit for war. Carefully, cautiously, he comes, bow in hand, looking for game...Eris wrote:Olaf continues with his hunt, moving cautiously and carefully. He will keep his eyes and ears open for signs of prey...as well as signs of Goblin patrols that might be out and about...
Beringar, who had been napping under the heath, sits up all of a sudden -- not 20 yards from Olaf -- popping out of the heath like a jack in the box. The pair spot one another...