"Are you sure they'll come this way?" asked Marlin.
Frumble nodded. "Positive. My scrying spell was very strong." The Halfling pounded his short staff on the ground to emphasize his conviction, incidentally splashing mud on his blue and yellow robes. "Damn! I just had these cleaned!" He leaned down to rub at the markings and his pointy hat fell off.
Flame laughed at the short wizard. "It's a good job this party has some good steel, it wouldn't do to rely on your spells mage!" The Ranger was sitting on a fallen tree trunk polishing his sword, which was resting on his knees. His receding hairline was covered by a new helmet, recently bought at the small village in the valley. Horns protruded menacingly from it. Occasionally he would stop and admire the reflection in his shield.
