“By the land Raumnor?”




“Yea, near there. The Great Mount of which I speak is one of those that make up what ye call the Stone Chain, their great border in the West, betwixt they and their foes of the Desolate Plains, which ye call Falsor.”




“Do you have trade or friendship with the people of Raumnor?”




“Those evil dogs?? Nay, not on the life of friend and kin! We would not ally ourselves with those dark demons if the sky itself was falling and Garuk Demon-King was flying forth with his hordes! They burn our cities and kill our people, and ye ask if they be allies, even friends? There is no worse friend than the Backstabbers of Raumnor! I would kill each one, were there not goblins alive, needin’ killing even more!” The dwarf was becoming very red-faced.




“We are no friends of them either. They are our sworn enemy, and the black and fiery heart of their lands is our destination.” The elf said.




That seemed to sober the dwarf for a moment. “Ye say we go there? To the Burnt Lands, where fire runs in rivers and smoke drifts on the breeze? Be that the heart you speak of?”




“Aye, that is where we must go.”




“That be deep in their lands, and very far from here.”




“We know, but we must do it. Much hinges on our success. What do you know of them?”




“Much, but likely not enough. I can kill them, though.” The dwarf smiled through his thick beard, then again grew somber. “I will do what I can to help you, even unto the gates of Garuk himself.”




And with that, the companions were on their way again.