Max stared at the battlefield Hizon had created and tried to decide whether the goblin had misunderstood the assignment or had simply gotten carried away.
The answer was probably both.
A broad dirt road cut through a shallow valley between two wooded ridges. Near the center of the valley sat half a dozen wagons, each one with a broken wheel. Several wooden crates scattered around it, and six frightened-looking merchants argued with one another.
Beyond them stood the beginnings of a crude camp. Doing a quick inventory, Max noted down what Hizon was starting the adventures with. A stack of logs. Several chest high piles of loose stone. Two barrels of water. A large bundle of rope. Three shovels. Four axes. And absolutely nothing resembling an actual fortification.
Max folded his arms. "So that's it?" He asked.
Hizon nodded proudly. "That's it."
Max glanced toward Quin. The swordsman stared at the valley with considerably less enthusiasm.
