After the first village, the group came across a handful more along the winding dirt paths. Each one was a little different, one tucked into a ravine with crude bridges stretched across, another nestled around a bubbling spring, another little more than a circle of shacks huddled around a smoking pit.
Everywhere they went, the result was the same. Stalls overflowing with oddities, goods sold for a fraction of their worth in human lands. Soon, everyone's packs were stuffed full. They were just about to enter the next village when Damon's warning came true.
A group of goblin brutes stepped out, blocking their path. Their green skin was thick and scarred, their jagged tusks glinting in the dim light. Each one carried crude iron weapons, spiked clubs, rusted cleavers, and even a chain with a hook dragging in the dirt.
