A generation earlier the then king of Guthrie, Bran III had succeeded in ending the hill goblin threat that had for plauged the kingdom for hundreds of years. King Bran had chased the fleeing goblins into the Shadow Hills so fanatically that every last one of them had been hunted down and put to death. To this day it gave the hills a lonely desolate air, the occasional ruins of goblin huts and the odd remains of broken rusting weaponry reminding that a people had lived here once. It was a sad place and few chose to remain there long. Lord Fred hiked his way through the hills making good progress. He had found an old goblin trail, winding its way through the bleak surroundings that promised to cut at least a days travel of his journey. The rest of that day he saw no other living things, no birds even and it was with some reluctance he bedded down for the night beneath an old birch. An hour later he woke with a start. A strange keening could be heard from nearby but it was too dark to make out anything. Just the wind surely?
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5/20/2003 12:54:23 PM
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