Terror Povos: Trade Caravan

Lithos had just stretched back out on his bedroll when an older dwarf came over from where the trade caravan was lining up nearby. The passage was too narrow for them to full circle the wagons, but still wide enough that they could park them in a row and leave room for another caravan to pass by. This was a deep dwarf, comfortable in the heat, and wearing a sword and leather armor; his hair and beard were black and neatly braided. "Dark said I should come and talk to you," he said as he drew near.

"As you wish," Lithos said politely, and sat up.

"Belrab's Balls," exclaimed the older dwarf, looking Lithos over. "It's true. You look like a goblin, but you talk like a dwarf born. You were cursed into this shape?"

"Something," Lithos said. "I'm not entirely sure how it happened."

"So one of the temples could likely cure you." 

Lithos shrugged. "If I could afford it." 

"Well, I can't pay you," the dwarf said, "but you'd be more than welcome to travel with us. Be good to have a wizard along. Safety in numbers, and all that."

"I might bring my own trouble with me." Lithos admitted. He didn't think he'd be endangering these people by camping beside them. Traveling with them might be another matter.

"Dark mentioned that." The older dwarf motioned towards the fallen ghoul, which lay stinking some distance off. "She also said you could handle it."

Lithos didn't like the idea. Yes, he'd be safer traveling with the caravan, but that was selfish if his presence was going to put them in greater danger -- and so much of that depended on Vinnie. It had been the better part of a week before the ghoul had arrived, though; the demilich obviously wasn't in any hurry to murder him. And Lithos didn't see any way he could turn the offer down without coming off as even more suspicious than he probably seemed already.

"Then yes, I'd be glad to travel with you," Lithos told him. "Granite Forgefire." 

"Schist Splitvein," the dwarf replied. "Merchant, fighter, and caravan guide. It's a pleasure."