The Goblin Map - teaser

Map Chap wrote:The party had among them, a learned man, a bard of the far Spitze der Schriftrollen, one Ghemmeldorn Oakrack, and a dwarf from the depths beneath the Eisdrache range who went by the name of Dondle as he had long since given up trying to teach his fellows the right  way to pronounce his family name. There was an elf, Emedwanfel, from the southern lands, who was distinctly uncomfortable in the frontiers of the north and who spent more time huddled near the fire keeping his council than actually looking at the map. Of the three human members of the party the priest would not look upon the map after the first he had cast eyes upon it. On that day he wept and has not dared look upon it again but has spoken at length about the need to 'rest it' in the catacombs under the temple to Lhaggoth Mertas. The other two, seasoned mercenaries of the southern campaigns, neither Bolth nor Gannard seemed daunted by the nature of the map and currently stood over the thing at the table with a lantern held high in the beefy mitt of the latter.

The map. That DAMN map. It had cost young Thesselwort his life to take it, so many goblins were there that the torchbearer was casualty and soon after, of a fever, died. The map was clearly of goblin origin, being scribed by a tattooing of the work on the back of a live captive.  When the map was completed, the captive killed, the skin harvested and cured. This map is all that remains of a man

It was Bolth, with his finger tracing lines on the map, that spoke. "I have traveled the south and the coast as far north as we are here today. I know and have walked the tracks and passes of the Eisdrachel and the Shantwane, but I know of no such grouping of peaks. These goblins cannot draw a map to save their miserable lives."

"Leave the tales of the southern campaigns to professionals" Ghemmeldorn laughed at his own jest. "We have established these are not mountains in those ranges nor in the Meggammots to the west. I wonder if it might be some location among the mountains east of the eastern seas?"

Jokes often were lost on Bolth, who replied "But you don't even have a map of the mountains east of the eastern seas so, lets not go there, schoolboy."

Gannard's audible "heeheeherherher" was matched by a jiggling of the lantern.

"Hold still now Gannard." continued Bolth with some seriousness. "Now what if that dot there is the town of Pel Mannumb up near the pass through the Frozenspine, then this over here might be Gimblefel-".

"Except that dot is a mole." opined Ghemmeldorn causing Dondle to snort in his mug of local beer.

The bickering and comparison to all the maps the party owned went on well into the night, with harsh words and a potsboy's glance at the map resulting in a detectable cooling of the room toward the adventuring troop. Before dawn they broke up their discussion to get rest in their rooms, taking all their maps with them. The locals talked about the departed adventurers but none being bold or stupid enough to do more than kvetch, the whole rabble broke off in the late hours to find their own homes. Remaining in the common room were only three figures, a traveling merchant named Shilchord and his addled helper Thossel, both fast asleep near the fireplace, and the  enigmatic and unnamed figure who had taken the 'back table' earlier that day and with an almost unnaturally bottomless bladder, had retained that seat through a dozen ales the afternoon long. This was the scene the innkeeper left that night, an eventful night indeed.