A black-haired woman, her face streaked with the dust of the road, trudges into the common room. She wears a soldier's tunic of blue and white over a shirt of mail, with the stylized image of a golden lion over her heart. She signals the barkeep. "Ale, she rasps. "And send for your speaker. I've got news for him.
"I ride in the service of the Lord of Triboar. I was part of a patrol sweeping up the old Trail. Five days ago, we ran into a roadblock hobgoblins and ogres, waylaying any travelers heading into or out of the vale from the north. They were too strong for us, and we had to retreat.
My captain sent several of us riding off to warn folks across the vale to avoid the old Trail. So here I am."