« Last post by Murometz on Yesterday at 10:30:50 PM »
They trudged out from their makeshift campsite beside the ancient stones, in search of Dozus.
The tracks were relatively easy to follow in the moist earth. They led back toward the crofter's village but then veered south. (Relatively easy for Lucky and Sil, that is)
Leyna followed them quietly, the child still snug in her arms.
Eventually the tracks reached a wide earthen road and seemed to intermingle with other human tracks, as well as those of wagon wheels and hooves.
Leyna spoke, "You seek your lost friend? No doubt he is headed for Coldmoat" she pointed down the road, and far in the distance they could make out the outlines of a castle's walls. "As am I, thank you for letting us stay with you the night. I hope to find other villagers at the Keep, those who fled, and perhaps we can return once the raiding troll has gone."
Well, with Dozus' tracks lost amidst the mud, there was little to do but proceed down the road with Leyna.
Several gray, dreary hours passed as they trudged along, and finally Coldmoat appeared before them, an underwhelming black and gray eyesore amidst the flat landscape.
Coldmoat looked the part of an old-fashioned castle. The Keep's crenelated stone walls reached forty feet into the air. At each corner a square tower rose over the fens around it. The central keep was likewise an unadorned giant rectangle of granite, with a single central tower rising from its center.
Surrounding the walls was a great moat from which this castle no doubt earned its name.
The giant drawbridge was down, spanning sixty feet across the murky, pale green-water.
At the far end of the drawbridge several guards, armored head to toe, were standing vigil beside a massive portcullis, glaives in hand.