Sketch had been asked by the local Stonevale guards to help clean up the goblins that were in the mountains, to attempt to thin them out so that another assault on the town didn’t happen. The tall, lean man figured that since he’d been part of the original group that had stopped the first party, he’d better follow up when the next group went out to assess the situation.

He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, not really excited about taking such an active role in such an overt undertaking, he wasn’t a fighter, he proffered to observe. He knew that his skills would be a strong addition to the team, and his presence would be the difference between life and death for some of the group going up.

The original attack had consisted of miners getting ambushed by a small group of goblins lead by some sort of commander. Himself and a small group from the local tavern had formed a small militia to go and stop the attack before it had gotten out of hand. Together with his friend- Ezra a spellcaster if some sort, Nevin an extremely popular Alchemist, and Elthas a very nimble elven warrior, had left to stop the intruders and keep the mine safe.

Sketch’s part to the last fight had been critical, as his strange Grym-related magic allowed him to cause panic through the goblins and allowed the makeshift militia to finish them off with almost no casualties.

He gathered at the meeting place that the guard had told him about to meet the other members of his group. The storyteller sat in a small campsite just a little ways out from the city gate, and started the fire in the center. He rubbed his hands as the heat picked up, attempting to fight off the chill from the cold night air. He wondered if anyone else from the first party would show up.