It was the day after the Greenest's heroes' one day respite from bringing the fight to the cult of the dragon. They no longer felt like there was anything to do within the town, and thus they sought to leave and do exactly what had been requested of them: To find out just what the Cult was planning to do next. If there were any plans to attack further settlements, those would be on the top of the priority list to report as far as they knew. If that was not something they could tell, at least there was the knowledge that they were not yet on the move. And if they had the opportunity, the hatchery remained a potential target for sabotage just as well.

The sun had risen above the horizon, but it had not been given much more time than that. Its still cold rays extended themselves over dew decorated plains, marking the path the heroes were to walk with its yet barely marked old tracks of the passing cult. Leosin had dragged himself out of bed and walked to the heroes with his own two feet, an encouraging smile on his visage. "Remember, I will depart for Elturel tomorrow. If I am gone by the time you arrive, speak with my friend Ontharr Frume instead. I will have him informed of your arrival if I must leave." With that, he saw the adventurers off, wishing them good luck under his breath only once they were already out of earshot. On to prepare for the next few days for him.

On the way towards the horseshoe that was the cultist's camp, Orchid insisted they stop by the scene of the fight from a few days earlier. At the scene some tracks and discarded weapons still remained, but being stored on the wet ground had not done the few scimitars any services. Three were there to be found, were the woodsman to wish taking them with him, though it was difficult to see immediate value in this act. They were, after all, but simple weapons. Easily mass produced with little resale value. But they were weapons, and they would still cut if a bit of whetstone was applied to the worst parts of them.

A closer approach towards the camp provided Torus and Parum with surprising news, however. The hustle and bustle they had seen be the norm of life in the camp was gone. None of the kobold's tents still stood, and only one man could be seen in the camp with two others leaving with two horses each. They took off to different directions, though all of them seemed to be equally trampled. Not many conclusions were left to be drawn from here. Leosin's assumption that the cult would have been slow to move anywhere must have been in the wrong.

To their luck, as the bard led forth the old man blind to his own senses, the eyes of Judgement would bring them a saving grace of knowledge: There were still people within the cave. From the mouth they could be seen, just out of direct light that the now substantially warmer sun sent downwards. Two dragonclaws stood guard, a barrier standing for those unauthorised. But nothing to stop the truly determined. The mouth of the camp was barren of any guard now, and between them and the cave stood now only the tents the humanoid members of the cult had used and the one man seemingly gathering something into a tent.

[@The Harbinger of Ferocity][@Ryonara][@Gordian Nought][@Lucius Cypher][@Norschtalen]