It would appear there is some truth to the tales of adventure sung by the skalds; our first began when we were approached in a tavern by a mysterious old man! He is Elder Konnalt, hailing from the mannish village of Holdt to north of Gun Gadrun. Holdt had been beset by bandit raiders, and Konnalt barely escaped with his life to seek aid. Whilst escorting him home we were ambushed by a small group of these bandits, though they proved little match for dwarven steel.
Upon our arrival in Holdt we questioned those who had survived bandit attacks and our investigations led us to a man named Maron Gast, a merchant recently settled in the village. He soon crumbled under logical dwarven interrogation and attempted to flee. Dauntlessly we tracked him through the extensive cellars of his warehouse vanquishing surprisingly numerous and martially competent lackeys. Eventually the coward could run no more and was laid low in the darkest corner of his lair.
Needless to say, Elder Konnalt and the grateful villagers of Holdt acclaimed us as great heroes. Modesty prevents us from acknowledging such titles so early in our careers, although we have taken an important first step on a glorious road. Our job was not complete however, as we discovered a crude map on Gast’s broken body indicating the brigands had a hideout in an old fort near the southern mountain pass to Fehena.