Drevos Olnir, Half-Orc Paladin

You tug at the leather straps of your armor. Obviously full plate would make too much noise in these caves, but did they really have to make the leather so… form fitting? You’re pretty sure light armor is supposed to be, you know, light and liberating. Not tight and up your ass.

You move your torch closer to the ground. You can see in the dark just fine, but only shades of gray and texture. Having an actual light source is convenient, if a bit overt. You'll put it out when you hear the barks and snarls.

The paw prints lead in multiple directions, with the foot traffic being heaviest down the path heading northeast. But you’re not here to exterminate these Gnolls, you’re here to rescue some caravaners whose wagon train got sacked on the way to Waterdeep. A couple of merchants and concerned family members pooled together to hire some professionals, the guild got in contact with you, and now here you are. Deep in a cave in the Sword Mountains that smells like wet fur and dog shit.

There. The path to the west is less traveled, but some of the prints look human. You lower your nose to the ground and take a quick sniff. Yeah, that’s human blood. A few days old, but if you’re lucky you might be able to save a couple of them.

Hopefully Nemeia can take care of the camp outside. Running out of the cave with a pack of Gnolls on your heels only to get sandwiched between another, angrier, partially singed pack of Gnolls isn’t _exactly _your idea of a fun time. Especially since you’d have to fight both of them while protecting civilians. Your Oath gives you strength, but not enough to save noncombatants in a chaotic battle.

You whisper a quick prayer to Torm before moving forward.