2 in sense, 1 in intuition.

You quickly allocate all the points, reasoning mental stats would help you more with the more social aspects of your class, but as soon as you do it you are overwhelmed by the thick smell of blood and rotten flesh; you stumble back and hits your head on the tree.

"CAW!" quot the raven. Its sharp cry hurts your sensitive ears, as you are still adjusting to the changes. "CAW, CAW!" it tortures you, but before you can curse it a feminine voice emerges from her beak "hide, damn it!" and it flutters off, disappearing in the forest.

You obey, and dash to a nearby bush. You hear the sounds of steps, many steps. Metallic clinks and bangs. Wooden shafts hitting on trees. The pungent smell of sweat and dirt. You hear chattering, but don't recognize the language. But your gamer experience easily recognize the first outline.

Goblin! you press your lips together. The small humanoid don't appear impressive with its malnourished appearance, makeshift weapons and armor. But then there is a second, a third. And more are coming. You quickly regret your choice of hiding place, there are no clear path to sneak away from the group. You remember Yaldin, the fallen elf, and thoughts of suffering a similar fate plague your imagination.

The goblins hound the bodies, but they don't seem to notice anything amiss. They poke the dead with their spears, and let go a cruel laugh. And then you hear the clicking sound of bones.

That goblin was different. The bone collar it wore and the jackal pelt marked it differently then the others. A goblin shaman. You gulp dry. You could be hidden from these critter foes, but against a shaman? It had a certain feral gait, sniffing often the air.

He utters a string of words. You at first think you again didn't understand anything,but you did. Yalvin. He said her name, just as he walked in her direction. Did it know her? Was this not a chance encounter, but instead were they hunting her down? He curses even more when he sees her corpse, and swings a teethed club at an unsuspecting goblin. The vicious surprise blow tears the victim's face off, and start a ruckus across their number.

The shaman ignores his lesser, and holds his bone collar. He starts another vile verbiage, and something in your heart quails as he continues. The words sound familiar, almost like the ones you just spoken while you were praying. He is also casting animamancy spells. You realize, but his anger redoubles when he fails. Did he just try to summon her spirit?

He swings against at another goblin, but this time the underling was wiser and dodged. He barks more orders, and eventually the band orders up, and points to two of them. He growls another threat, and then they point to a third. "_Nazsthul" _it says, and the goblins all attack the singled out targets.

They killed the ones who killed her. You arent sure why, but you are fairly certain that was the case. They had orders to bring her in. You touch the locket, remembering that it was magical. What kind of secrets did it have?

_"Navdil Gharut Zir Lauwince. Nazsthul Nave. Gharut Nave."_The shaman says, and you frown. _Zir Lauwince. Sir Lawrence? _you recognize the name from your special quests. They begin to walk north, the shaman leading the group.

Congratulations! You gained level 2 in Animamancy.
Congratulations! You gained level 2 through 3 in Notice.
Congratulations! You gained level 6 through 10 in Stealth.
Congratulations! You gained level 6 through 10 in Information Gathering.
PATRON effect: Returned to the tale - no longer affected by Luck modifier

Mother *****er. So that is where that damn luck modifier came from.