The group made good time. The remainder of the journey to Purskul was uneventful. When they finally arrived, however, the town was in an uproar. The streets were crowded. Townspeople milled about, filling wagons with everything they owned. One such wagon careened passed the group, a hurried fervor in the driver’s eyes.
“What is going on here?” Derek asked aloud.
“Don’t you worry your holy self,” Emerick replied. “Let me figure this out.” Emerick jogged away into the tumultous crowd.
A few minutes passed before Emerick returned. With him a large, sophistaced looking man in tow.
“This is the group of men you spoke of?” the man said, his brow furrowed.
“May I present to you my companions, Mayor Tristain,” Emerick bowed.
The group looked to each other, puzzled.
“Companions,” Emerick started. “Purskul has recently been plagued by Undead. Amn’s gates are closed and either cannot or will not send aid, and with the men of Purskul’s garrison disappearing night by night, they have but one choice: to reloacte to Crimmor. For a fee, we shall escort these townspeople to Crimmor.”
“How much?” Vlad said.
“You will each be given a horse,” the Mayor replied. “They are the only thing we have in surplus here anymore. And for every townsperson who makes it safely to Crimmor, you will be paid ten gold pieces.”
How many people will we be escorting?" Arily asked.
“One hundred, but some may leave before the rest are ready, so it is hard to tell,” the Mayor explained.
“There is not enough daylight to make it to Crimmor today,” Vlad retorted. “We’ll be slaughtered on the road. Make it twenty pieces and we’ll stand watch tonight, then leave first thing in the morning tomorrow.”
“Very well, but be on your guard. We have lost as many as a dozen people in a single night. Now, if you will excuse me, I have preperations to attend to.” The Mayor turned and waddled off as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.