A Fool's Errand

So here I am, hoof on ground from which the sea can not be seen. I have not stepped this far away from the big blue since i was a calf. It feels wrong, to say the least.
A mercenary has followed me from the shores of Frankonia. She is not entirely unwanted, as from what I have seen she is quite the fierce fighter, the prowess of which will direly be needed if we are to spend any prolonged time in shore. The mix of Frankonian and Zimian accent is actually quite unique, when it is not nagging about my "lack of armor".
 
The quest for The Horned Merchants and the importance of The Pitched Wanker to their disappearance has brought me to a small inland town in Aeryon. The town, Amarley, would hardly be of any notice to any self-respecting ship if it was located by the shore, but it is quaint enough I suppose. The reason for finding myself in this backwater is of course information, information that my relative Marion was said to hold.
While Marion was a sight for sore eyes, his information was no more worth than a simple "check with this person", "this person" being the Elven town tailor.
The tavern was lacking. It is painfully obvious that the lack of a proper sea trade route is directly correlated with stale beer and counterfeit beverages, much to the mercenarys frustration.
 
The sudden outbreak of a commotion outside brought the attention of all the patrons, and barging out the door we soon found ourselves embroiled in a fight. The local thief showed remarkable ability and the mercenary displayed excellent battle prowess, while the local little man managed to make himself littler and the crazy inventor sicced his son-robot on the enemy goblins. I myself did my ancestors proud with a charge into the fray, as one should.
 
After the dust had settled it was obvious that the goblin armada had carried away with the elven tailor, who apperantly had sowed some type of clothing for my old friend, now captain of The Pitched Wanker. The dissappearence of the elf was frustrating, but just as I was preparing to rouse my newmade friends in blood to continue the hunt, a captain of the guard appeared and offered us a reward for bringing the tailor back. This aligned perfectly with my goal, and allowed us to quickly get on the way and track the goblins.
 
I do not know what this adventure will hold, or what enemies we will face in my quest to properly question the so-called "captain" of The Pitched Wanker, but my goal remains steady. Bring these brigands to justice, free my parents and amass enough gold to buy a ship so I never have to step hoof further in than a stone's throw from the ocean, for this forest bodes ill.