Morning comes and all are well rested. The day outside is gloomy: a fog has rolled in and by the temperature it doesn't seem like it will roll out soon. You have a breakfast of cold mutton, warm ale and boiled quail eggs before you set off.
The trek is hard. The fog isn't too thick to hinder visibility, but it makes for a cold wet day. Everything is damp. The road is muddy from a rain that seems to have missed Wolford but soaked the ground here. You encounter nothing on the road, not even tradesmen or farmers bringing their wares to town. You exit the road and head across the high grass of the prairie.
It doesn't take long to pass the remnants of battle where you encountered the brigands only a few days ago. The stench is heavy and the corpses partly eaten by scavengers. You trek on.
Entering the woods, you know you are about halfway to Skull Mountain. You eat a bit of colder mutton and cold boiled eggs from the Inn, washing it down with tepid water. The berries you find near the lunchsite are deemed edible by Wulfric, your new druid companion, and add a hint of sweetness to the otherwise dull meal on this miserable day.
The woods are nicer than the open land. The fog seems not as dense here and while it isn't dry by any means it is easier to walk through. The food in your bellies helps the travel.
You are a few hours away from the Mountain when you notice something in the path ahead. A white cloth is being waved. As you get a bit nearer you see a small group of men, one waving the cloth.
One of them calls out to you, "Hail, fine adventurers. We need to talk."
Actions?