You continue your journey to Drellin's and after about 2 more hours of riding, the road descends into a small town built mostly on the near side of a broad, sluggish river. Six old stone piers jut from the water, marking the spot where a bridge once stood, but the span itself is long gone. Instead, a couple of long think ropes cross the river, each secured to a flat-bottomed ferryboat. Brown fields and green orchards surround the town.
A group of armed townsfolk - three in leather, one in mail - stands guard, watching you warily.
"Halt and state your business, strangers." one of the guards says.