42nd Day, Morning, Freedom Isle

The crew weathers the night safely, resting under their hats, burrowed amongst some low brush to provide added cover from the glow. They eat the last of their foodstuffs as a quiet morning meal, and keep a constant watch on the goblin entrances for activity.

As they finish their breakfast, the main entrance is suddenly a flurry of activity. A dozen or so goblins carrying buckets and chittering in their foul tongue exit, dumping the sewage on the stones a few yards away from the door. The stench reaches the party a few minutes later, as the goblins return into their hovel. A second party of six exits, armed with short throwing spears and nets. They head off rimward, away from the Olic’s crew towards a small stand of trees where you can hear skylers roosting.

No activity is noted at the smaller, shuttered entrance, and a thin wisp of smoke is exiting through the chimney.

“Seems someone should keep an eye out here, in case that hunting party returns. I am of the most use here in the embrace of the Void. I say the farmer and I hold here, with the boy.” Fairfield grimaces at the Orange Man’s words, and looks to the captain for confirmation of his ‘orders’.