The two continued to skirt along the edge of the Plaguelands, heading back East to report the success of the hunt. The plaguelands were not a particularly nice place at the best of times, there was no rule of law greater than that which you enforced with your own hand, and power tended to shift between local bandit lords and other such opportunists – at least until they were themselves the victim of ‘opportunity’. The best way to get through was to keep your head down, and avoid company, lest you be harangued for ‘tolls’ or ‘upkeep’ for using what amounted to roads in the area.
It was with this in mind that the two left the roads as they spied a checkpoint approaching, and made to skirt by through the shrubbery to the side. They were just clear when a wagon rolled past them towards the checkpoint, a mechant by the looks of things, though travelling with two heavily armed guards.