Introduction: Norman the Gnome

With his mighty- if seemingly small, battleaxe slung across his back, Norman rode to Havenbrook atop his white poney. The beast carried its light passenger effortlessly as it passed by the many farms and golden wheat fields surrounding the village and approached the half-built palisade gate. Piles of timber littered the roadside and the hammer of nails was nonstop as workers labored to complete the fortification.

Sticking out of his back pocket was the crumpled remains of the bulletin he'd picked up in Kinsgrad, four days ride to the north. 'Coin and glory for short-term service,' the paper read and directed all would-be adventurers to the trouble stricken village. Norman was ofcourse no stranger to such work, though convincing others of it was generally a bit of a chore. Much like Halflings and Hobbits, Gnomes simply weren't expected to do such things and that was that. But just as that was that, Norman was an adventurer to his very core and no one would tell him otherwise and avoid a fight.

He road up to the first guard he saw, a bored looking militiaman who'd laid his spear up against a wall to fidget with his ill-fitting gamison.

"Oy! You there! Which way to the Governor's Office? I've come to offer my services," he said, pulling the piece of parchment from his pocket and holding it up.

For a brief moment, which might have been comical to anyone save Norman, the militiaman looked around in confusion. Then his gaze dropped and he caught site of the little gnome in plate armor, carrying an axe.

"This... must be a joke," the guard said dismissively.

Norman was used to such treatment.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he demanded.

"Alright pipsqueak, move along," the guard said, grabbing his spear.

Well, at least he had his attention now.

"Eh, okay. Then the least you can do is tell me what to do with all of these," Norman asked.

"All of what?" the guard asked with a raised eyebrow.

Norman promptly tossed a small leather sack up to the man.

Peering inside, "What... are these?"

"Goblin testicles," Norman answered.

The guard stepped back and incredulously threw the bag back down to Norman, "Holly shit, man! Where'd you get those?"

"Where do ya think? The trip here from Kinsgrad was not an easy one," the gnome replied.

In short order, he was ushered inside and directed to a tavern at the center of town with an explanation that the adventurers would be addressed in three days time.

As he rode on, he pulled one of the walnuts out of his sack and cracked it open. The earthy flavor of the brown nugget inside was just the thing to ease his temper. As he eat it, the militiaman who'd been watching, bent over and gagged.