They tasted defeat. Enemies are getting stronger. The caravan needs to move.
Monty saw defeat at the hands of the devils and death has reached the elven lands faster than anybody had expected. Hidden powers surge, mighty allies and enemies appear in the distance, and the nomad can do nothing but move on in the hope the caravan lives another day.
The elven lands have been left behind in the hope of greener plains and the goblin cities are around the corner. The others promise riches from rags, but there has to be more hidden underneath the sharp sun. A [Cleric] may never rest, after all.
