Feeling a bit silly at having started at nothing, Anwel lowers his bow and pats Lairochel's neck. As they continue down the trail, however, he keeps hold of it, guiding the horse with his other hand. When they come to another crossroads, he grimaces and rolls his eyes at the thought of another debate.
"So, which way?" he deadpans, looking to Tam and Imon for guidance. "And if we continue making for the camp, how long will it be til we get there?"
After disarming the trap, Imon seemed to decide that such a thing could be useful, and set about folding the net and rolling up the wire. When he was done, he packed it all in his saddlebags and got back on the horse.
Imon looked around, a slow recognition crossing his face. "Hmm," He said finally, a sound of satisfaction reminiscent of an old man solving a riddle, "This is where we captured Kressle, her camp should be close by."
Not finding any trouble Stellan goes on leading the rest of the group. "Not sure how long it will take -." Stellan breaks off at Imon's observation, then continues, "Doesn't appear to be long then."
Perception What's around?
Survival Tracks or ambush.
Stellan looks for signs of an ambush.
Stellan raises his hand, motioning a stop, then goes back to main group. Pointing to the small trail he says, "A few of the goblins went up that tiny trail, most though have continued to the camp. Any opinions as to which way we should go now, likely either would work to get toward the bluffs. On one hand being evasive spares our resources; on the other hand thinning the opposition could be a good idea. What do we do?"
Andrei pauses for a moment to hear any one else's when none are forth coming he speaks up. "Head down the larger trail, goblins are a good deal smaller than us and I'd like as much space as posible. Stellan, this time you and Imon better stau a little closer. Turning to the others "The horses are still a little skittish from before it probably unwise to be on them if we get ambushed. Tam if we get within ten minutes walk of the camp let us know so we can tie up the horses and cast any spells that might be needed."
"Aye, that I'll do boss." Tam says with a nod to Andrei. "We're not far away now. Maybe another half hour at the pace we're keepin'."
"I don't see or hear anything but that means nothing beyond 30' in the weather and terrain. Let me lead at about 20' ahead and we go slow, take about an hour to get to the camp then." Stellan dismounts and walks his horse forward leading the group, wary of everything.
Perception
Survival
Stealth -4 penalty is for the horse he is leading. Half-movement. Hopefully the thick forest, fog, and rain will help us as much as the bad guys.
"Díheno nin sui gala lom," sighs Anwel, dismounting and taking Lairochal's halter. He continues muttering, low and almost unintelligible, as he walks, tapping his shoulders and hips with his free hand. After a few repetitions - shoulder, hip, hip, shoulder - it seems that though his hand seems to be impacting some surface that surface is not the front of his robes but rather something that seems to sit half an inch or so above them.
Warren moves easily through the woods staying to the right of the group.
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Making its way slowly along the trail the party travels for about three quarters of an hour before Tam hisses softly to catch the attention of those in the lead. "We're not far now sir, maybe another few minutes a'for we get to Kressle's old camp."
"Hold on, I smell meat cooking, and if I'm not mistaken, that is another trap like we found earlier." Imon said quietly, pointing to the vine ahead. He dismounted and quietly headed toward the vine before looking it over. If he found reason to believe it was a trap, He would try to disarm it.
Anwel takes Lairochal's lead rope and ties a quick release knot around a low, solid bough with plenty of branches and twigs along its length. He leaves a large bight in the knot, and plenty of slack so the mare can move her head. He had already laid most of his magical preparations, and it was still too soon to lay the ones he had left, so he waits and muses as the others lay theirs. "I forget," he says in a low voice, just above a whisper, "has anyone proposed negotiating for safe conduct? Tartuk may be a hellion, but Kressle was clear, and so were her subordinates," he adds, with a nod to Tam. "His folk may fear Akiros and the cult of Lissala, but they are not allies. It might be worthwhile to try and cultivate their aid."
As they near the campsite, Stellan stops and surveys the area.
Perception
Stealth
As Stellan is about to say something, Imon spots the line across the trail, and mentions smelling cooking; Anwel suggests parley. "Good eyes, Imon."
Stellan thinks about Anwel's idea. "We risk losing the advantage of surprise, getting some aid would be good but this Tartuk, from all accounts was a force in driving our kind from this land, I can see the goblins turning on Akiros but will they turn on their leader? I have trouble believing that we have anything to offer they'd want and even if they see advantage to use us to remove a rival, we would be next on their list to finish off." Stellan sighs, "I'd like to make friends with everyone, but we want the same land in the end, and they know it. What do you suggest we offer them not to kill us at the first chance they get?"
"I agree with Stellan. Once we have defeated Tartuk we might be able make peace with the remaining goblin but even that would dishonest and would need to broken in the end. Right now all we van do is thin their forces." Andrei says with a sigh.
Imon returned to the group, pointing up at the trees as he returned. "See that up there? The tripwire was connected to those. I suspect that they go all the way back to the camp as an early warning system. There are probably similar traps all around the camp. Luckily, this one is disarmed."
Warren joins the improvised council of war from the flank.
"Thanks to our alert scouts, we have preserved surprise. Parley will not be an option as any words or assurances from Tartuk will be of little value. Imon, if you and Stellan can get us closer without notice, we will carry the day. Do not let Tartuk escape, as competent leaders out here are a limited commodity. Today we shrink that pool by at least one."
Perception
Stellan grounds his spear and picks up Vinur and rubs his ears while his eyes search the forest behind Imon as he returns and reports. Stellan adds, I'm sure that's true, good, at least this way is open for now, but if they are any good real scouts will watch the path if they have enough ... troops.
Turning away Stellan stops and listens to Warren. As the druid finishes Stellan tilts his head and looks quizzically at Warren. "What make you believe that Tartuk is even here? He appears to be the major warleader of this area, the size of the land described as his territory could support hundreds of barbaric goblin-like creatures. Why would he come himself to take possision of a fallen minor outpost of an uncertain ally? Tartuk can likely justly claim to be king of the Greenbelt, it appears from all accounts that he has the largest number of troops here, not the Stag Lord, or us, for that matter. I know of no reason why the force before us would be led by more than a sub-chieftain, or maybe a captain of his? Of course, perhaps I missed something you saw." Stellan then adds, "And I never said no to diplomacy, I just do not see anything we could offer him or an aide of his, even if we did get beyond our mutual distrust."
Stellan lets Vinur down and picks up his spear. "We have come this far, we must see it through, give me a reasonable answer as to what we can offer and I will support talking over fighting always, if not, we must, sadly, continue on as warriors." Stellan waits for the others to respond.
"The two biggest assets we have in any negotiation", says Anwel, beginning to pace, "with Tartuk or anybody else, are what we represent and what they do not know. Technically, we represent the Dragonscale Throne, and while these folk have repelled invasion in the past, that still makes us dangerous. Remember, we are disposable. They kill us, and the problem will not simply go away. The Restovites will send others." He stops by a tree and stretches out his hand to lean against it, but pulls back. It might set off the alarm. His next idea relies on deception, so Anwel lowers his voice, the better not to be overheard. "On the other hand, Brevoy is far away, and as long as we lack oversight, we are dangerous in our own right. Tartuk doesn't know what our relationship the Stag Lord is; we could be under his command, or we could be selling him information. If we 'let' ourselves be 'co-opted' away from the Stag Lord in exchange for safe conduct, we lose nothing, we gain the ability to focus on our real enemy, and we let Tartuk think he has gained a pawn, or even a spy in the Stag Lord's ranks." This is, of course, Anwel's old idea of masquerading as bandits and Lissalite, and he expects the others to recognize it as such.
"We have other assets as well," Anwel continues at a more normal volume, "though how much they are ours to bargain with is an open question. We can offer to trade with them. Access to the markets of Restov, even indirectly, can be a powerful motivator, as can Porter's concoctions." He smiles sadly. "And of course we can always offer a quid pro quo - they refrain from killing us on sight, and we do the same. We are certainly proficient killers."
Anwel can feel his back arching and his shoulders slipping back into the old speechmaking posture. He raises his hands to rest on an imaginary podium, and spreads his feet wide. "Stellan, you are right. Ultimately, this is their land that they live on, and we are newcomers. We have all said quite a bit about what we want the society we build here to look like. Warren, I believe you said you want it to respect nature. You have heard me say I want it to respect the people who make their lives here by their labor - well, that applies to all of them. Tartuk's folk are fierce, but they are not bandits. They did not raid the trading post, and as far as we know they live by the soil same as Fulton. Their only crime was repelling Taldan imperialism. I do not want to live in a society founded on a pogrom."
However, there is one noted scholar, the esteemed Sir Grifont Montegue of the Academe of Myth and History in Restov who has written that the cause is more nuanced. He believes that the conflict was sparked due to a religious incident of conflict. Montegue supports his premise on the fact that after the burning of Erastil's glade and temple, most of the native tribes returned to their own regions effectively ending the conflict. Unfortunately, the scholar had to acknowledge that the exact cause of the tragic events is still unknown.
None of the others seems to want to speak after Anwel's declaration. Anwel grimaces at the sight of them looking away, into the trees or at the ground, as though he had said something offensive. He could see Andrei or Warren taking offense, imagining that he had called them pogromists, but he had expected Stellan to say something about the assets he had brought up. He was the one who had asked about them after all.
Still, however much Anwel regretted complicated the situation, they had to make a decision. And if no one wanted to follow Anwel's declaration, he would give them something else to follow instead. "The Restovite historian Sir Grifont Montegue has something to say on the subject," he says, a little less forcefully. "Both the power of the Taldan expedition and the alliance of the native peoples were broken after the burning of Erastil's glade. It is more than likely in light of what we know, though neither Montague nor anyone else records it, that this glade is the same as our ultimate object, and held then as it holds now the Seed of Life."
Despite citing his source, most of what Anwel says next is speculation, and his quavering voice shows his lack of confidence in his deductions. "I would guess that the war was fought, not only over possession of the land, but over the Seed of Life. I do not know who burned the glade, or for what purpose either side wanted to use the Seed." The background having been dispensed with, Anwel returns to the main point. "I do not think we can conclude, however, that Tartuk's folk are the ones we must beat to the Seed. Think about it. If they possessed and used the Seed over the decades since their defeat of the Taldans, it would be obvious. That the Lissalites have been searching for it rather than attempting to claim it from the goblins suggests that it is lost rather than possessed. Furthermore it suggests that the cultists are the ones we have to beat to the Seed, who want to use it for what we already know to be wicked ends."
Andrei looks around checking signs of goblin scouts.
"We should resolve this quickly the longer we take the more chance we are spotted, however this is important and we should resolve this. My desire to attack is based on the nature of these beasts. They are evil by nature and will betray any treaty made with them, I would prefer to face them at time of our choosing not of theirs. While Tartuk might be seperated from the cultist in the orders made it clear that he is currently subserviant to them. I agree that the is probably lost but lets speculate on it after deciding what to do with the goblins. Does any have a brief oppinion on the matter?"
"They are a threat to these lands. Let us surprise them."
Warren moves through the dense brush easily.
Stellan mulls over Anwel's words for some time. Other express their opinions. Stellan then says, "I understand why you would want a peaceful approach, but I suspect that a warchief's response to your overtures would be unpleasant; I doubt they care about peaceful trade, tribute and subjugation they might accept." Stellan shakes his head, "I want to make peaceful contact but can we afford to? Thad has a divine mission, the settlers' future lies, for the moment, in our hands, and I don't lightly hold our lives either, we risk it all for peace. I am willing to do so, if others believe it could work, because I do agree with Anwel that what we do here will be the foundation of the future. I see that Andrei and Warren have their view, what say you Thad and Gorax, will we seek to drive the dangerous creatures from their homes, kill their families, because they pose a real risk, or do we try to make them allies if not friends, with all the risk that implies?"
Stellan stops and draws a deep breath. "I will go with what the group decides, all choices have great risk, I'll put my life into jeopardy, even risk the innocent, if the group thinks that's the right path. I do not want slaughter to be my legacy in this lands, either ones'."
Stellan waves first toward the camp and then toward Oleg's. "As to Tartuk's people not having the Seed, I'm sure they don't, and I'm sure Akiros has told them little or nothing, they are his tools in this matter. But would they become aware of it, I think they would use it for their own ends and I doubt that would be good for us. But, truthfully, I cannot know that for sure. Decide now though, this is the wrong time and place for prolonged moralizing."
Stellan sneaks peek about while bloviating.
Perception
As the party debates, a chill breeze swirls through the forest causing large drops of cold rainwater to fall onto the group. The wind breaks up the fog and mist for a short time while the eerie sound of wood softly tapping on metal drifts along the trail. Once again the scent of campfire smoke drifts through the air.
Anwel sighs, knowing he probably should not speak again. Stellan's last comment was probably directed at him, given how much he had talked already. Still, Andrei had asked for opinions, and no one else besides Warren and Stellan had answered yet. "Stellan, I think you are right about two points," he says, not wanting to address Andrei directly for fear of what he might say. "First, that this is a military camp we are talking about, and not a settlement. It was abandoned only a few days ago," he says, looking askance at Tam, "and would have been occupied by soldiers, not settlers. We will not find innocent blood here to dirty our hands with. Our souls are not at stake here. Our reputations are.
"Second," he continues, "that we do not know very much. I do not like the certainty implied in statements about these people's nature," Anwel says, the corners of his mouth beginning to tighten. He avoids looking at Andrei. "How about we redefine our objectives somewhat? We want three things, in order: to find the head of a path that leads to Arrowhead Butte, to learn more of Tartuk's folk so that we can base our decisions on something other than speculation and assertions, and to make our first impression on them.
"I believe we can accomplish this with a hit and run attack that eschews lethal force but secures us at least one prisoner, whom we can question and release. We will have left an impression of strength tempered with mercy, will have gained some information, and will have found our trail." Anwel scowls, not liking this plan much. He did not expect the others to either. "The downside, of course, that we can be followed, but hopefully we can convince the prisoner to convince his fellows to call off the search before we let him go. And we would need to use the horses."
Stellan says quickly, "Interesting points and plan, the points we'll debate later, the plan's flaw is that it depends greatly on our ability to ride in and out of combat; my horse Hjarta is a breeding mare, not the great warhorse 'Conqueror', and my skill at riding is beaten by a sack of rocks. We can try to win the day that way though, but I think I'll end-up in a goblin's belly."
Vinur whimpers at Stellan's last statement then turns a fierce glare on Anwel, with far too much intelligence for a simple wolf cub, standing protectively near his friend and between him and Anwel.
Stellan turns his head to the trails and asks, "Anyone, is that tapping sound the goblins cutting firewood or something more sinister?" Stellan adds under his breath, ... or the sound of goblins dying of laughter ... "
Perception Can Stellan tell what is going on?
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"I know little of these creatures, save that which the bards tell. In all the tales I've heard, these creatures were eventually overcome by a great warrior or a group of great heroes. Talk if you must, but if they are as evil as you suspect, then it will come down to steel eventually." Gorax shrugs as he lifts his sword from its scabbard and examines it's blade.
Warren looks around,
"This is turning into an entmoot--enough discussion for me. I am going to continue through the brush to the camp. Horses would make too much noise, so my group will have to go on foot. If anyone would like to come along, I can direct them where to step. I am going to scout the group and may yell if I am discovered."
Warren strides into the bush with an eagle on each arm and without sound or trace, looks at you to see if you are following him, and continues.
"Tell me you are joking," says Anwel. There is no reply from Warren, who heads further down the trail without a second backward glance. "You are not," he sighs. He rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers and inhales deeply in frustration. "Fine," he says, looking at Stellan for some sympathy. He notices Vinur's irritation with him, but chooses not to respond. If the wolf cub had not misunderstood what was going on, then he was overreacting, and there was no time to correct him. "Though forcing our hands like that is most unkind. Come on Imon," he says, putting his hood up and starting to follow Warren. If the druid wants to know what is going on, he will need Anwel to translate any Goblin he overhears. "We will need you if any more vine traps reveal themselves, and you and I will need to work together to negotiate if by some miracle the goblins wish to talk after all."
As he walks, carefully stepping in the druid's footprints, Anwel keeps his jaw clenched so tight the muscle begins to burn and prickle with exhaustion. Part of him wants to rage in frustration at the unfairness of Warren's fait accompli and at the likelihood that rushing in without a plan will get them all killed. Another part wants to berate Gorax for his presumption that they are great heroes, and Gorax again for casting the deciding vote, and the whole war party for the unfounded bigotry at the root of their position. How right he had been not to trust them yet! If guilt by association was enough for Gorax and Andrei, what did that make him? A third part wants to scream incoherently because he had brought this upon himself, pushing the others to head for the camp and then delaying too long to raise the possibility of negotiation. He should have thought of it earlier. The rest of him keeps his mouth shut tight. Discipline demands his obedience to the others' wishes, and despite his feelings, Anwel is not so petty as to risk the others' safety by venting loudly. At least, that is what he tells himself.
Andrei withholds his urge to call Warren back and instead gives Anwel and Stellan showing his frustration and follows. "Stellan and Imon you might want to get ahead of him before he charges head long into another trap." he says quietly.
"I will offer up the prettiest words I am able, if such a situation should arise, though I will keep bow in hand in the expectation that it will not." Imon said tersely. The thought of peaceful coexistence with a group of monsters, especially a group that included goblins, seemed ludicrous to him. Still, the elf seemed to have such high hopes, and Imon didn't want to be the one to dash them, better to let life teach him that lesson. He followed well behind Anwel, not wanting to betray his attempts at stealth with his own fumbling with his horse.
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Gorax hitches his horse, looking at it he says "Stay here." before he starts to follow Warren into the undergrowth. He tries his best to follow Warren's footsteps through the undergrowth. Yet the brambles try to catch on clothes and armor, causing to curse under his breath, his heavy feet crack dampened twigs on the ground. He makes slow progress forward, looking into the woods after his friends, but most of the time looks down following Warren's tracks.
Stellan secures Hjarta with the other horses. Catching Anwel's silent appeal, Stellan shrugs saying quietly to him, "Surprised it took that long. I'll see what I can do but I have little hope for peace." At Andrei's words, "Righty-Oh, but I think Warren is skilled enough to avoid the worst of it, hopeful his eagerness will not overcome his sense." Stellan nods at Imon's words, but has nothing to say in reply.
Stellan feels Vinur anger, he kneels down, looking into Vinur's eyes, saying. "Now, Now, Anwel meant nothing bad, he's just unhappy. It's fine. Let's go." Stellan takes off down the trail, trying to keep Warren in sight but not letting himself get caught up in the the forest's underbrush.
Stellan moves, with Vinur at his heals, at a deliberate pace, trying not to be easily seen or heard, while noting Warrens general location and watching out for hazards. He waves with his hand to indicate he trying to take the lead over everyone but Warren, who may be moving at full speed, and Stellan is too cautious to do that here.
Perception
Survival
Stealth Half-movement. Still on trail.
Seemingly forgotten as the party splits and disappears either into the forest or up the trail, Tam shakes his head as he stands next to the horses. Listening to the sounds of sticks cracking, armor rattling, and continued muttering from the party, the former bandit says to himself, "I'll just wait here with the horses while you folk sneak into the camp. After all someone should carry word o' how you died back to Oleg's."
Pulling out a pipe, he loads it with a bit of dried leaf and settles in for a rest and smoke while he waits.
Warren moves easily and quickly, but not quietly, through the dense forest undergrowth. The druid quickly outpaces the others who lack his skill and affinity for trail blazing. After about fifteen minutes of laboring through the trees and brush, Tuney let's out a quick chirp in his ear. The eagle has spotted something ahead, just a second later Warren himself sees the forest open into a small clearing and spots the movement of several small humanoids through the cover of the trees.
It is at this point, with Gorax, Andrei, Anwel, and Imon all about a hundred paces behind Warren, that a loud rattle and clatter of wood striking metal echoes through the tops of the trees just a bit to the north of the druid's current position. This causes several shouts and hoots of alarm from the creatures in the clearing which is punctuated by a loud growling voice yelling something in a strange language.
Meanwhile, Stellan with Thad following a few paces behind work their way carefully and quietly along the trail. They make it past another trap trigger, barely noticing it in time. After about ten minutes of careful, stealthy work the trees begin to thin and the trail enters a clearing about seventy feet ahead. Unfortunately, as the witch moves to avoid stepping on a stick, he doesn't notice another thin vine stretched across the trail this one a little better hidden than the others. The forest erupts with noise as his foot snags the vine causing another group of hanging chimes to rattle and clatter loudly. That noise is quickly followed by several hoots and calls from the clearing.
"They know we are here, and are preparing their defenses against us," Anwel deadpans. His nostrils flare, and his look of contained anger hardens into a grim scowl. He does his best to make his way to the edge of the clearing without making any more noise. All the time he plucks at what looks like the air around him, but is in fact his the stuff of own shadow and the shadows of of the trees and bushes in his path. Whichever group charged first would need reinforcements.
"So much for scouting and returning. Sounds like the others tripped an alarm on the main path."
This was unfortunate, Imon figured that Anwel would surely be disappointed by this turn of events. No matter, it as exactly what he had expected. He saw the structure through the trees, and more importantly, the bugbear giving orders. He readied an arrow, waiting for the opportune moment to step out and put an arrow into the large creature.
Stellan stops looks down at his mistake, saying, "Melltith! Cuddio Vinur!"
Perception Lose allertness as Vinur moves out of Stellan's reach.
Stealth Stellan moves to the woods, to hide.
Initiative:
As he goes, he mutters, "Twice wrong, give us away, and the bugbear is here. Not a good start."
Vinur hears the snap of the twine, feels his friend's tab of fear, and hears the order to hide. After a quick whine the tiny cub vanishes into the woods to free his friend from concern.
Perception
Stealth
Stellan ducks into the forest and simply disappears while Gorax fights his way through the underbrush creating enough noise to sound like a whole army charging into the camp. Like Stellan, Anwel simply disappears into the fog, forest, and mist as the rest of the party works their way closer.
Weapons ready, the goblins scan the treeline and the trail for any sign of the party. The bugbear, hearing the noise of something moving through the forest turns his attention from the trail. Pointing toward the forest on the northern side of the trail he shouts something else to his band.
"Every stay together, we have had enough running off by our self. Stellan and Thad followed the path so should be this way and will need help."
Andrei heads South southeast as fast as possible.
Warren sends his eagle aloft as he moves through the trees with ease. He begins casting calling on an ally of nature, a rift begins to appear to another dimension.
Tuney and Montey climb to gain altitude staying just above Warren.
Anwel, hearing the deep voice of the leader say he'd spotted the five of them in the woods, gives up all pretense of stealth. He shoves branches and bushes aside, moving as quickly as he can to where the plant life starts to thin out. Desperately, he cries "Tartuk-hai! Lambatam. Abral thlinguk."
The words prickle uncomfortably in when they come out. Anwel is not sure whether his throat is mangling the language or if the language is mangling his throat. Either way, he does not really expect an answer, but their position is already compromised and he is not yet done drawing magic to him. What else is there to do? "They know we are here in the trees," he explains, a little frantic now. "They have spiders."
Imon followed Andrei's advice, not because he thought presenting a single large target was a good idea, but because he wanted to get close enough to shoot, and somewhere near enough to see.