Broderus looks over the pile of bodies in the room and feels a bit empty inside at all the bloodshed. Thinking out loud, he says to no one in particular, "So is it over? Are we victorious in the storming of his village?"
Without waiting for an answer, his gaze shifts down to the chief's two attendants whom he personally slew. He begins the grisly task of searching through their bodies paying special attention to the unusual "fire sticks" they were holding earlier.
Finally, with some of his emotions returning, he regards Treygan with some concern. "Friend Treygan, you took quite a beating there at the hands of these goblins. Is there anything I can to aid you? Maybe I can carry some of your gear to lessen your load?"
Decided to do it this way, in case folk don't post in time for others to get they RP swerve on, it doesn't seem like I'm withholding information simply to force ya'll to RP every little thing.
You find on the bodies of the two goblin attendants, in addition to their highly valuable (10 gp each) ears, the following:
2 sets leather armor, small
2 light wooden shields, small
1 set of polished bones and shiny rocks (essentially jacks and marbles)
1 crude... idol of the fattest female goblin you can imagine, slightly warn at her middle as though rubbed several times for luck
Even with the discarded casing as reference, you find no other fire sticks on this pair...
Valcrim takes out his axe and takes the head of of Gutwad, frowning at the mess and spitting at the body. "Stinkin' gobbo filth."
Coup de Grace:3d8 + 9 ⇒ (1, 1, 7) + 9 = 18
After bagging the head, Valcrim turns and studies Treygan up and down, then produces his wand and spends a charge with a smile "Good job, lad. I be thinkin' Torag an' Sarenrae both be pleased with yer effort fer standin' against evil today."
Cure Light: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Having done so, he turns his attention to the throne and Gutwad's remains, "Bet ye this wretch got tha best loot, knowin' gobbos ta be greedy li'l basterds."
Take 20 Perception: 27
"I'm just glad to still be standing." Treygan cautiously tests his now closed wounds, cautious not to let anything re-open. "One sure way to get on Sarenrae's bad side is to not properly care for wounds suffered. You, Master Flinthammer, have done me a great service today, and I intend to repay you for that. Anything you need, as long as it does not conflict with my Goddess, let me know. I'll do what I can to aid you." Cleaning his weapons, Treygan will aid in the search.
Perception to assist: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Valcrim Flinthammer, Treygan Gorski
Since you are taking twenty
Father Flinthammer's words about goblins being inherently greedy seem to hold true. Upon the former goblin chief, you find:
5 +1 animal bane arrows
2 potions of cure light wounds
2 skyrocket fireworks
1 masterwork chain shirt, small
1 masterwork composite longbow with 4 arrows, small
1 spear, small
You use the spear to shift about the pile of furs on the ground, and in doing so discover all manner of half rotted food and assorted filthy curios, unleashing an unwholesome stench that makes you wish to empty your stomachs, and, curiously, four more fireworks cylinders.
The gruff dwarf relieves the armor, and studies it "Seems ta be gnomish work, judging from tha finish. Great effort on tha joints, barely seems ta hamper movement. Far too well crafted fer anything these vermin will ever produce." he comments and turns to Joyabraund "Shame ta see good armor go ta waste. I could wash an' refit it fer ye, if ye like." he smiles, relishing the thought of work and providing protection for his allies.
Seeing that the foes inside have been dealt with, Seiji reloads his crossbow and gives a quick but cautious look over the other huts in the village. The risk of ambush does not die with the leader...
Raising himself onto his toes, he does his best to survey beyond the goblins' crude palisade, into the surrounding swamp.
Perception - 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
"Anything you see that we can't identify an owner of would seem fair game, Joyabraund." Seeing the stash the goblin's had, Treygan suddenly begins to worry. "Are there any signs of the goblins making these fireworks? In case any remaining goblins we missed find them, or any of the other not so nice denizens of this place for that matter, I'd like to make sure we put an end to them. I'm sure we can all agree we'd rather not see any more torched caravans." If no signs, Treygan will begin searching all the huts of the village, starting with the chiefs.
I'm a fellow of tall tales as it were but goblins MAKING fireworks? Not even your goddess would believe that miracle possible....there is probably some poor Tian tradesman lying in a ditch, his festival wares stolen from his cart. His wife and little children weeping that the magical lights of their youth have forever faded with the missing father and husband they long to see... Joyabraund scratches errantly at his chin. Or maybe they made them...I'm just saying I doubt it. Joya works to scoop up the various goblin trinkets having firmly established that the current owners, being dead, are not proper owners of any stripe.
You, intrepid young sentry, see not the swamp for the trees. In your great effort to spy enemies at range, you notice the sun climbing higher, and the temperature rising significantly. Heat reflects off pockets of moist air rising from between the trees, shimmering, which is a rather innocent optical illusion, but causes you to squint none the less. Looking out upon the camp, however, you see not a one of the goblins that assaulted you got further than the edge of the pool, thanks to Father Flinthammer's quick work.
From this vantage point, however, you can see a bit more of a pattern to the chaos below. The burned hut, for example, seems to have been completely shunned by the goblins, and only recently stirred by... not goblins?
Upon further searching...
Chief Gutwad's Hut
Heroes of Sandpoint, when you investigate the Chief's hut thoroughly, you discover a series of rather crude drawings of hunts and... various activities of some importance in goblin culture sprawled on the walls in charcoal, smeared by tiny, filthy hands. If you kneel and look upon them, you can imagine a pair of idiot goblins with naught else to do to occupy their time than talking about goblin women the chief will never let them have doodling.
You also find something valuable: a lacquered chest encrusted in mud and filth. The pattern upon it is some manner of strange water fowl and frogs playing on a beach.
The chest, restored, may net you 150 gp
This chest is of Minkai manufacture.
hairpin with red pearl Appraise DC 20
gold and ivory fan depicting a gecko walking amid cherry blossoms Appraise DC 20
A crude map is painted on the reverse side
A Knowledge Local DC 15 can decipher the map
As you exit the hut and begin to investigate the various points of interest in the village itself...
A deadly and violent battle recently took place in the village. Within the fire pit near the shattered gates lie several bits of charred skeleton that did not burn.
Upon further investigation you find the obvious track of whatever attacked the village, apparently dragging a rather large haul of loot. Their trail is obvious, but disappears at the nearest waterway.
You pick up the trail on the other side of the waterway. It leads south, through the thick of the swamp. It appears as though following the trail will take some effort...
Skill checks galore to follow!
Appraise - 1d20 ⇒ 16
Knowledge (Geography) - 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Perception - 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Survival - 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Broderus walks around the village, still a bit distracted by the after effects of combat and his role in the assault. He tries to clear his mind but to no avail.
I'm no use to the party at all when my mind is clouded like this by emotion and destructive memories. Let me calm my senses and regain some balance.
He props himself against one of the huts and closes his eyes for just a moment, channeling some of the meditative techniques he learned at the Sargavan monastery.
Appraise! Box 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Kno: Geo! 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Appraise! Pin 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Appraise! Fan 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Kno: Local! 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Perception! 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
Survival! 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Perhaps a little too eager Joyabraund leaps on the chest with enthusiasm. A treasure chest! A nice one too, with some work. Might be worth well over a hundred gold...maybe a hundred fifty to the right collector! Joaybraund leans back taking in the chest, Interesting design scheme, not sure where it is from though...
Shrugging to himself Joya open and digs into the box. Money...and a fan! Beautiful! Real art, worth a pretty copper or two! And a hairpin! Not my style but that is real red pearl! Joybraund continues to shuffle about in the box unaware of the others. Hey! A map! A map! A map! Joya puts his chin to his hand as he looks over the map. Say this is around here, I know where this goes! Oh boy goblins AND a treasure map! This will be a great story!
Seiji, unaccustomed to the heightened reflexes brought on by the mutagen, twitches uncomfortably. Too still. Some menace lurks, even if it escapes my sight. For a moment, the Tian turns his attention to his comrades' voices in the hut. Joyabraund's glee seems boundless. Seiji raises his hand over his eyes and scans the muddy expanse of Brinestump Marsh once more. Too still.
Sliding down from the rickety walkway, Seiji begins to inspect the goblin camp.
Perception - 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Ah! I cannot make sense of any of this. I should wait until my blood is free of the substance. My nerves feel as if they are aflame.
Seiji stands still and brings his quivering hands into his chest, closing his eyes and breathing deliberately.
Seiji is waiting for his mutagen to wear off, which will take about nine more minutes.
"A treasure map you say? Might be more to it. Probably worth investigating at the last." Treygan looks around the village. "Probably best to rest tonight and head out tomorrow, do us all some good. This place should be fine for the night. If any goblins return, we can handle them at that time. Any opinions?"
Appraise (box) : 1d20 ⇒ 12
Appraise (pin) : 1d20 ⇒ 20
Appraise (fan) : 1d20 ⇒ 6
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 10
Valcrim frowns "Nae, I would prefer we dinnae sleep in tha nest o gobbos. Defenses might sound good, but they be nae OUR defenses. Tha vermin knows every nook an' cranny, secret tunnels and Torag knows what else." he looks around and nods "And tha stink, as ye say lad. I prefer tha snake charmer's hut then, if ye all be up fer tha walk."
Broderus wrinkles his nose a bit at the notion of spending the night in the goblin fortress.
"The stench of blood is heavy here; Perhaps we could backtrack to the warden's home and investigate the map from there tomorrow? Being a local, Proudstump might also have some insight on where this "map" will lead us."
"Good thinking on both accounts. Back to the Warden's shack then. Unless anyone believes we've missed something in here?" Treygan gives the village one last sweeping gaze, seeing if anything stands out.
Hey, remember that gobbo that was trying to get into the chief's hut talking about eggs? You know, gobbo eggs, like... maybe the ones running around weren't the only gobbos about?
Apologies for the delay, brief bout of the suck. After I get an answer to the above, I'll roll out your percentages of doom on the trek back to the Warden's and throw up a post.
Wait wait wait wait! The little one that begged at the door said something about eggs and honor and protecting the tribe...and EGGS! I assume goblin eggs...Do they hatch from eggs? I dunno but we might want to make sure there isn't a nest somewhere or aren't we gonna come back and find a horde of starving sinister goblin whelps ready to eat me, er I mean us?
A thorough search of the goblin compound exposes that while idiotic, the goblins were crafty enough to maintain their young at the heart of their defenses. The work is gruesome, and thankless. It does not occur to you that any in Sandpoint will feel particularly indebted to you for killing the young of their foes, but then, they have little to worry about save keeping their own close and safe. For good or bad, these are the moments that define you as heroes, and perhaps alienate you from others...
1d100 ⇒ 35
You gather your gruesome trophies, and the travel seems especially hard when the sun is at its highest position. You pause at the bridge where you met the sinspawn earlier, feeling as though it were probably days ago, considering your present condition. You hang the bag of trophies from one end and take lunch at the other, away from the stench of corpulence that clings to you with the goblin gore, and then resume your journey.
1d100 ⇒ 73
Again, the Lost Coast Road is devoid of any signs of life. Whether or not that is a comfort to you, however...
1d100 ⇒ 90
As the sun dips in the sky the swamp seems to come alive around you. Small creatures skitter about at the edges of your perception, rustling leaves and debris. None seems particularly menacing, save for the mosquitoes that are poised to devour any available surface of skin, and some unavailable surfaces as well. One wonders how the warden managed to survive for so long in such conditions, until you come across a bizzare sight, a sleek cat with multiple extraneous toes carrying a rodent in its mouth. It crouches down on it hind legs and observes your group as it seems to question whether or not you are competition for its meal, then in the manner common to all cats seems to shrug and completely dismiss any indication that you ever existed as it slips away.
You reach the Warden's shack late in the afternoon. It takes him some minutes to respond, but you recall how awful the halfling appeared when you left earlier. The door opens slowly, and he appears relieved to see you all again.
"Do come in, I dinnae mind the smell," he invites, and pulls the door open wide. He smiles at Joyabraund. "Cousin, I was just about to fry some fish. Give us a hand, yeah?"
As you look about the warden's home, you can see that despite his condition he has done some work to improve his home, and sweep up any mess that the faceless stalker had ever upset his life.
"So, come back heroes, 'ave we?" the warden calls over their dinner preparations. "Woulda thought ye'd go to the human bars there in the township, let 'em know that their kin were safe," he says. "Not that I dinnae enjoy yer company, mind..."
If you guys want to speak about your experience in a sort of campfire round while you walk, go ahead and carry on the conversation in spoilers if you'd like. If not, we can pick up from here, too.
Oooh FISH! Joyabraund ditches his gear and eagerly makes his way to help the warden.
I do return from compound with some exciting stories but I need to work on them a little before I wow the crowd with them...say do you have nay of that sage salt they sell in town it might work really well on this filet... Joya gets lost in the cooking and helping while the others settle in.
Valcrim finds a spot on the porch and starts meticulously cleaning his weapons and armor, so both are spic and span. "Ah, lads. Nuffin' like a day o' gobbo-killin' ta get tha appetite goin'. True, honest to Torag work that be makin' tha world a better place. Now, if I only had a foaming mug an' got ta hammer somethin' out, I'd be as happy as a pig in s*@@e!" he laughs, before conjuring water to first rinse off his armor, then tidy himself up as well, displaying his order of priorities.
"So, how fare yer injuries? I will be healin' up what remains in tha mornin', but if any o' ye feel that ye NEED a fix, I can deplete another charge from me wand."
Seiji joins Valcrim on the porch, sitting near the entryway with his back against the house. He says nothing in response to the dwarf, his mind still filled with visions of the grim work of the afternoon.
Do not dwell on this. It had to be done.
He methodically cleans the mud out of the grooves on his crossbow, taking especial care to make sure the firing mechanism is unobstructed. When his weapon has been maintained to his satisfaction, he sets up his alchemy kit and begins work on another mutagen. I know not when I will need this again.
Warden Proudstump, witness to Valcrim's words from the comforts of his kitchen, warm and rapidly filling with the scent of the intended fry, gives a firm nod. "That lad has the right of it, aye, yet..." he licks his lips, "somethin' bout the lot of ye say it weren't no joy. Much as gobbo cullin' be.
"Even ye, cousin! Ta think ye a bard," he says in a teasing tone, "think I were pullin' yer arm for news of the big folk there an yon, way ye so eager to spin a tale!"
"Else, jus' to keep yer folk in kinder spirits, yeah? Tad grim out of late."
Walthus Proudstump untrained Profession Cook 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Perhaps it is prevalent sickness, but the Warden clearly is having an off day in the kitchen. As he stirs his "batter" it is quite evident that he has added far too many liquids and that it simply will not stick.
Someone, please feel free to save dinner from the sick halfling :D
Sense Motive 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Valcrim pats the alchemist on the back "Ye come from a softer world, nae? Killin' monsters an' endin' their lines be harsh fer goodly sorts, an' I reckon it be normal. Me aim were nae as keen when I first broke me first goblin skull as a youth, I can be tellin' ye that." his head bobs as he reminisces "But tha world be nae a kind place, friend. Thar be monsters out there, an' they haven't a shred o' remorse, an' will eat our babies and womenfolk if we let 'em. That be where tha shields o' Torag come in. Tha vigilance that afford kind an' lovin' sorts their peace an' prosperity, so we might enjoy food, ale an' the occasional song." he levels his eyes with Seiji's "So know I be proud o' ye, lad. An' that children runnin' tha streets o' Sandpoint now, will nae have ta fear gobbo raids in tha comin' years, because of what ye did this day."
Broderus' mood continues to be grimmer than usual, and he stands apart from the others, periodically gazing out the warden's window. He didn't take part in the final sweep of the village but is well aware of the actions his teammates took. His visage is conflicted, maybe even a bit disappointed.
His body uninjured, he slowly cleans his weapons and reflects on the day's events. He listens to Valcrim's conversation with Seiji and opens his mouth as if to speak on several occasions, but nothing comes out.
The dwarf nods "I will respect that. Findin' yer path in life is nae an easy task, an' it be fer yerself ta do so." he says in a fatherly tone. "I'll go see if I can save tha dinner from whatever calamity this stench be heraldin'." he jests, and follows his nose towards the kitchen, offering to give a hand.
[ooc]Profession Cook Untrained 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Joyabraund's hints at improving the batter lend to the Warden's improved perspective of his attempt, "Aye, 'tis shameful, this sh*te," he says almost apologetically, colors and rubs the back of his neck nervously. "Next I'll be shavin' me feet and runnin' about in silks, beggin' for the master's praise, eh?"
Father Flinthammer's intervention could not have come at a better time. After a few minutes, and clearly shell shocked by how sick he really is, the Warden gathers an unmarked bottle and retires to his huge chair in the dining room, and smirks at the broken window that Valcrim mended just the other day.
"Care ta say, lads, I dun witnessed the comforts of havin' folk near these passed days," he says and offers the bottle to any that arrive to sit with him while Joyabraund and Valcrim work in the kitchen. "But, I'd be as daft as an mule if I dinnae see that you folk turned here for some reason, rather than skip back to Sandpoint with your treasures. What help can I offer ye?"
Well hey come to think of it, cousin, you could look at this MAP we found! I know the area well but maybe you will notice something about it that I missed! I honestly think we should look into it tomorrow. Oh sure, we found the goblins and threat ended but they had a map of around here and maybe that is where there is another tribe or fireworks or...and I am just saying....maybe treasure? Imagine us coming back to Sandpoint with goblin heads and TREASURE!
Subtle, my halfling friend... subtle...
"Far be it fra me ta deny me saviors of a spot ta rest," Warden Proudstump says in reply to Yamamoto Seiji. "Though I think I'll keep ta me own bed this night," he adds, chuckling nervously and scratching his neck again.
When the bottle comes back round, or if it is refused, he takes a deep drink of the contents from the lip, and sighs. "A map?" he says, and lifts his hand and waves for it lazily. "Giv'it here, I'll have a see."
Warden Proudstump takes the fan and handles it deftly, giggling, and fans himself, "Bet some highborn lady is missin' this," he murrs before turning around and studying it for a few moments. He leans forward and places it on the table, and gestures with his thick, scarred fingers.
"Mind, this weren't drawn by no skilled hand," he prefaces, "but near as I can tell, lend me yer map.."
Walthus shows you that the markings on your map correspond to points I, K, and L on your Brinestump Marsh map located in the Campaign Info page
"Now, I ain't never been out that far in the three years I been here," he admits, "and cannae say as I rightly know what might be there. Maybe you've heard of somethin', cousin? Or ye, Father? The long lived have longer memories, they say."
Broderus, also not aware of the chest's contents, leaves his post by the window and moves to where the warden sits. He gives Seiji a gentle tap on the shoulder and says, "Perhaps we have not reached the end of the road quite yet..."
He forces a weary smile on his face and takes a few slow sips from his waterskin.
Valcrim comes in hauling a pot of fish stew(?), putting it down on the table with a grin "Ain't seen no dish a few mushrooms an' a few root veggies cannae save! Back home, we call this boknastuing."
He sits down and rubs his palms together "We be headin' out ta look fer treasure in tha mornin'?" he asks and helps himself to a portion of the somewhat intimidating beige mess that oddly smells somewhat pleasant "Ye will nae find a dwarf adverse ta tha lure o' gold. he chuckles before digging in.
Joya looks at Flinthammer with a mix of exasperation and thanks. My word thank you! LURE O GoLD! Joya hops down and punches Broderus in the knee, Yesterday we were spying out for wild bears and bandits for Sandru's caravan, today we best evil and search for TREASURE. For the love of Torag, the dwarf said it himself LURE O GOLD!
Obviously a bit amped up Joya moves to the center of the room playacting and stabbing at the air with an imaginary sword. We fought goblins and the chief, we bested evil and kept the town safe! Seiji you with the... Joya makes mock crossbow shooting noises, And Treygan and Broderus with the...[b]Joya make sword slashes and yells out, [b]Me with the talking and grease spell, did you see that? Joya wraps his hands around a faux hammer and makes splay and sploosh noises. We have a dwarf cleric who smashes things with a hammer! We are legitimate adventurers and saviors and stuff. Women will want us! Men will want to be us! Or reverse that if its your preference! Why are we so sad?! We kicked ass today! Joya, obviously winded from his outburst looks about for a chair to sit in.
Sorry guys. For those of you who don't know, 17 May is Norwegian Constitution Day where the good Norskmenn get together and celebrate their country and government. I found out that I was not allowed to live with my husband any more and left the country several days prior to this date last year, so... kinda a crap time for me and my family, overall and it distracts both of us. But... with no further ado! I will get ya movin' on.
Father Flinthammer's hearty stew is well prepared and tasty, containing all the ingredients you believe that you need to rejuvenate yourselves after the combat with the goblins. Joyabraund's eccentric performance has the halfling warden near in stitches, or as close as a man recovering from ability damage can be, heartened by his cousin's zeal for adventure. You cannot help but get the impression that your companion is quite eager to find further adventure in the swamps.
You settle in for a night of well deserved rest after arranging your respective watches. Given the excitement of the day, the night is disappointingly dull. The greatest disturbance is the warden himself grumbling and cursing as he missteps and stubs a hairy toe while on his way out to relieve himself. Halfling intermixed with gutter common with a particular tang to it that does not indicate any amount of time spent in Sandpoint for the natives.
Walthus Proudstump's accent is from Nirosch, and his cant is decidedly of the sea faring variety
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
In the morning, Warden Proudstump rises early and cooks the new heroes of Sandpoint a hearty breakfast of meat, root vegetables, biscuits and even provides a cask of ale he's been holding out from you previously. The smell wafting through the house is quite savory, if not quite so good as Father Flinthammer's stew the previous evening.
"Thought ye could put it ta better use," he says with a grin. You cannot help but notice that his color is better today. He lifts up a half cloak and offers it to the party as well. "A bit late, but, reward fer yer help with the demon," he says. "They say is magical. Not a whole lotta good it dun me, but 'spose ya'll have better luck than I," he continues and scratches behind his neck again.
"And if'n ye be keen ta pass 'round these parts again, I could store yer things fer ya," he offers, and shoots a glance at Joyabraund. "Les' yer arms be pulled from they sockets haulin' round all that treasure."
Lemme know what point ya'll would be travelin' to, and we'll get this show on the road!
Knowledge (Geography) Take 10; 10+4 =14
Broderus is in a decidedly better mood this morning, and he gladly accepts the hearty breakfast with a smile on his face. He eats quite ravenously, as if actually tasting food for the first time in a while.
He doesn't feel comfortable accepting the warden's offer of the cloak, especially since he believes he acted poorly during the assault on the shack. He allows his comrades to be in the forefront during this exchange and hangs back a bit. His preference is to travel to Point I, the closest location to the shack. He reasons the swamp is a dangerous place, and they should get their feet wet first before jumping in the deep end!
Seiji is inclined to agree with Broderus on where to travel first. Point I sounds good to me!
Knowledge (Geography) - (taking 10) 10 + 8 = 18
"You are more than generous to offer your cloak to us, Walthus Proudstump." Seiji bows to their halfling host. "If anyone has done enough to earn such a gift, it is not me. I will inspect it, however, and try to tell you if indeed it is magical."
Spellcraft - 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
On no its not really a chore because you see I am making Treygan carry the chest and he is really much bigger than....oh I see your meaning. I probably want him to carry a sword and shield or something...yes I guess we should leave the chest here for now!
Joyabraund follows suit thinking it best to hit the spots one by one in order to be thorough.
Gwah, think I had a post eaten. I'll just say Treygan's been conflicted.
Treygan, having been silent since the goblins were dealt with, joins the others for breakfast. "Yes, it would be a quite bit harder to fight carrying it. We thank you, Warden Proudstump. For the cloak, as well as the courtesy extended us. I do believe investigating the closest point would be a good way to start as well. I'm still not convinced that there's nothing more sinister than a few goblins, but probably just my imagination." "Another day exploring the swamp before back to drills."
Valcrim seems amused at the issue of carrying stuff "Dinnae worry yerself about haulin'. We dwarves be wrought fer hard labor, an' can carry even tha heaviest load effortlessly. Well, long as me back dinnae break."
"As fer the route, I be leavin' that to me betters in tha field; tha ranger. I be as suited fer wilderness lore as a fair-skinned elf be fer tha forge."
Valcrim also takes a moment to survey the group to see if there are any untreated injuries left before they head out.
The I's have it, it seems.
Unfortunately your spellcraft check is not enough to identify the item, but you do know that it is indeed magical.
The warden looks a little crestfallen when Valcrim offers to carry the box, but smiles and laughs cheerfully. "Aye, well, know that the door is open ta ye if ya find the need again," he offers. "Feel jus' bout well enough to fish, so the food'll be flippin' on the plate!"
You exchange pleasantries at the door and head back off into the swamp. You know from your previous day's excursion that it took a little less than half a day to reach the goblin camp by using the trails and the road. If you are to repeat this process and I will assume that you will, given that it gives you the best speed and your dwarven priest wearing heavy armor and carrying your loot will not be able to walk on the bottom of the river, with the amount of time you will be off the trail you can expect at least one night camping in the wilds on your hunt for treasure.
Encounters by legs:
Warden to Road 1d100 ⇒ 64
Road to path 1d100 ⇒ 67
Path to Gobbos 1d100 ⇒ 64
Gobbos to I 1d100 ⇒ 65
Truly, Desna must smile upon your band as the climate for your lengthy trek remains mild even as the sun climbs to its full height. Its light warms your hair and armor, and makes travel only as uncomfortable as you imagine something only slightly more strenuous than regular drills to be. Your only companions on this journey are yourselves and those insects and creatures that are pleasant enough to herald your arrival with their chirping. Near the bridge separating the Warden's island from the Lost Coast Road, you spy another many toed cat laying on a rock, surveying the murky waters for a meal, you suppose, a second, smaller cat with just as many toes laying on its back enjoying the sun nearby.
The road and path to the former goblin compound are deserted, but not so desolate as they were the previous day. The Licktoad tribe will no longer terrorize any caravan that might brave the road now, and you are almost certain there will be some manner of celebration when you turn in your trophies and claim your bounties.
You leave the trail in advance of the goblin compound, not wishing to return to the scene, and find your speed significantly reduced. for the first thirty minutes, you feel quite oppressed by the growth, and considering the monster you met yesterday, as though any manner of demon very well may pop out and threaten you. Your alarm is only natural, but in fact, misplaced.
The sun has begun to dip on the horizon when you arrive, but it is still well in advance of evening proper when you spy a fairly large ship wreck run aground in the swamp. A large hole in the hull seems to be growing by the decades as nature reclaims pieces, with vines and other vegetation claiming the once sea worthy vessel, but where it appears that you might be able to enter the husk there is a fair amount of fire damage that even to untrained eyes appears recent...