Rennick's Jade Regent: The Prophecy of the Seal (Inactive)

Game Master Rennick

A group of closest friends bands together for one of their own - and may hold the key to salvation in a far off nation's time of need.


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Male Human Inquisitor - 2

He nods his head in agreement with Lirrathan. "Its a sure possibility my short sighted friend... We should progress with caution from here." He cautiously moves towards the abandoned village, sword and shield in hand.


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

Lirrathan follows suit, determined to not be the last one in, and possibly the first if he can mange it. His cautious movements, being the only thing keeping him from picking up his stride, barely manage to contain his eagerness. His blades dancing slightly as he readjusts his grip to be better ready for a fight.

Moving stealthed, 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9 (silent hunter racial benefit)


retired

Andrin nods grimly as he and the group look at what appears to be the remains of a goblin village. Unease settles visibly upon his shoulders as he surveys the area.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Andrin's question floats softly on the wind, "If this is a goblin village... then where are the blasted goblins?"


"Only one way to find out my dear cleric, and that is to follow those two. Besides, between Daemon and the elf, there ought to be some sort of amusement, I think!" Yosrick draws his chakram and holds it in his left hand, placing his whip in his right, then casually walks forward after Daemon and Lirrathan.


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wouldn't you like to know! Dungeonisius Masterius Evil Genius/9999999999999999

The party crosses through the cracked and broken threshold in the wall to enter into a town that's seemingly deserted.

There aren't any sounds of animals or life, just a strange and chilled stillness that rests on the village.

Entering deeper into the village, the party passes a large pit that's empty - save for a number of skeletal remains which appear to be partially cremated goblins.

You can roll perception checks, or any other you feel, and use the map to start exploring. Sorry for the wait, again.


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

Lirrathan eyes the pit warily, doubtful that there are any salvageable ears within it. "I wonder if some spellcaster came and incinerated them, and if so, did he collect the ears first or let them go to waste?" he eyes the ladders to each entrance visible.

His mind made up, he sheathes his short sword and climbs the one closest to the pit, heading for the door above. Moving quietly, listening for any movement within.

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

He holds his sword in a loose yet prepared grip. His eyes wandering his surroundings, taking everything in. He takes a specific glance to the pit, examining any bodies from afar. "Lets not sound too excited about that, Sir Polar."

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

He also looks to the ground, as he leads the group through the gate, looking to the ground to check for recent activity through the camp.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16


Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15


retired

"This place leaves me uneasy. Desna make this quick."
Andrin sticks very close to Daemon, and bumps into him out of nervousness several times.
"Oh! Sorry, Master Grizwold. You startled me is all."
"Ah! I beg your pardon, that was wholly my fault."
"Wha?! Oh but my nerves are shot. Forgive me, sir."

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20


"Dead goblins and not done by us, eh? Ever get the feeling that nothing in life is easy? I need a drink." Yosrick looks around, suddenly craving a mouthful of something strong and amber.


wouldn't you like to know! Dungeonisius Masterius Evil Genius/9999999999999999

Lirrathan climbs the steps to the nearest hut, his footsteps not even drawing the lightest squeak from the rotting wood of the old porch, while the others group in close to the foot of the huts stairs.

Perception Result - DC 20:

Through one of the hut's broken windows there's a flicker of shadow! After a moment they here squeaky, almost grating voices from inside.

"Is... is theys goneses?"

"Don't know... don't know!"

"Is.. is it the bones men agains?"


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

Daemon motions his head towards the hut to the entire group before speaking in a loud, yet stern voice.

Diplomacy 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
"We are not these Bones Men you speak of. If you mean us no harm, then we mean you no harm. Come out so we can discuss what happened hear." To prove his sincerity, he sheaths his longsword into his belt scabbard, but keeps his shield upon his forearm.


Yosrick tilts his head, listening for whatever it is Daemon is talking to. Hearing nothing, he shakes his head and calls out loudly: "The swordly one speaks true. We are here on a mission of peace and understanding. We bring love and hugs and wonderful words of happiness. Also, the one with the sword tastes like candy... What?"


retired

Andrin holds his breath and waits plaintively, his gaze bouncing from the broken window to Daemon, back to the window, then to Yosrick.


wouldn't you like to know! Dungeonisius Masterius Evil Genius/9999999999999999

There's a moment of silence, and then the scratchy voices continue in hoarse whispers,

"Oh gods... it'ses longshanks!"

"Maybe they kill bones men!?"

"Longshankses hates us, they jealous of our vi...viri...vi-ri-li... Our skillses!"

"They can helps!"

Again quiet and a soft padding sound, before the door to the house latches open and slides open with a scream from rusted hinges. Only opening about an inch, the party sees the eyeball and half an oblong head of a small stunted goblin peers out, "Is... is you with the bones men? You here to hurts us??"


"Well that was the original plan, but it sounds like something's changed. Who are the bone men? And I can assure you, we're not them."


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

Daemon sighs slightly at Yosrick's tact... Or, lack there of. "We are NOT," he over emphasizes the last word, "with these 'Bones Men'. We do not wish to harm you. Why not come out and discuss with us what's going on? We may be able to help."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7 DAMN!
/inserts shoe in mouth


retired

Andrin's shoulders slump as he covers his face with his right hand, shaking his head slowly.

He then rises to his full height and addresses the inquisitive goblin, "Indeed, it is as these two gentlemen have said. When we initially set out, it was under the belief that some from this tribe and others had become a threat to people of Sandpoint. From the looks of things though, it seems there may be a greater threat - these," he pauses briefly, "bone men threaten us both.

I think it safe to say that we would like to stop these bone men from hurting anyone else.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

Lirrathan sneers at Daemon's claims, "ARRGH! Why do you keep telling vermin that? Are you some kind of wuss?" Despite the statements, he keeps his blades at the ready, in case things go sour with the goblins... more sour than telling them that they are not here to hurt them. He begins to mumble to himself, and like most grumblers, loud enough to just be heard complaining "Here to help them. Why don't we just offer them an armed escort up to the city next time they want to strike?"


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

Koveluss chuckles at the elf's frustration. "If you're that worried about collecting precious ears we can always substitute your own. Lop them off, dip them in green paint, and none would know the difference."

The man turns toward the goblins as well. "I, too, am interested to hear about these bone men. I've never taken a stroll through a swamp before, but maybe I should consider it more often. There seems to be a lot happening in the area."


wouldn't you like to know! Dungeonisius Masterius Evil Genius/9999999999999999

A voice from behind the Goblin peering out through the door's crack calls out, "Ooh ooh! Escort! escort good ideas!"

The Goblin at the door groans in annoyance - he seems to be smart enough to get sarcasm, to a point anyways - and then opens the portal further, waving his hand frantically, "Come in come in! not safe outside."

Entering into the cabin, the party is greeted by the Goblin at the door, as well as three others.

The one who let them in appears to a leader of sorts. He's dressed in a rusting shirt of chain with an old cloak hanging from his shoulders, a pair of javelins strapped to his back, a dogslicer sheathed at his waist and - strangest of all - sitting on his bulbous green head is a frog, that lets out a small rib-bit.

The Other three are similar - though not as well armed and without a frog. The leading Goblin speaks up,

"Me is Poog of Zarongel. Cleric of Oh greatest Zarongel, Slayer of Scribbleface, Hero of Licktoad, Jouster of the gods..."

One of the other three Goblins pipes up at that, "But Poog sucks at riding.."

"ARAGH!" Poog spins around and thrusts out his tiny hands, spurting flames that burn into the ingrate goblin's skin, frying him alive. Suddenly, there are only three Goblins.

Smiling widely Poog turns back to the party, "And Boss of Big Fire." he says his last title with pride and the other two goblins start applauding, their expressions seem more enamored than fearful.

"Poog was one of four heroes who brought back firesticks and treasures for Big Chiefy! But Chiefy made a mistake, now Bones men come and want their stuff back but Chief says no, and many Goblins die!"

His voice quivers in sorrow, "All Poog's friends dead now. Chief Gutwad brought bad bones men down on us! All for his stupid treasure!" Poog howls, as if everything he's saying should enrage - or even make sense - to these new comers,


retired

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Knowledge(religion): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Am I able to recognize this Zarongel or perhaps Scribbleface? Also looking to recognize the spell as well.


Yosrick attempts to keep a straight face. "So, these bones men came for the fireworks? Or was there more to this treasure? What exactly did the bone men want? and where did they go after they killed your friends?"


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

He curses under his breath at the roasting of the goblin. He rushes to his side, shaking his head the entire way, checking his vitals to ensure his death.

Heal Check 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

If the goblin isn't 100% gone... He would attempt to use his 'Sacred Touch' trait to stabilize him so he doesn't die.

After a moment of calming down at the senseless attack, he speaks up "And, along with Yosrick's question, what 'mistake' did he make? There's much more at stake for you Goblin's now, Poog. These senseless attacks lately, presumably caused by the Bone Men, has caused the City to send people out to attack you all as well. You're lucky you ran into us, instead of a group of them."


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

"Very impressive, Poog." Koveluss joins the other two goblins as they applaud the cleric's display. "You have much talent; I imagine I could find a way for you to utilize your talents on stage, should you ever wish to leave these swamps. I'm afraid you'd have to avoid roasting random bystanders, though."


Male Human

Spellcraft:

The spell Poog cast was a clerical ability known as Fire bolt

Knowledge Religion:
Zarongel is one of the most sacred deities of Goblinkind. He is the god of Dog-killings, Fire and Most holy Mounted combat. Which explains why Poog lost it at the other goblin's slight.

The Goblin is definitely dead. The other goblins seem confused by Daemon's concern. For his part, Poog beams at Koveluss’ praise with a wide and toothy grin! ”Ooh ooh! Poog like that, Poog could be big time theatre star!!”
”If Bone men don’t come back and eat Poog” a more sober thinking goblin retorts.

Poog lets out a huge sigh and leans against a wall, sliding down onto his rump. An act accentuated by the frog on his head, who lets out a croaking ribbit. He glances up to the non-goblins, and takes a deep breath, beginning his story.

"Many meals and fires ago, we found horrid, horrible, horrifying thing! A goblin had started... started... doing what we don't do!"

Poog chokes on air, like he's about to vomit, and another goblin clarifies, "He was... he was making words... on paper."

"Scribblin! He was scribblin! So on order of his girthiness, High Chief Gutwad, he was branded with his precious words and burned to death! But when we was taking all his stuffs to burn, We found out he had a Big Boomsticks! And a map he’d drawn on some stoopid paper thing.”

”Chief Gutwad gathered our greatest heroes. And sent us in search of great treasures from the heathen’s map! And we foundsded them! Big boxes of shinies and boomsticks! Even a fancy looking sticker! Really really sharp. We brought all the treasures back for Fat Chiefy and became heroes. That day, Poog became Boss of Big Fire.”

”But that night the bones men came. Big longshanks with no skin or guts, just bones, who attacks us! Gutwad sent me and other heroes to stop them… but they kill all of us, only Poog survives. After, we saw Chief Gutwad throw bunch of treasure into the street and lock his doors. Bones men took all the treasure back… but now we scared they come back! And Angry! Gutwad gets us all killed. He a bad chief!”


"Poog, where did you find these treasures? Do you still have that map?"


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

"And is his girthiness still here, in hiding? We might do well to question Gutwad. Besides, big goblins likely have big ears." Koveluss offers a grin to Lirrathan. "It looks as if you won't be able to gather more ears than your sister, but perhaps you can return with the greater prize. From the tone here, I doubt any among us would complain if we liberated the chief's from his head."


retired

"It sounds to me as if this chief saved goblin lives by returning to the bonemen whatever it was Poog and his comrades had initially taken. While barricading himself could easily be seen as cowardly, it sounds like his decision saved lives rather than contributing to more slaughter," Andrin strokes his beard sagely as he speaks.

"Perhaps, as Koveluss says, there is a greater prize, though I suspect it to be the defeat of these bonemen and whatever foul influence fuels them."

He turns to Lirrathan, "You wish to out shine your sister? Which will shine brighter in her eyes do you think - a few more ears or the defeat of a burgeoning necromantic evil which could threaten all of Sandpoint?" Something in Andrin's voice hints that the question isn't entirely rhetorical; that he may legitimately wonder which feat Shalelu would esteem more - but whatever quality of his voice suggests this remains elusive and furtive.


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

He stands dusting his hands off as he listens to the groups comments after Poogs story. "I'd have to say Andrin is correct. This may be a bigger blight than we had originally thought. Having the Goblins on our side would not be a bad thing." he pauses for a moment before continuing again, "We may want to investigate this 'Scribble' goblins home for clues as to what caused him to begin his odd habit in the first place."

He turns to Poog, "Could you take us to your encampment, Poog? You've peeked out interest. We may be able to help so long as you and your kin stop attacking locals from the city."


retired

Andrin nods encouragingly as Daemon addresses Poog.
An inspired idea, offering help in exchange for an end to hostilities. If only more of the noble houses were as level headed and reasonable as Daemon...

"A fine idea! The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I like the way you think, sir."


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

Lirrathan slams his blades into their scabbards with a huff and crosses his arms, "HMMPH! Bigger threat. The bounty isn't for the bigger threat, but if they got plenty of coin it could make up for what I lose in the bet and the lack of ears." He points to the burned goblin and asks Poog, "Since were all such GREAT friends, you're not using his ears are you?"


Male Human

Poog's eyes narrow at Andrin's seeming praise to Chief Gutwad.

"No! Gutwad only throw out treasure after Poog's friends dead. and then more goblin soldiers, and more and more. He no save anyone. Just his own fat bum!"

His rant finished, the little goblin takes a breath and shrugs to the other questions, Chiefy kept the map with shinies we took. Don't know if he has it, but Chief hates Longshanks, he'll never talk to you. In fact only reason he hasn't commanded your deaths is cause he's too scared to open the door. He's throne room is in village" he waves a hand in a vague direction, "Only one with two doors." But the little cleric shakes his large oblong head.

"But if other goblins see you attacking Gutwad. They attack you."

Another Goblin pipes up, "WE need new chief! New Big big Boss!"

A third shouts out, "Poog is Zarongel's favorite! Poog can be Big Big Boss!"

At this, and then Lirrathan's words, Poog's eyes light up, "Sure you can have ears! And cause we so great friends, Longshankses can be Poog's Champions!"


"Ha! I... Oh man, I need a moment here..." Yosrick holds his sides and leans against the wall to keep from falling over laughing. Shaking his head, he smiles broadly. "No, this IS PERFECT! The Elf can be your champion and we'll do some Goblin-nation building. What could possibly go wrong with this scenario?"

"Okay, so we go to the Chief, take the map and track down the Bones Men. And if the Chief happens to resist and the Elf goes for his ears, Poog here gets to be Chief. And Chief Poog pledges that his Goblins stay far away from Sandpoint, got it? Or else Big Chief-Slayer Elf there comes back and does his chief-slaying on New Chief Poog. Are we agreed?"


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

Koveluss nods. "That sounds reasonable to me. It will be up to you, Poog, to claim leadership of your tribe when you see an opportunity; our primary target will be the rotund chief, but any goblins that continue to fight after his fall will lose their ears. Likely along with their head."

"Now Poog, how many goblins are we going to have against us? You said the bonemen killed much of your tribe; how many remain?"


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

"You would make a fine chief Poog, so long as you don't attack the towns people."

He nods his head, as well. Listening to Yosrick's and Koveluss's input, agreeing for the most part. "We should get heading there soon before the other group beats us."


Male Human

Player Rolls:

Yosrick 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Daemon 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Poog's head twists in a confused gesture, "But killing Longshanks is fun! So much fun! Goblins are so clever and sneaky and so good at stickin' Longshanks and their stoopid little doggies! Chief Poog can't promise that..."

His words die out though at Yosrick's comment, and the little Goblin's eyes drift over to Lirrathan, hands drumming in annoyance on the hilts of his blade. "Err... maybe Poog can find Longshanks in the other direction. Yeah! Poog's goblins won't attack Sandy town anymore."

"Let's go!" the Goblin leader shouts, grabbing his weapon and bursting out of the doors. Leading the slightly bewildered party.

As they make their way through the village, the party is greeted with signs of the battle that Poog described. dozens of corpses - almost exclusively goblin - little the streets, their bodies eviscerated by fine, smooth cuts.

Poog leads the group to a pair of double doors in the main complex and shouts out, "Gutwad! I Poog, Favoritest of Zarongel and Boss of Big Fire challenge you! I want to be new Chief Bighead now!"

Nothing happens... silence... and then, from the other side of the still closed doors.

"Go kiss doggie Poog! I'm chiefy, go away!"


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

Koveluss raises his voice alonside the goblin cleric's. "It seems the rumors are true; Gutwad is a coward! He's not only afraid of Longshanks. He's afraid of great Poog as well."


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

Lirrathan, infuriated at the way this whole thing has turned, decided that he's tired of the milksop wusses 'please' and 'thank you'ing everyone. He realizes that it's going to be his turn to do the talking, and this time he can mean it.

"Listen here you little, green sow, you get over here and open this door! I have been itching to tear someone, or in your case someTHING to shreds for hours now! You are one false word away from me busting down this door and dragging you out of there by your gonads! Then we can talk MY way, at that's at the end of two well-sharpened blades!"

After huffing a little in frustration he turns to look at the others, shrugs and adds softly, "What? I got a little carried away is all."

Intimidate 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

EDIT: woot on the 20, too bad skills are the one mechanic that doesn't change on a 20. For some time (since about '04) I've houseruled it and a 1 are +5/-5 to the total respectively, just to make it have the same feel as the numbers do for the other aspects of the game.


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

Daemon eyes the Elf in nothing other than complete shock -- The obvious blood lust and need to cause pain to another being doing nothing but putting him on edge as well. Rather than speak, he just draws his sword quietly to prepare for the presumed battle.


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

Koveluss shrugs at the elf's outburst, the corner of his mouth turned upward in an amused half-grin. Speaking softly as well, the summoner responds. "He'll either come out in a rage or mess his pants. We'll make the situation work for us regardless, but if the goblin's response is the smell of excrement you're going to be going in first."


retired

This is going to end in bloodshed whether that door is voluntarily opened or not. Best to prepare ourselves. As he goes about his ministrations, he will offer Daemon a grim nod of understanding and agreement.

Andrin is expecting this to get dicey in short order. He'll cast guidance on as many party members as he can prior to the doors opening and the rolling of initiative. Each casting lasts for 10 rounds, so if he can get a few off hopefully each recipient will have a chance to use it in the pending conflict.

Order of companions he'll cast guidance upon are:
1st- Daemon
2nd- Lirrathan
3rd- Koveluss
4th- Yosrick

guidance:
The creature gets a +1 competence bonus on a single attack roll, saving throw, or skill check. It must choose to use the bonus before making the roll to which it applies.


Male Human

DM Rolls:

Round 1
??? 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26
Daemon's Perception1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Andrin's Perception1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Koveluss' Perception1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Lirrathan's Perception1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Round 2
??? 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25
???? 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Daemon's Perception1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Andrin's Perception1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Koveluss' Perception1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Lirrathan's Perception1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

A voice, the same one that told Poog to eat a dog, calls out from behind the doorway - sounding far more frightened. "Umm, ok... just a minute!"

From beyond the closed portal there's a sound of clattering and banging, soldiers preparing their weapons perhaps. a goblin squeal. and then nothing.

nothing,

nothing,

nothing.

Andrin realizes he's had time to cast his spell on each member of his party. And Poog is veritably dancing, hopping from one foot to another in anticipation and the half a dozen goblins who remained hidden in the other houses have trickled out of their hiding places, gathering in a small crowd.

There's a loud wooden thud, the sound of a door being unbarred, and the double doors creak open. Standing in their wake is a lone Goblin. Dressed in ratty leather armors with a single Dogclicer sheathed at his side. He's diminuative, even for a goblin. He's skinny, he's young, he's terrified, he's...

"Not Gutwad!" Poog yells,

the lone goblin speaks up, he voicing cracking, sure he's about to die, "His lardiness was scared... he ran away. We's surrender."

Stunned silence falls over the crowd, even the normally manic goblins aren't sure what to say.

then Poog's voice breaks the silence, "Poog is winner! All hail Big Boss Poog, Chief of the Licktoads!"

The goblins around you all shout and clap in cheer!


retired

"Ha HA! See that Lirrathan? Your tongue is even sharper than your blades it seems! Well done, sir - well done indeed!" Andrin jovially slaps Lirrathan on the back, quite pleased with the elf and his heretofore unrealized penchant for diplomatic negotiations.

Hmmm... but what of these bonemen, I wonder? His train of thought is broken when one of the jubilant goblins wraps itself about his leg, bouncing up an down and drooling all over the place. "Here now, here now - I'm quite pleased for you and your fellows, but there's no need for such unseemly affection." He tries in vain to push and pry the scamp off, even going so far as to violently shake his leg. Nearly losing his balance in the process, he cries out, "Egad! I am beseiged! Someone help get this joyous devil off of me! Ack!"

His last words are lost as he unceremoniously topples over, immediately vanishing beneath a dog pile of happy goblins.


"I do so love me a bloodless coup!" Yosrick laughs as the goblins cavort around the party. "You know, if it wasn't for the bloodthirstiness and general lack of social skills, I could get to like these guys. Heck, maybe you could train them, Elf, to be your ear-taking army?"


Male Elf Ranger 4 (AC: 17 [T 13 /FF 14]; HP: 19/35; F+5, R+7, W+1/+3 vs Enchantments; Init: +3 [+5 in Urban]; Perc: +11 [+13 in Urban])

"RAAAARGH!" Lirrathan kicks the doorframe hard, then calms immediately as he tries to hide that he more than likely hurt his foot.

He turns to Poog, rage in his face, "Listen here rat! You have been warned, and I will be watching you. You or any your new tribe steps one smelly green toe out of line and I will cut it off at the ankle. As Yosrick mentioned," he points at the half-elf, "if you make ANY trouble for Sandpoint, I will be back here with a vengeance and take your head. Then we will... find a new... chief..." Lirrathan can't keep his concentration with the spectacle that is Andrin and his predicament.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! What are you doing? I know you didn't want to fight them, but don't you think you're taking goblin love a little too far?" He resheathes his blades and walks over to try and pry the vermin off of the poor man.


CN male human summoner [synthesist] 1

"Be sure to check the one near Andrin's shoulder. I think it's hiding pepper behind its back."

Leaving Andrin's rescue to the others, Koveluss turns to Poog. "The Licktoads are yours to rule, Poog. Stay clear of Sandpoint and its people, and no one should challenge your home in these swamps. We still need to confront the bonemen, though. They have your firesticks, and we can't celebrate your new job without a proper light show, now can we? Where are the scribblings you mentioned, and the map you followed when you found your treasures?"


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

Koveluss has got it... These bonemen could become the plague of Sandpoint. There's too many people in harms way... Iomedae guide me..
Daemon maneuvers to Koveluss's side, ignoring the goblin dog pile shenanigans, "Perhaps you could even prove yourself to your new Kin, Poog, by helping rescue your stolen belongings."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9


Male Human

Andrin rises from the Goblin dogpile - honestly lucky to have not been stabbed by the whole thing as he notes that most of the little monsters still hold their crude blades in hand - as the group is led into the throne room by Chief Poog.

The walls of the throne room are decorated with numerous poorly preserved horse and dog heads, along with other trophies like broken weapons, brinepickled bodies of brutally slaughtered furry animals, and other bits of grisly ephemera. The Chief’s throne—a rickety, 5-foot-tall wooden chair with a ladder built into the side that the goblins call the “Teeter Chair”—sits against the southern wall. beside it is a second ladder that leads up the wall before stopping abruptly.

Poog leads the party into a second room - a near-empty treasury of sorts - where the last remains of the goblins salvaged treasure is found.

A single, beautiful red chest that is itself a work of art, or it could be if the mud and filth that encrust its lacquered sides was scrubbed away. Etched along its surface is an elegant picture of cranes and frogs playing along a beach

[spoiler = Knowledge (Geography) DC 15] The chest - with its delicate etchings is surely of Minkai manufacture.[/spoiler]

Poog opens the chest and and steps back, revealing the remaining treasure of the Licktoad tribe: six masterwork shuriken, 329 sp and 112 gp in loose coins, a long hairpin with a red pearl at one end and a gold-and-ivory fan depicting a gecko walking amid cherry blossoms.

"For helping us saves our tribes. As Big Chiefy I Poog give these shinies to you!" pulling out the fan, he unfolds it and shows the others the back of it - on which someone has crudely drawn a map.

Knowledge (Local) 15:
The map is clearly the Brinestump marsh with three different areas marked off on it.


Male Human Inquisitor - 2

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

He extend his hand to pluck the Fan from Poog's hands, looking at the map on the back. "Thank you, Poog. We appreciate the help and hope you the best." His eyes scan over the Map, "This is the Brinestump marsh. Interesting...

He closes his eyes as he mulls the information over, working through the information gathered to this point.

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