You can't really make out what's going on up at the gate from here, but as you get close, you observe a puzzling tableu.
A man in a stylish blue coat, looking quite frazzled as he hides behind a barrel, defended by a large dog. Attacking the dog is a parody of a cavalier; a goblin in leather armor, wielding a lance with a single edged blade at the end, mounted on a giant rat-like thing, pink and swollen, with open sores all over.
A trio of goblins are edging him on in his battle against the dog.
Beyond this queer scene, the town gates hang open on their hinges, none of the guards in sight. There isn't even any blood.
Initiative
Chatsworth:
Arthur:
Team Goblin:
Team NPC(Man and Dog):
Rolloff: <
The cavalier rides with lowered lance towards the dog, which stands stalwart in defense of his master.
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The rest of the goblins cheer as the rider opens up the dog's flank, but are quick to point and get out their blades when they note you approaching.
The man continues to cower behind his barrel and his dog. The dog yowls in pain and anger as it rushes the mounted goblin.
The dog siezes on the goblin's leg, and tries to drag him out of the saddle.
, plus trip:
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The dog drags the cavalier out of the saddle, and viciously closes its jaws around his head.
The rat-hyena thing backs down from the savage display of violence, but the goblins aren't amused. After eyeing you to make sure you don't look to be interfering, they pick up rocks, and hurl them at the dog, shouting with anger.
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One particularly well placed rock lands right between the dog's eyes, and it collapses on the ground.
You're not getting much of a reply there. It might have something to do with you more or less killing the goblin, you think.
The man peeks up from behind the barrel, gets a look at his dog, and makes a concerned sound. He doesn't get up, however.
The single remaining goblin decides to book it, running out through the open gate, and heading for the treeline as quick as he can.
The hyena-rat yolws in confusion, and defaults to trying to bite the nearest human - Arthur:
He easily sidesteps it though.
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As the goblin coward begins to flee, Arthur yells after him with a voice that carries like thunder. "You better f&#~ing fly, coward! I'LL FIND YOU!"
After goblin-dog is dead, Arthur rushes over to the hound that fell protecting his master. His love for animals begins to bleed through as tears well in his eyes, the true source of his anger now evident. "No-no-no-no...."
He throws down his arms and kneels beside the dog to try and stabilize it.
"Come on, buddy. Please... Hang in there.. Chatsworth, help!"
"Yes, yes, perfectly all right thanks to you." the man gets up, and digging into his blue coat, he retrieves a stoppered vial that he opens, before kneeling in the dirt and blood, taking the injured dog's head in his lap, and feeding it the potion.
The dog wakes up, wagging its tail, and licking the man.
"Good boy," he tells it, rubbing its jowls.
Satisfied that the dog is going to be okay, he stands, and aligns the white wig that had been pulled askew during the calamity.
"My thanks, good sirs. It was brave of you indeed to rescue a kindred spirit; I am Aldern Foxglove, deeply and sincerely at your service." He bows low, the effect only slightly undercut by him having to keep a hand on the wig to keep it aligned.
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Chatsworth walks towards Arthur, the man, and the dog with a confused look on his face as Arthur is hugging the thing. 'Voluntarily touching such a beast?' He has his chalk out and is about to channel healing when the man feeds his dog a potion. "Very well then. Well met Sir. I am Chatsworth Futharkington and this is Arthur Ashlund. You seem somewhat well equipped, with vials such as that. Must have been caught in the wrong place when all this broke out."
'Deeply and sincerely, eh?'
Returning the bow, "We were simply driven by duty today, Sir. Our ongoing adventures to chronicle the most elevated and epic of tales has taught us more than a few skills to survive extraordinary circumstances. We are in fact a modest publishing house, attending this festival to develop contacts and grow business. You may even recognize my colleague's name from the recent Twelfth Anthology of Poetry out of Magnimar."
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All the warmth rushes back into Arthur when the dog is revitalized. He scruffs the dog's neck, then stands with his composure restored.
Following Chatsworth's introduction, Arthur bows low to match Aldern Foxglove's gesture.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sir. A fine dog you have here, and brave as a lion. A fine coat you're wearing, too. You have impeccable taste. My companion exaggerates my reputation, to be sure, but a story begs to be written about this day. A beginning, I imagine. To adventure, and new friendship." Arthur extends his hand to Aldern with a smile. "I am sure there are many stories to be told about this day. Perhaps we can share them over strong drink?"
While Arthur speaks, he also attempts to on Aldern Foxglove, trying to discern the nature of this new acquaintance.
"Indeed so. I'm ashamed to say that I have not had the pleasure to acquiant myself of your works, but I'm certain that mr. Furtharkinton could not promote your deeds beoynd their merit - I have seen you in action, after all! Sandpoint is a charming town, although perhaps a touch rural for your purposes. I should be honoured to pay for your drinks tonight, strong or elsewise."
The goblins appear to have been driven off, more or less. The infrequent noises of fighting from around town has stopped, at least.
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Arthur searches through the dead goblins' belongings, then realizes with a start that others may still be in peril.
"Will you honor us with your presence at the Rusty Dragon at dusk, Sir? We will look for you there. Just now Chatsworth and I must take our leave and see if there are others in need of aid."
Arthur bows, then pats Chatsworth on the shoulder. "Come, friend. We have unfinished business tied up in town."
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With Chatsworth by his side, Arthur will walk back through Sandpoint looking for anyone in need of help or healing, and to reclaim the goblin prisoner that he intends to hand over to Sheriff Hemlock. He plays a low tune on his wood flute to break the silence and help restore some sense of normalcy following the chaos.
A thought strikes him, and he pauses. "Surely even goblins are smart enough to have some reason for attacking a populated town such as this? I believe we have ourselves a mystery, Chatsworth. I do love a good mystery." He is silent for a beat, wishing that he still smoked and at this particular moment wishing he had a pipe.
"Perhaps father Zantus saw something from his vantage point while releasing the swallowtails?"
He places the flute to his lip again and resumes the melody.
You reclaim your prisoner, who, despite having woken up, remains bound and gagged where you left her.
People don't seem in the mood for music - in fact, most people who weren't injured are packing up their stuff and heading home - but your apparent willingness to dole out healing soon has you swarmed by people who've taken cuts and bruises in the attack.
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Arthur takes the goblin prisoner and pulls her up by the arm.
"Can you speak common? I know you think I am your enemy, but I can make sure you are treated fairly. These people will want your head - I just want information."
With Chatsworth's help, Arthur will bring their prisoner to where they last saw Sheriff Hemlock.
Once there, he will help heal anyone who sustained injuries in the raid, helping to staunch bleeding, re-set dislocations, and other minor services.
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Several times Chatsworth brings an uncomfortable number of people in close in order to mass heal.
He stayes tight lipped but watches the goblin intently. The day has been ao uncomfortsble for him, the filth and close quarters.. he will demand answers if he has to. He is ready to cast comprehend languages if necessary.
The goblin just looks at you blankly - she's either a good actor, or doesn't speak common. You find Hemlock relatively easily, although you have to go down by the station; you catch him just as he turns away from ordering four guardsmen to man the northern gate. He curses to himself about the watch schedule before he sees you, taking a seat at the reception desk.
"We're in a bit of an emergency situation right now; your errands will have to wait until tomorrow, unless they're urgent," he tells you.
He looks a little flabbergasted - Sandpoint isn't in the habit of getting attacked.
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Arthur fights the urge to be offended by the sheriff's reaction.
"Yes sheriff, we noticed. This goblin led one of the raid groups. Seven more are dead." Arthur does not mention that one was killed by Alern's dog. "Do you have an open jail cell? This one might have information about the raid." He takes a deep breath and composes himself when he realizes Hemlock's nerves are tattered.
"Sandpoint will prevail, sheriff. My friend and I will make sure of that. My name is Arthur, and this here is Chatsworth. We would like to enlist our service. What can we do to help?"
"Hrmm," he grunts. "I guess having some warriors around might be good for morale. Tell you what." he sets about scribbling something on a piece of parchment, then affixes his seal to the bottom, then puts it on the counter in front of you. "Give this to Ameiko of the Rusty Dragon, she'll know to give you room and board. Don't leave town, make sure to be seen with your weapons in public, that sort of thing. We've an empty cell for your prisoner for now, Rian here will show you," he waves over an errand boy. "Just untill I can round up someone who speaks their language and get an interrogation going."
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"My friend and I would like to be part of that interrogation, with your permission. She has a certain connection to us now, which can be used to our advantage. It may be valuable to begin shortly so we can assure no more attacks are planned." Arthur stares at the goblin, who looks so small now. A nasty little creature, to be sure, but a living creature no less.
"We will make our presence known throughout Sandpoint and help as needed. Feel free to call on us should the need arise."
Arthur stands and takes the goblin by the bound arms. "Rian, is it? Please lead the way."
"Right on, I'll have someone grab you when our interpreter comes into town. Might be a day or two."
The boy, Rian, shows you to the holding cells, and you dump your prisoner in there.
On your way out, the only guard left at the station stops you. "'Scuse me! Sheriff said to ask you if you'd head up to the cemetary and look it over; an acolyte reported some disturbance, and we're pretty understaffed helping living people, you know?"
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"Tell Sheriff Hemlock to count on us, friend."
Arthur wastes no time following the lead. He is filled with excitement, as if he'd been thrust into a book and the pages turned around him. "It would seem the mystery has deepened, Chatsworth."
Uncorking his waterskin, Arthur drinks as the pair make their way to the cemetery. When they draw close he readies his shield and morningstar.
The cemetary lies just behind the newly sanctified cathedral. It's a quaint place, and from the apparent age of the wall that surrounds the whole thing, it's been here long before the cathedral was built. It's on the very northeastern border of the town - you can see a small copse of trees that have grown right up to the cemetary wall over the years.
There's a lot of grave markers, plots, and even a few mausoleums, presumably housing the rich or otherwise noteworthy deceased of the town.
Chatsworth is quick to determine that there's been goblins here - at least seven people, with one or more of them being a medium-sized creature, not a goblin.
You're pretty certain they jumped the wall at one particular spot. They probably had a ladder or a rope or something.
Then they meandered around in the cemetary, stomping all over stuff, before the tracks gather around one mausoleum in particular. The doors are shut, but you're pretty sure someone went inside.
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Chatsworth exhales deeply with scorn. In a soft whisper, "Stick to our left when entering and exiting."
He then kneels and lays two runes on the ground right at the mouth of the crypt. Standing again he casts guidance onto both of them. Clutching his sword now, backpack left on the ground a bit behind him, Chatsworth gives Arthur the nod .
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Arthur takes a torch from his backpack and lights it, holding it with the free hand behind his shield. When both adventurers are ready, he steps mindfully around Chatsworth's runes and stands before the door.
In the stillness of the moment, much like the eye of a hurricane, Arthur begins to recite a verse. "...The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still, and nothing stirr'd within their silent depths..."
Arthur uses his full weight to open the heavy mausoleum door.
Arthur heaves, and the doors come open with sound of stone grinding on stone - you catch a brief glimpse of the room beyond, with a sarcophagus prominently placed in the middle, before you're attacked by a pair of white, clean-boiled skeletons that shamble out the doors.
The pair shamble towards you, reaching for arthur with the bones of their clean-picked hands.
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One of the skeleton's claws rakes Arthur below the ear and down his bared neck. His focus is unbroken.
The words he knows well continue to form on his lips. "...Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea. They slept on the abyss without a surge. The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave..."
Arthur swings his morningstar against the skeleton that wounded him.
The sparks dance along the bones of one skeleton, and they collapse into a neat pile.
The other one continues to claw singlemindedly at Arthur.
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"The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, and the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need of aid from them."
Arthur takes another swing at the remaining skeleton.
The sound of breaking bones rattles through the stone tomb.
After his strike lands, Arthur steps back out of the doorway and looks over his shoulder to make sure no other undead abominations threaten them.
This appear to be the last of the skeletons. Chatsworth pokes his head inside and looks around - it's a single chamber, with a stone sarcophagus depicting an authorative figure in long, flowing robes. In the corner of the room lies a discarded black cloak.
The lid of the sarcophagus is just a touch askew.
The robe is very faintly magical. His spell also reveals a slightly sweet, rotten aroma that Chatsworth associates with necromancery.
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Arthur searches the mausoleum for anything else of interest.
"What does this all mean, Chatsworth? This was a suspiciously sophisticated an attack for goblins. There must be something more. Perhaps we should follow the goblins' tracks, see where they went and what they were after? Or Father Zantus may know more."
Arthur finds nothing more than you've already found.
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Chatsworth snorts a few times and wipes at his nose as if a cobweb was tickling him. "Pft, no good. Ack, pft, ahem, necromancy. Uck, yuck, I can taste it, ugh. This place is unclean. Dare I say it, but let's look inside this disturbed sarcophagus and then investigate further outside. I noticed some tracks back there that were too big for a goblin, I agree that they may have a leader of some sort."