A frown of disappointment pulls on the Marquis’ face.
“Well, you think you have a good judge of character, huh Hans. I guess he took the money and ran. Can’t really blame him.”
“Uh, no m’Lord.”
“Not much we can do about it, huh Hans.”
“Uh, no m’Lord. A damned shame. A real pity, that.”
The Marquis’ eyes are narrowed in thought when Attai presents his self. It takes him a moment to even notice the sylph.
“Ah... yes, indeed. I remember. And yes, I seem to be missing a man. I’ve promised this boatman a contingent of five to escort my goods up to my trading post, and I’m in no mood to renegotiate this early in the morning.”
He looks Attai up and down once before asking, “What say you? Are you still up for the job? I can’t pay you here at this moment, but I’ll have contracts written up for your full time employment once we all get to the post. The others here can fill you in on the details. How ‘bout it Hans? Should we take him on?”
“Gonna need all the help we can get, m’Lord.”
The Marquis extends a hand to Attai, “Good. The job is yours for the taking my man.”
Attai considers the Marquis' proffered hand, then, realising that cavilling over gauche realities of common life like "money" and "formalities" may be interpreted rather quickly as what is also known as a "gaffe".
To whit: Attai shakes the noble hand, and adds a small bow of deference.
"It pleases me to serve in that capacity, Marquis. My thanks."
Turning to the gathered group, Attai bows again.
"Attai Kah, at your service."
Liamae returns Attai's bow with a flourish. "Welcome to the group, Attai! And fortuitously timed, too. We're just about to set sail! I am Liamae, and this is Iagon, Kytes, and Roger."
Iagon copies the bow to the best of his ability. Good to see you again, Attai, and glad you'll be joining us. I'm sorry you're coming on a bit later...we had an eventful first evening together. I'm certain that we'll have time to tell you about it during the trip. He looks to Marquis, and to Hans. We're ready when you are, good sirs. He second-guesses himself the moment after he offers that. At least, I hope we are...perhaps I should have consulted the others about that.
Roger nods, checking behind him. "Yep, yep yep yep, ready to go. More than ready, actually. How fast can this boat get us out of the city? Just out of curiosity."
"Good," remarks the Marquis as Attai steps aboard, "Looks like we’ve all we need. Driver…" the Marquis hands the boat driver a small bag of coin and assures him that Hans will pay the remainder upon delivery.
Pay in hand, the driver answers Roger, "We’ll be outta the city in no time lad. Just do yer job an’ let me do mine."
At about this time, a couple of young men step out of the cargo hold and begin to unhitch from the dock. They use long wooden poles to push off from the pier.
"Safe journey!" shouts the Marquis as he helps push off the keelboat from the pier with a shove of his foot. He stands on the dock and watches as the boat floats off into the harbor. Soon he is just a shadow in the mist.
True to the boat-driver’s word, you leave the safe harbor of Cassomir in a matter of minutes. Leaving the bustling city, you are soon struck by the sudden change in environment. Surrounding the port city is the Blackwood Swamp, a murky, rotting, brackish marshland of tangled trees and dense overgrowth. The occasional hunting cabin or fishing shack dots the riverway, but not much else in terms of civilisation. Along the Andoran bank the land rises gently upward, and marsh gives way to an endless vista of rolling hills and tall grass.
At one point as you wind through the sodden landscape, a large shadow crosses over the boat. Looking up into the sky you can see a large winged creature flying high above. "Thrice damned river drakes," mutters the boat-driver, "You folks are lucky that one don’t want us fer it’s lunch."
The Sellen is surely flowing slow and lazy, making the trip upriver all the more smooth and easy. "News is winter’s still set in up north. Haven’t got the snowmelt from the Five Kings yet. River Kingdoms still locked up in ice, is what I heard," explains Hans, who lounges around on the deck. The boat driver leans against the heavy rudder, smoking a pipe, while his two subordinates pole up and down the sides of the craft against the river’s current. Occasionally, Liamae catches one of the young men ogling her from across the deck.
The keelboat is 20 ft across at its widest and 50 ft long. A covered cargo area provides some shade and solitude should you need it. A single mast and sail catch the warmer southern winds coming off the Inner Sea and help to propel the craft northward.
As the sun reaches the western horizon, you’ve left the marsh and have entered the higher and drier Tandak Plains, not far from the southern edge of the Verduran Forest. The driver positions the barge mid river and drops anchor for the night. He asks that you set up watch, that’s what your here for, anyways.
Liamae spends most of the day lounging about the deck, watching the terrain roll by and enjoying the relaxing journey. In the heat and humidity, she's grateful for the thin silks of her skimpy outfit. Her exposed pale skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, surely proving an intriguing sight for the men whose eyes linger on her.
As night falls, she volunteers to take the first watch. "I'm used to staying up late anyway, and I like to get a solid block of rest. A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know," she says with a giggle.
Iagon looks about the less civilized riverbanks with a practiced eye; this environment was much more to his liking than that stuffy city. Out here in the woodland is where he spent most of his formative years, and the wide open vistas and crisp clear air would always be home for him. At the sighting of the river drake, he sucks in a breath. He leans in closer to the driver. Those things pass over here often? Seems a bit close to the city for it still. He watches the thing fly away, wondering how they would go about attempting to fight off such a beast if it decided it was hungry. The realism of his employment was perhaps setting in.
With a cheerful nod to Liamae, he grins. Of course...wouldn't want to get in the way of that. I can take middle watch; I'm well used to sleeping a few hours at a time.
Attai watches the riverbank with equal parts wonder and trepidation, and cannot stifle a small cry and instinctive duck when the river drake kites over. The slight awkwardness of being thrust into a new enterprise he was initally turned down for dissipates like an eddy in the river, and Attai pushes himself to be polite to all and sundry. He has little to say, or offer in the way of small talk, but is open and pleasant.
Once settled in the cargo area Attai draws out the battered woven leather case in which he keeps his treasured Keleshite harrow deck.
Then, without consulting the spread he gathers the 53 remaining cards and stores them back in their case. Attai considers the illustration on the drawn card, remembers the meaning and symbolism of it within the structure of the harrow, and the card's appearances in spreads or alone at previous times.
Water and Fire. The river, a drake. Liamae and men's eyes. Roger and his past. Myself and and this crew. The Marquis and his desires. Fate and causality. Intriguing. Which will out - success or ruin?
He shrugs, and places the card in a pocket over his heart.
Attai emerges as discussion touches on worldly matters - safety and vigilance.
"I am something of a night-owl, and the early morning hours are my old friends. I will sleep now, then wake me good Iago/Kytes/Roger and I will greet the rising sun."
The boat driver answers Iagon, “Aye lad, they compete with the hydras over huntin’ grounds in the swamp. Like to plague the trade routes too. Known to pick a sailor right off the deck of a ship and fly away. They stay away from the city proper, what with all the warships and ballistas and whatnot. I’ve been travellin’ this here river all my life and have never faced one yet, but I’ve heard plenty of stories.”
Attai makes a face. "Hydras. Fantastic." The sylph avoids the edges of the craft for a good few hours after that conversation, sticking safely to the centre.
Roger spends most of the day gazing at the passing scenery. It's clear from his wondrous smile that he's never been outside the city, and all this is new to him. His smile has a bit of a sad edge to it, as if this is a bittersweet moment for him.
It takes him a moment to realize that Iagon and Liamae are talking before he snaps out of it. "Huh? Oh, I'm a morning person-I can take third shift for watch."
Iagon nods, then chokes down his ensuing questions. Okay...I did ask...shame on me then. He scans the skies almost constantly after that point, obviously simply waiting for the inevitable hydra snatch and grab.
Here the river is about 80ft wide, and the boat is anchored mid river, about 40ft to either shore. Everyone settles in for the night as Liamae assumes first watch. As the light fades from the sky, a chill wind blows in from the north, roughing up the waters and causing the temperature to drop and the boat to rock significantly. This lasts for about an hour, and by the time her shift is over, the air has settled.
The moon is full and the sky mostly clear, helping to illuminate the scene. Iagon’s shift passes by uneventfully. During Roger’s shift, the moon is at it’s zenith, casting its pale light on the shoreline. A good thing too, as during his shift, he hears a rustling in the tall reeds along the Taldan shore. Peering just so, he can barely make out a few small figures moving about. They seem to stop and settle in the reeds just opposite the boat and whisper amongst themselves.
Howsabout dis one? Could be. Boss says wait for signal. Shh, Dey hear us. You shh. No you shh.
As Roger is leaning on a railing, he manages to pick up the faint sound of what appears to be two goblinoids arguing to each other. A sly smirk emerges on his face. It's been a while since I spoke Goblin, but what the hell? Might be fun to mess with them a bit. Heck, might even save our skins while we're at it.
He leans in a way that will hopefully keep the goblins from seeing his lips move, and then hisses out quietly in Goblin. "Would both you idiots shh, this not the right one! You're gonna make the longshanks hear us! When it be the right one, you toadlickers will know it!"
Well, the goblins are keen enough to know that there shouldn't be any other goblins around, especially none on the boat.
Immediately after Roger hisses at the goblins, they fall quiet and motionless. A beat or two passes, and then Roger can see actually three small forms scramble up the river bank and out of sight.
The rest of Roger's watch is quiet.
Roger remains tense for the entire rest of the night. As soon as he can, he reports the incident to Hans and the boat driver. "Hey, so last night I heard a few voices from the riverbank-they were talking in Goblin about attacking a boat passing by. I think I scared them off, but I'm kind of worried they might be back tonight."
The rest of the night also passes quietly, and Attai is awake to greet the dawn. Much like the previous morning, a heavy fog has rolled down the river, making visibility difficult in the early morning hours. Paired with the chill air, it has left a fine glistening frost on most every exposed surface.
With Roger's report of goblins, the boat driver is extra eager to move along. "The sooner we reach Arenway, the better." He rouses the two polemen, lifts anchor and raises the sail. Before you know it, you are moving upriver once more.
Hans scratches his belly with a mild shrug, "You folks should be able to handle a few goblins, right? Best keep an eye out."
Iagon nods to Roger, attempting to keep up the appearance of a professional used to such situations. He assures the driver. Of course, mere goblins shouldn't be a worry sir. He glances at his companions to get a sense of their feelings on the matter, then kept his eyes scanning for danger, suddenly a bit more alert.
As the sun surely rises, it begins to burn off the fog, helping with visibility. You sail north for about an hour.
It is Kytes, with a little help from Eir, who is first to spot it. About 180ft ahead, through the lingering morning fog, he is able to make out something large along the riverbank. He alerts everyone, and the driver brings the keelboat to a stop. With all eyes peering through the mist, you are able to deduce that there is a barge pulled haphazardly onto the bank upriver, it’s goods scattered throughout the mud. From this vantage point, nobody can be seen amongst the wreckage.
The driver barks orders to the polemen, and with a sudden lurch, he steers the boat towards the other bank.
Hans begins shouting, “Oy! Wot’cher think yer doin’?”
“Looks like them goblins found another victim last night. They could still be about. I’m not bringing my boat near none of that, no sir.”
“Oy, but there could be somethin’ worth salvagin’.”
“Too dangerous, we’re goin’ ‘round.”
The two continue to bicker and argue like this as the boat drifts aimlessly in the river.
Kytes looks about the group, “There might be someone who needs our help.”
Attai screws up his mouth in thought.
"It could be us if the goblins manifest...but I agree, and my feeling is that whoever struck has moved on. Either that or this is an elaborate bait..." he smiles wanly.
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Roger snorts, holding back laughter. "Elaborate bait and goblins. Pick one, mate. My mom once told me a story about a goblin 'ambush' where they dressed a cow up like a woman and then tied her up in the middle of the road, making it seem like she was a damsel in distress."
He looks at the boat. "I dunno, this seems real. I think I agree with Kytes."
Liamae stands at the ship's prow, seemingly undisturbed by the chill air despite her lack of protective clothing.
"It's probably worth checking out. Trap or not, there might be people who need help--or treasure that needs looting!"
Attai smiles at the halfling's remarks
"By "elaborate" I mean scuttling one entire boat just to catch another. Fairly elaborate... for goblins...as you say."
Attai readies to debark, longspear in one hand, mace in the other.
Iagon nods, then looks to Hans and the driver.
Can you skirt around it and let us off - on the same bank as the barge, that is - upriver? We can come back this way on foot and make sure it's safe and also see if there's anyone who needs help. As an afterthought, he nods to Hans. And of course, scan for salvage
As the ship approaches the barge, Liamae draws her longbow and adjusts her gold-rimmed spectacles. She teases a bit of magic out of the extravagant glasses, heightening her awareness.
Both the driver and Hans agree with Iagon’s plan. As you sail around the wreckage, through the departing mists, you are able to spot some scurrying movement amongst some of the spilled crates. There’s something waiting for you there. The boat moves back to the Taldan shore about 80ft north of the wreckage which is where you disembark.
“Give us a shout when it’s all clear,” says Hans as the polemen push the boat back into the deeper waters.
Roger draws his sword. "Be prepared-they like their hit and run tactics, goblins. Wish we had some horses or dogs with us, we could use them as bait." He visibly mentally backspaces as he realizes what he just said. "I mean, we wouldn't let them get hurt. But you know what I mean. Actually...that gives me an idea. Goblins love fire, right? What if we set a decoy fire, think that might lure them out?"
Attai chews his lip.
"It seems I was wrong, twice. They have not moved on, and this seems not to be a trap. Though as you say Roger, they are...tricksy. Let us, then, be prepared."
With that the sylph closes his eyes and calls forth in a deep voice - words unknown to any of you, if words they are. A layer of divine power descends. Attai returns to the here and now.
"As for fire, I am unsure. They know we are here, though whether we can lure them..."
Swift Action: Judgment: Protection +1 to AC (now 17/13/15)
Standard Action: Cast bless: Each ally gains a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects.
Iagon watches the preparations with interest, particularly now that he seemed to own this idea. He was regretting putting forth the option, if only out of concern for his companions' safety. I don't know if a fire would work as a distraction, but I don't see the harm in trying. If it doesn't work, then all we wasted is time. Just in case they feel like talking...does someone here speak their language?
Roger raises his hand. "I'm fluent. My parents pushed me towards it. They said that it was a super useful language to know because it sounds like gibberish, so you can secretly use it to pass on messages. And even if you get captured by goblins it's still useful as a secret language, because half the time they don't even know what you're talking about!" He chuckles, as if he's heard a variation on that joke a million times.
Iagon grins, feeling a bit lighter given Roger's good-natured attitude. They're definitely not worried...not sure why I am.
Excellent...should we try a quick fire then?
Liamae slips the wand of mage armor out of her sleeve and uses it to ward herself from attack. She scans the scene, looking for anything hidden.
Between you and the grounded barge lies a good 80' of Sellen riverbank. The ground rises from the shore gently to the east and the Tandak plains. Here, the grass is high, and although it is heavy with dew from the morning fog, it is still dry and yellowed from the winter months. Could catch fire I suppose. There isn't a tree in sight to provide firewood, but driftwood floated down from the Verduran can be found among the reeds at the river's edge.
The barge is pulled about halfway up the bank and a few crates lie scattered around, some of their contents spilled, others still intact. From the size of the barge, it looks like some of its cargo is missing. The grass around the barge has been trampled down and muddied, but from this distance no tracks are discernible.
Kytes too prepares himself and brandishes his sword and shield. These goblins are not his enemy, yet, and a peaceful resolution at this point is preferable to violence.
"What did you have in mind, Roger?" he asks.
You don't see them now, but from earlier you know the goblins are hiding amongst the crates.
Roger looks around and lowers his voice, knowing that the goblins must be nearby. "Right, so-goblins like fire, right? But not any fire, they like untamed fire. Stuff that's going out of control. So here's what I'm thinking. We find an area on the bank where the fire shouldn't spread too much, get some water buckets and such in case we need to quench it in a hurry. Then we sit down and pretend to make camp-light a campfire, maybe make some snacks, sing some campfire songs...then we secretly let it spread to the brush. We pretend it's going out of control, make a lot of noise, that should attract them. They'll want to see the fire, and they'll take this opportunity to nick our stuff and maybe whack a few of us in the confusion. But what they don't know is that we know they're gonna do that. And that's when we whack them!"
He looks around, smiling broadly. He's clearly very proud of this plan.
"Clever! Let's put this plan into action," Liamae says quietly.
Iagon pauses to consider, then shrugs. He knew little of the proclivities of goblins, so was more than happy to defer to those with more experience. He pitches in to help get everything set for the ruse.
Kytes agrees to stand guard while everyone puts Roger’s plan into action. Working quickly, you find enough driftwood to put together a small pile along the riverbank. It takes a couple of minutes, but once Roger casts a spark on the gathered kindling, you’ve got yourself a nice little campfire going. Cute.
Meanwhile, back on the boat, Hans is wondering outloud, ”What in bloody hell are they doin’?”
Soon enough, all according to plan, a spark from the campfire ignites the grass immediately to the south.
Roger pumps his fist in victory as the grass catches fire. "Yesss! I mean...OH NO, OUR CAMPFIRE IS BLAZING OUT OF CONTROL! IT'S GETTING EVERYWHERE!" He winks and elbows Kytes playfully, obviously excited about the fire.
"By my ears! Oh, cruel fate! Will no one save us from this raging, but admittedly cool to look at, inferno?" Liamae cries, hoping to lure the goblins out of hiding.
Attai needs no subterfuge to fake agitation, fearing that the fire could spread beyond their control. The sylph fights the urge to use his ancestral air-mystery to blow it out, but nevertheless stays between the fire and the brush inland.
"Aiieeee! Fire! FIRE!"
Yelling, Attai throws his hands up in consternation.
Iagon watches the fire with interest, his brows furrowed. If this works, Roger is a genius Seeing the flames start to spread, he lets the others keep up the act while he remains intent upon keeping it under control. No need to cause too much of a blight on the land here...these are good, growing plants here.
"Wot in blazes?" Hans watches from his safe vantage point on the boat, dumbfounded.
Kytes smiles down at Roger, his plan seems to be working. But, instead of joining in the big show, his and Eir's eyes are carefully fixed on the barge and it's scattered cargo. He sees some movement and focuses his eyes.
A spear point appears behind one of the crates, then a set of pointy ears, then a pair of eyes peers over the edge of the crate.
"Longshanks is got FIRE!"
Almost immediately, two other goblin heads appear from behind their respective crates. Soon, a ruckus of shouting and... singing?... sounds from the wreckage to rival your own commotion.
"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! BURN! BURN! BURN!"
Three goblins jump atop their crates, two with spears are dancing wildly and chanting, the third, armed with a shortbow, seems more serious.
"We take longshanks FIRE!"
He knocks an arrow and takes a potshot at Kytes, the biggest target.
With a warning screech from Eir, Kytes catches the arrow on his shield.
"Uh... guys..."
"Gotcha!" Liamae declares as the goblins emerge. She aims at the one with the bow and lets loose an arrow.