Ingra does not recognise the maker's mark as belonging to any religious order or known cult.
Once within the walls of the town, the party is conflicted, with some immediately running to help defend the bridge while Zalindra still worries about the safety of her Grandfather.
Scowling, Kra'el is clearly conflicted. The greater good here is absolutely to defend the bridge. But the Hall of Valor could be threatened. Most buildings can be replaced. That one, for many reasons, cannot. Nevermind that Zalindra's grandfather, Sertanian was similarly irreplaceable. His knowledge and experience would be a deep loss to the people of Brindol if something were to happen to him. They would have to divide their efforts. Kra'el's voice is somehow both loud and gentle as it rumbles forth.
"Zal... go to your grandfather. If he is in peril, come for me."
With that, the big dragonborn rushes toward the bridges at armored dragonborn speed, without waiting for a response.
--If the town looks intact and nothing is burning, she thanks Ingra and Cecilia and Aelion for the support but stays to support Kra'el and the defenders of the bridge.
--If there are fires, the town doesn't look intact, or there are reports of Goblins within the walls, she nods to Kra'el, thanks Ingra, Cecilia, and Aelion and takes whoever will go with her to make sure the museum is intact and her grandfather is alive, and to kill whatever goblins or other creatures have already gotten into the town.
Aelion sighed when he found Dayana, Jathal and Kra'el had claimed the only longbows and arrows to survive the battle, but his smile turned less wry as the party offered to join in seeing to Zalindra's grandfather.
Good people, he thought approvingly. I'm glad to fight beside them.
As Ingra and Dayana both criticised her actions, Cecilia wanted to say something in her own defence. She wanted to tell them that she had been saving the spell for the right moment. She wanted to tell them that Javos had wisely retreated from the battle when he was injured, and had been in no real danger. She wanted to tell them that she had been just as badly hurt as anyone else in the party, and that choosing to heal herself first was a logical decision.
But before any of these words could leave her mouth, the bard stopped. Could she really say that her actions had not been born of selfish motivations? After all, she could hardly obtain glory if she was covered in blood and hives, forced to take cover while the rest of the group dealt with this menace.
So in response to their words, Cecilia simply replied. "I only did what I thought was best." Crossing her arms, she turned her back on them. "And to answer your question. No, I don't have any more healing spells. That was my last one."
The bard then moved away from the others, stopping only to take one of the black longswords recovered from the goblins. She waits for Zalindra to lead them to the museum, keeping her distance from the rest of the party. While she tries not to show it, the words of the dwarf and changeling had shaken her somewhat.
Still, she had her shortbow and one of her arrows already nocked and ready to go.
Dayana seems content to follow the bulk of the group, wherever they decide to go — which, at the moment, seems to be the Hall of Valor. Her new bow is clenched in one hand as she follows along, eyes darting around the streets as they go, wary for danger and potential ambushes. A keen eye might notice the small head of a rather unusual looking viper periodically poking out from her satchel as they travel.
Beledia's insight, however scarce, does make Dayana that much more attentive. What a helpful little familiar.
"I don't suppose you know any shortcuts we can take?" She asks, looking to Zalindra. At the same time, she tries to jog her own memory for potential routes.
Zalindra glances over at Dayana as they move down the street, and she reaches into her bag and fishes around a little as she responds.
We're already going the most direct way I know, but if there is trouble at the museum, I know the building better than anyone alive, except maybe my grandfather. I'm tempted to run, but if there is trouble, that would likely not help.
She finally finds what she is reaching for in her grooming kit, and holds it out to Dayana. A hair-tie. Looks like you might have need of it?
I really appreciate all of you coming with me.
Aelion did a double take when he spotted the viper tucked into Dayana's satchel. It's possible to get TOO friendly with nature! Bryn would have slurped it down in a second, though. He shook his head at himself. Who was he to decide what animal would make a loyal companion?
All the same, he wouldn't be passing Dayana her satchel anytime soon.
When Zalindra spoke, it broke him out of a reverie about Bryn - one more bad habit he'd been letting himself fall into. "Any decent person would help you with such a noble goal," he opined as they trotted along.
Then he grinned. "Not all of them would pack as hard a punch as this bunch, though! Don't worry. We'll be there soon." The obvious words masked a darker thought: we'll help no matter what's happened to the old man by the time we get there.
Din nudged one of the hob corpses with his boot as the others stripped the others of anything useful, ”How did you all get here…” he muttered as the group discussed where to go first.
Like some of the others, he was sure, Din felt that the smartest place to go to was the North bridge. But something about the way Zalindra worried about her grandfather pulled on him. It's one thing to help the people, it's another to help a person.
Plus, everyone else seemed to be in agreement to go to the Hall. Armed with only cantrips, a dagger,and seven crossbow bolts, Din knew he wouldn't survive by himself for very long.
—————
Din had been eyeing the triangular head peeking from Day’s bag when he caught Aelion doing the same and, subsequently, shaking his head. He grinned and loaded a bolt, ”I know some pretty indecent people that would help too. They would just need the promise of coin first.” He felt a pang of regret at the words and quickly added, ”You're right though. We took down that group fairly easily. And with an ogre backing them as well.”
The group races through the cobblestone streets of Brindol. As they pass by the College of Ioun, Dayana spots the signs of a battle fought not long ago. Blood soaks the streets and a few goblinoid corpses lie among the wreckage of some quickly erected defences. More bodies lie draped with cloth within the college gardens.
Spotting no imminent threat in through the haze of a nearby fire the group continue along to the market square. The town is eerily quiet save the occasional wailing of townsfolk in despair or crackling of a fire not yet extinguished.
As the group burst out into the market square they spot the signs of battle across the river at the gatehouse. To their relief it appears that the bridges are being held and the goblin force is slowly but surely being pushed back.
Turning south Zalindra leads the group south past Red Magic and Sundries down another main thouroghfare. They pass the Shrine of the Open Door, before finally coming to a halt in front of the Hall of Great Valor.
The scene before the group is not an encouraging one. The door to hall hangs loose from one hinge. A side window has been smashed out, throwing lead and stained glass over the grass outside. The old oak tree out the front has been charred black by a fire still clinging to life within its trunk.
Kra'el is not as ready as he has been preparing to be. Not by half. His calm and callous demeanor starts to show cracks as he surveys the scene across the town, especially when they reach the Hall of Great Valor. His gait takes on a desperate urgency and the grim set of his jaw speaks volumes. Even his silence says something. He should have been ready. He is clearly not.
Bahamut, I have failed.
No time for preparation or planning, the big dragonborn bursts through the front door shoulder first, not bothering to pause and open it.
Zalindra now wished that she hadn't let anyone talk her into staying to fight the invaders outside the inn. Why had she thought that her grandfather was safe? Because they were coming from the South? They were coming from *everywhere*! She had failed at the only important goal that she had in life.
Crushed inside, she stumbles after Kra'el, intent on finding her grandfather. If Kra'el hesitates, she will go around him or hammer at him until he gets out of her way and she can find her grandfather.
Seeing that Aelion is running low Jathal hands him 20 arrows from her pack. [ooc]Started with 60.[ooc]
"Less haste, more aim." is her advice.
As everyone runs blindly into the hall Jathal grimaces, loading an arrow onto her bow and advancing more cautiously, looking for any trouble.
Dayana blinks at the proffered hair tie, but accepts it without question and uses it to keep her hair from her face.
As they pass the College of Ioun, Dayana's now-perpetual frown deepens as she eyes the signs of fighting, but she doesn't stop and presses on with the rest of the group, to the Hall of Valor. The sight here does not enthuse her, either. She does her best to keep pace with Zalindra.
Ingra doesn't have the same attachment to this town as her fellows, but they have fought together now, and that builds bonds between people.
She manages to keep pace, and redraws her greatsword after the first bloody scene they pass.
The Hall is in ruin, and there are signs of battle taking place from the inside.
Not one for patience, but still able to use caution when needed, Ingra surveys the area as they make their way inside hanging back a few feet in case enemies try to ambush Kra'el and Zalindra from behind.
Reaching into his belt for the potion he was given he lifts it a moment as a silent toast of fortune and slams it back with a quick flick of his head. He grimaces past the taste of sweet wine witbout the minor blessing of alcohol and shakes his head as it begins to work.
With a sound almost like a grunt of pain he freels the wounds seal themselves rapidly. The sudden wave of nausea and dizzyness passes quickly and he rolls his now formally injured arm, "Not the tastiest brew, but it beats a stingy bard, aye?"
Noticing the elvish archer had vanished he spins and groans as he takes off out of the inn, remembering the others talking about heading to the hall. He shrugs his shield on and runs, grumbling as he goes, "No, Uncle, I won't need a horse. No sense in bringing one into town. Sounded like a bloody sensible idea at the time..."
Aelion nodded at Din. "We were fortunate with those casks, but the next ogre we meet probably won't set himself on fire. Whatever god you pray to, pray that we don't run into a pack of them."
Aelion's smile of encouragement for Zalindra eroded as they hurried through town. Truly, it looked as though the goblins had been everywhere, however they'd managed it. He kept an arrow nocked as they ran, prepared for trouble, and made a mental list by priority for places he should go afterwards to aid in the fight.
Seeing that Aelion is running low Jathal hands him 20 arrows from her pack.
"Less haste, more aim." is her advice.
Aelion accepted the gift with a sheepish nod and a half-smile of thanks. [b]"Good advice,"[b] he admitted, and took a deep breath. The fire within that had shaken his shots in the previous battle had been tamed with the exertion of running; now it was time to be of use.
He hurried after Kra'el and Zalindra, more cautious than the dragonborn but more hasty than Jathal. Whatever had happened here, if anyone was still alive in the building, they needed help NOW.
With an arrow notched on her shortbow, Cecilia looked up at the Hall of Great Valor with a worried look on her face. She feared for the loss of so much of Brindol's history, but more importantly she feared for Sertanian's safety. It had been just a week ago that the two of them had last shared a meal. She dearly hoped that the old soldier was alright.
Shaking her head, she brought up the rear.
Din feigned being hurt, ”I seem to recall I set it on fire. He glanced at Cecilia and tried to convince himself that sometimes people get hurt in fights and to not worry about it.
With the Hall before them, it's door barely hanging on, Din cursed himself for thinking that the fight with the ogre had been the only threat. There's always another secret. Always another monster. He had awoken that morning with a sense of dread and was now wishing he had listened to his gut and prepared more combat spells. Well, live and learn. He looked at the charred tree, Please, let me live.
Din forced a grin at Aelion as they followed Kra'el and Zalindra inside, ”The only gods are those that sit around using us as pawns in some idiotic game where dice control our fates. But now's not the time for that, we have more important things to worry about.” Of course he didn't believe that, it was ridiculous. Even for him. But it usually managed to get a rise out of people so he liked to throw that fake truth out there every now and then.
Entering the Hall of Great Valor, all is silent save the crunch of broken glass beneath your feet. The glass cases lining the walls have been smashed open, with many of the relics of the Elsir Vale’s past strewn across the floor.
Three freestanding displays that usually show off artifacts of the vanquished Red Hand of Doom stand empty, the old relics nowhere to be seen.
As you cautiously make your way around a large map of the surrounding lands that fills a table in the centre of the room you see two bodies on the floor near the back of the hall...
Just goblins, their armour bears the insignia of the Red Hand. They lie in a pool of black blood. A shortsword stained with that same foul blood lies discarded nearby, but its wielder is nowhere to be seen.
Grandfather? Are you there?
Zalindra speeds towards his office, and if he is not there, the attached rooms where they live. If she hears him, she will of course go straight for him.
With an increasing sense of panic, Zalindra searches her grandfather's office, and when no one calls out in response, and she can't find anyone, the attached living area. Still, there is no sign of the old man.
Does it look like the living quarters were ransacked? Is there evidence of violence? Blood?
Zalindra keeps calling out, and scours every room, making sure he isn't here somewhere, collapsed or hurt.
Zalindra keeps calling out, and scours every room, making sure he isn't here somewhere, collapsed or hurt.
Falling behind the young human, Kra'el stomps as quickly as he can behind her, finding the discouraging scene. His voice is quiet, like a low breeze.
"They were here for the relics... why?"
With a frown and a deep breath, he glances around for the elves while Zalindra conducts her panicked search. Whatever she finds, it is done, one way or another. It's too quiet. Rushing isn't likely to change anything.
"Aelion, Jathal, is it possible to track the wielder of that sword?"
The dragonborn points at the derelict shortsword.
Ingra approaches Kra'el, looking around just taking in the damage and lack of what really should be everywhere.
Bodies. Blood. Noise.
"What can yer tell us 'bout what was taken? Were they magic? Dangerous? I'd like ta know even if ya think it unimportant cause they came here for them.
They might be the whole reason for this little 'invasion'. Morale. We can't let them escape with them regardless.
If this is them now, don't want to imagine what they'll be like with such a grand morale boost. Relics from the greatest goblinoid leader in recent history."
Ingra goes to spit on the ground before remembering where she was and awkwardly swallowing it. Admitting goblinoid creatures were capable of anything noteworthy left a bad taste in her mouth.
The Red Hand almost took Brindol. She had listened to the stories and idolized the heroes.
Those stories set her life goal in motion, they were why she was standing there. But she knew they couldn't let them leave. It would bring another raid, another war. She wanted glory but if she could prevent it she would.
Horrified by what they'd found - and what they hadn't - Aelion squatted to try and make sense of any trail left behind.
Maybe they would find Zalindra's grandfather with the relic thieves.
Maybe.
He began with the shortsword Kra'el pointed out, and worked his way outward from there. Broken glass, bloodstains, scuffs and out-of-place furniture; all of it could tell a story, for the right eyes.
Ingra leant down to look at what the Elven archer was looking at. She could tell he was looking for something and she believed she could help put the pieces together while Kra'el told them about the relics.
Though she was hardly skilled at tracking, Cecilia also attempts to assist Aelion in his search for clues.
Zalindra completes her search of the living quarters but it appears that the ransacking and violence were constrained to the public portion of the museum.
While Zalindra searches in vain, Aelion begins reconstructing the scene with the help of Ingra and Cecilia. The shortsword is old but well maintained. Cecilia recognises it as belonging to Sertanian.
After felling two of his attackers, some scuff marks seem to indicate the old man fell, or was pushed to the ground. There are a few drops of red blood on the floor that may suggest Sertanian hit his head when he landed.
Working his way out, Aelion finds some drag marks through the broken glass on the floor. He is left to conclude that Sertanian was taken.
Based on the evidence, it seems that Sertanian was in his office when the front door was bashed in, and at least four goblinoids began looting the museum's relics. Sertanian appears to have retrieved his old sword from its wall mount in his office and moved out to confront the intruders. He managed to overpower two goblins before he himself was knocked to the ground and rendered unconscious. The goblins appear to have then resumed their ransacking of the Hall, before dragging Sertanian out with them as they left.
While the others piece the story together, Kra'el busies himself pondering over which relics were taken.
Most of the “relics” in the Hall of Great Valor have little or no intrinsic value. They’re museum pieces from the Red Hand invasion many years ago. But the sentimental value to the town is immense.
After spending some time assessing the state of the collection, the following items are noticeably absent:
- A heraldic battle standard depicting the flag of Brindol flying beside an icosahedral diamond held aloft in two golden hands. The banner of the Diamond League.
- An ornate, gilded dragon-crest helm and ceremonial platinum longsword, recovered by the Diamond League from the Fane of Tiamat in the heart of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains.
- A set of three bright yellow shields bearing the insignia of the Red Hand, each with a charred hole near the centre left by the Flame Strikes of Sularys Terik the female Dragonborn cleric during the defence of Brindol.
- A set of iron gauntlets dyed scarlet with extensive copper filigree, once they belonged to none other than the hobgoblin warlord Azarr Kul.
Never having visited the Hall before Jathal knows nothing of what was taken. She waits outside and keeps a watch.
Zalindra, trying not to panic, distracts herself with cataloguing what is missing from the museum. She lets the others know that these things are gone:
- A heraldic battle standard depicting the flag of Brindol flying beside an icosahedral diamond held aloft in two golden hands. The banner of the Diamond League.
- An ornate, gilded dragon-crest helm and ceremonial platinum longsword, recovered by the Diamond League from the Fane of Tiamat in the heart of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains.
- A set of three bright yellow shields bearing the insignia of the Red Hand, each with a charred hole near the centre left by the Flame Strikes of Sularys Terik the female Dragonborn cleric during the defence of Brindol.
- A set of iron gauntlets dyed scarlet with extensive copper filigree, once they belonged to none other than the hobgoblin warlord Azarr Kul.
We need to go after them.
"It stands to reason that the relics and Sertanian went to the same place. We should not waste time. Perhaps they are still in the town."
While the dragonborn's voice has gained in volume, it comes out as a sad rumble. His typical confidence is dimmed.
"To state the obvious... this is no good. We'll need to find the way they went and move quickly if we intend on catching up to your old man, though..." Dayana crouches by the spatter of blood on the floor, dipping her finger into the liquid to try and determine how fresh it was.
"I imagine they're trying to leave Brindol, if they haven't gotten out already. We have the advantage of knowing the terrain, at the very least, so if it hasn't been too long... we might succeed at cutting them off before they get out if we know which breach in the defenses they're heading for."
Dayana smears one of the droplets of blood across the floor. She feels confident that the confrontation here took place sometime in the past half hour. This roughly corroborates with how long it has been since the tavern was attacked.
Ingra quickly tries to assess where they went while taking in the other information.
"So the attack was also to demoralise Brindol. Filthy vermin. Hopefully, 4 golbins can't go too far dragging an old man and such loot."
Din lingered outside of the office while Zalindra searched inside. He figured that the girl had the sole right to enter the room at the moment and when she raced back out towards the museum area, Din followed–only pausing momentarily to consider using a detect magic cantrip in the office. Seems….intrusive, he thought as he peered into the office.
With the group in the museum proper, Din kept an uncomfortable closeness to Aelion as the elf put the clues together. He occasionally muttered various musings to no one in particular.
When the scene was laid out before the group Dinner waited to see what the others thought before chiming in, ”Can anyone else connect the dots?” He paused as if waiting for an answer but continued before anyone could speak, ”These relics were the target. The attacks were a distraction, as Din spoke he gesticulated more and more and his eyes moved feverishly as if he was placing the puzzle pieces just as he could vocalize his thoughts.
"The old man was taken because of course you would take the person who has spent the most time with the goods and probably has forgotten more about the stuff that most people have ever known. If anything in this building had any sort of magic properties, whether it be the things that were on display or things kept hidden, you can bet that the old man not only knew, uh, knows but he knows how to activate them.”
Cecilia nodded along as Zalindra described the missing items. As a regular patron of the museum the bard was more than familiar with the artefacts the woman was referring to. Despite what the tiefling said, Cecilia believed the goblins had taken these weapons and armour for their symbolic –rather than magical– power.
She hesitated for a few moments before speaking. "Miss Feston is correct. We should leave immediately. We'll question each survivor we meet. We'll search the whole city if we have to."
Zalindra, frustrated and scared, is ready to run and take whatever obstacle down that stands between her and her grandfather, but she doesn't have a direction to aim. She asks Which way?, perhaps a little too loudly.
Aelion nodded at Dinvirte. To Cecilia, he gestured towards where the tracks led out. "No time to lose. This way!"
When he reached the outdoors, he paused, squinting at the mess of tracks and counter-tracks.
Aelion and Zalindra rush out the front door, where they find Ingra also working to pick up the trail outside. The ground is firm from weeks without rain, and in the moonlight, any signs of disturbance are especially hard to find.
"What's the nearest and quickest route anyone could take to get in or out of Brindol from here? That's the one we should take."
Still, if the others continue their tracking shenanigans and it means speeding things up, Dayana will sigh impatiently and abuse her darkvision to try and help find any tracks the others missed due to the darkness.
Looking around Jathal thinks things over. "If they were here for relics and the man in charge of them then they will have made for the nearest escape route. South is the closest gate. I suggest we head there if there are no tracks to be found."
Kra'el steps outside with the others and looks across the town with a frown. "We may be too late." It's not really said with any resignation or sadness. Just calm possibility.
The dragonborn follows that up by joining the others in their search for a trail.
Jathal offers an answer to Dayana's question, and with everyone pitching in it doesn't take too long to verify the wood elf's assumption. The trail leaves the museum grounds and turns south.
There are not so many signs of destruction along the streets leading down to the South Gate, but you feel certain you are on the right track. For one reason or another, the goblins that travelled this route were less inclined to draw attention to themselves than those outside the Antler and Thistle.
It is only a quick jog past the Moondust Temple to the gatehouse. When you arrive you find the gates wide open. Two guards lean casually on either side of the opening, gazing out across the moonlit farmlands beyond.