With the wagon out of harm's way, Kvalsir takes a moment to catch his breath (and resist puking) before hearing the sounds of combat. "Utmerket!" he cries as he draws his sword and shield once more and charges howling toward the sounds.
Maeve leads your group, including Sandru, into the woods. The ground slopes up steeply out of the depression, and at the base of the slope you find Parity lying face down beside a destroyed tree. The explosion, whatever it was, was powerful enough to shred a foot-thick oak and scorch the surrounding area.
You do not see any nearby enemies, but as Sandru helps Parity up, you hear movement closing in from the shadows up ahead - a grunt and horse sputtering. As you brace for battle, a familiar voice calls out.
"Stand down, friends," Shalelu says, stepping into the firelight. She holds the reins of a horse, carrying an unconcious rider, while another caravan guard walks behind, holding his bloodied head. The elf holds a limp bundle in her off hand, which she tosses into the light as the caravan owner joins you.
It is the body of a goblin, pale yellow-green skin covered in spiral tattoos. An arrow is lodged firmly in its eye socket.
"Licktoad tribe, by the markings. Judging by the tracks, there were many more. They seem to have dispersed," Shalelu says, working her arrow free.
"We saw them chase after the horses," says the man, whom you guess is Master Golvitus. "The explosions of their attack frightened them. Some bucked and threw riders, others tore free from the wagons. The panicking horses did more damage than whatever magic they threw at us."
"Okay." Maeve takes a deep breath, looking over the carnage. "Last time I checked Goblins did not throw around large explosions like archmagi." She starts to pace, trying to recall what she can from fireside tales at the Dragon...
"It seems the Goddess' gift is not to be wasted this day!"
She starts to pace, trying to recall what she can from fireside tales at the Dragon...
Maeve's jaw drops as several unrelated facts come together in her head. "oh." With a deep breath, she does elaborate. "There are some rumors the Licktoads have been learning about how to make fireworks. I guess no one did anything about it because no one believed it."
Malnival leans on his polearm and shakes his head. "Goblin's utilizing this type of firepower can make for a bad day indeed. I think we may need to remove this threat, or we shall face much worse in the future. "
Kvalsir frowns, disappointed that glorious combat has, once more, eluded him for the time being. "I don't care what they're using, but they are clearly en trussel. I serve the coin jarl, so if he says 'kill them,' then I kill." he turns to Sandru with a hopeful look on his face. "We will kill them, yes? Too long sitting means lei kriger, which is very bad for the surrounding town." He grins at this last part, trying to pass it off as a joke, but it's obvious that it was only partially so. The chance to fight then taken away? This would not be good for me.
Dusting himself off, Parity says flatly, Thanks. They rolled something down on me. Maybe a barrel? Did you see how many there were?
To Heng How many of us really need daylight? The trail is fresh, let's catch them now.
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"They fled before we arrived. You should be more cautious."
To Heng How many of us really need daylight? The trail is fresh, let's catch them now.
Heng looks uncomfortable, "I have my mother's eyes, but I think the rest would have some difficulty." It is obvious that Heng thinks Parity didn't do so well blind either.
"Daylight or night, I can find the path."
"I can light the path but we won't be sneaking up on them like that. Not that I'm much for sneaking anyway."
Harlan steels himself for the darkness.
Kvalsir snorts at Heng's comment (Why would I avoid combat?) and mutters a quick prayer to the Beastfather before announcing "Move aside, halv-ork. An Ulfen learns to find prey and enemies by the time he turns six!."
Kvalsir casts Deadeye's Lore. He gains a +4 Sacred bonus on all Survival checks, and can track while moving full speed for the next hour.
Survival:
...I'm actually shocked that I was able to use that spell. You may now imagine Kvalsir performing an Ulfen dance of joy. Drunkenly, of course. Even if I ended up with a crappy roll...
Malnival move over to where the last spotted goblin tracks were located and searches the ground.
Survival (Track):
"Show me where you found the tracks.
Maeve just stares blankly at the talk of NOT chasing the Goblins down.
Did you see how many there were? [/b]
Shalelu gives you a half shrug. "I saw two as we came up to the ridgeline. I managed to take this one down, but the other ran off. With the wounded in tow, I decided not to give chase."
"I serve the coin jarl, so if he says 'kill them,' then I kill." he turns to Sandru with a hopeful look on his face. "We will kill them, yes?"
"I do not need you until we hit the road once more," Sandru grins. "You are your own man 'til then. I will stay here and help Golvitus back to town." He points at the dead goblin before finishing, "Be careful. Goblins may not be much to look at, but they're cruel and have a low cunning."
Golvitus leans forward, his face dark, and says in a low voice "These vermin have cost me dearly, but I am a merchant, and will pay kind in kind. For every goblin ear you bring me, I will give you ten gold... three hundred for the head of the Licktoad chieftain."
"His name is Rendwattle Gutwad," Shalelu adds. As you begin to look about for tracks, she continues, "I can save you some time. The Licktoad live somewhere in the Brinestump Marshes, a few more miles down this road to the south, along the coast just past the Ashen Moor. Inevitably, their track will lead there - unfortunately, the Brinestump is notorious for being overgrown, crisscrossed with waterways and treacherous footing. It has never been mapped... not that anyone has ever wanted to try. There is a man, a halfling acutally, who might be able to help. An eccentric, self-appointed 'warden' of the swamp - his name is Walthus Proudstump. A fishing trail leads off the road directly to his shack. You could do a lot worse than to seek out his advice."
Do not be such a daredevil this time, Parity."
Smiling wryly, he says "That's rich, coming from the guy who ran towards the raging fire. Forgive me for trying to catch them before they wandered off."
Turning towards the corpse, he asks "Did anyone search it?"
"His name is Rendwattle Gutwad," Shalelu adds. As you begin to look about for tracks, she continues, "I can save you some time. The Licktoad live somewhere in the Brinestump Marshes, a few more miles down this road to the south, along the coast just past the Ashen Moor. Inevitably, their track will lead there - unfortunately, the Brinestump is notorious for being overgrown, crisscrossed with waterways and treacherous footing. It has never been mapped... not that anyone has ever wanted to try. There is a man, a halfling acutally, who might be able to help. An eccentric, self-appointed 'warden' of the swamp - his name is Walthus Proudstump. A fishing trail leads off the road directly to his shack. You could do a lot worse than to seek out his advice."
"Heh, let's go find this Proud Walrus and find some way to shove a wad of something else into Wattle's Gut."
Maeve shrugs as the information starts coming in. "Right then. Proudstump's place first, then hopefully to the Licktoads. If not, we'll need to do a more thorough search, so if he can't help we may need to head back to town."
Harlan rubs his ruined leg.
"If I'm going to be doing this much running around, maybe I should have you order that riding dog for me after all Sandru."
I hate slowing the others down.
"Let's go to this halfling, if nothing else he probably has some recipes to trade."
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"For every goblin ear you bring me, I will give you ten gold... three hundred for the head of the Licktoad chieftain."
A look of disgust crosses Heng's face, "That's a bit barbaric. I sometimes wonder why I hold humans in more esteem than savage orcs."
"I certainly hope Mr' Proudfoot doesn't mind us knocking on his door in the middle of the night."
Kvalsir grins at Sandru's response, and happily sheathes his scimitar for the moment. "Is godt. Let us go a-viking, then, and see what these hunden morder have!"
With a farewell to Sandru and Shalelu, you press out on the trade road to the south. Once you are up and over the ridgeline, the calm of night returns once more. With only a half-moon's light to guide you, Maeve and Kvalsir have some trouble following the road (little more than a cleared path in places). With the others' help guiding the horses, you make steady progress.
The road continues south and bends around to the west to hug the coast, circling a rough patch of hillocks to your east. About a mile further, it opens along the Ashen Moor, a wide swath of hard, stony land that slopes gradually down to the south. After you cross the stone bridge at Cougar Creek, the road cuts through the moor before bending west around the Brinestump Marsh. A couple miles from the bridge, you see a clearly marked trail forking from the road and following the steepening slope into the marsh.
Maeve knows from the local fishermen that this trail accesses some of the marsh's best fishing holes. Its also supposed to lead to the shack of Walthus Proudstump.
In contrast to her earlier enthusiasm, Maeve is starting to look dead on her feet. "Okay, pressing forward may not have been one of my better ideas. Still...we're almost there. And we've beat the fishermen out to the trail, so it's probably a few hours yet before first light. I think."
"If we're lucky, maybe we'll catch them sleepin' after their 'successful' raid"
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"If we're lucky, maybe we'll catch them sleepin' after their 'successful' raid"
"And if we aren't lucky, we'll be half awake and trying to deal with the rest of the tribe that has rested. I don't think there is an immediate need to rush into this. We know where they live and we can scout them out or set an ambush of our own. Let us not be too hasty or short-sighted in our approach, Parity."
"And if we aren't lucky, we'll be half awake and trying to deal with the rest of the tribe that has rested. I don't think there is an immediate need to rush into this. We know where they live and we can scout them out or set an ambush of our own. Let us not be too hasty or short-sighted in our approach, Parity."
"Short-sighted, that's funny" Parity smiles humorlessly, "Well then, what are we waiting for, let's pound on the halfling's door and wake him up, since we wouldn't want to disturb the goblins until they've had breakfast."
"I agree, we shouldn't rush into this. If we can rest for the night and catch them in the daylight we'll be far better off than stumbling into their camp half awake."
I can barely walk any farther tonight. I need to learn to move faster with this leg.
"I agree we should rest a bit before moving to attack the goblins. This should give the time to be deeply asleep and think there will be no reprisal for their attack. We could be able to catch them unawaire."
"I definitely wouldn't object to a bit of a nap," Maeve agrees, stretching out a bit. "Let's see if we can find someplace somewhat drier to set up."
Kvalsir, whose thirst for combat had waned as the hours dragged on, frowned slightly and let out a sleepy yawn. He nods tiredly as the discussion goes on, and looks for a safe place to rest. Fartil dyrene, how much further? I thought that combat would be soon... bah! To be on a ship, raiding as we pleased again. At least there were no long marsjer to find ofrene to plunder...
He lets out a small sigh as he continues on, perking up slightly at his next thought. At least there will be bekjempe tomorrow. This is good.
Harlan begins to sweat as he runs to keep up with the group. Although his leg supports his weight he is clearly having trouble moving it as quickly as the other.
These longlegs are going to be the death of me. I hope this swamp dwelling halfling has some food he is willing to share. I could do with something to eat and a soft chair after all this running. I've always wanted to try gumbo...
Harlan begins to unconsciously lick his lips between puffing breaths.
Weary, but nearing your destination, you press on into the marsh along the fishing trail. After a steep decline at the edge of the marsh, the land evens out into low, muddy patches of earth criss-crossed by open water and numerous streams. The vegetation closes in uncomfortably, and only because the canopy remains largely open are you able to navigate the path by moonlight.
The damp ground sucks at your feet, and brown water quickly fills your prints, leaving no trace of your passage within moments. The distant, croaking call of some unknown beast echoes through the night. As you cross a sturdy, wooden bridge, a loud splash in the water nearby startles you, but you see nothing other than ripples spreading in the moon's light.
You travel a little less than a mile before you reach the shack, though time and distance seem to lose meaning in the claustrophobic wetland. The muddy trail leads up to the edge of a swampy lagoon, and the low-hanging moon reflects off the open ocean, visible just beyond these shallow waters. An old, two-story building, its walls soggy with moss and its roof sagging with age, sits on the lagoon's eastern shore.
Malnival aproaches the front door pausing a second to listen, then knocking loudly.
"Mr. Proudstump!"
Perception:
Maeve looks relieved as a potential stopover is in sight. Malnival's knocking manages to set off a slight headache the lack of sleep was starting and she puts a hand to her head, but says nothing in response to that either, looking around just to be safe.
Harlan sits on the nearest dry rock or stump, drawing in breath and quietly massaging his leg.
"Looks deserted, but if I was the caretaker of an entire swamp filled with goblins I'd want it to look like that too. I'd also leave supper on the fire."
Harlan sits on the nearest dry rock or stump, drawing in breath and quietly massaging his leg.
Huh, good idea ... think I'll join you. Parity sits and slips off his boots, drying off his feet as best as possible
Malnival will knock louder this time. "Mr. Proudstump, please come to the door!"
Mere moments after Malnival knocks, you hear a cough and a soft voice calls from inside, "Who... who is it?"