Maeve frowns slightly at the prospect of not getting the bounty. "...maybe there will be some intact ears on the pyre..." Beat. "Euwww, forget I said that. But I guess we should take care of the skeletons..."
"Well I was more interested in helping Sandpoint anyway."
The money would've been nice too.
"I suppose we should go talk to this Gutwad."
"We just have to take his head for the reward, no one said it can't still be attached to his body"
"Seriously, if we take care of this walking dead problem for the Chieftan, perhaps we could get him to turn his sorry self into the caravan master. 2 birds ... 1 stone ... no barbarism."
This self-conscious half-orc is gonna be a problem ... but let's play to his misplaced sense of decency for now.
Maeve doesn't look like she approves of this at all. "You know, if we try to bring a goblin back to town it's just going to be a show before the execution, probably. If we're going to kill them we may as well do it quick and clean out here."
The speaking goblin starts to look annoyed with your side-conversation, picking its ear with one blade while brandishing the other.
In broken common, it says "You want see Chief or not?"
Harlan waits expectantly for Malnival to translate and lead them to the chief.
Malnival looks tired as he turns to the goblin.
The goblin waves you out the door, and then leads you to the larger structure on the south-east corner of the village. As you walk through, dark eyes and unfriendly faces peek from the windows and shadows of the surrounding huts. A few come out into the open, warily, and by the time you reach Gutwad's hut, a half-dozen goblins follow.
"Mighty Chief Gutwad," your guide yells in a high-pitched squeal. "The humies want to talk!" This elicits a combination of grunts, snickers and gasps from the village audience.
A minute passes without response, and as the guide starts again, a derisive voice echoes from within the building (in the common tongue), "What do you want here? The skeletons took everything they came for - I gave it all back to them. Leave my village now... you are not welcome."
Malnival glances at the rest of the group and wispers, I suggest someone other than me do the negotiations, I am not very good at swaying people to my point of view."
Harlan steps forward and raises his arms to the sky. The sweat from moving through the Marsh beads on his forehead and dampens the edge of his fine new cloak.
"Chief Gutwad! We come to you in order to right a great wrong. These undead you have awoken have also plagued our tribe. Tell us what you stole from them and where we can find them."
"Stole!?!" the voice squeaks. "We stole nothing. Our heroes found an old shipwreck and a cave where its pirate crew went to die. The loot they left behind we claimed... they came back and stole it from us!"
"Where is this shipwreck?"
I could be in trouble here. I wonder how many of them there are.
Harlan turns his head slightly to the party and whispers, "How many are there?"
Maeve tries to glance around discreetly.
"Where is this shipwreck?"
"Why should I tell you?" the voice responds, petulantly. "Humies are not trusty any farther than you can smell them. How would that benefit the Licktoads?"
Maeve murmurs "Eight of 'em right around us. See two in the windows" as quietly as she can.
There's a long pause after Heng speaks. Eventually the voice replies, "You have a good idea, maybe. But don't think I trust you humies for a second. I will send you with Prugk, one of our heroes that found the wreck. She will show you the way... and keep an eye on you." The goblin guide who spoke to you perks up excitedly.
"And if you succeed, Licktoads will welcome you back, maybe," the chief finishes. "Now, go..."
"Awesome, a chick goblin hero guide ..." Parity sighs.
If I had eyes, I'd roll them
"Well I'm very confused by this, but we'll deal with the skeletons and then we'll be back."
Are we still going to kill the goblins? We have to don't we?
Maeve just shakes her head, as confused as Harlan but not wanting to voice it for the time being.
Prugk, your guide, waves at you and starts towards the smashed gate, nearly hopping along in her excitement. The other Licktoad goblins give her looks a mixture of bewilderment and loathing - you wonder if their hero is much loved for her role in finding the treasure.
As you leave the village, Prugk talks in broken common, "We go on Chief's order to find Scribbleface's stash of fireworks, or he feed us to Squealy Nord. We found an ol' wrecked humie sea boat. It hadda sum fireworks and burned real nice, and it hadda map pointin' at another wreck and a cave! It wus there we met the skellies, but they wasn't hackin' and slicin' then."
Harlan struggles to keep up with the rapidly moving goblin. It takes all his effort to move and he doesn't have time to ask the many questions in his head.
Squealy Nord? Scribbleface? What were the skeletons doing?
Heng tries to follow the rapidly yapping goblin, "Wait, what is a 'Squealy Nord'?"
"Ahh, Squealy Nord wus Licktoad mascot. Chief would feed Licktoads to 'im if they wus bad. He got away in the attack..." she finishes with a sad note.
Maeve just continues to look distinctly nonplussed.
Malnival shakes his head from behind the goblin. "How far to the cave,Prugk? And how many skellies are there?"
Malnival shakes his head from behind the goblin. "How far to the cave,Prugk? And how many skellies are there?"
"Well, I don'no. Not far, on the steep side of the marsh. You wanna see the cave? Or the wreck? ...or the other wreck?"
She thinks for a long moment, counting on her fingers with tongue protruding. Holding up six fingers, she says "Two?"
"The other...wreck? Cave...first?"
Prugk stops and looks at Harlan quizically. "What wrong with you? You been hit on head too hard?"
Harlan also comes to a stop and takes some deep breaths while rubbing his leg.
"My head is fine, my leg is not. And I had too much gumbo this morning."
I've changed my mind, we should kill them after we're done with the skeletons.
"That sounds good, Heng."
Were there still fireworks behind when you left? If so, we should be careful with flame as we enter.
"Maybe, but think Chief gave some back," she replies to Parity.
Prugk leads you off of the (relatively) dry fishing trails and into the marsh proper. The route cuts straight through streambeds, wide dank pools of algae-covered water, and thick tangles of low trees and marsh grass. Her path is well suited for one of her stature, so only Harlan has an easier time of it. The rest have to constantly contend with low branches and clinging vegetation.
She takes you on a westerly course, you believe. Though the overcast obscures the sun, you catch occasional glimpses of the wide bay to your right. You have to wade across a wider branch of the Soggy river, but on the far side you find another old fisherman's trail.
Prugk points left. "That ways to cave, sorta." She then points right. "That ways to wreck, though haveta pass witch's shack." The goblin appears suddenly apprehensive.
"Wait, the 'witches shack'? Maeve looks at the little creature. "What witch?"
"Ummm... the old witch?
Maeve blinks a few more times. "I haven't heard anything about a witch in the swamp."
"Well I don't want to meet any witches, old or otherwise. Can we avoid it?"
Harlan shudders at the thought of meeting a witch.
They put such horrible things in their soup pot!
"Maybe, if we sneaky..." Prugk whispers the last, "then she not catch us. Or, maybe dead anyway." The goblin shrugs and starts up the right-hand path, walking in an exaggerated crouch and tip-toeing every step.
"I...don't think that's going to work. Maybe if we just present ourselves as friendly she'll let us pass?"
And this time I won't heal her before I know what she is!
Malnival shakes his head and mutters under his breath as he continues to follow the goblin.
"And this is why rushing out to 'help' can get dicey. Anyone else feel like we're being jerked around a bit? Gods have a cruel sense of humor. I'm starting to regret saying I was bored ... how about you, Maeve? Still need that excitement?"
The manic grin Maeve gives back to Parity can easily be heard in her voice. "Oh hells yes!"
Prugk waves you on and continues up the fishing trail. As you follow the goblin, a light drizzle begins to fall, making the damp environs that much damp-er. After about a quarter mile, Prugk turns and holds up a dirty finger to her lips. "Shhhh..." She pulls down a branch and gestures forward.
There you see a sagging one-story shack in the middle of a small clearing, its walls dingy with age and encrusted with lichen and fungus. A partially collapsed shed sits just to the northeast, while small pouches, twisted knots of feathers, and dangling wind chimes made of bones hang from branches and roof alike.