"Dougie."
Your host nods slowly.
"Ghost's not harmful tha knows. Only granfer, biding on farm. Hold up and I'll fetch him."
As good as his word, Dougie plods towards the farmstead and calls out to the empty air.
"Get thyself out 'ere granfer. Guests."
The air chills noticeably and the misty figure of shriveled old man appears. He looks dourly at the assembled group, not apparantly very impressed.
"Wasting my time, lad. Knowed Wolfsbane anyways. Let 'em in."
Kendall visibly tenses at the sight of the apparition, his mailed hands gripping his reigns tighter.
Luce gives the apparition an easy smile, with the nod of the head - her people only gave respect grudgingly and when earned. Not one to bow before others due to titles, but respecting their roles. "Aye, good t' see tha granfer. Happy t' have t' hospitality and that o' Dougie." Luce walks past him towards the inside, getting ready to take off her mud-caked boots.
Sigvard bows to the ghost. "Good day, sir. I am glad we are welcome in your home."
"Goodness!" exclaims Vondal, otherwise preparing to dismiss a peasant superstition. "Sir, might I ask, can you possibly express your current situation compared to when you were living?"
Varis, uncomfortable with all new people to get to know, stays his usual quiet self. He offers no more than nods in greeting, or a bow of respect to Ghost. The old spirit had been a comfort when working the area, never making a sound yet providing company as he awaited his prey. He had a decent respect for the thing being older than he was in a largely 'youthful' community.
The guardian ghost stares at Vondal.
"No bloody different. Still keeping watch over flocks by night and held to it for another year as well. Then I'm off to whatever afterlife I'm destined for. Must be new round here or tha'd not ask damn-fool question like that."
Dougie shuffles his feet.
"Weren't my idea granfer, tha knows that. Were mam, saying you'd be best to stay on. Reet glad to have you, think on, wi gobbos coming back and all."
Luce looks as she slowly pulls off her heavy boots; "You have heard about the goblins? We travel t' North we heard there were some unpleasantness." she pauses with her rapid fire delivery. "'Ere if it's alreet w' thee I'll put Betsy in tha barn and we can talk about it. I have a good bottle of brew to warm t' belly on this cold night."
Dougie looks hopefully at his ghostly relative and nods. Granfer floats towards the barn and vanishes through the wall.
"Reet, ta" Luce says before moving outside following the ghost. 'Binding an old worker for a few seasons, interesting.' As Luce leads Betsy and the cart to the shelter of the barn she says softly; "Aye, must be grand t' 'elp out e'en after yer death." she hopefully says to the ghost.
Luce unhooks the cart from her horse, gently checking to make sure that there are no broken bearings or problems with the cart. She then greases the axles and drags it off to one side. Placing Betsy in a stall, she gently brushes down and comforts her friend. "There, there me lass, we've found some reet rum 'uns this time. I keep thee safe and tha' did a grand job getting us 'ere. Though in t' morn it might be tougher going. 'Ay up." Luce says as she give the horse some Hay.
Retrieving a few goods, including a wheel of cheese she moves back into the farmhouse.
Caine maintains a safe distance from the ghost dog.
"So, what is the nature of your misadventures with the verminous goblinoids?"
Granfer watches mistily as Luce untacks Betsy and feeds the mare. At her comment, he shrugs slightly.
"Only reet, think on. Our Dougie's a bit slow. Can't have place go to rack, like."
When she returns to the house, Dougie has been hard at work, making boiled eggs for the party and opening a small keg of his home-brewed beer. The results are palatable.
"Fresh hen's fruit," he notes proudly before sitting down, clutching his mug and and explaining.
"Back in Granfer's day, there were chap called hisself King o' Goblin Ole. Urgog. Lead raids on farms, see and stole goods and flock. Wolfsbane will know. Then all went quiet ten year ago and we thought he'd died. Last few months, 'e's been back. "Collecting tribute" they calls it. So," he concludes, having thought about it, "I don't reckon he's dead no more."
"Despicable creatures! Rooting out such degenerate sub-humanoids would be good day's work, say I!"
Luce comments to old Ganfer; "Aye, tha' a good man...spirit." 'We ain't t' brightest us Dales folk.'
As she sits down for the meal she cuts a wedge of cheese for everyone to share. On a side plate she puts a smaller piece, "For t' spirits 'n Fey."
At Vondals outburst, Luce is shocked at the vehemance previously unheard of; "Aye, we cannot 'ave t' blighters doing such 'arm."
Turning o Dougie; "We all know t' rhyme of t' Goblin 'ole, but doest thee have an idea where it is?"
Kendall gratefully accepts any of the offered meal, adding his own dried fruit to the potluck. He quietly muses over the thoughts, his gaze shifting over to Vondal, after his impassioned words.
The knight sets down his mug, "More likely that some new leader has emerged, taking the name of old. We all know that names have power, they command fear, respect...Yet it is unusual for a goblin to go such a route. He will be crafty." He turns aside to Caine, "It seems my earlier words of seeking battle and glory may yet come true sooner than expected."
"Didn't Farmer Botham say that his goblin worker, Muglor was claiming t' be a heir t' Goblin throne and someone usurped 'im. Tha's why he was headed back to take 'is throne back." Luce adds remembering the drunken conversation.
"If I had usurped a throne, and the true heir returned to reclaim it, claiming the name of a legend from the past would seem like a good way to reinforce my authority. Of course, I would then have to act like that legend, which means gaining the victories they did. Else it is likely my claims would not get far." Sigvald smiles slightly. "It has been done, a few times."
"That's na reet, that's reet dishonest." Luce says shaking her head. "We'll head up tha in t' morn." Luce says taking a bite out of a salted egg, she sups gently n the beverage.
"Doest tha have somewhere for us t' kip for t' night?" she asks softly.
Caine's understanding of the local dialect is seriously deficient. He strains to understand each word being said.
"Honesty got me where I am today." Exiled, that is. "For kings, I think a little dishonesty is often called for, if they want to remain so and would spare others many problems. Or so it is said."
Kendall silently disapproves of Sigvard's words, but chooses not to say anything.
Luce looks around the room to the others discretely; 'I don't want to be bedding down with the men, ain't it not proper. And we knows what Old Jarl says about dwarves.'
Dougie looks at his assembled guests, slightly bewildered.
"There's granfer's old room, Miss, and hayloft and barn for others. Be dry like and warm enough. Sheeps in and granfer won't worrit thee none."
"As fer Goblin Ole, that's a bit to north and down into trees. None sa many lives hereabouts cos of it, see."
Luce nods; "Reet kind of thee. Hope t' likes cheese, it's Swaledales' finest." as the others finish their meals she feels the need to take the plates away and clean them. 'After all he's gone and put us up.'
Returning to the table she greets the others, "Reet, we got that done."
"To the north, you say? Are we to root out this evil in the morrow, my good companions?"
Luce will help him with a couple of chores in the morning, as she feels that paying him back with a helping hand is better than any money.
"Aye, Mr Brewerson, if t' goblins be rampaging, then we'll need t' do summat."
As talk of the morrow starts, Kendall lets out a restrained sigh of frustration. "I get the distinct impression that most of you here are eager for a fight, or such. It is admirable to take up arms, however a situation like this calls for military training, feats of magic perhaps. I cannot in good conscience, accept help past being guides." His gaze passes over Luce, Vondal, and Sigvard.
Later, Kendall graciously accepts the offer, taking some time to clean some muck out of the barn in repayment.
"Nay, I'm not reet eager t' fight. It 'urts." Luce says simply. "Though you ain't from round these parts, t' goblins may trust one more like me'senth or Varis. Talking to 'em may be futile, tho'."
Luce smiles revealing slightly pointed teeth; "I ain't much of a fighter, I didn't have a weapon fur t' last 'venture."
Sigvald's idea of a helping hand is music and gossip in the evening, and cleaning up behind himself in the morning.
In response to Kendall, he looks unusually serious, even annoyed. "I am Skanian. I am not without ability as a warrior." Then he steps away, and turns his back.
"So Sigvard, thee's from t' far North? Amongst t' brave warriors?" Luce asks; "From t'all t' tales I 'eard they are full o' tall warriors battling giants int' freezing climes." She looks Sigvard up and down with a glint in her eye.
"I will tell you a little secret, Luce. Those tales are not entirely true. Sometimes it is not freezing." He smiles. "But tall, and stupid enough to treat fighting giants as fun, that we are."
Luce shakes her head whilst smiling, an auburn braid flicks across her face; "Aye, an' 't ain't always raining 'round 'ere, too." she leans over and checks out Betsy's hooves before connecting her to the cart and giving the brasses a last rub.
Dougie bids the party a friendly, if slightly puzzled goodbye. It is definitely the first time his farm has been invaded by such a varied group.
Burdened with so many, Betsy makes rather slow progress, but by lunchtime the cart has descended into woodland and here there are indeed signs that goblins have passed by recently. There are footprints, discarded arrowheads and some smaller trees have been chopped down - presumably for firewood.
Luce slows the cart to a stand-still; in a defensible little dell. She looks to Varis with a quiet nod; dropping quietly to all fours she pads on soft feet around the area. "Goblins, warband?" she whispers to the rest trying not to alarm anyone.
Looking at the area to see if primarily there is an ambush, then for the arrowheads to try and ascertain numbers, direction of travel, how long ago and if this was a raiding party.
Kendall gives sincere thanks for the lodgings for the night before departing.
Kendall has his own mount, even if not trained for war, he rides ahead occasionally to keep vigilant watch upon the area, but never too far from the cart.Dismounting, he examines a spent arrowhead. "Most likely. I'd daresay most civilized folk would not be so careless with their gear."
He then finds a sturdy tree to loop his pony's reigns about before a small scouting mission. "I will take a quick look ahead on foot."
"Please, do not lumber ahead and alert what may be there that we are here. Let Luce and I do what we do best. You move as quietly as falling into a silver cabinet." Varis requests, with as much respect in his voice as he offers anyone... so, not a lot.
Caine nods at Varis' suggestion.
"You make an excellent point."
"Thanks, looking after the cart is important too." She says whilst slowly moving around the area trying to make as little sounds possible as she slowly ranges around.
"Sir Kendall, I would allow Master Shepherd to look about - I can vouch for his abilities."
He gives a soft nod, "Very well, but I would ask as few risks taken as necessary."
"Before you go, what's the signal in case of trouble ahead?"
"Bird call, a lesser spotted sparrow. That's should be in 'season' at the moment." Luce quietly adds as she pads lightly.
"Good."
Varis gives Luce a crooked look, then nods towards the others with lifted eyebrow, as if to say "You think they know a lesser spotted sparrow?". He clarifies for the others, "We scout, not assault. The sign will be a call to arms such as 'Oh lords, the enemy has seen us!', if that would work? Otherwise, we will just return and report."
"Don't worry. We are not strangers to rescue missions nor overwhelming odds. Fortune favor you." Caine gestures a soldier's salute, with his right fist over his heart.
At the Commanders words Luce's creamy skin blanches slightly, 'Some of us are new to conflict. I could never say that, they already just think me a farmer.' She turns back to the darkness of the forest, the soft mulch gives off a strong rich scent.
Kendall mounts back up, for ease of transit in case of trouble, but otherwise quietly awaits the report.