Rising early, Dorik heads outside to look for a quiet spot where he can make his way through his exercise routine. Letting go of his conscious mind, he loses himself in the simple pleasures of a good sweat and burning muscles. Once finished, he heads back to the Rusty Dragon to wash up.
I'm looking forward to this. A chance to fight, a share of loot, and doing so in a way that helps people. Not often I get all three. And the others seem like capable sorts. If any of what I've heard is true, it'll be great to fight alongside them. Even the creepy-looking one... he thinks to himself as he attends to his cleaning and grooming.
He makes his way back to the common area, looking for his new companions, and some food.
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The creepy looking one makes his way down the stairs before lifting his head to look for Ameiko or his companions. He spots Dorik and drags his feet towards him before sitting quietly. He lowers his cowl and makes eye contact with a server. His baritone voice snarls despite his best effort to keep it to a whisper.
"Salt Pork please. Raw."
As he stares the new dwarf in the eyes for any signs of discomfort, his elven ears perk up and twitch while listening to the converstaions and chatter all about and around the dining area. His yellow eyes remained fixed on the dwarfs, his gaze remains locked and Dorik easily senses the sadness of his new companion withot a single word having been uttered.
Dorik nods a greeting to Chimaeryus as he sits. "Good morning. I haven't seen the others yet. So, raw pork, eh? What's that about?" he asks, his tone and expression conveying genuine curiosity.
Dorik stops eating for a moment. "Huh. I'll be damned. Learn something new every day. I didn't know something like that was possible. As a soldier, I've been around plenty of folks who ate like orcs, but not because they had to. One in particular... oh, what was his name? Gorth? Groth? Something like that. Anyway, guy smelled like the inside of a beggar's pocket. I mean, this was a truly prodigious stench. That's not relevant, though. He also ate so that you'd figure he was pregnant with a litter of gnolls. Didn't care what it was, he'd go at it until there was nothing left. Heh. Anyway... that's interesting." he says, with a grin.
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While Dorik and Chimaeryus are talking, Ioxeia appears, fresh from her exercises in the morning twilight by the shore. "Good morning," she waves. "I've some more things to collect before I'm ready to set out, but I'll be back in a moment. Are the others about?"
She speaks brightly, but her eyes are lightly shadowed by interrupted sleep. After a moment, she disappears upstairs, returning in a few minutes with a heavy traveller's pack that she places carefully in a corner as she joins the others. Travelling light again. Soon, I hope... though Riddleport didn't help matters any. Truly, it can be a wretched place, but I suppose I know better now, at least.
Thorfinn stumps down from the common room, tugging his armor into place. He sniffs at the air in expectation. "Mm, breakfast! Eat hearty, we'll be on trail rations for a day or two, at least." The presence of the second dwarf, perhaps in combination with the party's burgeoning reputation in Sandpoint, seems to have cheered the usually surly ranger up.
Dan comes down with his old but well maintained black half-plate buckled on, gauntlets tucked behind his belt and helmet under one arm. The big man casually carries his heavy, black wooden shield and full pack on his other hand.
He grins at his new companions as he drops his shield and pack next to an open chair. "Morning, friends. Everybody ready to pay a visit to some goblins?"
"Good morning to you all." says Dorik, as he finishes eating. "I am ready to march at any time, but if there's anything I can assist with before we leave, let me know." Dorik looks rested and alert.
"Chimaeryus, you or Ioxiea should take the wand and the scroll--I can't use those things. We better sell the dagger, too. Little thing like that, makes a better toothpick." He guffaws.
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Ioxeia looks up from where she's rearranging the last of her packing. "I think you should hold on to the wand, Chimaeryus, and I think I have room in one of my cases for the scroll. That should allow our selection of spells to complement each other a bit more nicely, and perhaps in a few days I'll be able to transcribe the scroll into my grimoire."
Rummaging in her pack as she speaks, her hand brushes the peeling covers of a squarish bundle. She bites back quietly on an unladylike Elven curse, and continues brightly but somewhat vaguely, "I knew I had forgotten something when we were talking to Brodert. I don't suppose I could impose on Ameiko to look after it? - No, time enough later."
She turns to Dan and Dorik. "I don't imagine we would be lucky enough to discover that either of you gentlemen reads Abyssal?"
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Ioxeia is glad her mask prevents her from being so undignified as to stick out her tongue. Decorously ignoring the reference to the other book, she explains, "They're not very illuminating on their own, I'm afraid. There's a lot of very nasty things killing other things in various horrible ways, but without being able to read the text, I can't quite figure out what they all are, both things and methods. It makes the book rather less useful as a manual of practical defense, if that's what it's meant to be."
She turns to Dan and Dorik. "I don't imagine we would be lucky enough to discover that either of you gentlemen reads Abyssal?"
Dan chuckles and shakes his head. "I have enough trouble reading Taldan, sorry."
Dorik shakes his head at Ioxeia. "I don't, no."
Thorfinn's new equipment is ready for him to pick up before the party leaves, and he quickly gets everything squared away. "Ready to march? We've got a few miles to cover and a likely fight at the end of it."
"I'm ready." Dorik looks, if not excited, at least comfortable with the idea of heading into a fight.
You gather what you need after meeting up and get on your way. Heading out of town you travel north on the lost coast road at a semi-casual pace you reach the Thistle River crossing after about two hours. Here, based off the information you have is where you decide is the best place to brave the Nettlewood to reach the goblin fort.
As the party nears the Nettlewood, Thorfinn begins to search for signs of goblin trails.
Dan follows along without complaint. He's clearly unfamiliar with the wilderness but helps as best he can.
Throfinn takes the lead, he easily navigates through the underbrush, stopping occasionally to check snapped twigs, look at the dirt and feel the ground in different places. Eventually he finds a very evident trail that you can all see to follow. Going down the trail it comes to what appears to be a wall of nettles and disappears.
The dwarf eyes the wall of nettles, grumbling to himself. "Hmph. Could try cutting through, or going over."
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Ioxeia has been subdued throughout the journey, from the gradual bluing of the sky through the dawn’s greys to the clearing morning proper. Though calm, she is unusually attentive to the details of the path ahead and any unusual objects at the edge of her vision. Once, just outside of the town walls, she pauses a moment to observe a crow perched on the tumbledown fence of a long-abandoned pasture. The creature fixes her with its black stare in turn, until a sound cracking across the moor catches its attention instead. Silently, Ioxeia moves on to catch up with the others.
She stays quiet as they turn off into the depths of the Nettlewood, envying the confidence with which Thorfinn leads them ahead, but taking comfort too in the shade of the trees as they close overhead. She wonders how long it would take for her to get comfortable with the place, knowing she doesn’t have a ranger’s instinct for the land. She wishes…
Her reverie is interrupted as the group draws up before a wall of nettles. She examines its height, and peers along its length on either side, trying to see if she can spot an opening further on in the green shade, as Thorfinn offers his gruff comment. “I don’t fancy trying to plunge right through,” she says, considering the nettles’ spines, “but maybe there’s a thinner patch?” She starts poking about with her spear, trying to turn aside branches with the shaft, looking for areas of lighter growth before starting to hack a way through or worse, just trying to push on.
Dan frowns at the wall. "If there's a trail, maybe it's moveable? Not like a door, but maybe they can drag it out of the way when they want to get past."
Dorik ponders the situation for a moment. "Hm. Well, we could try to cut our way through. Could this be magical? I wouldn't know."
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"Aha! I think there is a sort of door, see, a hatch connected by those branches and creepers..." Looking carefully to see where the growth is loose and where it's attached, Ioxeia gingerly reaches for a less thorny spot at the loose end, and pulls, peering around to see if there's an opening behind.
As Thorfinn leads you further into the nettles and just before stopping at the nettle wall you begin to hear the muffled sounds of the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks and you feel the slight breeze of the ocean air coming from the north.
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Ioxeia takes her time to open the thistle 'door' revealing a 4 foot high passage through the thistles on the other side. The floor is hard-packed earth, with patches of wiry plants growing stubbornly here and there. The tunnels lead of north, east and west.
Dorik readies his earth breaker. He smiles at Ioxeia. "Nice work."
The big Shoanti grunts as he looks at the tiny passageway. "Yeah. Goblins aren't tall. Forgot about that." He claps on a scratched and many-times dented and repaired helmet, hoping to keep from getting stabbed in the head by the spiny plants.
"I'll go first. One of you better watch our backs, too." Shield ready and axe in hand, Thorfinn advances to the west.
"I don't mind taking rear guard. Unless you'd prefer it, Dan?"
Heading to the west the tunnel splits off to the north.
Dan nods at Dorik. "Uh... yeah. I'll go last. That way in case I get stuck nobody's stuck behind me."
Thorfinn continues west after glancing down the north passage.
Dorik takes his place as second-to-last in the file. He sets off, eyes never resting in one place for long, blood humming in his veins at the thought of combat.
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As Thorfinn considers the way forward, Ioxeia straps on her shield and readies her spear again. She slips into position just ahead of Chimaeryus to give the sorcerer that much more cover in case something manages, however improbably, to bull past Thorfinn. As she advances in a crouch, she tries to rein in an irrational annoyance with the situation, Of course. There would have to be tunnels. We’re fighting small vicious things, after all. Her distaste for these particular goblins increases.