|
Listening to the ruckus behind him, Rhaz took out a piece of paper and a pen. There were six goblins in all - a number that he would take note of and remember.
He wrote their names down in large letters next to a crude sketch of each goblin.
'Maybe this will get them to shut up and, by Calistria, allow us to make it out of here without attracting the attention of every predator in the region.'
'Even better, maybe my incorruptible fellow Pathfinders won't find this technique too far beneath their moral sensibilities.'
He folded up the paper and tucked it away into his belt pouch. If Sevirrir's methods proved ineffective then Rhaz was more than willing to try his own. He knew that a dangerous game was being played back there. Sure, goblins were cute. They probably even made good pets. Up until the moment they slit someone's throat in the middle of the night and scurried away giggling.
"Rha'ziz slaps the first goblin in the face." The goblins and the Ulfen rangers all look up in shock at this callous and unprovoked display of cruelty by a Pathfinder. Then three of the goblins jump Rha'ziz, kicking and biting, and chaos breaks out. The other goblins leap on the pile, trying to wrest a weapon away from someone.
[occ]GM fiating the way through the resulting chaos, since actually fighting it out would end the scenario here and now...
After pulling the goblins off of the Varisian, Sverrir pushes into the middle of the group. "Ular, Borek! Take the goblins over there." She scowls at the party, her gaze finally settling on Rha'ziz. "Look, you," she growls through clenched teeth. "My team and I risked our lives to capture these little bastards and bring them here alive, because the Decemvirate wants them alive. We told you they were friendly and could be kept in line. I won't stand by and let you turn all of our efforts into a waste. If you fight the goblins, they will try and kill you, or escape, or whatever, and your first mission for the Society will end with you slinking back into Kalsgard as a failure."
Sverrir looks at the rest of the party sternly. "I know you're all new, but know this. This isn't a street gang, or the classroom, or wherever you may have come from. This is the real world, and you're playing for keeps. Your actions have consequences, and those consequences matter. Attacking a goblin unprovoked will get you attacked back. Goblins don't plan long-term, so Chompt here didn't think about how he'd be killed by us even if he did manage to hurt you." She shakes her head. "Actions cause reactions. If you don't learn that, you won't be Pathfinders very long. You'll be dead in a ditch somewhere."
Sverrir steps back. "Now. Do you lot think you can control yourselves and your goblin guests long enough to make it back to Kalsgard? Or should I send you back to request another team?"
|
|
Rhaz studied Sverrir, wondering if she or anyone else in this group had ever been on the wrong side of a cop's club or through armed forces basic training.
'Anything for the Decemvirate, ma'am.'
After an elaborate and mocking bow, Rhaz returned to his spot on the edge of the camp. Life was always better without other people around.
He brushed aside lingering resentments and pulled his book out of his pack. 'The Great Experiment: Andoran Democracy'
Though Rhaz was by no means an intellectual he was not a stupid man and found his latest acquisition to be very stimulating. He was slowly digesting the chapter on democratic principles and the Red Revolution.
Yes, everybody gets an opinion. But does that really make a difference when it comes to big decisions? And does every opinion have as much merit as any other?
He scanned the wilderness around him briefly before closing the book.
Three hundred years from now there will be heartwarming stories and history lessons about the Birthplace of Freedom. I can see it now: the new ruling elite, once they manage to secure their dominance through guile, rhetoric and fraud, will no doubt invoke the euphemisms of 'freedom' and 'democracy' in order to whip up support for every resource grab and military invasion, and repressive domestic policy under the sun. At least the Chelish don't hide behind false pretenses. Government is government. A pig is still a pig no matter how expensive of a tuxedo it is dressed up in.'
Rhaz yawned and considered taking a nap.
|
Sochi bows to Sverrir and says, "Apologies for the actions of Rha'ziz. The biting weather has worn on us and we are just now becoming used to it. I am sure that some tea and a night's sleep will calm the any troubled spirits." She pulls a small decorated tin and a small brass teapot from her bag and presents it, "Would you care for some tea as well? I'm afraid I don't have more than a few cups worth."
|
|
Meanwhile, an extremely loud buzzing sound began to emanate from a few yards away. The gentle rhythm allowed for everyone to tune it out - almost. It seemed that the moment one was about to be lulled into its steady pattern all serenity was broken up by a chaotic series of snorts and incoherent mumblings. This continued for some time.
After things settle down, Sverrir goes over the map with you. She points out the clearest path to Harvest's End, which will take you through some hilly regions but along relatively good tracks or paths. As her team finishes packing up their camp, she leaves you with a bit of advice:
"Remember, you are in Irissen now. Goblins are citizens. If it looks like you are keeping them against their will, and you run into a patrol or through a town, you could have trouble that you aren't equipped to handle. Far better to keep them happy... they're less trouble that way."
The rangers shoulder their packs and head off, leaving you and your goblin friends alone in the clearing.
"It time for eats?"
|
"Kella say, not yet! You do what Kella say, Big Mouth, or she sick bad longshanks on you!" says Kella, pointing roughly towards Rha'ziz's sleeping form. "Now, sit down! Shut up!"
The goblins plop down on the log again, grumbling slightly. Chompt holds his belly and growls slightly. Kella turns to the party, and whispers loudly, "It time for eats now?"
|
|
The same dream had visited him every night. This time it took on a different variation.
Rhaz looks down at the bloody knife in his shaking hand. A wheezing groan then captures his attention.
The goblin, Big Mouth, is hovering in front of him clutching his abdomen. The agony in the goblin's eyes causes Rhaz to gasp and drop his knife. Blood gushes out of the goblin's mouth as he speaks.
Mommy!
Rhaz tries to run but finds that he cannot move.
Why?
Rhaz tries to scream but is frozen in silence.
He jolted upright in a cold sweat and looked down at his hand. He tried to shake the recurring nightmare from his memory but to no avail. Things had died down in the camp and Rhaz realized that everyone was asleep. This was a familiar routine by now but it was no easier to endure, and so he spent the rest of the night huddled in his bedroll, blankly staring into space.
"It food time now?" mutters Chompt hopefully.
The evening passes uneventfully... which is to say the goblins don't shut up until you feed them, and even then they continue to ask for food, weapons, armor, shields, small furry animals to "play" with, and shiny things. Between the group, you manage to keep them well-behaved, and no further outbursts occur. Sverrir provided a generous ration of food for the goblins, which keeps them relatively happy.
At dawn, you awaken and find the goblins are already up and foraging for... whatever they can find. Kella has found a pointed stick that looks like it would break if she hit anything with it, but she wields it as a sceptre and issues commands to the other goblins with it. Durp has fixed his flute (in that it once again makes wheezing noises), and both Chompt and Big Mouth have been digging in the snow for hibernating mice. They each have their pockets stuffed with bits of fur and bones, and are quite engrossed in comparing bits. Grabble is staring into the distance, muttering to himself (although not in a hostile way), and Kroog has been picking up small rocks and making them into a pile.
After striking camp, you begin the long trek southwards. You path leads through a relatively hilly area which winds its way around and between the various Irissani forces Sverrir has marked on your map. There are a few milestones which aid in navigation, though. You will pass through several abandoned Ulfen villages or outposts, empty since the Winter War, and eventually to the town of Harvest's End.
You head out after packing up and feeding the goblins. The morning is chilly, but the sun is shining and there is no wind. You spend a few hours heading south before you come upon one of the ruined villages marked on your map. Eryndir and Kyras scout out the location and find it is uninhabited, probably for years. It is a decent point to stop for the midday meal, although the goblins have been whining for food for an hour already.
After lunch, you head south again, passing two more shattered villages which are little more than piles of stones and broken timbers. Again, the scouts examine the area carefully first before you approach, and as before find them uninhabited. You camp for the night in the last village, as the wind has picked up a bit and even a partial wall offers more shelter than the bare tundra.
The next morning, the goblins are grumpy and tired, but Sochi keeps them entertained and moving relatively efficiently. The wind is slightly stronger, but not much of a concern.
By midday, you are heading into rougher terrain, climbing hills of rocks with thicker snow than before. You are still able to move normally, however, and Sochi's entertainment of the goblins keeps them moving as well.
In mid-afternoon, you come to a large rocky outcropping which marks the foothills of a mountainous region. The map shows the location of a pass, which is guarded by two stone towers which have been abandoned since the Winter War. Nonetheless, the scouts move in first to check things out.
Eryndir sneaks back to the party and informs you all of the situation. You can all easily get to the edge of the map without issue, but beyond that you will have to make stealth checks to move unseen by whatever is on the tower.
|
|
Rhaz loads his crossbow. And in an attempt to lighten his own mood he takes a bead on the back of Eryndir's head as the elf struts off. He then puts the weapon down in his lap
Probably just a vagrant seeking shelter. A vagrant who is going to die for a good cause, perhaps? Or maybe a sentry who is on watch for foreign intruders?
Well, we do need to keep tabs on the uncivilized folk, lest a horde of demons emerge from the Worldwound like a forest fire and topple the social order that the nobles, the merchants and their lackeys have all worked so hard to establish.
Rhaz then lets out a disturbing laugh.
|
|
"Hey Skaarr, how bout you and I let these guys take the lead and then rush in midway through the battle when they need us to bail them out?"
Rhaz thinks hard for a moment and then addresses the entire group (save the scouts who are out of range).
"And what about our guests?" He nods toward the goblins, "has anybody considered the possibility that this is a trap? I know its unlikely, but still..."
|
|
"No no no, you got me wrong buddy. I would be beside myself if our shining paragons of light perished! I just don't want to get in the way and mess things up for them. Plus you got magicy stuff, right?"
Rhaz begins to explain the tactical reasons behind his suggestion but upon looking over the half orc for a moment he then sighs and smiles.
"%$@# it. Whatever happens I got your back, man."
He extends his fist to Skaarr in the universal handshake of all miscreants, low-lives, rejects and criminals.
|
|
"Skaarr have juju mask! It make cold not cold, make Skaarr hard to kill...Like that uncomfortable armor stuff!..And, uhhh....oh yeah! Give Skaarr some devil's blood or unholy water and him make your meats grow back together," the giant imbecile responds proudly, thumping his chest and grinning through his disturbingly twisted fetish mask. Then he bumps fists with the smaller man.
|
|
He looks down at his crossbow after hearing Skaarr's fearless and innocent proclamation, momentarily ashamed of his own willingness to use a coward's weapon. Within a few moments his crossbow is in his pack where it should be and Rhaz is fully equipped for close quarters fighting. A heavy metal chain extends from a smooth black handle to support a steel ball covered in barbed spikes. The collapsing tower drawn on his shield, battered by lightning and consumed by fire, depicts a king and a queen jumping from its battlements. And his scale armor complements a open faced helm that frames a hardened visage.
He thumps his own chest with his shield hand and responds to the half orc.
"Then let those who would seek to destroy, condemn or enslave us feel our combined wrath!"