The man sighs, and visibly relaxes. He steps out of the doorway and into the night, and its immediately obvious that he has a somewhat sinister seeming, lurching gait. He does, indeed, hold a thick cleaver at his side, obviously having not been dealing an empty threat.
Naffer Vosk's the name, and sure am. Had a bit a' trouble earlier...'shamed ta' hear that a group a' those accursed lil' vermin got tha' jump on me. I guess I'm not what I used ta' be.
Good ta' meet one a' Old Deadeye, Ethan. He touches his chest lightly, where the outline of his own holy symbol presumably was. I'm a man a' Sarenrae, myself. How's the rest a' the town?
Vlad stalks around the back of the building. He studies the surrounding area looking for anything out of sorts.
"Well met, Master Vosk. The goblins we captured revealed that they were hired to attack the town as a distraction. One of them mentioned a human hired them, and that this human was wanting to visit or meet with someone dead. We are now here, trying to solve this mystery."
Vlad returns to the front of the building. I gave the back a good once over. There doesn't appear to be anything... he pauses looking at Vosk unusual.
Dorin gives the caretaket the once over, and seeing that Etan has things in hand joins leans agains his longhammer and peruses the graveyard from a position near the group.
Perception:
He notices a few more scratches in his armor, and his mind begins to wonder about when he will have a moment to have it buffed and when his next ale will come.
Naffer nods at the words, then a confident smile creeps into his features. Prisoners? Then, you did beat back the little creatures...thank you for helping our town. I didn't seen any humans, but I'm afraid ta' say that the little creatures had me out cold before I could get a good look. There were quite a few of them, but they seemed more concerned with getting into the graveyard than with old Naffer. He eyes drift towards where Dorin and Duru eye the surroundings, and he gulps. I'm thinkin' I was lucky. Want me ta' take you in and show you about?
"Look friends, the tracks of many goblin feet! Please, Sir Naffer, lead the way."
"Yes, please. Lead on, Master Vosk."
Hmph!
Naffer nods and starts to the graveyard, only to stop and stare up at Duru in disbelief. What...er who...who are you? He takes an involuntary step back, then looks to Ethan. What is this? This fella' come with you?
Dorin steps forward.
Aye, believe it or not, he is with us, and I'll be vouchin' for im'
"Yes. As Dorin says, our friend Duru can be trusted. You also have my word, bound by my Oath to Erastil."
"Trust that I am not like my brethren, Sir Naffer, for Mug the Wise has taught me the true path and showed me the way to enlightenment. These good people are my friends and I stand by them in the defense of good folk from the evils of the goblin kind." Duru stands proudly with his companions, putting effort into stopping his watering eyes. The dwarf said he would vouch for me! A dwarf! This must be how legends are born!
Ionacu rolls his eyes.
This thing's more earnest than Aunt Petunia. I bet I can get him to just give me half of his gold because he feels guilty about that baby he probably ate before this mug guy. This could work out, after all ... assuming I don't die in this graveyard.
"And we couldn't ask for a better friend!" he declares after a moment. "Now let's go see what the goblins were after. I mean, the other goblins."
Naffer's gaze turns from outright suspicion to merely some small measure of doubt, and he nods his head slowly, eying Ethan out of the corner of his eye. Jus' know that you speak for 'im; he messes up anything here in the Boneyard and the Sheriff'll hear of it. That said, he takes a wide berth as he makes his way past Duru to lead the way into the expansive cemetery.
All told - it's a fine walk, were the circumstances not rather severe. Dozens of plots sit among the shrubberies, and it seems to be impeccably maintained. Naffer knows his way, obviously well used to tending these paths, and no amount of extra searching is needed to find the trail of goblin feet that scuffed up the path. They lead one such plot, nearer to the bank of the Turandarok than the others. Whatever was in the plot, though, has since been excavated. It's obvious that the goblins showed little reverence for this place, as they tore into the ground seemingly with hands, feet, butts of weapons, and anything else that they could find. One or two must have had shovels, or else they'd still be working on it.
Naffer looks aghast. That's the plot of old father Tobyn!
"Why would they exhume the remains of a priest?" Ethan wonders aloud.
His expression turns to one of restrained fury, and his face reddens.
"Blasphemous desecration!" he growls through clenched teeth.
"Did they bury anything with him? Something goblins might want from the church?"
Duru watches and listens without saying a word. I'll have to get adjusted to this strangeness among the humans, burying their dead in the earth, instead of honoring them with a feast, I'm sure this Father Tobyn would have made for a very respectable stew. Just another reason to be a vegetarian I suppose.
Well...not that I can think of...and I was there when he was buried. Had a big fella' here working for me - a Shoanti...didn't say much. He was always chewing this red substance that made it look like...well, like he was eating some poor fella'. He did the actual digging, but I watched them set the good Father's casket in - a fine, heavy wooden thing. I guess they could have put something inside the casket with him, but your guess is just as good as mine there.
I be thinkin' those gobbies be up t'no good with the body o'that priest.
Dorin spits on the ground in disgust.
Can ya be trailin' them, Ionacu?
Ionacu looks at Dorin like he were Duru. "How the heck am I supposed to trail them? They're not here for me to follow!"
Ethan scans the scene for evidence of a trail leaving the area.
Dorin stares long and hard at Ionacu for a moment.
Sorry, Ionacu, fer a time, I was thinkin' you had some redeemin' qualities. Thanks Ethan.
Ionacue looks surprised and, perhaps, a bit hurt at Dorin's words. "I have lots of redeeming qualities! You just have to get to know me. I just don't know how to follow goblin tracks!"
No offense meant, I be sure that you'll be showin' some o'those qualities soon.
Vlad smirks at the dwarfs words. Easy friends, we can take swings at each other once we take care of these little monsters he says as he comes out from behind the group.
Naffer watches in silence as Ethan follows the tracks, which scuff the area around the grave into a confused mess. Somehow, you're able to discern which ones lead away from the area - they lead towards the river, ultimately terminating at the water, where the telltale indentation of the keel of a small watercraft can be seen.
There are many sets of prints about the makeshift dock, but only one is large enough to be anything but a goblin - it's the boot of a large man.
As you survey the area, Naffer sniffs. Sheriff's here. He gives a slight inclination towards the entrance gate that leads into his cemetery. Coming through the open gate is a large, well armed and armored man with a shaved pate, and four other men who have the appearance of guards. The lead man, the sheriff, locks his eyes upon you, and advances.
"It appears that they moved the good Father's remains to a small boat, and took to the river," Ethan says, returning from the water's edge. "If we could procure a small boat, and we paddled furiously, we might catch-up, but the longer we wait, the less likely we will be able to follow them."
I'm no friend of boats, but ya may have a point on hurryin'.
Dorin looks to the approaching Sheriff.
Don't believe we had the pleasure, Sheriff. I be Dorin, Stonelord o'Torag, and these be my new friends who aided greatly in the rippin' up o' yer goblin problem. Come, let us show ya. We be hot on the trail o' more of the beasties.
Ionacu subtly takes a step back. Nothing good ever comes from the long arm of the law...
At the sight of the sheriff approaching in what would appear to be an intimidation tactic, Vlad takes a casual stance with his one hand resting comfortably on his sword the other his belt. Don't like the looks of this...
Uh-oh, I hope this dourness isn't on my account, I had best reassure this law-abiding sheriff of my intentions!
"Good sir, Duru the Reformed, student of Mug the Wise, at the service of Sandpoint." Duru bows over a folder arm as Mug had taught him. "My noble friends and I would be glad to pursue and slay these foul desecrating goblins, I hope that my heritage does not dissuade you from accepting my sincere help in this matter." Duru beams a lettuce-toothed smile at the stern looking man.
The guards bristle as Duru's well-intentioned words come out more as a growl than the honorable offer that it is. The Sheriff, though, seems unaffected, and he nods in greeting.
Well met, Dorin, Duru...and well met all of you. I'm Sheriff Belor Hemlock, presently in charge of the defense of this fine town. I've spoken with Father Zantus at length about your role in the battle today, and I'm grateful for your intervention. The large and imposing man sighs deeply, and his eyes grow soft as if he was thinking of those they'd lost this day. This attack was purposeful, I'd think, since it was so well timed. I'd be interested to hear what you've found out.
He looks at the riverbank with obvious doubt. Do you think you've a chance of finding where they went? While he talks, he sends one of his men away for a small craft.
"There is a chance, but not a great one. We must move quickly to follow, and hope that they have not managed to conceal their landing downstream. I give you my word, Sheriff, that I will do my best to track them down."
Er, Sheriff Vlad interjects attempting to mask his disdain for authority. Why would goblins go to all this trouble to dig up a dead priest? What was buried with this man that could be of so much importants?
Ionacue pauses as he's about to get in the boat and away from the law -- the back of course, as far from the paddles as possible -- at the swordsman's question. Maybe gold? And if so, maybe there'll be a reward for getting it back?
The Sheriff shakes his head, and the dark skin of his brow furrows in consideration.
I don't know...it certainly doesn't make much sense. The former father died in a difficult time, to be sure, but his death was as far as we know unrelated to anything that would involve the goblin tribes. I fear I know little more of their customs than do many of the citizens of this town. The goblins are dirty, vicious little creatures, wanting little more than the destruction of anyone that is not of their own clans.
It could be that this "longshanks" that the surviving goblins spoke of has plans beyond our imagination. Either way, it's paramount that we find them. But, I'd not ask you to risk yourselves for the sake of our town; my men and I are paid for such things. I'd ask that you act as a guide, but stay out of the way if we find these creatures.
"There is no need ask, Sheriff. My oaths to Erastil make my duty in this matter quite clear. But, I think you would be mistaken not to call upon my friends, here. They are all very capable."
"Please, I mean no slight to you, or your men, Sheriff. But is there not a possibility that this attack was meant to draw armed forces away from the town, to make way for another, unopposed assault?"
Great, no need for me to get stabbed ... Wait, what? He wants to go after the goblins when we could get the long arm of the law to do it?
Distracted by the lunacy of Ethan's plan to chase a bunch of goblins into the dark, he fails to notice anything unusual.
"Good sheriff, if that scar has anything to do with the goblins befouling this fine town then that doubles the reason we need to pursue them now. Let us chase them while you and your men stay to protect the town as Ethan has noted. Surely the people will need your presence, if not for your blade, then for the reassurance they are safe from another attack. I pledge to you that we'll do our best to capture the looters of this tomb and report and finding directly back to you upon our return." Duru stands proudly, excited to feel helpful and needed among the humanoids.
I agree with my companions. Tracking these creatures is going to take speed and precision. You and your men would be most useful in securing the village and directing clean up.
Dorin stands near the boat with hands on hips and addresses the lot.
Are we gettin' in that deathtrap o'a boat, or not?
Duru moves to the boat, ready for the task ahead. "Friends, I fear that I may smell a bit musky if I get wet, I hope you don't mind."
New challenges at every turn, I certainly hope my unintended olfactory assault doesn't dissuade my new friends
You mean he could smell worse than he does now? Ionacu thinks, trying hard not to laugh at his own humor.
Belor sighs roughly, and it comes out nearly as a growl. His brows dip even deeper in anger as he does now scratch at the long scar running up his neck. He does nothing to conceal it this time, and he grunts at Duru's words. Vladislav seems to drive the point even further.
A goblin...no...not a goblin; it was something else. Perhaps you have a point; this town has seen much pain today, and I can't afford to leave them without their leadership in the coming recovery. But...I don't know you. Make no mistake; I and the town appreciate what you've done today; your assistance meant life for many who would have found another fate. But how do I know that you're not vigilantes who will simply kill the goblins and leave with any spoils?
He looks expectant, as if waiting for an assurance.
"Good sheriff, on that point I can assure you, I left the goblinoid tribes to be here among humans, my intent surely is not to loot the goblins and depart. Let me pledge my service to the pursuit of justice and let me vouch for my fine friends here."
Duru clamps a hand on each of the companions beside him and draws himself to his full height, looking as respectable as any hobgoblin ever has.
Such good people here, with honor and integrity, such as the noble sheriff before me and the trustworthy Ionacu beside me!
"I offer you the same assurance I would offer any other person, my word as a servant of Erastil. Would he tolerate such oathbreaking from one of his clergy?"
Belor looks to Naffer, who for his part offers a sagely nod. The Sheriff turns back, and nods to Ethan and Duru. Very well...but one man will go with you...Gregan. He's light and the boat will allow it. Gregan, you'll represent us with this excursion; help these men as you're able...you're there to assist, not to control. He gives a firm nod as a thin and wiry man in leather armor secures his scabbard at his side and moves to get into the boat.
Duru keeps a watch for any sign of a landing by the previous group on either side of the river. "Friends, do any of you know the geography of this area, what side of the river would the goblins seek to reach?"