While the others interrogate the hobgoblin, Ragnar takes a look at his dead comrades. If anyone is still breathing, he informs the others. If they have backpacks, he tries to acquire one for himself that doesn't smell too bad. He still doesn't have anything to sleep on and hopefully he can change that here as well.
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Ragnar takes a thorough look over the bodies of the hobgoblins. They all carry longswords, longbows, light steel shields, a total of 23 arrows, and some coin. Interestingly, each hobgoblin has a piece of jewelery,
They all have packs, which contain a rough blanket, and some scant food and water. One hobgoblin has a good length of rope, another has a sounding horn at his belt. Every hobgoblin wears a tabard with a hooked claw painted over the front. They have also each sewn a piece of jewelry into them. A gold ring, pearl necklace, and silver ring with a gemstone are sewn into different tabards.
"Has anybody seen this hooked claw insignia before? " Ragnar asks not really expecting a positive response.
The jewelry must be badges of rank, He thinks, trying to figure out who was the leader of the group they just slaughtered.
He then takes the backpack that's in the best condition and packs the rope, horn and a water skin. Thinking it through again, he gets rid of the water currently in the skin and the food. I must remember to only drink out of this after cleaning it properly, he reminds himself.
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Crystal examines the insignia to see if it jogs her memory.
"Alright, talk soldier. How many occupy the town?" Czein snarls at the hobgoblin, then backhands it without waiting for an answer.
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Sutandir can recognize this as the symbol for this hobgoblin clan, and knows that hobgoblins usually name themselves something fearsome and paint themselves appropriately.
Crystal, however, knows the tribe personally, having encountered the aftermath of their brutality during her training in the church of Pharasma. A hamlet called Zlatna was attacked by the Hooked Claw. Crystal arrived there to a scene of devastation, dozens dead, many others enslaved. The remaining inhabitants were the elderly and children. Days were spent preparing the dead for appropriate burial and the hamlet ceased to exist after that.
The Hooked Claw are semi-nomadic, setting up a base of operations and thriving off of their attacks on surrounding settlements. Occasionally they are attacked and driven off, but return like plague as they attempt to re-establish themselves.
The hobgoblin, having grown extremely uneasy during the long silence before his questioning, lets out a cry of fear and immediately begins babbling.
"Me talk! No kill. We have a score and few more Hooked Claw. Some slaves. And big stinky ogre."
Crystal's features harden as she sees the symbol. The smell of the burning town comes back to her.
Zlatna. Attacked and wiped out. Elderly and children only ones spared. Not surprising--wouldn't make for good slaves. The burial rites went on for too long.
"The Hooked Claw are semi-nomadic; they set up a hideout and strike from it at surrounding settlements. They're like a plague--they can be driven off, but they somehow always come back." Her voice is low and without emotion.
She glares at the hobgoblin. "What of the ogre?"
The hobgoblin looks over to Crystal. The pale woman seems to unnerve him more. "She called Grunda. We keep her near... uh, place. Be with us for two years, lived through last big attack. Good fighter. But real dumb, not good to be around."
Sutandir takes a small vial out of his pocket. He puts a few crystals in it and some water, then watches the hobgoblin as it bubbles menacingly. "Does he need any further motivation, or do you believe him"
Ragnar stares at the hobgoblin. A long cold stare, perfected over the years. It says *I don't give a damn about what happens to you and I can already smell your fear*. While in reality Ragnar wouldn't harm even such a useless creature as this hobgoblin without a proper reason, there is no way for the hobgoblin to know that.
"Tell us of that place. The place you came from. Where you lair," Ragnar said without even flinching.
The hobgoblin is already plenty intimidated. He stares in open horror at Ragnar and tries to sink into the ground.
"Please! Leave alone! We lair in town now. Our lair wrecked by human soldiers. We get away. General Thone tell us this town not protected so we come here. We gather slaves and loot until Thone arrives and then leave to set up new home."
Speaking to the group, Juid interjects, "While I understand that it is hobgoblin nature to do so, I don't feel we can allow them to loot and enslave this town if it is in our power to stop them. On the other hand, this situation developed because other humans drove them out of their last lair. If we manage to drive them out of this one, they'll just go in search of the next poorly fortified town. Somehow the circle must end."
The hobgoblin looks around a bit.
"Uh... can me go now?"
"Just a moment. Explain this jewellery on your tabards."
"Oh. General give loot for good work. We sew onto tabard to show reward."
The hobgoblin seems to relax a bit as he speaks, having more or less accepted his situation.
Czein presses his blade into the neck of the hobgoblin.
"Who is General Thone?!"
The hobgoblin gulps noisily.
"He our leader! Has commanded big armies. Now no more big army, just us. He take elite group to look at big castle on the hill."
Czein snarls and looks over to the group.
"So. Any more questions? What do we do with him?"
"I'm not a strategist, people. If none of us are, then I suggest we end this interview and get to work trying to recapture that town."
Surandir nods. "The trouble is, what do we do with this one?"
The half-elf is clearly conflicted, not wanting to release a dangerous enemy, but not quite willing to simply kill a helpless creature.
Ragnar looks disgusted at the grisly scene. "Well, that was one way to solve that," He says. Possibly also the only reasonable. Good to know we have someone willing to do the dirty work. He adds mentally.
"I don't think we can disguise as those hobgoblin patrol? We should have asked for their 'please let us in, we are the patrol' phrase. But we have that horn, we could draw them out and maybe sneak in while they hunt after our distraction? Also I could use mental tricks on a lone guard."
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Crystal watches emotionlessly as Czein guts the hobgoblin.
"The horn sounds like a good idea." She replies to Ragnar, folding her arms.
Czein lets out a roar and with one sweep chops off the head of the hobgoblin before it can even react.
The other hobgoblins are dead or have bled out by this point, and the only sound now is the gentle patter of rain and the occasional birdsong.
Marit comes out of the forest, white-faced.
"Well... you're good with them weapons. Let's keep going this way and we can find a boat." She points westwards.
Crystal keeps her bow readied and wordlessly nods at Marit.
She lets the other party members take point as she falls in next to her.
"Grisly, I know. It is never a task to be relished." She whispers, her blue eyes softening a bit. "Nor is it ever a task to undertake lightly. I hope we didn't frighten you."
Juid reaches out a hand as if to interfere with Czein, but he himself appears undecided as to what alternatives to offer and grimaces as the action is executed. He speaks a short prayer over the four corpses and then calls Pisîm to him.
"Let's take their uniforms, just in case. We can wash off the blood at the lake. So if they spot us from afar in the streets or before that, on the boat, they might not suspect anything right away. If they get close, we might at least get the drop on them," Ragnar tells the others while taking one of the uniforms himself. "Also let's take all their other equipment. Once we are inside the town, we can outfit townspeople with those weapons."
The group busily strip down the hobgoblins and are treated to the delightful sight of dead naked hobgoblins. After moving the bodies, they take off for the lake shore.
Crystal tries not to look at the dead hobgoblins as the party takes their gear.
"...this is not the proudest moment of my career." Is all she can say at this point.
That being said, odds are things will get worse from here.
As they strip the Soldiers, Czein can't help but be crass. "heh, no wonder they act so tough. Poor bastards."
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With hobgoblin uniforms in tow and the dignity of Douleur's invaders in tatters, the group make their way towards the lake side and finally step onto the shores of Lake Raiteso. The massive gem of a lake is glacier fed at the north which leads to a spectacular view of a crystalline lake ringed with mountains along its northern half. To the south, the village of Douleurs can be seen, an older, gothic-looking city surrounded by old walls. Several docks stick out into the lake. However, nobody is out in boats.
Marit starts making her way northwards, her spirits picking up after the bloody fight with the hobgoblins. Eventually, you spy boats bobbing in the water. Up ahead, you come to a dozen or so huts, the collection of homes hardly large enough to be called a hamlet. Several fishing boats are pulled onto the shore. The hamlet seems completely abandoned.
Ragnar slowly draws the short sword from it's scabbard. I already regret not spending more time in training. The mage thinks while scanning the surroundings.
"Have the people here been brought into the city? " He asks their guide.
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Marit looks around in some confusion.
"I don't know. I thought there were people here."
She moves over to a hut, and taps on the side before peering in.
You hear a weird sort of squishy, wet sound coming from the other side of the hamlet.
The half-elf's ears perk up, and he holds up a hand signaling everyone to be quiet. He whispers, just loud enough to be heard, and points. "Did anyone else hear that?"
He slowly loads a bullet into his sling as he waits for the others to respond.
Czein limps up, leaning on his axe. "Yeah I hear it. Hey Baldy, don't suppose you could patch me up real fast?"
Crystal nocks an arrow in her bow. "Heard and readied for."
Ragnar's grip of the hilt of the sword tightens as he both hears the sound and feels Vi's growing nervousness.
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Juid nods to the half-elf and then reddens perceptibly as he looks at the half-orc and sees the extent of his wounds.
He withdraws the treasured holy symbol, holds it over the half-orc and, trying not to make too much noise, converts his wounding spell into a curing one.
He follows this up by channeling to heal.
Everybody quiets down to listen carefully. The wet slurping sound seems accompanied by the odd chomp. Slowly, the group advances through the village until they are greeted by a horrific site. Several bodies, presumably of the villagers, have been piled in a messy heap a good distance away from the hamlet near the edge of the woods.
Slurping and biting away, a twelve-foot long weasel has emerged from the woods to dine on this free feast! It appears to be drinking the blood of the dead as it chomps away. With the group a good distance away, and the weasel fully engrossed in its meal, it has failed to notice any of you.
From a quick glance, Juid can see the bodies are around a day old.
Very quietly, Juid tells the others, "These villagers were slain not more than a day ago. I'm not an advocate of killing forest animals unless it's for food or self-defense, but these people deserve funeral rites. And... am I mistaken or is that a frigging enormous weasel?"
"I'm not familiar with the local wildlife ... is it natural for them to grow that big?"
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As the group watches the enormous weasel from a distance, Czein manages to identify it as a dire weasel. They are known as relentless predators with dangerous killing frenzies and a love for blood. On occasion they have been known to be mounts of hobgoblins although this one appears quite wild.
The inquisitor pointedly stays out of Juid's range as he channels energy to heal the others.
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Crystal narrows her eyes at the big weasel. "Disgusting."
She seems to be getting ready to fire on the weasel unless someone can give a compelling reason to stop her...
Sutandir nods at Crystal. "Voracious predator in town? I believe it is our duty to get rid of it."
The weasel continues happily chomping and slurping away.
"I don't think we have the time to burry all those bodies. It might take a day, maybe even more. But having a dire weasel running around here, could also be dangerous for any living traveller. I say we kill it while we have the advantage."