"Did something happen here? It feels off." Rohan says to the sherrif before they leave the graveyard.
"Nothing to worry about" he says, in a low whisper, firmly pressing his hand on your shoulder. "Just Goblin mischief. But I'd appreciate if you kept quiet. Folks here have enough to worry about."
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Lohrgan cannot suppress a frustrated snort at the sheriff's words. "I would spit upon the ground but for the dead buried beneath us. Soft words and gentle lies do nothing to serve those who must live in the aftermath of this raid, nor does it undo the damage they've wrought today."
The half-orc's nostrils flare out as he drinks in the scent of the smokey air. "Lies born of concern can do just as much damage as those born from malice," he mutters. "Our energies would be better spent inspecting this 'mischief' than they would covering it up." He scans the surrounding area, seeing what can be ascertained without further violating any of the sites.
Akrem opens his mouth in a flash of anger, ready to defend the position of the sheriff, but he hesitates as Lohrgan continues. He finds himself agreeing with the half-orc and chooses not to speak up, but simply nod in agreement, making sure that the catch the sheriff's eye while doing so.
"Nothing good will come of a panic." he says, eyes narrowing. "These townsfolk have endured much in these past five years, but I won't have them fall into the same panic again." he says, darkly, sparing a somber glance for his nephew.
"I'd rather only concern those that can aid me in unconvering this mystery, rather than leave the entire town to mad speculation. If you wish to help, so be it." he says, folding his arms behind his back and walking under the shadow of the Cathedral and into the expansive boneyard.
Most of the cemetary is untouched, lined by towering Rowans and well-maintained rosebushes, the dead lie undisturbed in their eternal rest. The centre of the graveyard is marked by ornate tombs, and around them are the humble plots are the common townsfolk. Nestled near the Cathedral, a pair of graves has been desecrated. One of the graves has been dug up, while the pair have been covered in red paint, bearing the image of a jackal among the other scribblings of the Goblins. The trail of upturned earth and heavy footprints leads to the rise overlooking the river, to a ladder descending to the banks below.
The Sherrif, Father Zantus, a few worried-looking acolytes and a deformed man hunched over a shovel stand around the graves. The Sherrif turns to you. "The masoleum's lie untouched. We can rule out a robbery. One band of Goblins attacked the square, while another struck from the south... but it seems a third struck here."
"The graves belong to the towns previous religious leader, Ezekiel Tobyn, and his adopted daughter Nualia." the priest says, mournfully. "They were killed in the fire five years ago. We... erected the new Cathedral in their memory."
"Why would they attack here? It doesn't make any sense." Rohan says out loud seemingly unintentionally.
Goblins, as a species, can't read.
"What's more worrying is that they didn't join in the havoc elsewhere..." says the Sherrif. "... and I can't shake the notion that this ladder aint goblin carpentry". He traces his fingers over his bald head and sighs. "Naffer here says the ladder was in place before the festival." he says, nodding to the hunchback.
"I done didn't know what to make of it." he says, shaking his head. "By the Everlight if I'd just moved the bloody thing this morning..." he begins, as Father Zantus places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, my friend. A fool dwells on the past when the future stretches out beneath his feet." he says, gently.
Boiko turns his attention to the hunched man.
"When did you notice the ladder? Did you inform anyone about its appearance? What answer did you receive?"
Lohrgan crouches before the two tombstones, his brow creasing in concern. "There is nothing remarkable about these graves, and that they were defaced as a pair can be no coincidence. Unless the goblins of region are intimately familiar with Sandpoint and the persons within it, I find it unlikely they would have been able to pick them out. There's another party in play here."
"I jess' assumed it were left by the stonemasons. They only finished last week so I din' think nothing of it. I din' tell noone and went about tendin the roses." says the man, smiling his crooked smile. "It was the father that found them, it was. Came out to pay his respects after the wounded was saw too."
"You think someone put the goblins up to this? Who would do that?"
Kind of wish Copper were here. He's clever enough to help figure this out, meanwhile I've got no idea what to do next.. Rohan frowns in frustration.
"Father Tobyn is the most benevolant man this chapel's ever seen!" says the priest, exasperated. "Why would anyone do such a thing? I don't want to think about what devilry they want with his body... I... fear Desna won't be granting me pleasant dreams tonight." he says, sadly.
The Sherrif shakes his head. "I can... think of noone. There's one madman I've ever met that'd stoop to such an act, and he died on the sword of a better man than me." he says, briskly. "I don't think there's anything left to be learned here. My concern right now is ensuring the safety of the town should the Goblins return. Unfortunately we didn't catch any of them alive..."
"Perhaps not, but this..." He gestures to the headstones as he rises to his feet. "This would seem to indicate that they are least being fed knowledge from someone, willing or not."
"It seems remarkably uncharacteristic of Lost Coast goblins. They're madder than the average bunch, I say..."
"But to see them this organised, I'd say you have a point. One of our scouts should be arriving in the coming days. She's a capable woman. Until we have more information, though, the safety of the townsfolk comes first."
"If you folks stay in town, I'll fetch you as she arrives..." he says, taking a step back towards the Garrison. "By the way. You haven't told me your names."
"Lohrgan," the half-orc grunts as he continues to stare at the graves.
"Rohan. What do we do now?"
"Perhaps get some rest. If you can't find room at one of the local inns." he says, nodding at Akrem. "I'm sure the Father here can house you in the Cathedral." and with that he begins to leave.
Rohan will leave and get a room at the Rusty Dragon.
Akrem stands on the sidelines, absorbing the conversation of the more experienced men. When the group breaks up, the boy approaches his uncle quietly, "I did not mean any offense, Uncle Belor. Please forgive me."
When he finishes speaking with his uncle, he directs any of the group who would like a room to the White Deer Inn, as it is much closer. If any of them go with him, he approaches his father about giving them a discount on a room, "With all they've done for the town today, father, wouldn't it be the least we could do?"
Qualin tilts his masked head as his recent companions follow the sherif into Sandpoint's violated graveyard..."But the drink and all the women are back in town..." Reluctantly he follows.
Nodding to the sherif when names are asked for "Qualin of Magnimar."
As the group splits up he will head back to the inn he'd been staying at (I believe the White Deer), looking for any members of the group and buying them a drink if he sees any, or chatting up whoever is in the bar if not.
Those of you that stay at the White Deer find it the perfect place for a quiet drink. The proprietor, Garridan, isn't one to mince words (as you saw earlier), the townsfolk are engaged in their own hushed conversations and there's a fine view of the sun setting over the Gulf. Akrem, however, quickly finds himself confined to the kitchens, peeling potatoes as his companions sit quietly outside.
Those of you at the Dragon notice a tense note in the air. Much more crowded than the Deer, a tension hangs in the air that Ameiko does her best to alleviate, but while the food is no-less popular, the sound of violins and her sarusan fall on deaf ears... The townsfolk don't feel much like dancing. You notice Aldern is nowhere to be seen. It appears he's retired to his quarters.
The limestone cliffs of the Devil's Platter seem to glow in the morning sun, as daylight spreads over Sandpoint once more. The townsfolks worries seem to have allieviated, and you hear your names murmured at every street corner, and dozens of eyes apon you...
The townsfolk make their way to the Cathedral, casting curious eyes around the building as the doors are thrown open. The building is full of magnificent stained glass, the work of Sandpoint's own Glassworks, and each of the six wings has a magnificent brass altar. To the south, facing Sandpoint’s heart, are the shrines of civilization: Erastil and Abadar. To the west, off ering a view of the Old Light and the sea beyond, are the shrines of Shelyn and Gozreh. And to the east, off ering a view of the Sandpoint Boneyard and the rising sun, are the shrines of Sarenrae and Desna.
The inner courtyard is marked by seven standing stones and a circular stone altar, marked by ancient writings, and it is here that the quiet consecration ceremony is held. Father Zantus' soothing words seem to put the edgy townsfolk at ease, and the townsfolk leave the chapel telling stories of yesterdays atttack, grins on their faces. Tales of Goblins being stepped on by horses, lighting themselves on fire, wolfing down scorching hot food and drowning themselves in half-full rain barrels are accompanied by hearty chuckles.
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As you approach the inn, you hear a holler, and see the gruff stableman beckon you over.
"Howdy, friends. Name's Daverin Hosk." he says, heartily shaking your hands. "I heard you folks did a number on them Goblins, you did. Now you come with me. I got something for you. Always said the only good Goblin is a dead Goblin..." he adds, a little too enthusiastically.
Rohan heads over to the Rusty Dragon, hoping to unwind a bit."Maybe Ameiko will be impressed by the fight with the goblins."He shakes his head and his path is interrupted by the man known as Daverin. "Don't worry about it. I did not do anything special. I do not need anything." He replies hoping to be left alone, however not expecting it to work. If/When the man insists, Rohan will relent and go along with it.
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"Nonsense, you did good, kid. I ain't seen nothing like it since I offed ol' Wartus." the man says proudly, clapping you on the back with surprising strength. "I managed to stake my claim to the bodies before the scrap got into the tanner's hands. Figure if anyones gonna profit off o' this, it should be you folks." he says, conversationally. "Course, Lars weren't happy, but me'n'him had words, see? He came around and bought the lot."
The man walks with a heavy limp into the barn. A sign swings overhead, depicting a black stallion trampling an unfortunate Goblin. Looking up, you notice Daverin's collection of goblin ears, nailed to the rafters, their names burned into them as one last desecration to their memories. The man fumbles around, cursing under his breath, until he finds a small wooden box.
"There y'are. Damn fine work you folks did." he says, grinning, as he hands you a box filled with six full purses of 100gp each. "'an I filched these two bottles off of em m'self. They smell something fierce, but the good father reckons they're magical, and I aint any judge." he says, handing you two grimy bottles, seemingly glued together from broken ceramics and washed up glass, miraculously held together by sheer goblin persistence.
"Thank you in any case. I will put it to good use." Rohan replies as the purses are handed out. "Um, if there isn't anything else, I'm going to leave now..." As he turns around to head back to the Inn proper. He will spend some of his new found gold at the Rusty Dragon.
Boiko is a bit baffled as he accepts a purse. Him, a bounty collector? Truly, Desna's surprises never cease. He put away 10gp to offer at the Desna's altar in the Cathedral later, and went to peruse the town's shops to see how he could spend the rest with use.
Akrem's eyes grow large at the sight of the purse. "Thank you very much, Mr. Hosk." Akrem says as one is handed to him, quickly putting it into his pack.
Akrem wanders around for awhile taking in all the carnage from the previous day. If nothing else keeps his attention from it, shortly before noon he will return to the White Deer Inn to help with the lunch crowd.
<Is the festival still going on?>
"Only good goblin's a dead goblin, and the best is one who takes one of his mates to the abyss with him! Qualin quotes a saying he's heard caravan guards and the like repeat...in an attempt to get further on the man's good side. Upon walking into the stables however, he's more than a little off put by the gruesome spectacle. "Oh well, you surely are...committed aren't you?" He says with a grimace thankfully hidden behind his mask.
Nodding his thanks as the rewards are distributed he makes his way out of the stables and continues on to the Dragon.
The stablemaster bids you farewell, with a note of dissapointment. It seems he wanted to show you his grisly collection. "Have a good day, now." he says amiably, "And if you ever want a fine horse, y'all know where to find me." he adds, as an afterthought.
As you enter the inn a crowd of heads turns, and a chorus of congratulations goes up. You spot Ameiko across the room. Even in the dim, red light of the dragon, the exhaustion is clear on her face. She flashes you a weary smile from behind the bar as the men lead you to the bar and buy each of you a drink.
You spot Aldern Foxglove, the noble from yesterday, hunched over a letter in the dim light. His brow is slick with sweat, and he seems visibly distressed. As he spots you, he stuffs the letter hastily into his coat pocket and rises to greet you.
"The pleasure is all mine, master Foxglove", Boiko replies to the man's greeting. "If you allow me, I'll offer a prayer to Desna on your behalf tonight. A little bit of luck at just the right time can go a long way", he adds, with a little emphasis on 'the right time'.
Rohan will walk up to the bar, his face turning a little red from all the attention. His stomach growls so he orders some food for him and any of his comrades who also decided to visit the Rusty dragon. He will give a slight smile back at Ameiko as he pays for the meals and gives a hearty tip.
Qualin waves to Aldren as he enters, but seeing his friends obvious distress he decides to give the nobleman a moment to put his affairs in order.
"Gratis!" He says by way of thanks to Rohan. "You handled yourself briliantly out there my new friend. Have you experience going to war with greenskin?"
Lohrgan rises late from his bed, softly stepping into the Rusty Dragon's ground floor an hour before noon, accompanied by a grumbling belly. He devours a late breakfast rather unceremoniously before stepping out into the streets of Sandpoint. He after a long night's sleep, he feels more at ease among the people here, just slightly. He wanders wide-eyed through the markets, gingerly stepping to one side as throngs of shoppers and merchants move through his path. Eventually, the aromas of cooking meats and perfume, of sweat and iron, and of tanned hides and leather overwhelm him, and he makes his way towards the docks. The scent is no less overpowering, but he finds it easy to loose himself staring at the sea. The boundless expanse of calm blue water is such a stark contrast to the blasted deserts of rock he was used to growing up. He finds an unoccupied dock and sits on the edge of the pier, looking towards the horizon.
"No, in fact that's the first time I've seen one that wasn't in a textbook. I've just had a lot of training. It's required for youths to know how to fight where I come from." Rohan replies. It is obvious by the look on his face during the last part of that sentence, that it is a sore subject.
"I must say I did my fair share of praying when I was attacked, yesterday." Aldern says, touching his neck gingerly. "I daresay the gods are sick of hearing my name." he adds with a chuckle. "Bless me, the day's getting on..." he says, trailing off. "Say, are you a hunting man, my good fellow?"
Meanwhile, as Rohan reaches the bar Ameiko speaks up. "Alright, boys. Give him some air!" she says, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head at him. "Word is you put on quite a show, yesterday." she says with a grin. "I've got some good, spicy soup. Still hot. I'll see what else I can rustle up." she says, dissapearing behind a curtain.
Before long, she emerges with a tray of hot food, and Aldern will join each of you in the hunt for a booth. "What did I tell you, Qualin my old friend? Best food this side of Egoran."
"Me and Boiko here were just talking about riding out for a spot of hunting? What do you say, gentlemen?"
"Well, first time or the hundreth...Rohan was it?...Either way, I'm glad you were out there my man."
"It's been an age and a half sense I was on a hunt! That sounds briliiant Aldern. I'll see about getting a dollup of the finest whiskey our beautiful host here has, and we'll make a true event of it!" Qualin will look for a moment to catch Ameiko when she's not busy, but isn't expecting it to happen any time soon.
"I didn't do anything special. Just what anyone else would do." Rohan replies to Ameiko. As the smell of the hot food reaches his nostrils his slight smile widens a bit.
"Thank you, Qualin. You were competent out there as well. What's this about a hunt? Is that where you stalk and kill some animal for fun?" He says to Aldern.
"Why, the great outdoors, fresh air and a hearty feast to top it off!" Aldern says jovially. "I'll make all the arrangements myself." he says, clapping his hands together.
"I'd planned to spend a few weeks enjoying the countryside, but alas I fear my stay will be cut short." he says, somberly.
"Count me out then. I hunt for food, not entertainment." Rohan says as he digs into his meal.
"Pray, did I not mention the feast?" The boars of Tickwood make for a hearty meal, and Ameiko has agreed to cook our prize." he says, earnestly. "I promise you'll enjoy yourself."
"Qualin, my dear friend. What do you think of the local colour?" he says, cocking his head toward Ameiko. "See anything that tickles your fancy?" he jeers.
"Fine. I suppose I could use the workout." Rohan agrees. He seems to raise an eyebrow when Foxglove motions towards the proprietor.
"Excellent, excellent!" he says, joviably, before clapping his hands together. "Where's my head? I promised you fellows a reward, did I not?" he says, slapping a small purse on the table. "Take it, take it. It's the very least I can do, and I know Qualin can use the drinking money."
Boiko thanks again as the purse exchanges hands. He seems a bit baffled by the sudden developments.
"I've only been in Sandpoint for a day, and so much has happened already. Is the city life always that hectic? Although I suppose goblins don't appear as if from underground every day. Anyway, I greatly appreciate the chance to breathe the fresh forest air once more."
On the subject of local "color" "There is much to see in this quaint little town, a good deal more than I expected upon my arival, though I will say you seem to have picked up on the most striking view. As is your tendency."
A little rufled at the implication of poverty Qualin strongly considers finding a civil way to refuse the coin...But the truth of his situation isn't so easily ignored. "Aye, should keep me in a good spirits for a day or two longer." He says with forced mirth.
Turning to Boiko..."No, can't say that I've had many days with goblins coming out of the drains back in Magnimar, but I was in Khorvosa for a heavy rain that sent a true hord of spiders scurrying from every pipe, sink, and chamberpot in the city!"
"Many thanks." Rohan says as he pockets his share. "Does seem strange. From what little I know, goblins don't usually attack cities in force like this."
As the day draws on, Lohrgan finds himself lingering on yesterdays attack, despite the rolling waves. As his mind drifts back to the soft lights of taverns offering solace after the waves, he decides he's spent enough time alone with his thoughts and makes his way towards the Rusty Dragon. He strides through the door as he forces his accursed shyness deep into his gut, intent on sending some liquor after it.