Jordan yells in a cultured Elven accent, "These are sinspawn, their bite is unpleasant."
Jordan will cast burning hands, and rush to release the charge if he can get both sinspawn attacking in the rear without targeting friends. If not he will fire a force bolt at the most injured sinspawn of the three.
[ooc]AC: 17, HP: 10/14, Blessed X2
Malcolm brings his Bastard Sword to bear.
BS ATT:
BS DAM:
Halvor's blessing heartens you all, as does Kelistra's teasing song.
Between Malcolm's sword and Jordan's unleashed force bolt the sinspawn at the front of the party goes down shrieking, wounded by lance and sword and spell.
At the rear of the party, one of the two remaining sinspawn staggers under Azmythe's mystic assault - and slumps face first into the swamp mud.
Jordan does not know their magic abilities, so he times his next force bolt to hit the last actove sinspawn as it moves.
Malcolm, without missing a beat carves his way int o the next sinspawn.
May the perfection of Abadar guide my hand!
BS ATT:
BS DAM:
Iralynash swings his polearm at the last beast trying to crush its skull.
The last sinspawn standing howls in rage as Iralynash pierces it's slick hide. Jordan,s bolt of force sizzles into its deformed skull, but it does not go down. Malcolm moves back from the front of the group, where his earlier charge had carried him. His sprint carries him back from the front of the party in time to carved bloody ruin through the monster's chest. It collapses.
One aberration remains, snoring gently on the muddy ground.
"It's existance is a tragedy. I urge you to finish it."
Kelistra stops singing and mutters, "Finish it, easier said than done." With a slight shudder, she takes a step towards the sleeping monster and points her bow right next to its head. Taking a deep breath, she draws the bowstring and releases her arrow into the abomination.
And just in case the Sinspawn is tougher than it looks (and it looks pretty tough) Ruhk holds Bethany ready to cut it's head of should it wake up.
Jordan starts to search the sinspawns eliminated. "Remember to get the goblin ears."
Malcolm advances slightly down the hall, taking up a defensive position, and occasionally looking back at his companions as they search the remains.
Let's not take too long, we need to keep moving, no?
Iralynash helps his fellow elf companoin collect the goblin's ears.
"Nice teamwork everyone. Now that we've completed that grisly task, shall we see what awaits at the village? I fear something has beaten us to the goblins unless these were stray scouts."
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Ruhk casts a quick glance over his shoulder at Marduzi.
"What's that?
So not only do I have to compete with you glory hounds, but there might be someone else who's ears are not even worth anything out there stealing bounty?"
Chuckling a little, Ruhk turns back to regard the sinspawn at his feet.
"Oh well, if nothing else, at least I might get a laugh out of it."
"Run little goblin,
Run far away!
And you might just live,
To squeak another day."
Malcolm glances at Ruhk,
What say we don't let anything run away? Let's move.
Malcolm stands next to Marduzi and starts off towards the village.
Kelistra's arrow bites deep, perfectly severing the foul creature's brain stem. Death is instant in a gush of curdled ichor. When you check, most of the goblins have ears, though some look to have been previously chewed. Goblins. You recover nine passable ears.
As the sounds of battle die away the hum of insect life and occasional bird calls fill the swampy air once more. From the warden's directions Marduzi and Ruhk estimate no more than another half hour treck to the goblin village. Maybe an hour in this stinking mud hole.
Ruhk stows Bethany back in her place with some regret, unslinging his bow and getting ready to move out once more.
"Let's go then, the forest is dark and deep, and I got promises to keep, and many miles to walk before I sleep."
"Eeew!" Kelistra cries out when she notices nasty fluid from the creature has gotten on her. "Oh, well. Following this trail we'll get muddy enough I won't notice the ooze from the nasty thing."
Resuming her place in the marching formation, Kelistra goes down the trail with the others. "Hey, Ruhk, nice poem. Of course you're talking sleep sleep, not metaphor for death sleep, right?"
Jordan quickly searches the fallen for valuables.
Per
Malcolm addresses the group...
I could use some healing if anyone has the ability.
"Afraid that lies outside my talents Malcolm. Got nicked myself, but nothing that won't heal before long."
Ruhk raises an eyebrow at Kelistra.
"Now you are an artist yourself, so you know better than to ask that. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, and interpretation lies in here." He says with a grin and taps a finger against her forehead.
"Gosh, Ruhk. That was deep enough that you've got me thinking you may have actually intended the death metaphor." Kelistra regards the swordsman for a moment then says, "But we've already agreed, none of us are dying on this adventure!"
Halvor channels for whomever needs it. Let me know if more is needed
As everyone is preparing to continue on after the combmat, Azmythe takes some time to inspect the sinspawn, making himself a bit more familiar with them. Enoch pecks at their aberrant flesh and declares it inedible. They are ready to continue when the others are ready.
Thank you, Halvor, for the blessing of your deity.
Ruhk smiles a little sadly at Kelistra's words.
"I can't promise that, but cheer up, I doubt there is anything big and dangerous out there to even make me break a sweat."
Ruhk stalks forward a bit, peering into the distance with his bow raised and ready.
"Moving out? Frontliners to the front then."
Malcolm nods at Ruhk...
Aye, Ruhk, let us proceed.
Malcolm joins Marduzi at the front.
Are we ready, Marduzi?
"Aye, ready to see about this village. Thanks for the healing Halvor. A very helpful talent that must be." He gives a little squeeze to Smoke's sides, urging the horse forward.
"Frontliners to the front. Precious, pampered mages to the middle."
As they resume their journey, "So my sister told me this one about a goblin that walks into an inn and has a rat familiar on his head. The bartender said, what happened there, and the rat familiar says I woke up with this big growth on my bottom."
"Aye, ready to see about this village. Thanks for the healing Halvor. A very helpful talent that must be."
"Through countless hours of training I have just started to master this ability. As time goes on it will only get stronger. One day I hope to master even greater powers over the living body."
The trail wends and winds its way throu the swamp waters, and the atmosphere thickens. Soon it is as damp and close and fetid as the inside of a goblin's breech-clout. Best not considered, that analogy.
At length you come in sight of what must be the goblin settlement. A filthy squalid village-fort clings to a sodden hump of dirt rising no more than five feet above the surrounding swamp water. Nearest you a wooden gate in the low wooden palisade lies in shambles on the floor - the trail you tread leads to this former gate. Nearby on the northeastern side of the village an algae-clogged pond breaks the palisade and offers a view through into the village itself, which consists of a series of ramshackle huts connected by wooden walkways, all held a few feet above the mud on wooden stilts.
All is still, save the nervous stamp of Smoke's hoof.
"Uh, shouldn't we be hearing squeaking goblins by now?" Kelistra ponders aloud. "Maybe they're hiding... But they'd have fixed the gate, right?"
What do you think Marduzi...a frontal assault?
Perception:
"If I felt I needed a better look, I would reconnoiter the area. The destroyed front gate seems the way to go as I would expect any goblin traps to be around the perimeter. Even goblins aren't so destructive they would destroy their own gate, even practicing with explosives. Wait, don't answer that, I think that is my working theory now."
"This is wrong. It feels like the calm after the storm." "Enoch, tell me what you see." Azmythe sends his familiar to fly over the area and report back. "Everyone relax some. Give my high eyes some time to have a look."
"Huh...we run into feeling goblins being attacked by...what did you call them things? Spawns of something or another.
Next we come to a goblin village that appears empty and ruined.
You think someone attacked the village and the spawns were just picking of the stragglers?"
Ruhk, do you recall those sounds I heard in the night? I thought it was just the goblins making more mischief, but they must have been trying to fight off whatever happened here. I agree with you that those creatures may be just scavengers. But we'd better see what we can find out in case Sandpoint is threatened. Let's move for the gate. It does seem likely not to be trapped...at least any longer."
Ruhk scratches the back of his head and looks a little uncomfortable.
"Err...I actually meant that after attacking the village, the sinspawn WE meet might have been allocated to hunting survivors by whomever was in charge."
"Gotta remember the next time you tell me you heard strange sounds in the middle of the night," Kelistra says to Marduzi. "I have to ask what kind of weird sounds."
"Nay, it wasn't that Kelistra. Fireworks, yes. But also the sounds of metal on metal...and screams. But not those of lovemaking. Perhaps you are right Ruhk that their master lurks within. Or maybe whatever it was has moved on. We'll see."
"What!? When did I suggest? How did? Mar! Just because you... I'm sure if you'd meant you'd heard a goblin orgy, you would have said so right away."
@Rommin: you can tell a few things, even from this distance. The gates were torn down in the last day or two. You can see the tracks made by five goblins, running at speed away from the village, on the trail you now stand on. You don't see any sinspawn trails. You may be able to tell more if you get closer to the village.
@Azmythe: Enoch flies high, carving a lonely shape thought the sullen sky. Enoch reports that at least one hut is burned and completely ruined, and there is a large area of trampled and disturbed ground just inside the gates. Lots of tracks, though the raven cannot say who made the tracks. No movement catches his sharp eye.