I'm ok with dropping out of rounds.
Melon cautiously approaches Walthus and looks over his shoulders (something that is particularly easy to do, in fact Melon has to crouch a little to make it all work properly). She almost shrinks back on what she sees inside. "Oh! Oh my god. It is hideous. And stinks! Guys! There's a horrible stinky goblin granny in there. Ugh. I think their faces start melting if they live over the age of 14."
Malan speaks Goblin too.
Aago frowns as he makes his way over to Melon and Walthus. "A goblin granny? There's no honor in killing a creature with one foot already in the grave."
As the doorway fills with more onlookers, they block the daylight coming through, and the goblin dares to uncover its eyes a little bit and blink at the intruders. It is the oldest and most decrepit goblin anyone there has seen, although it does seem to be unarmed except for a walking stick lying next to it on the ground. As Melon said, the interior of the hut does stink of rotting food overlaid with a strong cloud of cheap perfume.
"Then again," Aago says as he gets his first good look. "Maybe the only kind thing to do is to put it out of its misery."
Walthus lowers his axe and steps into the hut to make room for the others arriving. "You might be right," he says to Aago. "I've never seen a goblin so old."
Gil, hearing they have a prisoner, scrambles up a ladder and pushes his way to the front of the crowd. Standing underneath Aago's legs, he stares in at the decrepit creature.
"You! Are you going to cause trouble?" he asks in Goblin.
The old goblin scowls and tugs at her long ear. "Short Longshanks should not mumble when he speaks to Old Foofelah," she grumbles, although her tone quickly reverts to a pathetic whine. "Old Foofelah cannot hear when Short Longshanks whispers."
When Gilfroy repeats his question at a shout, she replies, "What trouble could Old Foofelah cause? Old Foofelah has no dogslicer." She spreads her hands to show that she is unarmed.
"What's going on?" Corinna calls to the group huddling around the doorway to the hut. "Shouldn't we be checking the rest of the huts?" She looks around nervously at the remaining structures, expecting swarms of goblins to burst out at any moment.
"Bah!" She spits on the ground. "New chief stole treasure of bony men. Old Foofelah warned new chief, but new chief didn't listen. Sad day for Licktoads when they doesn't listen to Old Foofelah." She shakes her head sadly.
"And what was with the dogs? Why did your people steal dogs?"
Old Foofelah snorts in derision. "That Poog's idea. He say Zarongel protect us from the bony men if we kill dogs to him. Old Foofelah say Poog is dog-loving Birdcruncher traitor, but no one listens to Old Foofelah."
Rajah makes his way upstairs as the shouting commences. Seeing the old goblin, he looks on with interest. "Dog-loving Birdcruncher traitor?" He looks to Gilfroy to explain.
Rajah makes his way upstairs as the shouting commences. Seeing the old goblin, he looks on with interest. "Dog-loving Birdcruncher traitor?" He looks to Gilfroy to explain.
Gil shrugs, then gestures at the old goblin and reams a finger around his ear.
"So this Poog thought that you could sacrifice dogs to Zarongel to drive away the bonemen? Where is this bonemen treasure?"
The old goblin narrows her eyes at the gnome, either with malice or because the sunlight is bothering her again. "Licktoads have map. Map leads to treasure. But bony men follow goblins back to Licktoad village. Goblin heroes put up brave defense!" She puffs out her sunken chest. "But cowardly new chief is afraid of bony men. He gives away treasure Licktoads rightfully found. We owns map; we owns treasure!"
"And it sounds like you goblins need help getting it back. Now we folks could continue rampaging through your village, killing everybody we find, and find this map on our own, or you could share the map with us, we'll fight the bonemen, and split the treasure with you fairly."
Bluff: for that bit about sharing
Diplomacy:
Sensing that he's probably not getting through to the old bat, he looks to the others for ideas.
When he has repeated his offer in a louder voice, the goblin glares at him again suspiciously. "Old Foofelah is not having map. New chief is having map." Her expression brightens into something almost like a smile. "Has you Longshanks been killing new chief?" she asks hopefully.
"I'm guessing you don't like your new chief much. No, we haven't killed him. Yet."
As Gilfroy continues to relate what's being said, Rajah continues to take it in with intrigue. "Hm. It truly is a wonder how goblins survive. With this one seemingly so excited about the idea of her chief being eliminated by us, it's a wonder they all don't rid themselves of each other." A question then comes to mind, "Gilfroy; why all the yelling? I can only assume this one is near deaf? Or is that some form of 'goblin diplomacy', if you will."
"Why is Longshanks not killing new chief?" Old Foofelah demands angrily, frustrated with the party's unorthodox goblin-village-attacking tactics. "Must kills new Chief, then Longshanks get map. Oh, and must be killing Fat Slorb too. Fat Slorb might also be having map."
"Well, there's infighting amongst people, too," Walthus says to Rajah, "and we don't wipe ourselves out." After hearing the translation of Old Foofelah's latest statement, he adds, "However, this one definitely seems bloodthirsty for her chief's death."
He turns to Gilfroy. "Ask her where we can find the chief."
When Gilfroy shouts the translation of the Warden's question, she cackles. "Old Foofelah can tells you where to find new chief. Longshanks is to be following wall that way." She jabs her finger to the east. "New chief is in Moot House." She sighs. "Would have been easier to find in old days. When Old Foofelah was girl, Teeter Chair was thirty mans high. Had to cut hole in Moot House roof. Licktoad village was full of sound of exploding goblins. Sad day for Licktoads when they do not listen to Old Foofelah about new chief."
Corinna is still afraid to leave the threshold of the gate, where she is sure she cannot be cut off from escape, but all the yelling she hears in the hut is making her more nervous. "What's going on?" she calls again. "Why is Gilfroy shouting?"
Malan stands guard outside. Fortunately he isn't missing anything due to the yelling. He doe wonder, though, who else is listening.
Perception
"Well, there's infighting amongst people, too," Walthus says to Rajah, "and we don't wipe ourselves out." After hearing the translation of Old Foofelah's latest statement, he adds, "However, this one definitely seems bloodthirsty for her chief's death."
Rajah acknowledges Walthus's logic. "Hm. Fair enough." He agrees.
Melon wrinkles her nose, then whispers to Gilfroy, "Can you ask her to die quietly? It's a miracle her tribe members haven't gotten rid of her yet. Oh for the love of Sheylin, I hope she cannot still breed."
"I'm starting to reconsider the idea of killing her. She seems to be even more abhorrent than most goblins are. Wanting to help kill your own chief! How wicked!"
Aago turns away, looking around for other goblins to kill. He sees Corinna looking concerned and makes his way over to her.
"Don't worry. It seems most of the local goblins are dead. We found a wash-up old half-corpse of one who seems to want to show us where we can kill more. She's most unpleasant."
"Oh. Well ... that's a good thing, isn't it?" she asks uncertainly. "Perhaps she's a good goblin, if there is such a thing. Or at least a not quite so evil one. Did she say...," she glances back at Lady's remains slung across the pony, "why they stole the dogs?"
Aago nods. "She said -- well, Malan translated for her -- that they wanted the dogs to protect them from the skeletons. Evidently they stole something from someone who has death magic and now he's angry at them. Evidently they didn't learn their lesson very well since they did the same thing to us. I don't know that she's a good goblin per se...she looks at Walthus like she wants to boil his bones for soup and eat his eyes as a snack."
He smiles. "Anyway, if she leads us to the chieftain we can kill it too and take revenge for what they did to the dogs. Though I suppose we might have to watch out for skeletons." He looks at his hands. "I wonder what fighting them will be like? Do you have any magic for the undead?"
Corinna's eyes fill with tears again when Aago tells her her dog's pointless fate. "If they'd left Lady alive," she whispers, wiping her eyes angrily, "she could have fought a skeleton. Dead...." She shakes her head fiercely, trying to focus on the second part of Aago's speech.
"I'm afraid I never paid much attention to necromancy. It all seemed a little ... evil to me. I only took the Intro course I was required to take and never went back to that department. The young man and the gnome," she nods toward Rajah and Gilfory, "they both seem to possess the healing arts. I imagine they'll be far more useful against the animated dead than I."
Aago nods, looking at the others too. "Honestly, I always thought that tales of the undead were just tales. Sure, there's magic and all that," he gestures vaguely with one of his hands, "but I always thought that skeletons would be terribly impractical. How do you walk, or fight for that matter, without muscles?" He shrugs.
"I'm sorry about Lady. It makes me all the more glad to wipe out this little goblin town so that they can't hurt anyone else."
Walthus turns to the others still in the hut with the old goblin. "Do you want to go to the Moot House and face their chief or have you accomplished enough for your mission?"
Walthus turns to the others still in the hut with the old goblin. "Do you want to go to the Moot House and face their chief or have you accomplished enough for your mission?"
"At the risk of sounding like a greedy treasure hunter, we need to find this map and valuables the goblins took. Not to loot it, but if there are animated skeletons about the marsh being controlled by somebody or something, we must make sure that they don't pose a threat to Sandpoint, or to you in your home."
"Plus a bit of loot never hurt, either."
Aago nods, looking at the others too. "Honestly, I always thought that tales of the undead were just tales. Sure, there's magic and all that," he gestures vaguely with one of his hands, "but I always thought that skeletons would be terribly impractical. How do you walk, or fight for that matter, without muscles?" He shrugs.
"Oh, well, it's really not all that different from a simple unseen servant cantrip or a mage armor spell," Corinna explains. "After all, a domestic made of force has no muscles either, but it can still make your bed and sweep the floor; and while there's nothing physically there around my arm right now," she holds it out in front of her, "it will still turn a blade or blunt an arrow as well as a chain shirt. The difference, of course, is that the energy animating a skeleton is negative energy, rather than simple force. I don't know enough about it to tell you why, but while my mage armour and unseen servant will dissipate after a short interval, negative energy pools. In most cases, it will continue to animate a skeleton until the bones are damaged enough that the spell can no longer adhere to them. Force energy is sustained by the will of the caster; negative energy has a sort of a will of its own, to cling to existence rather than fade into nothingness, so it's fitting that it is largely concerned with keeping things animated that should be lifeless...." Corinna suddenly realizes that Aago's musings were largely rhetorical and that he didn't ask for a lecture. "Well, I mean, if you're interested in that sort of thing...," she blushes.
Aago realizes his eyes must have gone blank as he tried to work out what all those words meant.
"Hmm, well, actually I'm sure it's quite fascinating. I just don't have the right kind of education to understand, well, most of the words you just used. It's not like I'm uneducated exactly. I studied with many masters at various monasteries and schools dedicated to achieving physical perfection but, well, none of them ever mentioned words like 'negative' or 'force' energy. The only force I'm really aware of is what's extended when my fist or feet encounter whatever I'm kicking or punching at." Aago smiles apologetically.
"I am rather interested in this whole magic thing, throwing around spells after you say a bunch of mumble jumble and move your hands," he makes a gesture that was probably profane in various parts of the world. "Perhaps we'll have time to discuss this in a more comfortable setting using, er, simpler words."
He scuffs at the dirt with one foot. "So is that negative energy thing evil? Or is it because you use the energy on dead people? Even then, why would the people care since they're not using their bones anymore? Unless, I suppose, you kill the people first for their bones, which is just mean."
Corinna smiles up at the giant man. "It's very kind of you to pretend to be interested," she tells him, laying a hand on his arm. "It's more than most of my family will do; my mother does try to keep up, but even her eyes tend to glaze over when I rattle on too long. Perhaps we should work out some kind of a signal, like hold up three fingers when I've talked you into submission."
"Assuming you're really interested in the ethical implications...," she eyes him anxiously for approval, "there's a bit of debate on the subject. Most undead creatures are quite evil; there's no denying that. The negative energy turns them, no matter how pleasant they were in life, and makes them hunger for death and destruction. The mindless undead, though, like skeletons and zombies, don't have to do evil; they merely follow orders like my unseen servant. It would be entirely possible to have a house full of skeletons that did nothing but the washing and the tidying up and brought you a tray of tea and biscuits. Still," she shakes her head, "I don't think I could sleep in such a house, no matter how comfortable and friendly. There's just something unnatural about it, isn't there? So there's the question: whether the so-called 'white necromancers' have a leg to stand on or are simply trying to put one over on the gods themselves. They'd make the same argument you do, of course: a dead person no longer needs those bones so one might as well make positive use of them as let them lie around, and you can have ever so many skeletons doing the household chores at once whereas force energy can only sustain the one unseen servant at a time. Still, one wouldn't want one's own loved ones' bones put to work as a servant, would one? " She gives a little shudder and then focuses on Aago yet again. "Sorry. Three fingers?"
Melon looks around from Gilfroy's shoulder, still bending low to accommodate the short stature of the gnome. Somewhat pragmatically she scoffs, "I'm not sure. There must be more to it. If the bones are just bones and could be used to animate into a skeleton with negative energy, then would not a bunch of twigs and branches work just as well?"
Melon looks around from Gilfroy's shoulder, still bending low to accommodate the short stature of the gnome. Somewhat pragmatically she scoffs, "I'm not sure. There must be more to it. If the bones are just bones and could be used to animate into a skeleton with negative energy, then would not a bunch of twigs and branches work just as well?"
Corinna jumps as Melon shouts across the village, not realizing her voice had carried so far. "It's actually possible, yes!" she calls back. "They say there are tribes in the Mwangi Expanse that can create fetishes, rather like constructs, but then animate them with the souls of the dead. Still considered evil, though, as it traps the soul and prevents it from passing through the Boneyard, or so I'm told!"
Melon looks around from Gilfroy's shoulder, still bending low to accommodate the short stature of the gnome. Somewhat pragmatically she scoffs, "I'm not sure. There must be more to it. If the bones are just bones and could be used to animate into a skeleton with negative energy, then would not a bunch of twigs and branches work just as well?"
Aago and Corinna are outside the hut, back by the gate.
"You sound nothing like a treasure hunter. It is just prudent to be sure to be rid of the goblins as well as the skeletons.
Walthus nods to Malan. "That's wise. What do you want to do with this one? Leaver her?"
"Let's tie her up. Maybe you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her as well. If not you, perhaps the human girl, Corinna I think her name is."
Aago jumps slightly as Melon intrudes from her position so far away.
"Ahem. Well no, not three fingers yet. Fascinating, really. I'm not sure of the issue with having one's undead relatives as servants really; without their flesh how would you ever know which was which? On the other hand, I think an unseen servant is, without question, much more ascetically pleasing. In this particular case, though, whoever is doing the necromantic mumbo jumbo is sending skeletons to kill goblins, a worthwhile endeavor, perhaps, were it not for the part where the goblins steal our dogs to defend, uselessly it turns out, against the same skeletons."
He sighs, rubbing his brow, exhausted by the attempt to have an intelligent conversation and put the young lady at her ease. "Regardless, the goblins have a lot to answer for. Whether the necromancer is evil or not is still up for debate but these filthy bastards certainly are."
He turns and hollars back up to Melon. "So are we hunting more goblins or what?"
Walthus nods. "Right, got any rope?"
After someone's handed him some rope (assuming someone has some), he begins to tie up Old Foofelah.
The goblin begins to shriek and kick up a ruckus as the strange invaders speak amongst themselves in their foreign tongue and then walk toward her with rope and malign intent.
Walthus backs away from her. "Um, Gilfroy, perhaps you should explain to her."
Dude, we're like 40 feet away having a quiet conversation while you're in a hut having a different conversation! At least roll a Perception check DC 14 before jumping in! ;)
Melon doesn't look particularly pleased at the prospect of keeping the smelly goblin granny around. "You sure? We going to keep her? Can't we just... you know... get rid of her? Her ears are worth some gold. If the Sheriff accepts that those horrid flaps are in fact goblin ears."