As the sun rises, the temperature does not. The proprietor takes a spot behind the bar and surveys the room. He begins to jostle mugs, casks and bottles. Several hot brews are also steeping at his station. Various teas in jars behind the bar are also available.
The common room is bright and cheerful. It contains many rough hewn tables and chairs, boards and benches. Natural tree trunk pillars support the ceiling overhead, all dark with smoke and age. The pot boys seem to be going table to table, asking for volunteers for the recovery of the elves. You notice that there are no elves present and the general attitude seems to be indifference to their plight. It's not uncommon for folk in these parts to snub the aloof fey creatures.
A table near the center of the room holds a group of people who don't seem to be talking very much to each other. They are dressed in "day clothes" as if perhaps they are residing in the inn. A large man with a blatantly displayed dagger sits here. A thin and wiry man, with a short sword sits next to him. The horned tiefling sits opposite them. At the other end of the table sit’s a kilted pair of Shieldlanders talking. All but the first man, with a dagger, agree to look for dead elves. Evidently a nights lodging is the payment.
Timur doesn't have a horse, but is willing to go along on foot if needed
Nomin will take the Innkeeper on his offer for breakfast and then set out when the clerics arrive.
Nomin looks at a few of the patrons that have agreed to go on the expedition and gives them a slight head nod. He then goes to work on his breakfast, enjoying the obviously extravagant portions recognizing the dangers of what potentially lay ahead.
((OOC I know you have said that the tiefling is rare, but I would have you determine my reaction to him randomly. I do not trust myself to not meta game in this instance and request your intercedance.))
Timur laconically accepts the offer of the morning meal. He'll try to sit next to Nomin, who is the only person he knows in this room (or even the town).
Looking up from his meal through tangles hair in his face, he surveys the room, sizing everyone up and keeping a close eye on the devilspawn.
If a Perception check is required he get a: rolled a 15+ 5 Perception =20
Aside from a demeanor that many find disturbing, many tieflings are indistinguishable from humans. Others have small horns, pointed teeth, red eyes, a whiff of brimstone about them, or even cloven feet. No two tieflings are the same.
In most human societies, tieflings maintain a low profile, operating
as thieves, assassins, or spies. Occasionally one rises to a position
of power, but when its nature is revealed it quickly becomes an outcast."
The meal is served. Nobody makes serious introductions. A few nods and grunts are exchanged between members of the prospective party. From outside you hear a voice telling the time.
The Paladin, Vanyalanthiriel and a different, younger cleric enter the inn.
The innkeeper looks up as the two church agents enter the bar. He sends the pot boys over and they are directed to the center table. They introduce themselves to each other and the assembly. The paladin is called Solara, the elven cleric nods and pronounces her name slowly and carefully. She wrinkles her nose a little in distaste but asks that you refer to her as Vanya. Her accent as always is as thick as her common speech is broken. The young acolyte tells you his name is Sigeweard. He wears the white vestments studded with the ruby cross of Cuthbert as well as the crumpled hat. Over his robes he wears earthen toned traveling clothes. The two Shieldlanders stand and give a salute, the standard fist pump from the chest of their homeland. Both wear kilts. One has lengthy hair and a long yet scruffy beard. He introduces himself as Amin, a swordsman. He speaks for the other, who is bald and has a slightly darker complexion. He calls him Islief, an aesthetic pugilist. The other two men stand and bow. The human is named Furnok of Furd, a place that doesn't seem to ring a bell. He says he's a bit of a scout but he's used to larger towns and cities.
The tiefling tries to be charming and eloquent, but doesn't quite pull it off. His name is Spugnoire and he claims to be a spell caster.
Solara, the paladin knots furrows her eyebrows as he stands. "You best stay clear of me today, Spugnoire. I won't hesitate to run you through if you interfere. " She seems to be scanning the space around him, with her eyes as if she can sense something or expects to. He seems offended but recovers gracefully. He doesn't seem surprised by her attitude or in the least bit interested in trying to sway her opinion.
Vanya also eyes him warily.
Nomin thanks the Innkeeper for the fine breakfast. He looks at Vanya and asks in a gentle tone "So, we are off then, to collect you comrades?"
Solara and Sigeweard look to Nomin. "You two, Barthep and Timur, you need to keep her safe." The young acolyte of Cuthbert states with authority. "You brought her home once, you must do it again. The work is going to be very hard and morbid. If we are attacked during the recovery, you have to defend her. She is going to perform some elvish last right rituals. She has to remain uninterrupted and safe."
He has a serious and somber expression, yet he seems earnest. "We can handle the bodies and a search for effects. If hostiles show up, we can handle it. "
He removes a paper mache scroll case from someplace on his person. It strikes you as a kind of cool trick for a cleric to know sleight of hand. He hands the scroll to Nomin.
"I figure you might be able to activate this. If not, give it to her", he gestures to Vanya. "She can use it use if you need to speak. She really struggles with common. "
Solara surveys the assembly. She raises a single brow and turns on her heels. The paladin checks over her scabbard and buckles, assuring they are secure. You catch a glimpse of the skin on her forearm as she refastens the guard on her left hand. Seven fresh scars all in a row are visible. It's as if someone meticulously sliced or carved a neat orderly pattern into her arm. She walks outside and waits for the stable hands to bring her mount.
Vanya is wary. She looks from Nomin to Timur. The elven cleric nervously checks her weapons and armor. She seems to be drawing strength from knowing she has them. Vanya inhales and squares her shoulders, then follows Solara outside.
Sigeweard is more interested with the people at the table. He walks closer, but most of them stand up and all but ignore him. The shieldlanders walk to the bar and Furnok heads to the stairs. The tiefling is the only one who remains.
Amin walks to the bar. He doesn't stop to watch Islief. It seemed earlier, that he was his friends keeper. Now he is more independent. He orders something. He receives a tankard of something strong. The breakfast of champions.
Islief follows Amin. He also orders a drink. It's evident he is suggesting to his friend that he, equip for the quest. Islief, however doesn't seem to need anything.
Furnok ignores everyone else. He heads upstairs. He, like the others is not suited up or armored. He barely concealed his weapons, but anyone would want to dress for the weather. A layer of protective clothing wouldn't hurt either. Perhaps he intends to strap on a heavier blade as well.
Spugnoir just sits at the table, watching everyone else. He seems quite confident. After the paladin leaves and Furnok goes upstairs he begins to casually stand up. He runs his hands through is hair, attempting to finger comb it. His fingertips stop short and meticulously separate any stray hairs from his horns.
Nomin gets up, gives Timur a grunt and upward nod as is to suggest flowing the two women outside. And then walks out the door toward the stable.
Timur follows Nomin out, keeping an eye out for the tiefling.
Sigeweard sits at the table with Spugnoir. He removes a small leather pouch and puts it on the table in front of him. Spugnoire doesn't look at it. The tiefling instead also puts a small pouch on the table. He then gets up and walks to the bar, sliding his pouch closer to the cleric. Sigeweard casually reaches over to the tiefling's pouch and inconspicuously pockets it. Spugnoire returns from the bar with a small tankard of some warm morning brew. He nods at the cleric, who returns the nod and takes his leave. Nobody seems to notice or care. The cleric turns and speaks to the Innkeeper, who is still tending the bar, "We will make to the site as as soon as the rest assemble outside."
Sigeweard sits at the table with Spugnoir. He removes a small leather pouch and puts it on the table in front of him. Spugnoire doesn't look at it. The tiefling instead also puts a small pouch on the table. He then gets up and walks to the bar, sliding his pouch closer to the cleric. Sigeweard casually reaches over to the tiefling's pouch and pockets it. Spugnoire returns from the bar with a small tankard of some warm morning brew. He nods at the cleric, who returns the nod and takes his leave. The ostler looks at the table and then to the priest and cambion. He looks at the pouches and watches the exchange quietly.
The cleric turns and speaks to the Innkeeper, who is still tending the bar, "We will make to the site as as soon as the rest assemble outside." He doesn't seem to realize, that the bartender noticed the pouches.
Spugnoire sits at the table and casually reaches over to the pouch, the cleric left behind.
The innkeeper continues tending his establishment.
Spugnoire goes upstairs and returns a short time after, he is joined by the Shieldlanders. Furnok also comes down. All have donned traveling clothes and various weapons and arms. The party goes outside and meets up with the paladin and clerics.
The group assembles in the yard outside the Inn.
Solara assigns a marching order. She takes the front, she asks Timur and Nomin to follow her. She has a horse, but is walking. It's not uncommon to see a paladin walking alongside his/her mount. Many of the horses are for combat and not for tasks or burden. Vanya and Sigeweard are next. The Sieldlanders take up the next rank, ready to rush forward if needed. Spunoir and Furnok take up the rear.
The group slowly proceeds out of the Inn's yards and to the road leading out of Hommlet.
The group heads out along the south western road. The fog begins to thin after an hour. The combination of damp humidity and autumn chill leaves a cold sheen of sweat on everybody. The morning sun is still barely penetrating the canopy of higher trees and much of the ground cover. Small shafts of lite spot the landscape and allow for clear, yet dim sight.
The thick smell of tree sap and the moldy scent of decaying leaves fills the air.
After close to another half hour, the clerics and paladin pause. They turn to Nomin and Timur. It took over two hours for the pair to drag Vanya back to Hommlet.
Timur raises an an arm and a single finger, pointing straight ahead. "There!, just on the other side of that tree. The one with the twisted broken branch halfway up."
It takes a second or two, but the group looks to the spot he has flagged. The tree does not stand out at first, then that single broken, curved branch seems to solidify out of the early morning mist.
As if on cue, movement can be seen at it's base. Ravens. Huge black birds, the size of small dogs are pecking at each other and squabbling over something on the side of the road, near the tree.
The clerics and paladin signal the group to advance slowly. As the party nears the tree, the black birds scatter and return in small groups. Still pecking at whatever it is that has their interest, they are wary of the approaching people. As the band gets closer, several large grayish dog like beasts can be seen further up the road. All local folk can see, that these are wolves. Both Nomin and Timur recognize the site now. It's as if the wolves dragged a few bodies away from the original area and the birds dragged a larger piece of something yet further away from the wolves. Timur notes, the wolves wouldn't have moved food unless there was danger....
You see the site of the attack ahead. It seems strangely serene in the dim light. Unlike the dark shadows and pale moonlight of the night before. The coppery smell of rent flesh is wafting on the misty humid air. It's almost nauseating. You see four goblins picking through the corpses. They are scavenging, looting and even cutting swathes of meat off the corpses.
Some of the party doesn't seem to notice them at first. The site of the wolves and ravens picking at bodies is quite distracting. It's apparent the goblins scared the wolves off as the wolves scared the ravens.
The goblins see you approaching from a distance and all of them let out a shrill cry. "Ree ree ree ree ree!"
They all have small bows, which they unsling and begin to knock with arrows.
The distance between the two groups is 500 feet. Two of the goblins rush forward, then separate. They slip off the road and each enters the brush on their respective opposite side. They are both 380' from the group at this point.
Sigeweard slams his staff into the ground as he bellows out a prayer. "Cuthbert is with us!" He pounds a fist against his chest after he does this. An odd echo can be heard. It's like his fist is moving the air, sounding like a muffled trumpet. For a brief second the light around him distorts. He becomes blurry, then solidifies.
Furnok and Vanya both seem awestruck and just stare ahead.
Timur charges the nearest Goblin, he is like a juggernaut as he draws his falchion and rushes ahead. He sprints 80 feet and swings the blade.
The Goblin deflects Timur's blade with it's bow. It sends a shock wave through the creature that almost knocks it to the ground.
The remaining two goblins also rush forward with arrows knocked.
Spugnoir grasps a medallion and chants a long monosyllabic sound. Small yet bright flames erupt from his hands. The halos of fire race along his arms, then across his torso. They remain about the size of bracelets, but rapidly spin across his whole body. They return to his wrist area and snuff out. As they extinguish, a fiery glow flashes about him then stops.
Solara Knocks an arrow to her bow and fires it at Goblin #2.
after the shot, she moves 20'.
Solara's arrow flies close to the goblin but not close enough. The green humanoid glares at her baring it's shark like teeth.