Phil's PFS Game (Inactive)

Game Master electricjokecascade

Kella stands up and interrupts Ragna. "I Kella Bloodmouth! I CHIEF goblin! Me get first food! Then me happy. Work good! No first food, no happy. Okay? Okay!" She does her best to look menacing.

Corpselicker nods at the group and points at Kella, "True, true, she Chief, she dangerous, verrry dangerous, you do what she say, we no get in trouble? Yes! Then we eats! Food! Oh, food! You have food?

Ankleknocker grabs at his head and shakes it from side to side as if in pain. You notice that there are several holes drilled into his skull. "Stop it! Stop noises! No more talk!" Then without warning he snatches up a branch and smashes it across Corpselicker's face, knocking the other goblin off the log.

Dunghurler leaps to his feet at this point in alarm, and shoves his hands into his pants. He stares wide eyed at Ankleknocker, then Ragna, then Kella, then at the party. A disgusting farting sound comes from his rear.

Corpselicker leaps to his feet, furious. "You stink!" He spits bark out of his wide maw. "Next time you hit Corpselicker? He feed you to the longshanks!"

All the goblins pause as they try to figure that one out.

Kella leaps up onto the log and kicks Ankleknocker in the head, then rounds on Corpselicker. "Shut up shut up! Me chief! Me say who longshanks eat! No one else!"

Her voice is lost however as the other three goblins continue arguing and chattering amongst themselves.

Mexus watches the goblins interact with a look of skepticism. Then he glances back to Lightfoot and asks, "What is a 'longshanks?'"

Ragna crosses her arms and shakes her head, distaste clear on her face.

"We are the longshanks. Any and all of us that stand taller than a goblin." Her smile is completely without humor and as cutting as the winter wind. "They're your problem now. My people and I are leaving to go deeper into Irrisen tonight."

Ragna Lightfoot introduces the goblin band and skips any additional pleasantries. It quickly becomes evident as to the nature of her hurry when the creatures begin infighting. Honus accepts the map and studies it carefully as she explains her markings and paths. He rubs the back of his glove across his face vigorously for a moment, knocking away the frost and ice that has seemingly frozen his lips shut until now.

"Do you have any contacts that we can name if these Black Ravens do happen to stop us?"

Honus then pulls her aside and speaks softly as the goblins continue their childish behavior. He looks back at them with a frown, not in distaste, but with obvious reservation over the coming weeks.

"Based on what you've had to deal with in getting the goblins to this point, do you have any words of caution or suggestions for us? What to do, what not to do, ways to calm them, anything? I get the feeling we are going to have our hands full."

Does Ragna supply rations, etc. for the goblins' survival?

"The Black Ravens expect you. Valsin should have notified them of both your expected arrival time and identity. There should be no problems there."

Ragna steps aside with Honus, her face grave and expressing distaste. "Advice on how to handle them? Feed them. Frequently. Don't trust them. Don't hurt them. Remember, goblins are considered citizens in Irrisen. If a patrol or town sees you harm them or treat them like prisoners, they may respond aggressively. Guard your belongings."

She sighs and pinches the brow of her nose. "Whatever you do, and under no circumstances, don't allow them to 'bring you a puppy'."

Ragna shakes her head. "And pray for luck. They're a menace to themselves. Keeping them alive will take all your skill, talent, and luck."

Zaiharahel stands in silence, debating various decisions he has made in life to bring him to this point. A point he feels he needs clarification on, "...The... Dunghurler. Is... not just a clever name, is it? Why couldn't it be 'Goldfinder', or 'Danger-killer'?" He looks to Dunghurler, "...No offense intended." He pauses. "...Do they have a bedtime?"

He looks to Kella. "You are the strongest, smartest looking goblin I've seen, ever. The road ahead could be dangerous, but we'll make a good team. You need things, you let me know."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7

Dunghurler squirms, eyes desperate, hands thrust deep into his pants, staring at Zaiharahel.

"Eeeee..." he whimpers. "Clever Dunghurler. Make things go away!"

"I AM the strongest," agrees Kella with disdain, drawing herself up out of the argument and standing tall on the log. She puffs out her chest and nods at Zaiharahel as if he were a submissive lackey of hers. "We no make team. You follow orders! I wise, I smart, I know everything! First, give Kella sword."

She leaps off the log and runs up to the elf. She stares up at him imperiously. "Give sword now!" She punctuates this demand with a stamp of her foot.

Honus watches as Kella takes offense to Zaiharahel's overtly sarcastic statement, throws a tantrum, and demands a weapon.

Great. Five juvenile minds.

"Kella, my name is Honus. Would you like a sword or would you prefer food? As chief, you get food before the others, right? Ragna, we were told that you would have supplies for the goblins. We'd better get that from you, now, and then be on our way."

He looks to Mexus and Fahim for confirmation.

"Is there anything else before we go?"

Kella considers Honus and then hops over to him, smiling winsomely up at him with all her shark-like teeth exposed.

"Yes, food! Kella gets food first. Kella Chief! Good longshanks." She turns and stares at the rest of the party. "This one smart! He belong to Kella."

Ragna nods. "Yes. We've got enough provisions set aside to keep even their appetites satiated."

She glances up at the darkening sky. "Are you good to travel at night? My group is used to it, but it can be a challenge if you're not accustomed to this terrain."

Ankleknocker and Corpselicker have hurried up to stand behind Kella, staring up at Honus with eager excitement.

Darn it! I didn't even realize what hour it had become. I must look like a fool in front of these seasoned Pathfinders, but we simply don't have the experience to travel at night. I will have to fess up and ask for advice. At least I seem to have won the goblins over. Hopefully I can maintain their confidence, and perhaps even a bit of loyalty.

Honus moves his hand to pat one of the goblins on the head, Is this one Corpselicker, or Ankleknocker? At least neither is Dunghurler, but thinks better of it and responds to Ragna instead.

"No, it's probably best that we not travel at night. And, truthfully, we aren't accustomed to the cold, either. Do you know of a place nearby for shelter?"

Honus looks at Ragna's feet, feeling weak from the confession.

On the third day, well-rested, you follow the river's curve to the north. About midday you see the city of Trollheim across the river, and take the ferry to that city. (You have the opportunity to buy additional supplies at this time if you wish.)

We stock up on torches, and if having another additional blanket will help add to our Fort. saves, I will buy one for 5sp.

"As merchants we are always looking for a good deal... Though as you can see, we are without horses..."

I thought we were provided with horses? Did I miss a post about losing them somehow?

Zaiharahel heaves a sigh of relief.

Excellent. Honus will be able to more easily relate to them, anyway.

"...I don't mind travelling at night, though I don't know if my compatriots have the same opinions."

Zaiharahel looks to his groupmates for confirmation.

Mexus nods in agreement. "As long as the Humans don't have too much trouble with it, I think traveling at night will be our best bet with this lot."

Ragna looks from one to the other than shrugs. "When you travel is your call. I am going to finish helping my men break camp. We leave very soon. The provisions for the goblins are in that pack over there. Good luck."

With that, she stalks away. The four goblins watch her go, then turn expectantly to the group, eyes cunning and calculating.

Kella tugs on Honus' belt. "You the bosses now? Where we go? Kella make sure other gobbos follow if you give Kella double food. And sword!"

Mexus turns on Kella with stern, narrowed eyes. He speaks slowly, and more directly than usual, like he would to a child ... a very dangerous child that was holding a wand of wonder. "Kella, you will eat first. If you follow our directions well, I will give you food that tastes better. We do not want to hurt you, but we will if you make us. If you try to hurt us, or steal from us, or try to escape, we may have to hurt you. You are the gobbo leader. So, if you and the other gobbos obey us well, you will get extra food that tastes better than what they get. Likewise, if any of the other gobbos try to hurt us, or steal from us, or try to escape, we may have to hurt them AND you. We don't want to do that, but we will if you make us. Above all, Kella, if any of the gobbos pick up a weapon, we will kill them, and we may kill you too if we think you ordered them to do it. Do you understand?"

While Mexus has no intention of physically punishing any of the goblins, or killing them except in the most dire of circumstances, he hopes that his offer of rewards for good behavior and threats for bad behavior works well enough to convince them to fall in line.

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

"That's right. We're bosses now, and heading to a place called Harvest's End. Have you been there, or know anything about it?"

Honus hoists the pack onto his horse's saddle and secures it while considering the dangers of traveling at night.

Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

"Oh, oh, I have, I knows of Harvest End!"

Corpselicker practically jumps up and down in excitement, ignoring Kella's venemous glare.

"Make me Chief and give me lotsa food and I tells you all!"

Kella listens carefully at first as Mexus warns her, nodding at the parts where he states she's the chief and that she'll get extra food, but about halfway through his stream of words she begins to lose focus, and start glancing around.

When he ends with his threat to kill any of the goblins that touch a weapon, her attention snaps right back and she scowls and kicks at the snow.

"Fine, no weapons! But we very good guards. We help! If dogs or horses come, we help kill! You see! We make longshank bosses very happy. Then, more food!"

When Corpselicker yells out his offer, she hisses and throws snow at him. "Liar! He tricksy! Kella chief! No listen to him!"

Well aren't these an amusing little bunch. They remind me of the fire imps I saw playing outside of the Oasis of Ember Light when my caravan stopped there for night. Though, I suppose the giant scorpion they slowly burned to death didn't find them so cute.

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11 to know its colder at night than during the day, any any additional dangers of traveling at night this result may yield.

"Honus, while I am eager to complete this adventure, and any adventure, as quickly as possible, our last . . . task has taught me the value in taking your time when you can. We have already had a full day of travelling and searching for our new friends. Perhaps tonight may be better spent sharing a warm fire and hot meal with our guests?

Fahim then turns to the goblins and gives them each his trademark wide, toothy smile.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 to befriend the goblins.

"I am honored to be in the presence of such a strong and clever group of goblins. I have no doubt you will make excellent guards and help us stay safe as we travel together. Would you do me the favor of telling me what each of you is good at doing? In return, I'd be happy to give each of you some of my ale."

I just hope I don't accidentally give them the ale with the sedative in it. That would be a terrible shame. Sometimes I can be so clumsy.

"No," screams Kella, rushing up to Fahim but yelling at the other goblins, "This longshanks is Kella's! Not the other one, this one!"

She then grins toothily up at Fahim and begins to stroke his knee and crooning, "Mine, all mine, ale, yes, ale, Kella likes the fat man, give the ale, and Kella make sure other gobbos behave real good!"

The other goblins crowd in around her, eyes shining, licking their lips and wringing their hands, except for Corpselicker who keeps looking at Honus hopefully.

Mexus rolls his eyes as his tail twitches.

This reminds me of my first lessons in politics. Perhaps this 'gobbo' encounter will teach the other three the most basic appreciation for manipulation, subterfuge, and control. And just maybe by the end of this escort mission they will appreciate my tact and start following my lead, rather than bumbling about upsetting my plans ... well, one can dream."

After a moment of contemplation, Mexus states matter-of-factly, "If you have no interest in transporting our charges during the night, it would be best if we find a place to camp nearby so that we can setup before nightfall."

The copse of evergreen trees rise like solitary spears beneath the light of the rising moon. In all directions, the unnatural and perpetual Irrisen winter causes the landscape to appear like an eternal moor of softly undulating snow, with few such copses punctuating the barren expanse.

There must be perhaps a dozen of the heavy trees standing close together, the ground beneath their branches only lightly snowed on, and with an area already trampled flat from where the rangers and druids spent the day and previous night. Where you are currently standing is, in fact, perhaps the best campground for miles in any direction. The fact that Ragna herself chose it speaks volumes for its utility.

While the group decides on whether, and where, to set up camp, Fahim continues to deal with his goblin charges.

"Ok, Kella, tell me what you are better at than anything else, and I will give you the ale first. Then, I'll give ale to the next one who tells me what they are best at, and so on. And NO lying. I'll know if you lie, and if you do, then no ale for you."

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 to convince the goblins he will know if they are lying.

I hope they believe me when I tell them I will know if they are lying. Some days I wouldn't even know if Shax, the willful deceiver, was lying to me if I saw him outside of a binding circle with my own two eyes.

The goblins go wide eyed as Fahim intones his truth-telling ability, and quickly stick their heads together and whisper amongst each other in a rare moment of solidarity.

Then Kella straightens, bangs Corselicker and Ankleknocker's head's together with a hollow thunk, and turns to Fahim.

"I Kella! Grand Chief! I best at giving orders, and eating good food! When good food comes, I eat it fast, I eat it quick, I no let it get away!"

Excited, she breaks into song.

"Kella big chief, strong and proud!
She give orders to the crowd!
When she say jump gobbos say how high?
Then she kick them till they cry!"

Corpselicker elbows his way forward, shooting worried glances at Kella, but she magnanimously steps aside.

"Me Corpselicker! Me very special, me know the secrets of the dead! One day, me be a shaman, a mighty magicky man, because me know how to get secrets!"

He leans in close to Fahim and whispers conspiratorially, "When me lick the dead? I taste their secrets. I know! All there is to know! Very special, very powerful magic!"

Ankleknocker bobs his head as he steps forward, eyes wide and slightly glazed.

"I is Ankleknocker! I have many thoughts, so many they hurt my head, so I drill first hole, and it hurt much!"

At this he points to a hole in his left temple.

"But second hole not hurt so bad, and next hole hurt nothing! Now thoughts very quiet. Very shhh. They no hurt, and everything calm. Quiet. Good! But me still hungry. Always hungry. When I see little mousey, I leap! Then I bite its legs off, one by one, while mousey sing! Then I bite off tail, then I bite off head, and then me suck mousey gooey bits out of mousey, yum!"

He makes a wet, slurping sound, and all the other goblins' throats bob as they swallow hungrily.

Dunghurler looks around as the other three gaze at him, and when Kella motions imperiously for him to come forward and speak, he does so, still not removing his hands from his pants.

"Me Dunghurler. Me nervous. Me very good at reading stars and books and trees. Sometimes me read snow. Much to learn! But hard to remember. "

He looks around anxiously, and then quickly backs away again.

"There! Me make gobbos speak! Now ale! Much ale! Me want swim in ale, drown in ale, forever and ever!" Kella leaps up onto the log, spins in a circle with her arms out wide, and then finishes by falling into a wicked crouch, grin lethal, eyes burning with hunger and desire.

"Excellent! What a talented and strong group you are. You deserve ale, and ale you shall have! Just give me a moment to pour the drinks for each of you."

I can't drug these poor creatures, after all what would my caravan mistress say? Does her pupil take the thuggish route of sedating them? No, he walks the path of a true Qadiran merchant by getting what he wants through negotiation!

Fahim prepares four cups of ale for the goblins, dividing one bottle among the four cups and filling them up the rest of the way with his "special ale" aka water. This should make tasty drinks, since Fahim only makes the finest brews, but one not very intoxicating.

Fahim walks to Kella with the first cup.

"As promised, as the leader you drink first. And as you should, I might add, as we would not want that pretty voice of your to dry out. An amazing song to match an amazing voice. I'm sure you will protect everyone in our group, and ensure we will have a safe trip."

Fahim then moves to Corpselicker, the second to speak, with his cup of ale.

"And we mustn't let your tongue dry out either. There may be many corpses to lick along our travels, and we want you to be at your best when the time for licking comes! Only you can figure out if those corpses will have secrets that will keep us from danger."

Third to speak was Ankleknocker, so he gets the third cup.

"This is no mouse blood, but I think you'll like it none the less. I suspect you will have your chance to drink the blood of our enemies at some point in our trip, while keeping us from being harmed."

Fahim carefully, and slowly, moves to the last goblin, Dunghurler. He speaks to him in a soft voice.

"Brave dunghurler, there's nothing to be nervous about. You are with us now, and we will protect you like you will protect us. No one reads the stars and books and trees better than you. And the ability to read the snow is special indeed. Drink up and let your nervousness be washed away."

Fahim finishes by giving each goblin a smile in turn, cementing his subtle manipulations of the group.

Fahim has tried to subtly suggest to the group of goblins that Fahim, Honus, Mexus, and Zaiharahel are allies who should be protected and joined, as opposed to people who should be betrayed and escaped.

Bluff: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (17) - 3 = 14 to convince them that the idea is theirs, and not Fahim's.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 to make the above request of them.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Kella preens as the cup is brought to her first, lording it over the other goblins with poise and dignity by sticking out her tongue and gargling to herself in satisfaction. She nods, wide eyed, as Fahim compliments her, and then pours the ale down her gullet in one skillful move.

Corpselicker sniffs his ale and then sticks his tongue into the cup, not drinking but simply lolling it around, until he finally curves it into a straw and slurps the liquid up noisily.

Ankleknocker greedily holds his cup with both hands and drinks quickly, watching Kella fearfully, clearly convinced that she's going to steal it from him.

Dunghurler nods slowly as Fahim speaks in warm and gentle tones, eyes wide, and finally removes his dung smeared hands from his pants to take the cup from Fahim, retreating behind the log to crouch half-hidden and take small sips from his cup.

Finally Kella throws her cup over her shoulder and climbs back up onto the log.

"Shut up!" she screams at the other goblins, who are all quietly sniffing their cups wistfully. They blink and stare up at her.

"Shut it! I am Kella, grand chief of the Frostfur Tribe, and I say what is what! This longshanks," she says, pointing at Fahim, "Is very smart. He knows we important, and he gives us ale! I like him! And so you must like him too!"

She glares at each goblin, then up at Mexus. "Even if that longshanks threatened to kill us." She frowns as if trying to recall something. "Though I not remember why. So! These longshanks our new bosses! We will protect and guard them so they gives more ale! Ale for the gobbos of the Frostfur Tribe!"

The other three cheer and wave their cups. Together the four of them launch into an impromptu song.

"The fat longshanks is smart and nice,
Serves us ale like blood soaked ice,
We won't eat him while he sleeps,
We won't cut him into eats,
We won't suck out his big eyes,
We won't poke him till he dies,
We will guard him all day long,
And sing our singing goblin song!"

Zaiharahel rubs his chin thoughtfully at the goblins' song. "...I'll take first watch. Since I won't be sleeping now, anyway."

Mexus nods to Zaiharahel. "I need to get a solid eight hours of sleep, so if you take the first watch, I'll take the last ... in eight hours or so."

Oh, good! I was worried I would have to convince them. Well done, Fahim. Talk some sense into those two. Are goblins nocturnal? What do I know about these little creatures?

Knowledge, dungeoneering: Goblins: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Handle Animal: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Honus removes the packs and saddle from his horse and finds a good place to tie it up, then aids the others with the same. He nods approval when Zaiharahel volunteers watch, and looks to both party members and goblins when asking the question,

"What if these four take shifts as well? An extra set of eyes can't hurt."

As he begins collecting wood and breaking it into two and three-foot lengths, he gets an idea and asks only to the goblins,

"Which of you thinks they are best at collecting wood for a campfire?"

As one or more goblins take to the woods, Honus extracts just enough food to reward each. He builds himself a nest of blankets and furs, cleverly tucking the pack of food underneath to form a pillow while the goblins are distracted with their task. As they return, he commends and rewards Kella and the rest, then settles in with a smile on his face.

Stealth: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18

Knowledge local is used for humanoids.

The night passes uneventfully once the goblin's enthusiasm for taking watch quickly dissuades the group to let them continue. They bring enough wood to build a bonfire, and once they settle in to watch with Zaiharahel their cries and exclamations and sprints into the darkness to combat imaginary foes quickly convinces him to set them all to sleep.

The cold is blistering. Even within your winter tents it's terrible. Your breath soon cakes the inside of the tent fabric with a glassy rime, and the ground leaches the warmth from your bodies even through the tent floor fabric, your rolls, and sleeping bags.

Still, the night passes, and dawn is heralded by a faint, gray light that slips into your tents through the fabric walls. At dawn, you awaken and find the goblins are already up and foraging for... whatever they can find. Kella has found a pointed stick that looks like it would break if she hit anything with it, but she wields it as a sceptre and issues commands to the other goblins with it. Corpselicker is trying to lick every piece of available equipment, and howling each time his tongue freezes, and both Ankleknocker and Dunghurler have been digging in the snow for hibernating mice. They each have their pockets stuffed with bits of fur and bones, and are quite engrossed in comparing bits.

After striking camp, you begin the long trek southwards. You path leads through a relatively hilly area which winds its way around and between the various Irissani forces Ragna has marked on your map. There are a few milestones which aid in navigation, though. You will pass through several abandoned Ulfen villages or outposts, empty since the Winter War, and eventually to the town of Harvest's End.

Please give me a description of your travel routine and a rough idea of marching order - it will of course vary throughout the day and depending on the terrain, but now is the time to establish any patrol pattern, scouts, and how/where you want the goblins to be traveling.

Everyone can make a Survival roll (roll to aid unless you are good at it), a Perception roll, and a Diplomacy roll if you plan to interact with the goblins significantly while traveling.

Mexus does what he can to keep towards the middle of the group, and he tries to keep a wary eye out for danger. He seldom speaks to the goblins, except when absolutely necessary, and even then, he speaks only to Kella. When he does speak to her, he uses simple sentences, yet somehow always manages to offer her something if she behaves and gives her a thinly veiled threat if she betrays the party in any way. When Kella behaves well, Mexus makes a show of using Prestidigitation to spice her food to whatever inevitably god-awful flavors goblins prefer.

Survival to Aid Honus: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
No aid there ...

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Bluff to Keep the Goblins in Line: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

DM fiat suggests that Mexus should now fail a Diplomacy Roll.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Gasp! Failure!

We do have horses, right? I assume the goblins do not. If the goblins travel by foot, does Honus anticipate being able to arrive at the rendezvous by the predesignated time?

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1
Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Honus heads the column. Scouting ahead is up to Zaiharahel, though Honus would not be the one to suggest it. He has no preference regarding the matter, so long as their pace is not slowed. The goblins are kept separated for the most part. If the pace is not quick enough by foot, then each horse would have to bear the weight of one party member, plus one goblin. If there are abandoned structures along the way, then Zaiharahel will check for traps or signs of inhabitants. Assuming none, search for treasures!

Fahim travels at the back of the group, with his mutagen in hand unless there would be a reason not to do so. He generally would be the "caretaker" for the goblins, and volunteer to spend the most time with them. As such, they travel at the back of the group with him. He encourages them to teach him of their culture, language, and legends. In return, he will entertain them with stories of the fabled Abdula, the outlandish Saladin, and the innumerable wicked djinn.

Per request, here are the following rolls:

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10 to aid Honus.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

(Fahim has +5 for his prior success with the goblins)
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

Zaiharahel scouts ahead, keeping to hidden areas off the path.

Stealth: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
posting on my phone because Jeff is an addict. Don't have my sheet, numbers should be right, Phil please adjust if necessary.

Zaiharahel periodically drops back to the group to update them on anything that might be of import.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
straight up, f@+& this dice roller.

Post coming soon, but no, you don't have horses. Those were left before crossing into Irrisen.

You head out after packing up and feeding the goblins. The morning is chilly, but the sun is shining and there is no wind. You spend a few hours heading south before you come upon one of the ruined villages marked on your map. Zaiharahel scouts out the location and finds it is uninhabited, probably for years. It is a decent point to stop for the midday meal, although the goblins have been whining for food for an hour already.

After lunch, you head south again, passing two more shattered villages which are little more than piles of stones and broken timbers. Again, the scout examines the area carefully first before you approach, and as before find them uninhabited. You camp for the night in the last village, as the wind has picked up a bit and even a partial wall offers more shelter than the bare tundra.

The next morning, the goblins are grumpy and tired, but Fahim keeps them entertained and moving relatively efficiently. The wind is slightly stronger, but not much of a concern.

By midday, you are heading into rougher terrain, climbing hills of rocks with thicker snow than before. You are still able to move normally, however, and Fahim's entertainment of the goblins keeps them moving as well.

In mid-afternoon, you come to a large rocky outcropping which marks the foothills of a mountainous region. The map shows the location of a pass, which is guarded by two stone towers which have been abandoned since the Winter War. Nonetheless, Zaiharahel moves in first to check things out.

All is still and quiet, with the steep cliff walls on either side of the pass making the sky but a broad strip overhead. The walls of the pass are about 30 feet on either side of the path, mostly shear rock. Each tower stands 50' from the floor of the valley, and appears abandoned. After watching for a moment, the elf returns and gives the all clear.

Moving forward, however, Mexus and then Fahim see something strange when they are but 85 feet from the tower. Map.

I'll post the map in Roll20 soon.