Please stand by...
The Elsir Vale rests in the cradle of the Giantshield Mountains within the northern frontier of Taldor. The Elsir River runs from West to East through the Vale, around ancient Dwarven and Human ruins alike. In roughly the center is the largest city in the Vale, a confluence of merchant routes known as Brindol. To the east of Brindol lies Drellin's Ferry, which is not further much further ahead, if the roadsigns are to be believed. Numerous other small settlements dot the landscape between these two human populations.
Your group is currently traveling to investigate possible employment through the Lord of Brindol. Messengers have posted bills in nearby cities looking for adventurers to investigate the possibility of a goblinoid surge in the Western Vale. Your destination is Drellin's Ferry, where you will receive initial payment and a description of your duties.
Traveling east along the Dawn Way, you are now on the outskirts of the Elsir Vale, at the very southwest end of the valley. The afternoon sun beats down on you; the air is hot and still. The sparsely settled lands of the Vale are starting to grow monotonous, with a seemingly endless line of dusty flyspecks of towns. Ahead a stone on the side of the road reads "DF 5 mi".
A gray horse silently approaches the milestone. Its rider equally silent with a deep purple cloak and hood pulled up over his head, despite the heat. When he reaches the stone he stops the horse without a word and guides it around with his knees so he can look back down the road he had just come down.
For a brief moment, a hideous scar is visible along the left side of his face, but he smoothly pulls a scarf over his face and flips his head a little so that a lock of silver white hair covers his yellow crusted eye.
He remains silent and just watches the road behind him, certain that his familiar companions would be just behind. The sword resting against his hip hums with interest, and he puts a gentle hand on the pommel, comforting.
The large figure of the 1/2 orc put quite a strain on the unlucky horse that was carrying his mass down the path. At least the imposing figure did not have any armor adding even more weight to the task.
What a glorious day...blessings to the Dawnflower," the yellowish green figure proclaims loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. This message would not have caught any of them by surprise as on warm days, Dragox would normally thank Saranrae several times.
A wiery figure, wearing nothing but trousers and a breastplate, holding the straps of his backpack comes into view trudging along besides his riding companions.
Wiping sweat of his brow with the back of his hand he glares at the sun for a moment before turning his gaze away.
"Hurmph!" is his replie to the clerics praise.
Spitting through his teeth at the side of the road he calls out. "How long then! We must be gett'n near the blasted place!"
Maysalkirii Weyog, the goblin otherwise known as Feek, jogged just beside Dragox keeping pace with the burdened horse easily. Savouring the wind in his hair as he ran at a pace that would put even a barbarian to shame, the goblin laughed with joy at the simple pleasures of life. For too long, he had cowered under his blanket in the evenings, uneasy with the concept that there was a 'Sky' above. When he had first set foot outside the cave, he had simply assumed the ceiling of the huge cave was too far away to see past the moving white objects hanging from the ceiling.
When he had been told that there was no ceiling, Feek had been horrified.
A year or so had passed since then, and although many things were still new to him, he learnt more and more each day alongside his wise and worldly companions. Sometimes he felt like they didn't truly trust him, but with them he had a place, a niche. He was the scout, the backup warrior, the trap-spotter and the student to many fine teachers. Some of these folk may not trust him entirely, but they had risked their lives for each other countless times, and Maysalkirii was sure that counted for something.
Narses was the hardest to win over, and Maysalkirii had not yet found a true alliance with the Ranger. By human years the man was approaching his middle age, Findor had told him. The wise Elf called Findor had described Maysalkirii as a blank canvas, while Narses was already painted and difficult to change.
That said, Maysalkirii and Narses were truly comfortable with one another when fighting hobgoblins and Maysalkirii's evil kindred, the Ranger's prejudices forgotten between parry, thrust and cut. These moments gave the goblin hope that one day Narses would fully trust him someday.
Bringing his mind back to the present, the Goblin looked up at Dragox and smiled warmly. Although Dragox's deity was a far stricter god than Feek's own Cayden, the goblin would always be grateful to Dragox for his role in helping him understand faith and teaching him about the Gods of Golarion.
Something suddenly occurs to Maysalkirii, a question he had never asked Dragox before.
Dragox... What deity do the... Maysalkirii struggles for the right word for a moment, and then continues other Goblins worship?
Findor nudges his horse with his knees and the horse takes a step to the side, revealing the milemarker to those behind him. "Five miles, if this stone is to believed." His voice is cracked, near-hoarse, his tongue forms the syllables with difficulty.
Overhearing the goblin's question, Findor bolts into action, the stoic horse beneath him suddenly galloping the short distance between them. Findor draws his sword as they approach the goblin, but he shifts the weight of the blade as the horse stops beside the little green creature. Runes glow along the side of the blade he holds up for the goblin to see.
"Death to Lamashtu. Death to her minions and servants. Death to her will. May her children die, clutching to her breast."
Surprisingly, his voice is clearer. The sword hums with anticipation, but after a second goes silent.
"Friend Feek, the other goblins worship such evil dieties, I hesitate to even mention them by their foul names. But you should know, so...most of your kind I have encountered have asked for the fetid blessings of Lamashtu. She is of such black heart that most of her cult exist hoping to birth new and powerful monstrosities to kill, maim, and destroy. There are others worshipped of course, but the three eyed jackal has by far been the most popular. Hopefully the fire of Saranrae will soon burn the foul Lamashtu, so the question is irrelevant, but until then..."
Dragox moves his horse into the gap between Findor, the now drawn sword, and the goblin. "Findor, he was simply asking a question. Please sheath your blade. Even if I have some...issues with Feek's beliefs myself, he has shown himself to be nothing but good and true."
Findor fixes his violet eye on Dragox.
"This is the problem with you younger races. You forget that things can have more than one purpose. In this case, Calanharel is not a tool of violence, but a tool of instruction..."
Findor allows his voice to fade away but grudgingly sheathes the sword. "You would be surprised what Calanharel can do, all things considered. So I would advise you not to get on her bad side. You may need her help in the future."
I... Asked a bad question friends? Findor, what is the lesson here? Lamashtu sounds like a wicked deity. We should kill the disciples of this deity wherever we find them then?
Feek remains completely unintimidated by the Elf's sword, having seen him draw the weapon to make a point many times over the last couple of years.
Findor turns his horse back towards the head of the line, his eyes peeled as he watches for movement from the horizon.
"No question is a bad question. But my knowledge of Lamashtu is limited only to know that her will corrupts nature and she always grasps for the stars beyond her reach. Goblins are considered among her children. And in the very beginning when Desna first pronounced the heavens, Lamashtu slew her beloved. At least, so it is said in Kyonin."
He gestures towards Dragox with a nod of his head.
"The half orc may know more about this faith. I know all I need to know about her. My thoughts are inscribed upon this blade."
Blinking dust from his eyes and frowning Narses waves his hand to clear the dry dust kicked up by the horse.
"Bah!" he spits. "Hold your bleed'n temper! The question was inocent enough. Save you swinging for the servants of tha' three-eye b$*+#! We all kno' ya both are capable."
Dragox simply rolled his eyes at the elf's response. He had long since learned to ignore his typical elven diatribes about the "younger" races.
"Feek, if the followers of Lamashtu do not repent when given the opportunity, that is exactly what we must do. Not just for goblins, but all of her evil followers."
But we must remember that once they are slain, her minions may never escape her service. It is always a better way if they can be persuaded to turn from her wickedness and perversion in this life. Then they may serve a better god now as well as deny Lamashtu slaves in her corrupt realm. The soft-hearted paladin smiles kindly at the goblin from her perch atop a chubby pony.
But we must remember that once they are slain, her minions may never escape her service. It is always a better way if they can be persuaded to turn from her wickedness and perversion in this life. Then they may serve a better god now as well as deny Lamashtu slaves in her corrupt realm. The soft-hearted paladin smiles kindly at the goblin from her perch atop a chubby pony.
"Now that is a postion I can agree with whole heartedly, Adele. If only more of them would actually listen to reason and leave her cult, Golarion would be a better place."
Findor turns in the saddle, looking back at his two companions.
"Her followers, perhaps. But this world is filled with creatures and spawn created by her. For these, I say death and incineration if possible. Or do you think that even these can be converted?"
Findor turns in the saddle, looking back at his two companions.
"Her followers, perhaps. But this world is filled with creatures and spawn created by her. For these, I say death and incineration if possible. Or do you think that even these can be converted?"
Those who serve Lamashtu out of fear or ignorance are to be pitied and aided to escape their bondage. Those who serve her because their own evil nature beats in twisted time with hers must be ended before they lead more innocents into torment. Adele sets her tiny jaw resolutely.
"In a perfect world, all creatures can be shown the burning light of redemption. However, we all know this is not possible. Those who will not listen, or those macabre creations that are unable to process anything except the evil that led to their creation must be dealt with."
Dragox was in his element conversing about his feelings on the various religions. It seemed like the miles were just melting quickly away while the group was having their animated discussion.
Findor opens his mouth to say something else, but the sword at his side hums in frustration. He closes his mouth and is silent for a few seconds.
"I am well rebuked. And in agreement with you, Adele and Dragox. Those that can be turned away from evil should be saved. For those who will not or cannot; we must end their power on this plane and send their souls or what constitutes as their souls to the afterlife."
Sighing and shaking his head at the passionate argument of his companions he bends a bit and looks the goblin in the eye.
"Thats religion for ya Feek. Bunch o' well-enough meaning folk clearing their lungs for hwo can cough the loudest."
Shaking his head as he trudges along he shouts. "Oi! who's on the lookout? Ya aint leading me into an ambush pointy-ears! Let the scouts scout will ya!"
Sighing and shaking his head at the passionate argument of his companions he bends a bit and looks the goblin in the eye.
"Thats religion for ya Feek. Bunch o' well-enough meaning folk clearing their lungs for hwo can cough the loudest."
Shaking his head as he trudges along he shouts. "Oi! who's on the lookout? Ya aint leading me into an ambush pointy-ears! Let the scouts scout will ya!"
Sighing and shaking his head at the passionate argument of his companions he bends a bit and looks the goblin in the eye.
"Thats religion for ya Feek. Bunch o' well-enough meaning folk clearing their lungs for hwo can cough the loudest."
Shaking his head as he trudges along he shouts. "Oi! who's on the lookout? Ya aint leading me into an ambush pointy-ears! Let the scouts scout will ya!"
Effortlessly, Findor slows his horse to allow Narses ahead of him. His left eye was beginning to irritate him anyway.
"There is nothing to ambush us, as far as I can tell. But if you really want me to scout ahead, I can. I thought I would wait until we stopped for a rest though."
"Hrumph!" rumbles Narses as he trudges ahead, kicking up dust as he passes and pointedly not looking at Findor.
Adele lowers her voice with a significant glance at the goblin of the party. I know our little friend has enjoyed his freedom on this journey, but ought we not to keep a tighter rein on him as we enter populated areas? If these good people live in fear of imminent goblinoid invasion, the sight of Feek could well spark panic and endanger both himself and others.
Barely moving his gaze from the road before them to the goblin, Findor shakes his head. "He has an uncanny knack for disguising himself as a halfling when he needs to. I'm sure he'll be fine." After a brief pause, Findor continues. "We can make up something if we have to, I suppose."
Barely moving his gaze from the road before them to the goblin, Findor shakes his head. "He has an uncanny knack for staying out of sight when he needs to. I'm sure he'll be fine." After a brief pause, Findor continues. "We can make up something if we have to, I suppose."
Adele clucks disapprovingly. Oh, fie, sir elf: the last thing we want to do as strangers in a new place is to begin by spreading lies. What a bad first impression to make. The truth in its simplicity is the most elegant story. She smiles wryly. I only hope I get a chance to explain it before the pitchforks and torches take over.
Barely moving his gaze from the road before them to the goblin, Findor shakes his head. "He has an uncanny knack for disguising himself as a halfling when he needs to. I'm sure he'll be fine." After a brief pause, Findor continues. "We can make up something if we have to, I suppose."
"The Dawnflower teaches that the truth will be the only thing remain when the fires burn everything else away. If there is a problem, Feek and I can wait at a point on the outskirts of town. I haven't always been readily accepted in the "civilized" world, either, as you all well know," Dragox adds this last part with an orc-y snort, recalling the porblems his mixed heritage have created over the years.
The half orc's snort reminds Findor of his own facial scars, the discoloration of his eye. He selfconsciously adjusts the scarf around the lower part of his face.
"Well, that is all well and good for you two, I suppose. But I find there are times when its important to not disclose everything. Hiding the truth can sometimes be advantageous to revealing it."
The half orc's snort reminds Findor of his own facial scars, the discoloration of his eye. He selfconsciously adjusts the scarf around the lower part of his face.
"Well, that is all well and good for you two, I suppose. But I find there are times when its important to not disclose everything. Hiding the truth can sometimes be advantageous to revealing it."
The goblin sighs heavily as the topic comes up.
We've been over this a dozen times since I have joined you my fellows; just relax and trust me to handle it... the Goblin says with a frown.
Narses chuckles under his breath and mutters. "Trust a goblin!? Who'd 'ave thought?"
Shakes his head and gives Maysalkirii a smile.
The road crests a small rise and descends into a dusty grove in a large, shallow dell. An abandoned farmhouse, partially visible through the trees, stands on one side of the road. You've passed a dozen spots much like this one already today, but this one feels wrong.
SURPRISE ROUND MAP
Initiative;
Knowledge for identifying hobgoblins(nature +4)
"Ambush!" Narses shouts. Seeing the enemy for what it is he tells his companions where to hit them so it will hurt and draws his two trusted axes.
Of all the goblinoid races, the hobgoblin is by far the most civilized. They see the larger and more solitary bugbears as tools to be hired and used where appropriate, usually for specific missions involving assassination and stealth, and look upon their smaller goblin kin with a mix of shame and frustration. Hobgoblins admire goblin tenacity, yet their miniscule kindred's unpredictable nature and fondness for fire make them unwelcome additions to hobgoblin tribes or settlements. Nonetheless, most hobgoblin tribes include a small group of goblins, typically squatting in the most undesirable corners of the settlement.
Many hobgoblin tribes combine their love of warfare with keen intellects. The science of siege engines, alchemy, and complex feats of engineering fascinate most hobgoblins, and those who are particularly skilled are treated as heroes and invariably secure high-ranking positions in the tribe. Slaves with analytical minds are quite valued, and as such raids on dwarven cities are commonplace.
It is well known that hobgoblins mistrust and even despise magic, particularly arcane magic. Their shamans are treated with a mix of fear and respect, and are usually forced to live alone on the fringes of the tribe's lair. It is all but unheard of to find a hobgoblin practicing arcane magic, or as hobgoblins call it, “elf magic.” This is the root of their hatred of magic—the hobgoblins' hatred of elves.
Findor leaps off his horse and quickly takes up his bow and an armor-piercing arrow, but while he acted quick enough, the situation is still a cloudy mess to him.
The horse fades into a gray mist and evaporates.
Placing a hand on the hilt of her rapier, Adele leaps down lightly from her saddle, calling out warningly, There need be no bloodshed here.
Initiative
Perception
The 1/2 orc dismounts from his horse and takes a defensive stance, preparing for possible battle.
Perception-
Initiative-
Maysalkirii draws his two weapons (can draw two weapons in the same time as it takes to draw one with TWF) upon seeing his favourite foe to disembowel- Hobgoblins.