The voice's singing drowns out the sound of the party's approach, allowing you to enter the old farmhouse without being noticed. The front door sits propped against the wall, having long since fallen from its hinges. The windows sit like open eye sockets in a skull, leaving the interior exposed to the elements - and untold months or years of neglect have taken their toll.
Almost none of the furnishings remain unbroken, but this seems to be the work of intentional vandalism rather than natural wear and tear. Whomever has been squatting in this farmhouse seems to entertain themselves by hastening its decay.
Thin wooden walls partition other rooms on the ground level of the house. A splintering ladder leads up to the loft above. The smell of smoke and cooking food, as well as the now louder sound of the shrill singing, wafts down from the open hatch.
Chao puts his finger to his mouth, signing the others to be silent. Then he moves to the ladder indicating that he will check who is upstairs.
Half-way up he halts and listens.
The slats of the ladder sigh softly as Chao makes his way up into the loft.
No commotion arises in response, so it seems that the quiet monk goes unnoticed.
The loft is decorated with heaps of rubbish, likely either broken furniture or the bric-a-brac that the goblin has collected. An uneven shortbow hangs from a hook on a rafter, and a jagged iron blade is propped against a beam - both weapons are out of the goblin's immediate reach.
Chao was not a man of violence, but he knew Goblins could be a menace. He'd try to subdue him quick and nonlethally.
Surprise round:
The monk is nearly upon the goblin, but as he makes his move, disaster strikes. Chao's foot crashes through a rotten floorboard, leaving his leg up to his shin briefly dangling above the party on the floor below.
The sudden crack elicits a shrill squeal of fear from the goblin. He drops his rat kabobs into the fire and, rather than reaching for his dogslicer, scampers up into the rafters like some kind of vermin.
He squawks down in his own language, a blend of anger and fear, before he croaks a few words in broken Common Taldane.
"What you to do in me house?" he demands
Embarassed by his mishap, Chao tries to get back up on his feet. Hoping the others are now following him, as they heard both him crashing through the floor and the gobling screaming, he stalled and didn't look at the frightened goblin.
"Ouch. What was that? Oh my. Chao are you alright? Do you guys see that? We need to get up there and check out, what's going on." Shontar head to the ladder.
Sasha... SEEK!
The eidolon moves quickly away from the group, following the Monk. Valeska stays with the group's charge.
Miss Kindler, shall we follow? Kain, please stay with us.
"Seems much preferable to staying out here in the dusk with a herd of angry swing," the elderly author says, following the rest of the party inside the mostly abandoned farmhouse. However, she stays downstairs while the rest of you investigate the commotion in the loft.
As more of you arrive, especially once Sasha climbs up the ladder, the goblin perched upon the rafters is visibly dissuaded from offering a fight. He finally calms his frightened babbling enough to offer something coherent.
"Like dwarf gold? You pay, you no kill, Igaz can show way to dwarf gold!" he offers.
Kain eyes the goblin carefully as he dismounted to enter. After ascertaining the situation, he breathes a small sigh. silver, go catch us dinner if you would like, giving the griffon the go ahead to hunt if it wished. but stay close, and keep an eye out for more goblins. he glanced towards the panther and Valeska, Sasha could accompany him as well if she wished. Fresh food is always welcome.
He then turns to the goblin.
tell me, why are you alone? And if you are not, where are the others. And what is this dwarf gold you speak of?
The language barrier complicates the conversation, and the goblin - named Igaz - struggles to share his story in Common. There are points where he grows frustrated, but you manage to calm him and keep him talking.
Igaz was traveling the Tusk Mountains a couple weeks ago when he fell down a stone shaft. While desperately trying to climb out, he heard two dwarves having a conversation somewhere far below. He logically concluded that he had discovered a dwarven hideout filled with wonderful treasures. He quickly told his kin among the Goatslayer tribe, but when they could not find any dwarf hideout, they beat up Igaz for being a liar.
In response, Igaz left his tribe to find someone who would not only believe him but pay for the information. Unfortunately, the orc tribes he approached received him just as poorly, causing him to flee eastward and taking up residence in this abandoned farmstead. He lives in the attic loft because the wild hogs keep trying to eat him.
"Well, I guess, he seems friendly. I guess, we can share this place with him tonight, right?" Shontar asks the group.
Chao nods, while still standing embarassed in th corner for making such a noise and mess.
Well, that seems like something to look into as well. Though, later. Perhaps on another outing all together. Though having a tribe of goblins about is rather bothersome... If they encounter the town it could mean all manner of trouble. Tell me, Igaz, how about we pay you with a meal? I'm sure Silverwing won't be long in bringing back a fresh kill or three. Kain gives a bit of a strained smile at the goblin.
Sasha tentatively sniffs the air about the goblin, as Valeska explains he remains near her at all times and does not hunt, nor have need to.
How far is this treasure and which way? How much we pay? Maybe we pay... AFTER we find treasure.
Maybe we pay more for finding Orc tribe and avoiding Goblins.
Valeska seems happy to have found a source of intelligence, inwardly she chuckled at the term. How stalwart the new scout was, she couldn't tell.
Reaching into her backpack, she offers some yummy local bread. Here, food, eat...
The prospect of a meal larger than a rat seizes the goblin's attention. His bulbous eyes widen, and he drools openly. Even long before Silverwing brings anything back, Igaz leaps down from the rafters and snatches the proffered bread from Valeska's hands, shoving the whole roll in his gaping maw.
After deciphering the goblin's oblique, rambling estimations, you judge that the purported "dwarf hole" is about 25-30 miles to the northwest, in the southernmost tip of the Tusk Mountains.
"Find orcs?" Igaz asks, nearly aghast by the prospect. Of course, Valeska's generosity quickly changes the goblin's mind. "If you pay, you feed, and you protect Igaz, then Igaz take you to orcs."
Chao silently conversed to Shontar.
Shontar answered with a nod.
"We should focus on the orcs first. That's what we've come for. If Igaz turns out to be useful and honest, we can make him an official citizen, can't we, Valeska?"
agreed, if they are nearby, they should be encouraged to move, or heed our authority. He glances towards Valeska. I do not think it is possible, but I would be willing to try to incorporate them into our barony if you so wished baroness.
As you discuss his fate and future, Igaz pays you little heed. Perhaps he simply cannot follow the more complex phrases and sentences in Common Taldane, or perhaps he is too focused on food - both his roasting rats and anything else offered by the party.
In exchange for more food - Igaz suggests catching one of the wild hogs outside, both out of hunger and a desire for revenge against the beasts that so vex him - the goblin guide welcomes you to spend the night in his "fort," as he calls the abandoned farmstead.
Hmm... Valeska nods in approval to both statements, Shontar's and Kain's.
Igaz... describe these orcs. Was there a river or tree on their armor, shields or helmets? Did they have a leader?
After leaving his tribe, Igaz encountered a few orc tribes as he took a meandering path around the Flood Road, Urgir, and the Blood Plains. In every instance, the goblin narrow escaped a nasty fate when the orcs proved uninterested in what he had to say.
Once Miss Kindler joins you in the farmstead, she is able to translate the finer details of Igaz's stories, as she is somewhat familiar with the crude Goblin language. What's more, she is able to provide some context based upon her research.
The first group Igaz encountered bore en emblem of a black sun; from Igaz's description, they sound more akin to an organized army than a tribe. Kindler easily identifies them as the Black Sun orcs, who keep no permanent territory in Belkzen and instead travel the land, offering their services as mercenaries to the other tribes.
Next, Igaz found orcs whose banners and shields were adorned with what he describes as a "river of blood." He offers a positive opinion of them, even though their leader - a mighty orc woman - picked him up and punted him by way of rejection. Kindler believes these were the Blood Trail orcs, who typically inhabit old Kellid burial mounds in the Whisperfall Pass in the Tusk Mountains.
After this, Igaz had to run away from a group of orcs who used crude paintings of dead bodies as their emblem. They camped around a massive black tower. Before Igaz could even talk to them, their shaman ordered the orcs to capture him as a sacrifice. Not only did the warriors pursue him, but the shaman also unleashed a tall, two-headed dead man. Kindler isn't sure what tribe this might be, but she has heard stories from merchants and Pathfinders about some "Carcass Man of Belkzen" that resembles the goblin's account of the two-headed dead man.
Lastly, shortly before he crossed over into Ustalav, Igaz met some orcs who painted their armor with images of split-open skulls. Igaz describes them as weedy, drunk, and "no-good" - and this is saying something, coming from a goblin! They kept their camp north of a pinkskin, longshanks town that somehow survived in Belkzen. Igaz almost liked these orcs, but when he wasn't paying attention, they stole all of the goodies that he had stolen from the other orcs.
"They sound like the Cleft Head tribe," Kindler explains. "There's actually a saying about them that's spread beyond the hold: 'They are the last ones into battle and the first ones out.' As for the 'longshanks town,' that's either Trunau or Freedom Town."
"Well, that's quite a trip you made. And what a story to tell, am I right?" Shontar tried to encourage the poor goblin, who was obviously anything but dangerous, but quite self-sufficient.
None are the ones we seek... pity.
We shall parley, negotiate and deal with each in turn... as needed. We shall use a language each understands.
Let's set up a watch and get some rest.
A loud night passes in the abandoned farmstead.
The wild hogs that infest the area serenade you with a chorus of squeals, stamping hooves, and scraping tusks. Meanwhile, nearer at hand, Igaz's snores echo off the rotting rafters of the farmhouse attic.
When finally the morning comes, an uncannily bright sun begins to stretch its fingers across the normally haunted lands. Could this be a fortunate omen?
"We eat? We go?" Igaz asks, pointing towards the western horizon, marked by the gray stones of the Bleakwall ruins.
Yes, Igaz...
Everyone, you have heard our fateful guide. Let us not tarry. There is work to be done.
Once you break camp at the farmstead - which proves to be a challenge in itself as the wild pigs continually try to root through your packs and saddlebags - you press onward for the border between Ustalav and Belkzen. Straight away, Igaz surprisingly proves his worth as a guide by warning you about the dangers lurking in the Bleakwall.
The smaller watchtowers and forts harbor an assortment of beasts and outlaws, with a few haunted by the restless bodies of orc and man alike. He points a long, knotty finger towards the most prominent stronghold along the Bleakwall: the still imposing battlements of Castle Andachi. Igaz babbles in goblin, which Miss Kindler is thankfully able to translate.
"He has no actual idea what's inside the old castle," she says with a wry grin, "But whatever it is, the orcs steer well clear of it. Sounds charming."
Your small caravan rumbles onward, eventually crossing a wide gap where even the tumbled down remains of the scarcely waist-high fieldstone walls do not reach. Grass and moss grows thickly here, reclaiming the fortifications that failed long ago.
From atop this landrise, the divide between the two lands is unmistakable. At your back, you can still see green moors and thick tangles of distant forest. Ahead, the soil becomes drier and looser, and the trees sparse and scraggly.
Off to your left, you can see a band of figures emerge from the lee of a ruined wall. Even from a hundred yards away, you confidently identify them as orcs. They are armed, but do not carry their weapons openly. They number six strong, and they march towards you purposefully, but maintain an unhurried pace.
Kain eyes the watchtowers carefully. Once the militia is properly equipped and trained clearing those bandits and like may be good experience for them... hm. Kain takes time as they pass to make sure to mark down on a map locations, and his thoughts on how to proceed in the future.
Kain eyes them cautiously as they approach, he rests his arm on his weapon, but does not draw it. Seems we have more company.
Kain rides out a little ways (no more than 60 ft) in front of the party, he raises one of his hands and shouts in orcish.
Halt! What is your purpose here?
"You're travelers, right? Well, we're the welcoming party!" the lead orc calls out in loud, boisterous Common.
"Our land can be very harsh and unforgiving, especially for travelers. Sad, but true. If you want to get anywhere, you'll need protection, right? Well, for the right price, we can protect you!"
"We should not show them any wealth. They might decide otherwise." Shontar says to the group hanging behind Kain. While slowly drawing his crossbow from his back.
"we do outnumber them, but I'm not sure how much help the goblin and Miss Kindler would be..." Shontar advises Valeska in a whispering voice while leaning over to her.
Kain gives a grin. We thank you for the offer, but as you can see, we are not without our own protection. Kain pats the side of silverwing as a point.
Aside from that, we have little coin to offer for your protection. So we will have to brave this land alone.
Kain easily recognizes that, despite their surprisingly gregarious leader, this band of orcs is basically attempting to extort money from the party. If you paid them, they might actually serve as guides, but primarily the unspoken offer is "pay us, and we let you pass."
Of course, now that they are up close, they are reconsidering their scheme. They see that your horses and Miss Kindler's cart do not carry merchant's goods, and they see how well armed the party is. When Kain introduces them to Silverwing, that only serves to cement their decision to back off.
"Ah, yes! I see you are no ordinary travelers!" the leader of the group agrees. "Of course, when you get further into our homeland, you will need to buy a token to ensure safe passage. The Flood Truce only applies to our kin. Travelers are still fair game."
Shontar who doesn't see his role in diplomacy continues to whisper into Valeska's ear. "What kind of token could that be?"
Let us not part ways so... hastily. We can still be useful to one another.
We are willing to pay for information and your services as guides. Guides that do not attack their patrons. We can pay some, but not enough to shed blood over.
She smiles.
If you agree and we are successful in our expedition, there could be more pay for you... but that pay is back in town.
Valeska's experience as a merchant shines, for the orcs are immediately swayed by her offer. They agree to serving as guides and even showing you where to get one of the tribal tokens that marks you as off limits to would-be orc attackers in Belkzen.
"What is your...expedition that you speak of?" asks their leader, who pauses to introduce himself as Gargan.
"Where are you going? What do you seek?"
Valeska considers how much to share. Igaz here, can tell you what we seek... there will be loot.
And... we also wish to talk with the Burning Sun orcs... do you know them? Led by a fiery-haired female.
She then tries to gauge their reactions.
"The Burning Suns?" Gargan laughs, incredulous. "What do you want with those thrice-cursed wretches? They follow a maddened cross-soul who gathers together the weak and the broken, like a goblin collects trash."
Igaz pays no heed to the insult, too busy digging around in his notched ear.
"They've been driven out of every hold and territory they've squatted upon. If there's any tribe left along the Flood Road who'd tolerate their presence for even a day, I'd eat a boot."
Gargan and his band do not hide their contempt for the Burning Suns. Hidden among his words, there is also a hint of superstitious fear, the kind usually reserved for religious kooks or zealots. Of course, you have no doubt that, as per your fledgling arrangement, they would have no qualms about leading you to them for a price.
Valeska seems more interested and slightly perplexed.
Cross-soul? What is that? I understood they simply had a fierce female leader.
And, why would they need to squat... or be turned away?
Are they that dangerous and feared?
"You answered your own question: a fierce, female leader," Gargan replies to Countess Valeska. "Cross-souls are great champions reborn into the bodies of women. Some might call it a punishment from the gods. Of course, others might see it as a test or challenge. After all, if we are to survive and flourish, we need children born of strong stock. Cross-souls can better overcome the natural weaknesses of their sex."
Gargan raises his palms suddenly, plaintively - clearly about to offer a half-hearted apology.
"Not that there's anything wrong with them," Gargan insists, backtracking upon his words. "I myself once challenged Kring the Beautiful to a duel to claim her as my bride, and I'm not ashamed to admit that she thrashed me good. She's definitely a credit to her kind."
"The Firehair who leads the Burning Suns, though, is only leading her people towards destruction. She gathers together the weak, injured, sick, and old, then spreads her actual warriors thin trying to protect them, despite their uselessness. They're just begging to be robbed, massacred, or enslaved. They don't even have the protection of the gods. The Firehair spurns even the Dark Mother, preferring to follow mad visions of some 'burning angel.' Offering them shelter or aid is taken as a sure sign of weakness."
I'm hardly offended. And the attitude is understandable if... antiquated.
Valeska thinks of a question to challenge the Orc.
Riddle me this Guide Gargan...
Why is her behavior seen as weakness and not courage or conviction?
Valeska remembers something... There is another tribe of interest. Open Barrow tribe. What have they been up to?
"I thought you were just looking for a guide, but it seems like you're looking for a...er...what's the softskin word for a really smart guy with a big head full of big, vague ideas?
"Anyhow, if the Firehair had courage, she'd be brave enough to leave those weaklings behind. This land can't just feed everyone. Letting them slog on just means there's less for the rest of us. You know, when the mighty beasts come down the Flood Road, why don't you ask them about courage or sparing the weak. They'll have a lot to say when they're not being hunted by fire drakes, wyverns, ankhegs, and our own warriors."
Gargan crosses his arms, proud of the point he believes he's made. However, that confidence wanes when Countess Valeska mentions the Open Barrow tribe.
"Now there's cursed tribe, to be sure. When they raid eastward," Gargan says, pointing back towards your new county on the horizon at your back, "They avoid softskin patrols by skirting the mountains to the south, and those haunted peaks have been corrupting them. When they go raiding, they take not just food and gold but bodies, too.
"Their chieftain, Mazoch Skullface, has encouraged his shamans and followers to practice dark magic, raising the dead to serve as slaves and battle fodder. His own mate is infamous for commanding the most walking corpses of anyone in their tribe. This time of year, though, they've probably run through their supply of bodies. As the tribes meet along the Flood Rood, they'll likely trade for more of the stones they need for their dark magic. Once the Flood Truce ends, their enemies will see their own dead marching against them in battle."
Shontar listens carefully to the very open orc. He stands in the second row but now steps forward.
"Hello, I am Shontar. And I just wanted to say that you're a very knowledgable man. We appreciate your openess about your kind. You may believe us that we have no ill intentions in your lands here. But we want to get know our neighbours, so to say."
"Why, thank you!" Gargan calls out, his arms raised in jubilation. "I always thought I had a talent for...I believe 'negotiation' is the right word? Of course, many of my kin don't respond well to my approach. I believe the axe has its place when handling business, but that place is not right up front. That is why I am here on the border, instead of down by the Flood Road. I knew I could trust that some humanfolk from the east would come traveling through soon, badly in need of protection and guidance, and well, here you are!"
Have you been to Canterwall.... the area you speak of to the East.
Or Ravengro, specifically... the first town one encounters there?
And, for the record... if the Open Barrow try to make off with your body, what are your wishes? Should we allow it or stop them?
Valeska makes conversation as they walk.
Kain listens quietly atop silverwing, these fellows seemed a decent lot, even if they were attempting to prey on travelers. At least they do so without killing it seems. He relaxes a bit, but keeps his hand rested on the pommel of is weapon. Even if these orcs were not a threat, something else is bound to be eventually.
I've heard of this Flood Truce, I'd like to hear more of it from you. Is it only the tribes who call a truce, or do they extend it to others? What happens if a tribe breaks this truce?
I don't doubt what I've heard already, but perhaps he knows a couple more intricacies to it.
"If I were a younger warrior, I might brag about having pillaged many villages across the border," Gargan says, despite perhaps younger than Kain. "Of course, I doubt yourselves would be very impressed, anyway. I've hunted game in your land, but I know enough to keep away from your villages."
When Countess Valeska asks about potential body snatching by the Open Barrows, a horrified look crosses the orc guide's face. However, this soon gives way to a look of thoughtful contemplation.
"If they manage to catch me, I say let them have my body. If they raise me from the dead, I may prove to be a stronger warrior than I was in life," he says with a shrug.
As the party, with its orc escorts, marches westward, Kain's question elicits a laugh from Gargan.
"Did you not hear me when I mentioned the tokens? The truce grants no protections to non-orcs. In fact, you might be in especial danger because - forbidden from fighting each other - the gathered warriors might look to make an example of you to prove their strength to their rivals. Of course, with our protection, you will not have to worry about such things."
I doubt that, a warrior is not purely their muscle. But the way they use it and use their strength against their opponents weakness. Of course, brute strength can win many a fight. But when you face stronger foes, ones matching or exceeding you in pure strength, you have to be smarter about how you fight. When one is raised in undeath, one tends to lose their mental prowess. Kain says in response to his suggestion at being stronger
Though, certainly being undead seems to increases ones physical limits at times... He adds, as he rubs his leg remembering the undead creature that nearly ripped it off.
Yes, but, please forgive me. I don't always trust everything I hear the first time. Call it a life of lessons learned. I'm more interested in what happens if a tribe should break the truce.
throughout the conversation, Kain tries to keep himself between the bulk of the orcs and Valeska out of habit.