The half-orc leads the horse back to the group accompanying the chest. "This gal needs healing... and her saddlebags haven't been opened yet." If the horse doesn't shy away from them, he leaves her and heads down the road at a jog trying to see any signs of where the rider was attacked.
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Rannock approaches the injured mare, his voice calm and reassuring as he addresses both Hûnidark and the others gathered.
"Hûnidark, you've done well to calm her. Let me see to her wound now. Grunnundergön's blessings will aid in her recovery"
With a practiced hand, Rannock gently examines the arrow wound, then raises his holy symbol, muttering a prayer to Grunnundergön. A soft, golden light emanates from his hands as he channels a restorative spell.
As the mare's wound is magically bandaged and dressed, Rannock turns his attention to the rest of the group.
"Now, let us not forget the danger that may still be lurking. Spiro, be careful in those trees. If goblins are nearby, they will be cunning and may set traps"
"Hûnidark, take no unnecessary risks" - he warns his companion.
Mos moves over to make sure he can cover his companion as he looks into the trees to discover who, or what is making the sounds.
"Gotcha!"
The mare for her part responds to the Rannock's meliorations calmly - her trust in the group growing.
Jenneleth gently strokes the horse as she nods at Zeebos words;
"I've heard the same said by Old Grizzler about goblins..." She pauses leaning in to the halfling wizard, to whisper the rest of her thoughts with a mischievous smile: "... Especially when he is deep in his cups... which is mostly all of the time!"
Spiro moves into the copse, flanked by Mos and the arriving Hûnidark...
As you enter the shaded area, the source of the wheezing becomes clear; no human rider but a forlorn goblin. Clothed in rags and clutching a rusty knife, the creature winces a snarl and weakly points the blade toward you all.
The source of its pain is clear, its chest bears a horseshoe shaped impact from which oily black blood has soaked the ragged tunic it wears. There is no other belongings apparently on its personage, nor discarded nearby.
Through jagged teeth the creature hisses pained words;
"Bir insan, elma ve ork kanı... Lütfen acıyın kudretli kahraman. Kötü dırdır beni öldürdü!"
Hûnidark crouches down to speak with the goblin. ”Merhamet olsun, dırdırın binicisine ne olduğunu söyle bize?”
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Zeebo gives an impish grin to match the young lady's smile.
"Quite the conundrum, is it not? That our cups should both grant us and rob us of wisdom, reason, and good sense," he whispers conspiratorially.
Though Spiro understands what is being said... he pretends that he dosen't.
"What are you talking with him about"?
Spiro begins to walk about the area looking for any signs of where the Goblin entered the area from.
Jenneleth giggles at Zeebo's words, then frowns as further down the road Hûnidark, Mios and Spiro converge on a distant copse.
"I do hope they are okay... Goblins are such cruel little creatures..."
At Hûnidark's words the goblin summons the energy to grin wickedly and emits a gurgling cackle;
"Heh heh. Tuzağa düştü ve Boontah'ı doğrayıp öldürdü... Grazzle'ın görevi dırdırı bıçaklamak ama dırdırcı Grazzle'ı tekmelemek..."
"Heh-heh. He ride into trap and Boontah, he chop him dead. Grazzle's job to stab nag, but nag kick Grazzle..."
The creature grimaces and waves its blade weakly as its voice wavers, tone more feeble;
"Artık ben öldüm... Boontah'ın çetesinde ölmeye vakti yok."
"Now me deaded... Boontah no time for deaded in his gang."
As the big monk questions the gravely wounded goblin, Spiro casts his canny gaze o'er the numbers footprints around the area;
You note there was a number of smaller goblin boots here; at least 4 or 5 and one larger, something perhaps same stature as Hûnidark. You track that they came from further up the road and returned to there...
Your sharp hearing notes nothing untoward from that direction.
"Let us put this creature out of it's misery and move on to its living companions further up the road!"
If no one disagrees, Mos will kill the wounded goblin.
Spiro simply shrugs and gets ready to lead the group forward. "Should we gather the others before we proceed"?
Kind of heartless... but that one was never going to pay taxes anyway.
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"I do hope they are okay... Goblins are such cruel little creatures..."
"True, but they are also cowards. I do not expect them to have the courage to do anything untoward to our doughty companions," Zeebo says, trying to reassure the young lady.
Father always did say that a cool head was the best thing to have when you were facing trouble. Still, I hope they get back here soon. I don't like this, not a bit!
The half-orc makes a ‘slow down’ motion to Mos. ”Let’s hear a bit more, first.”
”Boontah'ın çetesinde kaç kişi var? Saklandığın yer neresi?”
The little wretch recognises the cold look in Mos' eye and sneers defiantly;
"Kötü elmadan korkmayın... Boontah çetesi serttir ve birçoğu ayak parmaklarına benzer. Tepelerde güzel bir yer... Boontah akıllı ve güçlü, her şey kırılmadan önce bir zamanlar kabile şampiyonuydu..."
"Grazzle no scared of evil apple... Boontah gang is tough and many like toes. Nice place in hills... Boontah smart and strong, he once tribe champion before all go break."
The creature coughs, black oily blood staining its teeth as it hisses in broken Common tongue;
"Boontah and Stab-Apples they bad-bad... They chop you all like chop rider! ...You deaded like poor Grazzle!"
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Mos stands back as the other question the goblin. Once they are finished, he leans into the creature and whispers in its ear.
"Her ne kadar çok daha azını hak etsen de sonunu hızlı ve acısız hale getireceğim."
Spiro walks back out to the road just shrugging at the coup-de-grace, and motions the others to join them.
When Spiro gestures for those with the donkey and the horse to come up, Zeebo gives Rannock and Lady Jenneleth a broad grin.
"See," he asks with a chuckle. "There's nothing to worry about." He whistles cheerfully as he leads the way.
"What ho, my fine fellows? Shall we be on our way once more," he asks as he approaches Spiro, Mos, and Hunidark.
As Mos slides his dagger into the goblin's black heart, the Grazzle grimaces and wheezes a final insult;
"Rottin appl.."
As the rest of the group approach, Jenneleth takes the reins of the wounded horse, while Rannock leads the mule. Old Zeebo shuffles along in their wake, fast as his halfing legs will take him...
Beyond the copse the road continues on, however the footprints converge on an area where two stout trees bookend the trail.
Even those without keener eyes see the bloodstains, which pool before becoming a trail leading upwards towards the rolling hillside and deeper forest...
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Rannock frowns deeply, clearly displeased with how the goblin was dispatched. He shakes his head and addresses the group with a firm but measured tone.
"We've a duty to see Jenneleth and the chest to their destination, and I agree that's our priority. However, executing a captured foe, even a goblin, is not something I can condone. We could have used him as a porter or handed him over to the authorities at the next settlement"
He gestures towards the blood trail leading into the forest.
"We need to follow this trail. There’s a chance the messenger is still alive and could need our help. His or her life might depend on it"
"And what would the authorities have done with it," Zeebo asks, not understanding why the death of a goblin was bothering a dwarf of all people. "A quick death was likely a mercy compared to what it would have received at the hands of the local sheriff. As for the rider," Zeebo's voice trails off as he looks at the large amount of blood. "What makes you so sure they had a chance of surviving that," he asks, his tone far more tart, and oddly younger and more feminine, than the others have heard from him.
"He was a goner anyway. Probably did him mercy from suffering".
"I agree the escorting the girl is priority one... but if perhaps a quick look-see wouldn't take much time"?
For her part Jenneleth frets a little at the dilemma, then nods;
"We are perhaps a day from Haranshire... maybe a little more if this wounded mare takes her time... and with the shorter strides amongst us."
She claps the horse gently;
"While delivering the box to my Master is indeed your contracted task, I do not plan to put myself in harms way. Besides our mare here cannot traverse up the hill, not with her wound and such heavy looking saddle-bags. If the messenger bore a missive to the Count, if they cannot be saved perhaps at least the message could be recovered?"
Back from whence you came a familiar figure approaches along the road. With a wave and booming laugh he lopes towards your collective group;
"Ho! My good friends and muses! I thought I had lost you all on the road..."
The tall skald bows toward your assembly;
"Alas the night before our departure I was deep in my cups when struck by a bolt of inspiration: Of a song of iron suits, cheese and gold! Of halflings young and halflings old! Of ballads unsung and tales yet told!"
He chuckles;
"Then of course I fell asleep... missed our departure and had to make haste to catch-up... once I had serenaded a fair maid in the Shady Dragon whence I was staying!"
He eyes the new equine members of the group with interest;
"Interesting. A mule and a horse... Foundlings? Or once creatures transformed by magicks!? Regardless I, Eireachdail ap Leòmhann, am here now... and our company is complete!"
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Rannock regards Zeebo and Spiro with a stony expression.
"Aye, Zeebo, perhaps the authorities would have dealt harshly with the goblin, but it is not our place to play judge and executioner. Mercy is not ours to decide on a whim"
He turns to Spiro, his tone softening just a bit - "Mercy or not, the way we treat our enemies speaks volumes about us. We should strive to be better"
Addressing the group as a whole, he nods in agreement with Jenneleth's assessment - "Miss Jenneleth is right. The messenger's life may hang in the balance, and if not, their message might be of importance. I feel we can spare the time for a quick search. Our duty to protect Miss Jenneleth and the chest remains of course, but we should not abandon our principles in doing so"
He looks to Hûnidark with a measure of respect - "Hûnidark, your opinion on this?"
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Mos simply listens to the others argue over the death of the goblin. Whatever he feels about the outcome, he keeps to himself, however, he does speak on the question of looking for the messenger.
"Our orders were clear. Deliver the girl and the chest. If we deviate and something happens, then we are breaching that agreement. Unless everyone agrees to go after the messenger, I suggest we follow our orders and complete the delivery as requested."
The guild was very clear in his orders...and no one goes against the orders of the guild lightly.
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Rannock listens to Mos with a calm but firm expression - "Mos, we’re not soldiers blindly following orders. We’ve made a deal, and part of that deal involves making decisions in the best interest of those we’ve agreed to protect"
With a glance around at the group, a hint of disapproval in his eyes, he adds - "It would also be nice to remember to address Miss Jenneleth properly. She is not 'the girl'; she’s right here with us"
Then he turns his gaze towards Jenneleth - "Miss, your safety and the chest’s delivery are our priorities. However, I believe we should also consider the potential importance of the messenger and their message. Do you feel it’s worth investigating?"
He then looks back at the group- "If Miss Jenneleth agrees, I see no harm in a brief search. It aligns with our principles and could be beneficial. We should not be so rigid as to ignore what’s right in front of us"
"Whatever Miss decides, I will support and accept her decision"
The half-orc watches impassively as the group bats ideas around like balls, offering no opinion or even a facial expression.
He looks to Hûnidark with a measure of respect – "Hûnidark, your opinion on this?"
Hûnidark quirks a bushy eyebrow at that. He wasn’t used to being deferred to, by anyone, for any reason. He rubs his full (but short) beard, gathering its plentiful wisdom. After a moment, he offers, ”This road is not safe – for anyone – with brigands on it. And the courier may be alive. If we can keep Miss safe while we do it… I think we should go after the goblins. Maybe we rescue the rider, hopefully we end their threat.”
Ping takes in a deep breath as the others talk. Losing her temper here was likely to result in a lot worse than just some mean words. Her best option for safety is to be around as many people who liked her, well liked Zeebo anyway, as she could manage. She won't morn the loss of a goblin's life, the wretched things breed like vermin and she'd never heard of one being anything but cruel and crude. Killing them would certainly make the world a better place, but she's no warrior. Illusions and guile were her preferred weapons, but the best way to to deal with goblins, her father had told her, was to kill them quickly and violently. All of that meant that the smartest thing for her to do is stay well away from any of the small, green-skinned blighters.
She looks from Mos to Rannock, Hunidark, and Spiro. Erie-something-or-other hardly matters in this case. The bard is far to flighty to depend on. That meant that Mos would be the only one that might stay with her if this little band broke up over this. Even if he hadn't been giving her suspicious glances, he would hardly be the deterrent that a grizzled dwarf and a tall, heavily muscled monk would be, and with Spiro agreeing with them about going after the goblins...
She sighs quietly as she realizes that she really doesn't have much of a choice at all.
Zeebo watches as the debate over what to do next gets going. Try as he might, he can't hide his apparent dismay at the direction things seem to be going, nor can he hide his bristling at Rannock's stern look and tone when the dwarf address him. Still, as he watches, his expression turns more resigned before he sighs and speaks up after Hunidark states his opinion.
"As much as this old halfling does not relish the thought of going after goblins," he says, his tone closer to normal than moments ago, "I can't fault your reasoning. Very well, if the good Lady Jenneleth agrees, I say we go after the goblins and do what we can for our erstwhile rider and the missive he carried."
Turning to Mos, he shrugs.
"As much as I would rather see Lady Jenneleth safely home before we contemplated going after goblin bandits, Hunidark and Rannock are right." He stress their charge's name and title, a not so subtle rebuke of his own towards Mos. "And if we survive, we should have a tale or three for any taverns we happen to pass."
I just hope we do survive it, Ping thinks. I'm not sure death at the hands of goblins would be any better than falling into Gulver's hands.
Eireachdail listens intently then nods with a wide grin;
"Indeed Hûnidark the road is not safe... but with my sword-arm protecting the fair Lady Jenneleth while you hunt for goblins and save the messenger, she and the road, will be safe enough!"
He pats the pommel of his broadsword to emphasise the point.
For her part Jenneleth smiles weakly at the tall skald and nods in agreement;
"Make haste. Find the wretched goblins, find the courier and return yourselves to me hale and in one piece. Tausthäuser taught me well enough - so betwixt my spells and Eireachdail's blade we will be safe enough for a time I am sure."
The bloody trail of the goblin gang leads up the slope into the deeper wooded hills beyond...
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Not wishing to further delay their travel with more talk, Mos simply turns and begins to follow the blood trail. He looks over at the "Halfling" Zeebo and speaks in 'their' native tongue.
"ikh bin sapreyzd az ir gegangen mit dem."
Hûnidark follows the trail, nose constantly sniffing to prevent an ambush if the goblins proved more clever than they appeared.
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Zeebo stumbles as Mos turns to him and starts speaking in the halfling tongue. For a moment, Ping's mind blanks in sheer terror as she realizes that her plan has one, glaring flaw. She doesn't actually know the Halfling tongue. Try as she might, she can't help but look at Mos for one, painfully slow beat of her heart, maybe two, certainly no more than three as it begins to beat very quickly. She'd been preparing herself to face goblins, not having to bluff an already suspicious Mos, and that hesitation gives the actually halfling all the opportunity he needs to see through any deceptions she tries to spin.
Papa always told me it was the simplest things that does one in, she thinks in an almost detached corner of her mind.
But Zeebo can't be shown to be a lie, not yet anyway. She'll have to pull it off, no matter how impossible it seems at the moment.
"P-pard--" Zeebo begins to say in a clearly young and feminine sounding voice before falling into a fit of throat clearing. After an overly loud cough or three, Zeeno tries again.
"P-Pardon, Mos. I fear I didn't understand you. These old halfling ears don't hear as well as they used to," he says in his usual creaky, elderly-sounding tones, but there's a strain to it that shouldn't have been there, a tightening of the voice that raises the pitch and gives it hints of the different voice he's used twice now. Even if he had sounded completely normal and the fear Ping feels wasn't bleeding into Zeebo's expression, the not-so-subtle shifting of his feet are more than enough to show that he's desperate to keep out of Mos' reach.
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The halfling rogue smiles at the response to his question from Zeebo.
"That is fine my friend. I must have been speaking out of turn. My apologies. I should have known* to speak louder"
Rannock nods appreciatively towards Zeebo - "Thank you, Zeebo. Your agreement and understanding mean a lot"
Turning to Jenneleth, he continues - "Miss Jenneleth, your decision to stay with Eireachdail is wise. His sword and your spells will ensure your safety. We will make haste and find the messenger or at least retrieve the missive. It is important"
He looks over at the caravan, patting the mule - "Peebles will stay behind with you as well"
Then he follows after the others.
Mos will take the second space in the lineup
Spiro will be happy to lead the mission.
Zeebo acknowledges Rannock's thanks with a respectful nod of his head and a a muttered word of thanks for being an exemplar of moral courage at the dwarf, but the halfling's attention is on Mos.
An icy lump of lead congeals around Ping's belly as the bottom of it falls away into the yawning abyss of fear and uncertainty that now looms before her. Most might have missed the wordplay, but she heard it as clearly as the bells tolling for the condemned before the gallows. It's fortunate that the hat she wears keeps the taller folk from seeing the paling of her face as questions buzz through her mind.
How much does he know?
Did he know all along?
Does he work for Gulver Malidont?
Is this all just a coincidence, or is he after a bounty?
Should I try keeping him quiet?
What would he demand?
Should I kill him?
Can I kill him?
Should I run?
Could I convince the others he's a threat?
What do I do if they take his side?
Has he told them anything?
Can I trust them?
A cold wind blows through her, the outriders of a winter storm bringing with it frigid death. She resists the urge to rub her arms to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the weather. Everywhere she looked, she only saw her doom coming to crush her.
"Say, Mos," Zeebo says, watching the halfling carefully for his reaction as they head deeper into the woods. "I'm curious. Have you ever heard of one Gulver Malidont? He's a nasty fellow by all accounts, but I've heard he employs a halfling that you remind me of." The elderly halfling strokes his beard as he speaks, his tone cordial. Only Mos can see the glitter of madness and desperation gleaming in Zeebo's eyes in the shade of his pointed hat.
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The halfling rogue looks the "older halfling" up and down then shakes his head.
"Can't say that I do and I usually do not work for 'nasty guys'. I am a guild employee and as such I only worry about what the guild tells me to worry about. If you have no beef with the guild, then you have nothing to fear from me...sir!"
He gives Zeebo a knowing look and a slow wink before he turns his attention back to the bloody trail they are following.
"Also, I protect my companions...and I hope they have my back too!"