A homebrewed campaign recruited off discord. Starting post to come.
Starting off slow and smooth.
It was a common, stress free day in Passbog village. Though even calling it a village these days might be charitable. It was mainly a three-way intersection. The dirt road that passed through being flanked by the smithy on one end, and the inn on the other. The dirt road that intersected to it carried on for a short distance before ending at the old windmill. Today though, things had been bustling with activity.
The small, brick walled smithy had been fired up for work. The dull copper-colored bricks of Forgril's tiny home extended out to a corner of the stable styled smithy he had built so many years ago. The wooden supports and siding long since worn and seeming a bit tattered. There wasn't really room for three people to work inside it at once, but it was easy enough for the two dwarves and human to swap out positions. One tending to the forge, or in Fogril's case the still. Siegfried had been asked to make a set of horseshoes for the Toom's bay mare, and Fogril himself seemed intent to start work on a proper warhammer. With Jaxom's help if he would oblige him.
Speaking of Fogril, the dwarf didn't look in much better condition than his smithy most days. While everything was in it's proper place, much like his smithy, he was a largely unkept and unfit individual. His black hair was always hanging back in a wild and shaggy mane, and his long beard was simply tied in a knot around his bulging belly. He wore no jewelry, bore no tattoos, and his dark eyes left his current emotion hard to judge. Thankfully, he at least bathed regularly and wore clean clothing. Though you would be forgiven for thinking he had nothing outside his working overalls, boots, and gloves.
Tel Beys had also been active at the windmill. The steady ring of hammer on stone had been wringing out regularly. She had borrowed the inn's wagon earlier in the week and went to dig rock further down the road. She had been thrilled to discover some marble, and quarried out some heavy stones she intended to turn into tile. In three years the mill had seen barely more than enough work to keep it working. Three of the four arms on the windmill had been repaired, the fourth remaining tattered and half burnt. The insides not much better off. The supports for the grainery attached to the windmill were all new. Even the good ones that remained had been properly replaced. The outside however, had many opening in the siding and scorched planks of wood that remained as they had ended up after the goblin attack.
This was mostly due to the woman's attitude toward the windmill. She had wanted to get it back running, and had also wanted to build a watchtower along the side of the structure. When it came to shoring it up however, she was forever finding other projects more worth her time. The marble, for example, would be for a bathhouse behind the inn. Whenever one would ask she would wave it off. Stating that if she ever finished it she would have nothing to do.
Tel Beys had been a hospitaler before the sharding. Riding between the small villages and shoring up the various windmills, small bridges, and road as needed. Keeping an eye out for bandits, goblins, and kobolds. She had a rather interesting conversation with Kras'tak the day the kobold had wandered in. One that brought a faint smile to her stern features if anyone asked her of it.
The half elf woman was tall, lithe, muscular, and seemed perpetually at half-attention. She was middle aged, and her stern features might be seen as pretty if not for half of her face being badly scarred from fire. She also had a slight limp in her left leg. Her head was shaved on the side of the burning, her scars reaching back across her scalp, and was pulled back into a side ponytail on the other side. Her platinum blonde hair doing a fair job of hiding some of the gray coming in. She wasn't very sociable, preferring her own company, but she did come in to share meals with others at Milana's request. On occasion she would check in on the Tooms as well. With the help of a borrowed horse.
Giving Alden a once over for good measure when she would. Though the paladin should have certainly been above reproach.
The inside of the inn had been quiet, but Milana's thrice expanded garden yard and animal pen was active. The chickens, rabbits, ducks, pigs, horses, and cows had all needed tending to. Milana had milked the cows and brushed the horses before moving into the garden. Leaving the smaller animals to Rabbit and Kras'tak as she picked some ripening tomatoes. The animals were rambunctious today, with one of the pigs trying to nip at the soft white tail of the kobold, and all of them being energetic and noisy.
The two story inn had been repaired completely, and decorated expertly in the last three years. The thatch on top of the ranch style structure brand new. The shutters, the paneling, and even the furniture were maple that had been stained dark and detailed by Kras'tak on request. Milana all too happy to keep the kobold busy. The woman seemed to delight in her two guests. Expanding her craft to making her own cheeses, curing meats to keep them fresh, and even experimenting with new baked desserts to try and curry favor with the shy halfling and exotic scaled visitor. While there weren't enough living resident to keep the inn filled, the center of the dining area was now dominated with a long table that could seat every remaining villager. A table that Milana would fill entirely with food once a week for a community dinner.
Honestly, no one would have blamed the woman if she had left her inn mostly destroyed. If she had grieved for her husband and let things sit. Milana however, had never stopped being an adventurous woman simply because she had settled down. Indeed, her favorite rapier was mounted above the hearth of the inn. Crossing her husbands longsword across a small banner of their old mercenary group. She had been a leader in the community before the attack, and after burying her husband and friends she had made up her mind that she was going to take on that role entirely now.
She was on the shorter side. Barely two feet taller than her helpers. She was also fairly slender with a wealth of curves despite. Just nearing middle age, it could be argued her best years were now. Still, she kept her husbands portrait near her. A slight smile on her fair features, and humming his favorite tune when she would brush her waist length wealth of wheat blond hair. She favored simple dresses, but she had a variety of them. Each a different color, but several a rich cardinal red.
Things were quieter at the Toom's farm. The animals already taken care of, and much of the field work done the day before. Martin Tooms was a dark haired, wirey man of middling years. Currently he was using a scythe to cut grass on the back end of his farm. Removing any cover near his fields.
His son was with his mother and adopted sister back at the homestead. Nearing adolescence and looking every bit his father's son Thomas would likely start working the farther stretches of land with his father soon. The boy had practiced regularly with a bow so he could look out for his mother and new sister. A sister that honestly had a bit of a crush on her older brother. The mousey haired Thompson girl was often seen at her brother's heel rather than her new mother. Despite how often he told her not to. Yana was also dark haired, and there had been a rumour in the past she was actually Chell. Having escaped some dark fate only to end up marrying a poor farmer. This had been nonsense of the highest order, and nonsense she had tolerated with a soft chuckle and a shake of her head. She was almost painfully thin looking at her, but with a quiet strength and a deceptive smile.
Martin had asked Alden to stop over the evening before, and now the paladin was nearing the field in question.
Jaxom was at the forge trying to figure out how to work his pet project, handwraps that would help his combat ability. As usual he packed the materials away when other work came available. Siegfried wouldn't need help with shoes for Toom's mare. But Fogril wanted to work on his warhammer again? Jaxom was happy with helping run the bellows to get the heat up proper.
Jaxom barely did more than grunt a "Ya" when asked and immediately set to help the smith. He hoped the work would help Fogril's demeanor. It wasn't like there was anybody to impress, but someday things should change. The world had to be fixed, eventually.
Jaxom had stopped wearing his armor or carrying weapons other than his dagger while things were quiet. However, with goblins being spotted snooping around again? He doesn't wear his armor in the smithy, but he does wear it when not working. If he happened to spot any of the Frogstump tribe, he might try to capture one instead of killing.... Nah. Probably not.
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The chickens were laying well, and Rabbit couldn't be happier about it. He's named them all-- private names, things he only calls the chickens when it's just him and them, in case Milana would take exception to his presuming to name them-- and he beams like a proud papa as he picks several eggs deftly from Rosebud's nest while the plump hen is distracted by the handful of food he's strewn about.
"This'll be a fine breakfast, Mr. Whisper," he murmurs to the white rabbit that is nosing around at his feet nipping at a few tender springs of grass that have somehow escaped the chickens' tread. "Mistress Milana will be pleased, don't you think?"
The rabbit favors him with a look up, a twitch of one ear that somehow appears sardonic. Rabbit frowns down. "Well, yes, she will. I mean... I think she will. You don't have to act like that, you know. It's not very nice... oooh, look how many Sunbeam laid! Golly! Omelettes for days! Or-- or maybe she'll bake a cake again! If we can get enough flour. Wouldn't that be something! Oh, hello Princess Featherbutt, my, aren't you looking fine today, yes, it's beautiful weather, and you are absolutely gleaming... you've healed up from those down mites just beautifully, yes, yes you have..."
It's rare that the non-animal inhabitants of the village get as many words in one go from Rabbit, at any rate. But who knows. Today seems like it's going to be such a good day, Rabbit thinks, humming snatches of a Chelish ditty beneath his breath.
As he moves among the fowl, Rabbit's newish dagger bumps annoyingly against his thigh where it dangles from his belt. He doesn't much like it, and to date has never used it for anything more than cutting up bread, twine, or barking some twigs. But the men here in the town who know about such things have told him that he has to get used to keeping it on his person. Even Mistress Milana, sweet as she is, has soberly reminded him about the ever-present threat of the goblins.
As if he could forget. Rabbit grimaced as his happy thoughts were momentarily interrupted by recollections of the chaotic fighting that had come a mere six months after his arrival in Passbog. Reflexively, he straightened up from dealing with the hens and scanned his surroundings, nervously.
No goblins. At least right now....
Alden finishes stacking the firewood he'd spent the last few hours splitting. He glances up at the sunset, and remembers that Farmer Tooms asked that he stop by this evening.
He returns to the empty house he now occupied (he could not bring himself to think of it as his, as he had no hand in either clearing the land or building it), and proceeded to remove his soiled work clothes and wash up. Once he was presentable (or at least less smelly), he put on the fresh clothes he intended to wear for tomorrow's work, and headed over to the Tooms' home.
He made his way to the front door and knocked. "Farmer Tooms, it's Alden. I've come as you requested," he calls loud enough to be heard inside. He waits patiently for one of the Tooms to open the door and invite him in.
Jaxom works the day on Fogril's hammer until both men are tired. "Come on Fogril. I think that's enough for today. Your focus on the quality of the weapon means it won't get done today even if we struggle past midnight. Let's pack things and go for dinner before everything is gone...."
Once the fire is contained safely Jaxom recovers his armor and glances out toward the inn. He notices Rabbit and grabs a strange looking leather strap he'd made along with the two small darts. He strolls out calling, "Rabbit? Hold up a moment. I've got something else for you. Two darts that I hope are sized right, and a shoulder harness to hold them in easy reach. I've got a straw target behind the smithy too. It looks a little bit like a goblin...."
The sound of his name causes the halfling to freeze halfway through the process of trying to remove some stubborn burrs from a goat's coat. He looks up with wide eyes for a moment-- then the voice properly penetrates. Oh, it's Jaxom. That's alright. Jaxom is nice.
Leaving the goat a bit eagerly (Rabbit loves all animals, but loves goats a little less, perhaps, than some others), he hurries over to intercept the tall human. "Yes! Yes, hello, I-- something? Something more? For-- me?"
Several blinks before Rabbit beams in surprise and delight. "Oh, Mister Jaxom! Those are-- those are-- er, what are those? --oh, darts you say?"
Rabbit takes them tentatively. Jaxom's craftsmanship is as good as usual and they fit well in the halfling's much smaller hands, though that's not the same thing as saying he holds them comfortably. He inspects the weapons, and the leather sleeve, with furrowed brows.
"So I-- I throw them? That's the notion? If there's goblins?" he asks carefully.
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Horseshoes. The Hammer and Tongs, ancient and revered text of the Father of Creation Torag, said that "There are no small crafts, only small forgers." And yet for Siegfried of Clan Molgrade, once a rising star in the Clan, known as much for the speed of his craftsmanship as the beauty imbued in the runes and filigree inlaid in each piece, horseshoes felt almost like an insult. It's not that there wasn't a challenge to be had there, especially if he liquored himself up enough to make the task inherently more difficult, but that the import of a set of horseshoes in the grand scheme of the world was small.
But Siegfried's world was now small. And this was the best use of his once-grand skills. This.
With a sigh and a swig of Fogril's latest swill, Siegfried draws a bar of iron near white-orange in his heat from the forge and sets it above his anvil. Each strike of his hammer to knead the bar into shape was supposedly a prayer. And so he clangs a paean through the practiced arc of muscles and joints, imposing his will on that which resisted change.
The hard part, of course, was correct shoeing. Siegfried was no farrier. But as he understood it, crafting a quartet of horseshoes was not terribly unlike crafting gauntlets or vambraces. One could size the product out to be approximately useful to a wide variety of people. Or one could understand the joints and contours of the intended wearer, working the plates so that they would fit and flex like well-tailored cloth. In his heyday, Siegfried's best customers spoke of his best pieces like second skins, easily disappearing in the wearer's perception until called on to protect them. And so Siegfried had taken careful measurements of the mare's hooves, as much as she'd let him.
Thank the gods, or whatever force still persisted in these dark times, for Rabbit. Siegfried wanted to be kind to the mare but had never had a great touch with animals. So the little halfling had suddenly appeared--the way he often did--and calmed the mare down so that the dwarf could finish taking his measurements.
These specifications are hammered into the curve and contour of the metal, held up to the dwarf's naked eye to gauge the closeness, before laying them to the side to cool properly. No quenching in cold water in this dwarf's forge. He'd not risk destroying his careful work by warping its structure in a rush to be done.
The day's work done, and with Jaxom and Fogril having already left, Siegfried closes up the smithy and begins walking to the Tooms farm. It looks like Jaxom, Rabbit, and Alden are also there. Siegfried waves to them as he approaches, looking around to see if Martin was around. Rabbit might be needed to calm the mare during the shoeing, so it was a good thing he was here.
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Jaxom smiles at Rabbit's response to the darts. "Yes. You seem to have really excellent eye-hand coordination, and.... Well. I know we all hope the goblins won't attack again. But a couple of darts will let you hurt them without getting so close to them. Keep your distance and hopefully you'll never have to use that dagger for anything but cutting food!"
"But, if you do stop by for target practice, let me know when and I'll stop work for a half hour or so to practice with the wooden blades. My Dad had me practice until I didn't even think to draw a blade and defend myself. If you practice that much maybe you won't feel so uncomfortable with the blade bouncing against your side." He takes a minute to help Rabbit with the shoulder harness. Once it is snug he tugs at it a couple of times, then helps Rabbit slide the darts in place. "Just like that. It'll take a bit to feel natural, but then if, no, more likely when we see goblins again you can grab and throw in a single movement. With your agility you'll probably send it right into the eye of your target!"
It was no issue to get Fogril to take a break. The sun was now rising into the sky, and the men had worked up a fair sheen of sweat hammering away in the heat of the forge. Rabbit was pulled over for some training, while Kras'tak returned to the kitchen of the inn with Milana.
Behind the smithy was the stump of a once grand tree. Coated with resin long ago and serving as a bit of a picnic table. A few short stools were set for smaller folk, but the grass around it also made for a soft seat for the humans as well. Fogril went into his home as they broke from work, gathering a jug of moonshine and a handful of cups. Popping the broad cork and having himself a glass first while he watched.
Sometime later Milana and Kras'tak came over from the inn. Both carrying trays of food. There were sharp cheeses, slightly stale bread, cut vegetables, and a bowl of a tart creamy dip to eat them with. Milana sat down next to Fogril, and the dwarf shifted belligerently into a proper sitting position before pouring her a small cup. She gave him a delightful smile and began to prepare plates for the group on request. "If there is one nice thing about the sharding..." she began, "It's that we can have these quant meals together."
At the Toom's farm...
As Alden approached the farmhouse he saw Yana seated on the porch doing needlework. Little Alberta was sat on the step drawing in the dirt with a stick. Thomas was not in sight at first, but he saw the lad swing down the rope from the hayloft a moment later. Sporting bow and quiver. "Morning ser Alden." Yana greeted him, "Martin's out in the field, but if you'd prefer to wait he should be done around noon. I made some lemonade earlier. You're welcome to a glass."
Alden gives Yana a respectful bow. "My thanks for the offer, Mistress Tooms. I will go see if your husband can use a hand. Maybe I can help him get his work done sooner, and he can have more time to spend with you and the children."
Alden glances at the a moment at Alma and Thomas, gives each of them a nod, then turns and heads towards the Tooms' field.
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Kras’tak was more than happy to finish her duties with the pigs and help in the kitchens, the mud on her scales gone with a snap of her fingers and a swirl of snow around her. The little kobold moved quickly and confidently around the kitchen, having learned Milana’s habits rather quickly and more than halpy to work around her. Possibly sneaking an egg or two, and maybe a bite of meat if she was quick enough.
As they left the Inn with the arms laden with food, Kras’tak had wrapped a simple scarf around her head, shielding her eyes from the sharp sunlight as she plodded proudly behind the inn keeper. ”Oh and very good meals at that! Yes, yes, please eat up,” she hummed as the food was set out, her bubbly voice contrasting with the strange draconic accent, ”The forge is much work, rest and eat, rest and eat. Though, Kras’tak is curious on what was made today, please share?” As she finished speaking her pearly claws found a plate and topped it with food, her own appetite almost matching that of the dwarves’.
Yana nods to Alden, a soft smile crossing her features before she goes back to her needlework. Thomas and Alberta walked with him across the yard, Alberta reaching quietly out for his hand as they went. "Father saw something the other night." Thomas explained, "He wouldn't tell me what, but he's been checking I keep my bow on me. Do you think it's goblins ser Alden?" His sister gets a worried look on her face as he asks this. Regardless of his answer, the children leave him as the paladin heads out across the field. Returning to their mother.
Alden find farmer Tooms without incident though he is a decent hike away. The field beyond his farmland has been reaped well, and he was starting to bundle the cut grass so it could serve as hay through the winter. He would notice that laying against some of the gathered bundles of hay the farmer had a heavy crossbow resting. Spotting the paladin he turns fully and waves.
"Glad you came out here Alden." he calls out, "Wouldn't want to spook the missus with what I have to tell you. I've been seeing pairs of goblins lingering around the farm. They've been keeping their distance, but it's been a different pair every day."
The dark haired man gives a look to the horizon, and after a moment he points. "Right there. That's the latest duo." he noted. Alden would not two figures standing upright on the distant road. Small and squat, but making no attempt to hide. They bore had some kind of weapon in hand, likely clubs. But at such an extreme range it was hard to tell, and they had the sun at their backs.
"I'm not sure what they're up to, but anytime I move toward them they keep their distance." he continued, "We'd need more hands if we wanted to catch em before they get up to any wickedness."
Back in the village proper.
When Milana noticed Kras'tak sneaking an egg and looking for meat she handed the kobold a piece of jerky with a smile. Before shoving a hard boiled egg into the kobold's mouth. "Don't feel you have to sneak food little one." she scolded, "If you're hungry just let me know."
"Seems unusual for goblins to just simply walk by anywhere," Alden remarks. "It's usually in their nature to steal, smash, or burn anything that draws their attention. I think you're right, though. If we can catch one alive, maybe we can figure out what they're up to. Should I head into town and call a muster of the militia?"
Siegfried drinks the moonshine quietly, his callused hands balancing a chunk of bread with cheese. At the young kobold's question he breathes in the tang of multiple yeasts in his hands and exhales a labored sigh. "Shoes for Farmer Tooms' bay mare," he reports. "Ready for delivery. Would you like to see, young miss?"
The dwarf reaches into his bag to pull out the now-cooled, curved plates of iron. They were designed to be easy for Martin to put on and remove so that the mare could be trained with them but still have sufficient bare-hooved time. Kras'tak would likely note several uneven divots. The shoes were not identical, but custom made for each hoof.
"What of the day's labor for the rest of you?"
He didn't particularly care for the small talk, but there was no reason to be rude, especially when the others had gathered such a lovely spread.
Rabbit twitches a little like his namesake creature as the warrior shows him how the harness goes on. It does feel uncomfortable, but he wouldn't dream of complaining-- besides, Mister Jaxom is right, he's sure, he'll get used to it. Something one of the Bellflower Tillers had told him sticks in his head: The cost of being free is learning to protect yourself.
If that means knives that bang into his knee and wearing a leather holder for darts, he supposes there's worse things.
He offers a tentative but genuine smile up at Jaxom. "Thank you! Thank you. You're, it's very, it's very kind! Um-- do I owe you anything for the, the materials, if nothing else, Mister Jaxom?"
Lunchtime follows soon after and the halfling settles in to put it away with an appetite better suited to one of the people who is twice his size. It wasn't that he'd been starved in his previous life, or anything-- and in some ways, the food had been fancier, as Tower Morus's kitchens had been geared above all for Thracia's tastes-- humbler fare for the servants, naturally, but Rabbit had eaten a surprising number of expensive delicacies during his time as Thracia's 'favored' slip-- poached peacock eggs, goose pâté, exotic fish from far away served raw but chilled, in artistic arrangements-- but he likes the food in Passbog much, much better.
He can eat his share of as much as he wants-- as long as there's enough for everybody. There's no knowing that he's feasting at the mistress's sidetable while downstairs the other slips make do with the previous days' leavings. There's also no chance that he'll say or do the wrong thing and have a sweet roll or goblet of wine hurled at his head. It's so... so... relaxing.
He eats with an appetite, and between bites he eagerly shows off his new darts to Kras'tak, offering them over to be handled by the kobold and then in a low murmur updating her as to the status of the goats' burrs, the chicken's prodigious laying, and that stye around Petunia the Pig's eye...
Siegfried's question makes him bob his head towards the dwarf. "Finishing up with the animals, Mister Molgrade, sir. Then, um, practicing? With my, my new darts."
"Whoever is willing." Martin agrees, "But I don't think you'll have trouble finding anyone willing to help deal with the blighters. I just hope you can catch them..." Farmer Tooms gave another look to the distance, shielding his eyes from the sun so as to better scope the distant goblins. Seeming to notice the attention, the goblins moved off the road. Circling away from the farm proper, but keeping the same distance to the paladin and farmer. Outside the normal range of even a longbow, but not leaving.
Jaxom smiles and shakes his head to Rabbit. "There's too few of us to not have everyone ready to fight the goblins if they come back. You having the weapons might save any one of us. Besides, it helped me to understand crafting smaller weapons. I may have a family, and children some day. And I'll be sure to tell them about the first smaller sized weapons that I made, and the hero that used them!"
Once the meal is set Jaxom turns to it and enjoys the food. "Delicious as always Miss Milana. Do you need any tools made for the inn?"
A cheeky grin lit up the kobold’s face as she swallowed the egg, tongue flicking out to lick her lips. ”Kras’tak always hungry, just snacking while working, plus the crunch of the shells are the best part,” she said, attention then grabbed by the shiny shoes. A soft whistle and small flurry around her hands cleared them of any crumbs as she reached for the metal, gently picking it up to examine it.
”Mm, is well made, yes, very good! Mare will be pleased with the fittings, perhaps Kras’tak should get some for Don. Though he does not travel as much anymore,” she mused with a chuckle, setting the shoes back in place and returning to her meal, ”He is a fat, happy donkey now, yes yes. Though once winter passes he may need to help with fencing repairs. Mm, yes yes this one can make the posts but lugging them around is not Kras’tak’s strength.”
Her rambling came to an end as her maw filled with food, leaning back happily in the grass as she ate and listened to the others for a bit, letting Rabbit fill her in on the animals' well-being. Her icy eyes flickered over the darts before taking one in her clawed fingers, looking it over curiously. "Mm, very good, yes yes. Important for all to be able to defend selves, just incase, but if Rabbit needs he can stay near Kras'tak, she has fought many things and goblins are ribbons in her claws," she hummed proudly before handing back the dart, "Plus, cool magic on warm days is always nice!"
"I'll be back as quickly as I can," Alden replies, then turns and runs as fast as he can maintain without exhausting himself towards to the inn.
When he arrives, he looks around for some of the militia regulars. Spotting Jaxom and Siefried sitting with the halfling called Rabbit, and the kobold Kras'tak, he moves quickly towards their table.
"We need...militia..." he says, trying to catch his breath. "Goblins near the outskirts..of...Toom's...field...grab what weapons...you have...ready...and meet...there..."
He gives a nod, then turns and moves around the room, alerting any others who might be able to fight. He then leaves the inn, runs back to his house, grabs his sword, bow, breastplate and buckler, and heads back to the field. As he moves at a quick walk, he throws the breastplate on over his head, but doesn't bother with the straps. He slings his bow and quiver over his shoulder, across this back. He then secures his sheathed longsword on his left hip. Finally, the straps his buckler to his left forearm.
His paced is a bit slowed and clanking, but he keeps moving purposefully back towards the field, hopeful that those at the inn her warned are close behind him.
Jaxom hears Alden's words but pauses to think. "Alden wait. How many? If we take all of the fighters away from town, what if it's a diversion? Goblins are nasty but they aren't totally stupid. They can have a couple scouting but running away while a large force attacks the town again. How many are at the farm, and are they attacking?"
"Tooms saw two. Looked like scouts. He sent me to bring help."
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Rabbit smiles crookedly at Kras'tak's confident statement of shredding goblins. He wishes he had her assuredness. "Yes, I'll just follow you if it all goes bad again," he agrees.
He knows, intellectually, that many here in the little village chafe at the loss of the rest of the world. For Rabbit, this tiny pocket of village is the happiest he's ever been. The only threat to speak of is the goblins-- and while it's certainly a threat, and a real one, he'll take goblins over Thracia any day. The thought of his old mistress causes him to scoop Mr. Whisper up into his arms (to Mr. Whisper's annoyance) and stroke the rabbit's silky ears.
There's no need to think about THAT, not on such a nice day as this...
...and then, of course, the nice day gets interrupted.
Rabbit's eyes go wide as he looks towards Alden Cooperson and his quick, panted message. "...today? Here? More goblins? Oh no..."
Rabbit is still and pale for a moment, then gets to his feet, the un-capitalized rabbit still in his arms. For a moment, it looks as if he'd like nothing more than to flee. But he finally just nods, swallows once, and then turns quickly to the inn.
It takes him almost no time at all to grab his crossbow and bolts. Unlike Alden, there's no armor to encumber him. Just a satchel that goes across his shoulder, and into which he stuffs a madly-kicking Mr. Whisper.
"No, don't argue with me, it'll be safer for you in there, please..."
Crossbow. His new darts. The dagger. His... oh yes, the little bag of herbs.... and then he's back rejoining the others, nervous energy clearly permeating his small frame, one hand resting on his animal satchel for reassurance.
"We should go as a-- a group?"
Jaxom looks at the group. He knows he isn't a leader but somebody probably should make a decision. "OK. Two scouts could be luring a response group into a trap, or trying to draw the fighters away from the village so a bigger force can attack there. I think four in response should be enough. Alden, Siegfried, Rabbit and Kras'tak can handle them. Alden and Siegfried rush them while Rabbit and Kras'tak move in from whichever side the goblins move to. If they lead you into an ambush, break and run."
"I'll get the rest of my weapons and Tel Beys. We'll hold the defenses at the inn with Fogril, Tel and Milana. If they attack here we'll pound on the big kettle like an alarm bell. Don't know if the sound will carry that far.... But if the attack is back here I think you'll have already figured it out and be headed back this way. We'll hold until either we've beaten them or you've returned. Either way, it looks like we need to finish the job with the goblins this time!"
Out to the farmstead.
Hurrying back out to the farmsteads the colorful group of man, dwarf, halfling, and kobold return to find Martin Tooms and his son Thomas holding position near their barn. Yana and Alberta likely inside the farm house.
"They've kept circling around while you were gone." Martin informs Alden, "But they ended holing up at the farthest break." He points out to a tree dapple area in the distant field with bushes and tall grass. "I didn't head out there after them for obvious reasons." he adds.
He takes a closer look at those assembled. A confident nod at the sight of Siegfried, but his gaze lingers on the smaller members of the group. Certainly neither looked especially fierce, but he wasn't saying what he clearly thought.
Thomas was staring at Kras'tak intently until his father noticed and gave him a kick in the heel. "S-sorry." the boy offered as he bowed his head and apologized, "Still not used to seeing a kobold." His father made an inarticulate sound in his throat.
To the windmill.
As Jaxom stalked out to get Tel Beys he noticed her coming over on her own. Limping as she walked in a hurry to meet him. The woman wore a breastplate, and in either hand she had a long hafted spear and a composite bow. "Goblins?" she asked him bluntly without breaking stride.
Alden takes a few minutes to fasten the straps on his armor, and make sure his weapons are also resting in their accustomed position on his body.
"Jaxom went to the windmill to get more help. He is going to make sure this isn't some sort of ruse to draw the militia away from town, so that they can raid it while it is vulnerable. So, it will be up to us to deal with these goblins. Jaxom suggested that Siegfried and I will approach their location, and see how they react. If they retreat, or wish to talk, fine. If they attack in numbers, we are to withdraw and allow for our archers and spell-casters to engage them at range."
He looks to Siegfried and nods. "Ready?"
Jaxom nods to Tel. "A couple scouting out at the Tooms farm. Keeping distance but not running off. I'm worried that they're trying to draw fighters away from town. Alden took Siegfried, Rabbit, and Kras'tak to run them off, or bury them, and come back. I figured we should stand by to defend the inn. Could be a hard fight if they send a serious group. But if they do I'll plant as many of them as I can! Tired of this nonsense!"
He matches her stride back to the inn.
Kras’tak would’ve finished eating as the others scrambled to get ready, cleaning her plate as quickly as she could before getting to her feet. She stretched her arms out over her head with a strained chirp, waiting for Rabbit’s return before trotting along with him. Despite her leisurely demeanor her sharp eyes were darting around from under the scarf shielding her eyes from the sunlight, twitching at every shadow and leaf that moved.
Once they reached the farm she followed behind Alden, looking around curiously as they came to a stop. Her bright eyes fell on the child staring at her and she gave him a wide grin, putting her sharp teeth on display. ”No worries, kobold is not used to seeing tiny humans. They are so soft, even softer than big humans!” she trilled, trying to put the child at easy as she placed her hands on her hips, ”Is no wonder why they need Kras’tak to help protect! Scales a lot stronger than skin, yes yes! She will take care of goblins before little ones even see them!”
A clawed hand found Rabbit’s shoulder as the gleaming grin turned on him as well, giving the timid halfling a nod. ”Not even others need worry, Kras’tak could take all goblins, no problems!” Despite her words her hand would be rather chilly even through the halfling’s shirt and small crackles of frost would melt almost as quickly as they appeared in the dirt at her feet.
Siegfried is about to ask to see the darts that Jaxom had made for Rabbit (since they were passing about both the physical and immaterial spoils of a day's labor) when their calm quietude is interrupted. He takes the horseshoes back from Kras'tak's appraisal and secures them back in his satchel.
"Goblins?" the old dwarf asks, his brow not even rising in surprise. He had bloodied enough hammers over the years with his implements, and his latent faith in Torag could lend a destructive potency to even a ball-peen hammer. Of course, he had a better tool these days. "Doubtful we'll finish the job as it were, but we'll do what we can to protect the town."
Unlike Alden rushing, Siegfried is patient. He returns to the smithy, asking Fogril for help getting into his splint mail. There hadn't been enough metal available to justify a full suit of plate mail as Siegfried would have preferred, so he had made this suit to protect himself from the occasional goblin incursions. It takes only about 2 minutes to get into the armor with his friend's help, and he grabs the largest hammer he has available--the one he usually uses to break stone--and begins hustling to the Tooms farm to meet up with Alden, Rabbit, and Kras'tak.
---
At the farm, Siegfried nods at the Erastilian paladin. "I'm always ready," he responds, casting his glance out. "If they intend violence, we'll deal with them."
The dwarf holds a hammer almost twice as tall as him, slung over his shoulder and balanced against well-honed shoulders. About two years ago he had swung the hammer at an attacking goblin and rendered the offending invader into an unrecognizable tangle of bone, dirt, and tissue. The goblins would hopefully remember the possibility and fear being similarly rendered inside out.
Alden nods and begins walking at a deliberate, steady pace towards the goblins. He draws his longsword and holds it before him in a low guard.
Rabbit says not a word throughout Kras'tak's cheerful boasting or Alden's professional-sounding instructions. He offers a nervous smile to Kras'tak that probably looks more like a grimace, involuntarily twitching away from her cool claws, and definitely doesn't look at the skeptical look the farmer is favoring him with.
Archers and spellcasters... That is technically him. Wonderful. Great. That probably means he should load his crossbow.
It takes him a bit of fumbling to slot in the bolt-- it would take much more if not for the lessons from the town's more experienced fighters-- but so far he's never hit much more than straw targets with it. Even in the town's last fight, he only remembers missing goblins with it-- scaring them, maybe, if one was inclined to be generous...
Well. Nothing for it.
Crossbow gripped tightly in both hands, darts ready as backup, and Mr. Whisper still squirming like he's ready to go leap on a goblin himself, Rabbit nervously follows Alden, a good twenty feet behind him.
"Kras," he whispers to the kobold, "um, what's the meanest thing you've ever killed?"
The grasses of the field tickle his knees as he walks.
”Hmmm, meanest? Unsure on that, but biggest was mammoths. Well, whole tribe took them down together,” she hummed back softly, absentmindedly running her claws through the grass, attention being grabbed by anything that moved. ”By herself though Kras’tak did have to kill a boar. It was giant, yes yes. Not mammoth big but maybe Alden big, and was breaking Kras’tak camp! Very rude.”
Siegfried keeps pace with Alden, cutting a threatening appearance between the two of them. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but conversation is still possible."
"I won't start the violence, but I intend to end it, if it comes to that," Alden replies. "They should be made aware that we are not easy pickings."
At Kras'tak's boasting Thomas couldn't help but chuckle and smile wide for her. Martin just shook his head. As the four moved toward the stand of trees and tall growth there was no immediate sign of the goblins. As they reach the edge of the grass they are in position to look across the entire stand. It was only about a hundred feet across, and a few hundred feet in length. A pair of pine trees with thick underbrush sat in the middle, with a handful of beech and crabapple dotted about.
As the group reaches the edge of the tall grass they can see two forms ducked low in the bushes near the pine trees. They are stock still, but their horn capped helmets and size mark them as goblins and not game.
Keen eyes would note that the backs of the goblins look mishapen, and the jaw of one appears to be missing and stuffed with hay.
While there are no other threats visible, some shifting grass can be briefly heard on the wind to the parties right and left. As if something was crouched out of sight.
After helping Siegfried into his armor Fogril helped Milana bring the remaining food back into the inn before taking up his warhammer on the porch and sitting down with his jug. The former bard went inside to clean up, but she cast a longing look to her rapier over the hearth.
Walking back with Tel Bays, the older woman made a gruff sound in her throat at Jaxom's explanation. "Goblins." she repeated in annoyance, "I really wish we could have snuffed them out earlier. She limps with purpose toward the inn, and when she notices Fogril drinking she scowls. Noticing her the dwarf threw his hands out, one with hammer and the other his unstopped jug as if to say he was ready.
Alden pauses, looks at Siegfried, and then nods his head in the direction of the two crouched goblin-sized figures in the tall grass.
With Tel Beys and Fogril watching on one side of the inn, Jaxom moves to the other side looking for high ground. "Anybody spots anything yell out a warning. They'll probably charge in to reduce effectiveness of our missile weapons. Hopefully once we kill a few the rest will be scared and run."
Siegfried peers out to the tree line and doesn't see anything. Droskar below, if he needed glasses to fix his vision after all these years...
The old dwarf sighs and looks again hard at where Alden's gaze is going. He rubs at his eyes and narrows his gaze again. "All right. So we've got eyes on 'em."
"Um... I see them too," Rabbit whispers hoarsely. He flicks a glance up to the bigfolk. "Sh-should I-- try and uh- shoot them?"
Kras’tak tilts her head in confusion, looking around the field, but seeing nothing. Shrugging, she just dropped lower into the grass, keeping her ears open for anything coming near Rabbit.
I'll get our next post up in the morning, so short window.
Rabbit crouches low into the tall grass, thankful for his small size when avoiding enemy eyes. He nudges Kras'tak and points surreptitiously to where the goblins are, hoping that will be of assistance, but prioritizing laying low himself.
Even Mr. Whisper ceases his restless squirming as Rabbit goes very very very still.
The pale lizard ducked down in the grass beside the halfling and follow his gesture.
She still didn’t see anything as she squinted in the bright light, eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Still, she remained in the grass, belly pressed against the dirt as she laid low.
The two smaller members of the group get low in the grass, with the rest losing sight of Rabbit if they take their eyes off him for but a moment. The group's immediate surroundings dead quiet in the small stand. The two figures ahead of them in the grass are unmoving and silent as well. Three of the four can see them, with Siegfried needing only a moments help to spot their forms.
"They must know that we can see them," Alden whispers to Siegfried, and the others able to hear his lowered voice. "Should we call them out, or approach them, and try to provoke a reaction?"
Siegfried sighs. He had had little patience for subtlety as a young dwarf and had even less now. He takes a deep breath and slams his hammer into the ground. His voice booms as he laces his speech with goblin vulgarities: the sort common in their tittering tongue and which could as easily be used in a greeting of friendship as in a vicious insult contest.
As Siegfried rises and shouts in goblin the two crouched forms do not react. They remain perfectly still.
...
Hiding behind the chicken coop, Jaxom notices several figures crouched low and carrying something between them. As they draw closer it becomes obvious he was seeing three goblins sneaking in toward the back of the inn with a ladder. At their hips were small, crudely made vials of some concoction. They gave no sigh of noticing him, their heads swiveling around in different directions without fixing on his position.
"You were right lad!" came Fogril's bellow from the front of the inn, "They're not as crafty as they THINK!" There was the distant sound of something breaking from that direction, and then something exploded.
The goblins approaching broke into a run at that. Forgetting all pretense of stealth once the other team had apparently been spotted.
It's a long shot, but Jaxom figures the distance gives him a little time to even the odds before he has to engage in melee....
His shot is way off, possibly due to his anticipation (hope) of a quick kill. He stands to yell as he reloads.