Unable to get a clean shot, Rokan holds his position and bides his time until he can make a difference.
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Suddenly feeling the tightness of these brambly tunnels, Rokan backs off to clear room for Sonya to get into the mix. He plants his feet and draws his arrow string back, an arrow of pure storm energy manifests, and he sights down the crackling shaft. Then he looses, trying to take a goblin of Seraka's back.
"Then let us convince them to tell us of this Gogmurt," Rokan says, beginning his search for the aforementioned pit trap.
As the group struggles through the tight, brambley corridor, details emerge to Rokan’s sharp eyes. He points out a booted footprint bigger than the goblin prints surrounding it, ”The half-elf? Or the bugbear?” Moments later, he points out a series of drag marks and recent blood drips in the passage. And finally, a few quite large feline footprints.
As the group pauses at the intersection, Rokan’s eyes snap forward at the strange ululation. He nods towards the central path, whispering. ”That sound came from there. Ahead. And there were goblin whisperings, though I do not understand their goblin tongue.” He pauses, momentarily considering the heavily-trafficked right path, then points towards teh central path. ”I would like to see what is that way.”
Rokan nods, "Good call. This entrance, it is, then."
He nods to the door, "You want to check for traps, E? Then one of you two ... 'metal cans' can take point. Not knowing what is within, we should stay together."
”No,” Rokan finally whispers after over an hour of tracking, ”we are not lost.” He stalks forward, scanning the thistle-wall as he approaches the strange little ‘door’. He kneels down, studying it. ”I wonder,” he whispers, ”if this is natural growth simply cultivated in this shape? Or something made from supernatural power?”
He steps back, considering their situation. ”Do you think this is their front entrance? Would it be worth scouting for another way in? Though if we have the element of surprise now, we may lose it as we seek other options.” He looks at the group, ”Thoughts?”
Rokan gives a second concerned look at his own arm, then shrugs. "I will ... uh ... watch for trouble until you're ready." The hunter then stalks the perimeter of their area, watching the wilds around them as well as the ground for tracks.
Rokan frowns when E drops his pants, then looks incredulously over at Seraka in your classic 'what the hell?!' look. "Um. What's wrong?"
Hey, Dien. Do you want me to be tracking mundane ammo?
Rokan takes a slow spin, arrow nocked as he searches for further threats. When none jump out of the surrounding brush, he eases his bowstring. He casts a measuring eye towards the unhurt Sonya and Seraka, which becomes a frustrated scowl at his own savaged arm. ”You alright, E?” he quietly grunts. ”I can probably survive for now without healing.” Then he nudges the nearest of the disgusting dog-things with his soft-toed boot, then looks around the now-quiet area, ”I am hoping these things weren’t being watched by their masters. I hope we can still surprise Thistletop.”
SHE SO MAD, BRA!
Rokan grimaces at his own stupidity, but the damage from the dead dog's bite seems mostly superficial. THWIP. THWIP. Another pair of arrows fly into the melee at point-blank.
I think Seraka just cleaved the crap outta that goblin dog. O.o
Rokan puts another arrow into the nearest dog-thing's face point-blank.
Rokan pivots away from the nearest two goblin dogs, taking a moment to consider the beasts.
As he considers, he calms his mind, nocks an arrow, and looses it at point-blank range into one of those closing in on their flank.
Rokan side-eyes Seraka, "I didn't say perfect."
Rokan looks over at E for a moment before returning his eyes to his study of their surroundings. It seems for a long moment that the shoanti hunter is ignoring the comment, then finally he shrugs. ”I would guess you grew up in cities. Among so-called monuments built by men and women. I would not expect you to understand.” He pauses again, considering their surroundings, ”Things of man have never rivaled those of nature. We build walls, then towns, then nations and empires. Over time, it all crumbles and is all but forgotten. The hills, forests, and waters survive. What castle can rival the majesty of the snow-cloaked mountains? What painting can capture the full beauty of a sunset over the waters? We have sat for time unending at the foot of all of Golarion’s glory and tried to replicate — or even best — its power, its grandeur. It is prideful folly. ”More than that, though,” he continues, ”when we build our own monuments, what are we really trying to do? Make ourselves immortal? Only to have our own creation destroyed or decayed. When I walk through the forest, climb mountain paths, and stand in the waters of the beach, I am reminded of the scale of my life. What am I to such great spirits? Am I even the same as one piece of sand on the beach? No, I will seek to walk with these great spirits. And to understand them. Maybe, in some way, to join my spirit with theirs and become part of the great cycle of Golarion.” He realizes how long he’s been talking and gives the group an uncomfortable look. ”Maybe, I have been listening to the Elders too much. Yes, nature can be rugged and dangerous. It also has a powerful simplicity.” He shrugs, ”And less people and politics.”
Rokan IS, in fact, pleased to be back out among the spirits of land, trees, and sky. Nothing necessarily changes about his usually reserved demeanor, but he sits his saddle more comfortably. Maybe the stick thats usually jammed up his backside has momentarily, or maybe the angle is less severe. Regardless, he rides with bow in hand, eyes scanning, and a comfortable expression on his features. ”It is good to be on the hunt once again.”
Maybe the local smith was already working on a little something special for the local girl among the town's newest heroes? :D Obviously we'd pay for it, but it'd be good for business to have his work displayed on an up and coming hero.
Sounds like you needed the rest. O.o Regarding the armor, I’d also be fine if we dipped into the party fund if necessary to get Sonya’s armor.
"Actually," Rokan says, tapping his laden pack, "Does this town have any good horses to trade?"
"So, then, who is he?" Rokan doggedly repeats. "I do not know what else can be done to help us in our goblin hunt ..." he shrugs, "I do not know what we lack. We have light sources if they live in dark. And the only other threat we know of is the thornbushes that protect their home. Those should not be a problem for me, but I'm not sure how everyone else will do with them. Or even how to suggest they be dealt with." The hunter seems ready to head out.
”I will go,” Rokan replies immediately, and for once there is an eagerness to his voice. Without thinking about it, he pulls the string taut on his bow, as if already sighting down an arrow at a goblin in his mind. ”These tiny pests will know the fear they tried to sow in Sandpoint.” He shrugs, ”Maybe while we are there, we will find some more clues to whatever this whole thing is really about.” The young Shoanti pauses, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the mustachioed man. ”Who is the wet-footed lowlander? Why does he heat your blood?” He pauses to give one of his rare, small smiles, ”I do not think Seraka has had her exercise this morning. Maybe she should kick him around the yard for a bit?”
Rokan holds up his cup in the way he's seen lowlanders do when drinking, "Then we will find a back door to this Thistletop and give our little goblin friends some payback." He frowns, "And maybe some way to deal with awful thornbushes."
Rokan shakes his head in bewilderment at the small, blue man, but pushes out a stool out for him.
Rokan nods to Jubrayl as the man leaves, then steps into the conversation just as Sonya finishes her response. He rests his bow against the counter as he settles onto a stool. He raises his eyebrows at Sonya’s promise. ”That is a big oath to make, Miss Sonya. We know so little about what is actually happening.” He sets his own jaw and shifts his dark eyes to Ameiko, ”But I agree that we will throw whatever we have at this threat. Sandpoint must remain strong if it is to be useful in the coming days.” He gives a brief update on the state of the guards and the junk-beach … which is to say there’s really no update. Then he sighs, ”I must admit I am impatient for Sheriff Belor to return. I begin to rethink my suggestion to wait for him before seeking the goblin threat.” He shrugs as he eyes Sonya’s cider, ”Not that hunting goblins at night seems wise.”
And about the three magic scrolls/wand: I agree with Seraka. Let's hold onto the flaming sphere and sell the others. I can see an argument for keeping the Burning Hands, but only Sonya can use it. Since w have it for free (and it won't sell for all that much gold, anyway), it will give her a solid option against swarms and stuff.
It's up to you. In-game, Rokan wouldn't have a problem sharing the wealth — both as currency doesn't mean all that much to him AND because it better empowers our group to succeed at our task. And as a player, Rokan's purchases aren't going to be attainable for a while, so I'd prefer to share resources early on to make sure we can all play our intended group roles to ensure we actually survive to worry about more expensive gear down the road. :) Just let us know if you want us to make sure you have armor appropriate to our shining beacon of group paladin-ness. :D And I'll look into the Discord thing.
I’d be more than happy to pitch in to make our tanks more tankerous. Other than some relatively inexpensive consumables, Roman doesn’t really need anything in the short term. Another thing we could consider is seeing if this town has a wand or CLW or similar. Give us some adventuring staying power.
Rokan listens through the mayor's debrief, and nods at her disbelief about the town's enemies. "Everyone has enemies, Mayor. This is a fact of living." He pauses, considering all they have learned, "I will take up your offer of rest. Hopefully all will remain quiet until your sheriff returns." He follows Sonya out, nodding. "Checking in and warning the townsfolk is smart. I will check in with the guards at the glass-making building. And I will need to refill my quiver." He turns to walk away, but pauses and looks back at the group, "I will see you at the Rusty Dragon this evening." Then the hunter stalks off. He checks on those guarding the newfound smuggling run, then — on a whim — walks over to the cliff overlooking the beach-trash-drop. For long moments, he simply watches the beach below, wary of goblin scouts and just further considering the problems they face.
Later that afternoon, he shows up at the Dragon. He makes for any present group members, but gives Shalelu a friendly nod.
Esegia, can you take Dien's loot sheet and create another Loot entry on your Quartermaster doc? (You created that doc, right?) I don't want to take a whack and mess it up. I'm good with everyone's suggestions on how to use it. Once we know what our group split is, I have some purchases to make (mostly different arrows, potions, and oils), but it shouldn't amount to much. Also, Esegia, does Rokan still owe you some coin? this would be a good opportunity to settle up. :)
Good luck on the interview! I'm excited to move things forward in this game, but I completely understand real life getting in the way. Also, Happy New Year (a bit late).
Rokan takes a moment to make sure his understanding of the word 'picnic' is correct. Then, he shakes his head.
”The Elders never taught me about ancient demon-summoning hate-wells, Mayor.” He shrugs, ”I have no better idea. I think the idea of us draining whatever energies it may have by killing whatever demons come out of the pit is a gamble. WE don’t know how many are in there, and we are only four. If we got overwhelmed, what’s to stop them from bubbling up into the streets? We need more information. Maybe send someone to find an expert on such matters in Magnimar? For the time being, walling it up and posting a guard seems smart, in my opinion.”
Rokan listens from where he squats near the room’s corner, idly searching Markov’s unstrung bow for dings or damage. ”So we do not know if the book is from Thassilon? That complicates things.” He lapses into silence as Quink moves on to talk about the runewell, concern painting his dark features. ”I do not like the thought of something channeling souls to create monsters, especially this close to innocent townspeople.” He shrugs, ”On the other hand, we destroyed the creature that seemed capable of actually activating it. Maybe the problem is taken care of? At least maybe for the moment.” He stands up, apparently satisfied with the condition of the bow as he restrings it, ”which means the goblins and their mysterious leader remain the biggest threat for the moment.” He gives Quink a quick Shoanti bow, ”Your insights are very helpful, Master Quink. After we’ve spoken of these things to the Mayor — and if she is okay with — I am fine with selling you this book. My companions must also agree, of course.”
Rokan weighs Seraka's perspective for a moment. "There seems to be more predators circling this town than just the goblins. I'm still hesitant to leave it unprotected for now. Let's see if Belor returns quickly." He gives the bigger Shoanti warrior a small, feral grin, "Hopefully we'll get a chance to hunt some more goblins in their lair soon enough."
"Agreed, but the only lead we have are the goblin villages. And leaving to go hunt there leaves this town undefended ... the task the sheriff specifically gave us."
Rokan leans out over the drop, squinting out over the refuse field. "Well I guess that is that." He considers the cliff's narrow approach, then steps back and touches the hidden doorway. "E, do you think you could find a way to jam this door shut? If we can shut off their approach, we can by some time while we wait for Sheriff Belor's return." He looks back up the coastline, where he imagines the goblins are coming from, "Those goblins will need to be dealt with sooner than later. For now, we were tasked with protection."
Rokan pauses, looking over at the blue skinned man. "My apologies," he says with a slight dip of his head, The door is certainly there." He gives the samsara a small, friendly smile, " ... E."
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