"Haha! Take that, abomination!"
The goblin by the mule throws a javelin at Riese. It goes wide.
The goblin by the wheel throws an axe at one of the warriors. It misses.
Round 2 init
Altai
Beldan
Riese
goblins
warriors
Go Vatters!
The one by the mule starts yelling, "Parley! Parley! Parley, Goob zurrzzz!" So he does know a little of the mannish tongue.
“Shit! Piss!”
Beldan rolls away from the knife wielding goblin and out from under the cart . Glancing around to make sure no other goblins are within arm’s reach, he jumps to his feet.
Are you on the other side from the guy in front of the wheel?
Are you on the other side from the guy in front of the wheel?
*Riese reloads his crossbow and readies an action to shoot the goblin yelling parlay if any of his fellows attack any 'good guys'.*
Call off you fellows, goblin! If any attack, I will fire. Now speak of terms for our parlay. And know that you face the mighty crossbow and magicks of Riese the Smouldering! Nah, I don't like that moniker, need to think of something that'll make the maidens swoon....Riese the Radiant....Hmmm.....*trails off*
I can finish up Beldan's mano a mano. The goblin under the cart lunges at him to ham string him. He misses; he's on the ground; you can aoo his dumb ass.
The parley waver throws a dagger at Riese. He hits, for 3 in damage.
The one by the wheel hits a warrior with a javelin. Pissy 1 damage, but boy is that guy screaming for some reason.
Warriors reload crossbows.
The one in the tarpaulin falls off the side of the wagon, right next to the one by the wheel.
On to round two, unless Riese wants to shoot the fake surrendering guy and Beltan wants to aoo the hamstringer.
About 20 feet.
As Beldan scrambles out from under the cart and to his feet, the gobbo lunges at him with it’s dagger – and misses, falling back into the mud. Thinking fast, Beldan stamps his booted foot down hard on the goblin’s hand, the one holding the dagger, trying to get him to drop it..
He grasps his crushed hand, screaming like a tantruming brat. He's at your mercy. He quits. He's going into fetal position, screaming.
There's two left; fakey and vatters' go. I have to run an errand but I'll do a little wrap up in a half hour if those two post and make their marks.
As the tratorous goblin shoots Riese, Altai's face darkens in anger. "Have it your way, fool", he spits while digging through his pockets for his spell components. Finding the right one, he quickly intones a magical formula...
"Um, Stigwold, is that you?" With no small amount of surprise, Altai recognises the fellow patron from the Lizard's Boat. "What are you doing here?"
Stig, still face down in the wheel rut replies with mud burbling around his head "Fava ae o"... he points toward the road to Saltmarsh.
"Bai dooze..."
Tenser lays down in the mud beside Stig, his tongue lolling out.
"Wooooroo."
How dare you!
*fires at the goblin that tossed the dagger*
aim about 18" over from where the sight says..and....Yes!
1d20+3=19, 1d8=7
Reloads.
Damn! What timing!
The underhanded, fake surrenderist takes a bolt in the neck from the cocky renaissance man. He slumps to his knees, blood sluicing down the front of his leather vest. Dead.
The one by the wheel hurls a javelin that lands 3 feet shy of the wizard's left foot.
The four warriors see the spellwork, begin making warding signs. You hear one grunt "what this witchery..."
The firebeetle lunges on the goblin from the back, making short work of him.
Combat over.
One goblin lies grasping a shattered hand.
One goblin comes untangled from the tarpaulin, under guard of a bouquet of sharpened warsteel. He surrenders, for real this time.
"Um, Stigwold, is that you?" With no small amount of surprise, Altai recognises the fellow patron from the Lizard's Boat. "What are you doing here?"
Stig, still face down in the wheel rut replies with mud burbling around his head "Fava ae o"... he points toward the road to Saltmarsh.
"Bai dooze..."
Half an hour later, the warriors ride up, confer with oneeye.
One says, "You lied, dwarf. There were only SIX goblins."
They all laugh nervously.
"Aye, dwarf; go with these good men, fix that wheel and get that damnable shipment of blue potable here!!! I'm thirsty just thinking aboout all this skudge."
I won't be around much tomorrow, but feel free to move the locus of action and conversation to the wagon where the dwarf is fixing the wheel. Anybody who wants their character to join in and to come strolling up there can feel free to do so
I'll kick out some experience and warbooty tomorrow or Wednesday; tomorrow's me birthday so I won't be around much.
"Aye, dwarf; go with these good men, fix that wheel and get that damnable shipment of blue potable here!!! I'm thirsty just thinking aboout all this skudge."
Stig rolls over, moving significantly for the first time since being thrown.
"Dyer mamma drop yon yer head? Lookame! D'ai look lahk Ah wheelwright, foognut? That wheel's raht fooked."
"Rai roofed!"
"Maroons."
Stig gets up and starts walking away, down the road, back to the wagon. To one-eye he shouts: "Wutch yoo lookin at!"
To himself: "Ah'll jes goo en drink it."
Beldan puts the boot into the goblin a few more times for good measure, bloodying it’s nose, before looking up to his rescuers.
Soldiers … and a wizard ~gulp~ Frying pan, fire? Ah well, time to work some magic of my own…
“Well met!” he says, grinning weakly. “I have some captives for you!” he gestures to the two goblins.
“Thankyou for assisting me in defending this wagon and it’s valuable wares. I happened upon it, see, the driver dead or fled, and a couple of goblins intent on vandalism and theft! Well, I saw them off handily enough, before six more of them showed up! I was preparing to take them by surprise when you showed up, so my thanks again – six of them may have been difficult for me to take on my own.”
“Where was I headed? Why, just traveling down this road here … Only Bale Keep lies at the end of this road you say? fantastic. Fantastic! That’s where I was headed! … Am I answering the call for mercenaries? Why … yes. Yes, that’s why I’m headed down this road … to Bale Keep … to sign up as a mercenary …”
Beldan looks thoughtful for a moment, and then seems to recover. “Well, I should imagine I’ve just passed the audition process for this mercenary gig! And earnt a reward perhaps, or an extra bonus, what with defending this valuable cargo, and capturing these dangerous bandits? Yes? No? Maybe?”
Strolling along the opposite direction along the path comes the tiny, swaggering figure of a grubby-looking halfling. Wearing a chain shirt, a shabby leather cloak and patched legging, he swings idly at the heads of the marsh grass with his scimitar. Spotting the horses and wagons, he trots up to the party. Looking around he chuckles and mutters, "Glooka."
He then addressed the one who looks in charge - which happens to be Riese.
"Me Gittik, mighty warrior, kill many enemies of tribe. Me join Saltmarsh tribe, kill enemies of Saltmarsh tribe. Where Saltmarsh tribe?"
As the day wears on, about mid-afternoon, the crew at the wagon see a well fed dwarf approaching at a brisk walk. A large hound weaves back and forth across the dwarf's path with its nose to the ground.
"Altai yold son, i see yev keelt the goobs," Stig shouts ahead.
<puff, puff>
"Ahv been commanded to repair that there wheel, baht ahm noo wheelwright ye knoo. Ah kin forge an axe, shoore, baht thahts jes beyoond me an ah gots noo tools. Any wheelwrights here?"
Stig looks around at the prisoners then notices the crew has been nipping at the ale.
"Ahhhhh. The spooils ahf woor. Doon't mahd ef Ah doo."
Stig joins the boys around the keg. Throws back a mug of ale.
"Ahhhh. Bloo Frog!"
Waves his hand toward Gittik.
"Ey! Yev foond a wee feller! Hey wee feller, whucha doin' dressed lahk a gooblin?"
"Ree rerrer."
Tenser makes the round sticking his nose firmly into everyone's crotches and asses, wagging his tail briskly.
One of the riders throws the dwarf a spool of mailwire and a hammer, and a gnomish vise grips.
"Ya gah make it work. You're a dwarf, for heaven's sake. Just get it good. Good to go a league, for Cuthbert's sake."
"Gah. Yer gettin' dwarves confused with gnomes, laddie."
Untrained Repair: Repair (1d20=4)
"Anywoone else wanna crack at thees?"
"This isn't that hard. We just need to wrap this around this thing here..."
"Blue frog?" (sips again) "Me no taste any frog?"
The bailing wire, and a little beating with a hammer, makes it work. The wagon lurches down the road.
"You go Saltmarsh tribe now?"
In reply to the dwarf's question:
"Me get clothes from goblin me kill."
(Which is true, but omits certain key aspects...)
"Yup. We're going there now. Wanna tag along?"
"You go Saltmarsh tribe now?"
In reply to the dwarf's question:
"Me get clothes from goblin me kill."
(Which is true, but omits certain key aspects...)
Please stay back a step...you seem to have some odiferous emanations dwelling about your personage.
I believe that the fort may be looking for mercenaries, which is where I just came from, I am sure they were amazed by how I single handedly took down the goblin warband leader, but I do believe that they require that persons interested in the position take regular baths. I doubt you would be interested....I seem to be slightly injured from my epic battle with the goblins, is there a healer about? I am sure that he would gain stature and a place in history by being the first to heal Riese the Risen after a battle......Nah, not liking that either.....I do say, coming up with a proper moniker is quite difficult....perhaps a Bard would be able to use some of his poetic abilities to fashion a proper title for one such as me.......*trails off*
Stig spends some time grooming himself (scraping off mud) and evacuates the blood clots from his nose by pinching one nostril and blowing.
To Gittik: "The be noo frogs in the ale wee feller. It's jes the name uh the tribe uh them who brood it."
<takes another draught of ale>
"AHHHHHHhhhhhh. A pleasant sweetness eet is, yet does not clooy."
<Stig pulls a bowl from under the wagon's bench and fills it with ale for Tenser.>
Begins singing: "On the rood agin. just kint wai tagetoon the rood agin..."
Tenser laps up the bowl of ale astonishingly fast.
"Gufs?"
Stig looks around: "Deed anywoone bring some dead gooblin?"
<Sees no dead goblins>
To Tenser: "Goots, eh? Oonless woon uh them prisoners dais unexpectedly-lahk yer gonna hafteh wait fer dinner lahk thuh rest uf us, Tenser."
The league or two of muddy road back to the fort is a slow process pulling the wagon with an extremely pissed off mule and a front wheel that keeps threatening to fall off at the most inopportune moments, like over small fording bridges with no siderailing and in massive puddles the size of small ponds.
After a half hour of this drudgery, blue ale being passed around to ostensibly "lighten the poor mule's burden," another wagon can be seen coming towards you from the direction of Fort Bale.
A covered wagon, pulled by two oxen, is trailed by a mob of squealing pigs 20 strong.
A young man with a shepherd's crook is coaxing them along.
At the helm of the wagon is a stout matronly woman in her 40's and an old man. An indeterminate number of waifs gambol in the wagon, as well as a massive sow, the guess of whose correct weight would probably win gewgaws at a tourney.
As the two wagons approach, the young man with the shepherd's crook pronounces, "Allooo! En of ya wont to buy one these pigs? I'll part with a porker for one half a gold."
appraise 10:
Beldan has been partaking of the brew himself – no definitive answer on a reward, so may as well drink the spoils of war – but aware that he is in potentially hostile territory with possibly hostile people, he keeps his wits about him, and doesn’t drink over-much.
When the heavily accented, barrel shaped dwarf turns up to (apparently) fix the wheel of the cart, and attention is focused in that direction, Beldan takes the opportunity to quickly rifle through the goblin’s possessions, seeing if there’s anything of interest. He’ll share, of course (well, unless he finds something really good…)
When the party gets moving again, he’ll follow along to the Keep … looks like he’ll be a mercenary for a while … or at least see what they’re offering.
Untrained appraise check (1d20=15)
Stiggy whispers: "Them peegs is woorth 6 taimes thet. An' right tasty lookin' poorkers they are tooo."
“I don’t know much about livestock,” Beldan comments quietly to the Altai and Riese, who ride nearby, “but I’ve seen porkers of that size sell for 3 gold coins or more in the city markets up north. Wonder if the bignobs at this Fort Bale or whatever would look well on us if we turned up with beer and dinner?”
Still whispering: "I'm woonderin' if soomthin' stinks aroond here aside them poorkers, Beeldan. An I doont mean the wee feller. E'cood be a larceny."
Beldan maintains a blank expression at the mention of larceny. “Could be…” he says slowly. “But hold on – that one,” he gestures to one of the cavaliers with his thumb, “told me that there’s only the Keep at the end of this road. You lot all came from there – did you notice any herds of pigs wandering about, looking to be hoisted?”
Tenser, jolted out of his nap by a bump in the road, leaps off the back of the wagon and goes crazy barking at the pigs.