Sigfried pulls the book carefully off of the shelf, regarding it with the same wariness that the priest had shown them moments ago. It seemed that his master had known what he was going to be delving into. He sits nearby the others, gesturing them closer to look over and read through the book page by page.
Dzhim says to the group with him, "Let's go find our colleagues and see if they have had more luck than we."
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As the group exits the parish priest's small church they are almost run into by one of the Count's guards.
"Ah...sorry about that! I was just looking for you. The count just received a very strange message and want you to meet him at the tavern as soon as possible."
In the Tavern:
While talking, both the holy men see two guards enter the room just before the Count.
"Ah, there you are! Where are the rest of you? We have a problem!"
Sigfried nods at the count, nodding to the priest in thanks before taking the book with him. There was much to study and learn if he was to learn what had happened to his mentor. Bringing the others in tow, he would lead them to the tavern before opening the doors and walking in.
"My lord, you were seeking us?" Sigfried says, bowing reverently to the noble man.
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"Ah yes...please come in. Barkeep ale for all please!"
He waits for all of you to settle before he gets into the reason for seeking you out.
"Comfortable now...everyone has a drink? Good! Well, it would seem your initial scouting to the north and subsequent battle with the goblin knight has had some...Ummm...repercussions. News just arrived that a large force of the creatures has massed just to the north of the burnt-out steading you were originally sent to investigate. Where they came from, I do not know, but their 'King' has sent me a formal writ of war! Imagine, a goblin who can write...let alone understand the subtilities of diplomacy! Regardless, I have not replied to this outrageous document but did send a messenger to my liege lord, The Duke of Brackenwold, however, it will take time and until I hear back I fear for the people of Kolstoke. I once again ask for your service, in my name, to scout this force out and attempt to slow any progress it might make against these lands. What say you all?"
"Your Excellency, this king goblin is a coward and he took flight after being peppered by my incantations. He was not resolved to make his effort a success and therefore does not deserve to gasp further breath on Your Excellency's Paterna Terra." as he bows before the Count.
Pickles emerges from the kitchen where he had been begging a snack to stave off starvation... fully armed with two loaves of bread, and a large chunk of cheese in one hand, and a half eaten apple in the other.
"What! The town is in danger... more goblins to scout out? I'd better get some more food". The short but wide halfling turns to re-enter the kitchen.
Brother Jacob bows low to the Baron and keeps his own council, not wishing to interrupt the noble or his companions. When the nobleman is finished he politely inquires "May we see the document, sire? It might give us some clues as to who is helping the Goblin King in this endeavor. I am intimately acquainted with paper, vellum, and papyrus from my time copying the holy texts in our monastery library."
A scowl spreads across Sigfried's face as the Count mentions that a force has amassed against the town and his rightful rulership. Was their counter-attack too fierce and now it brought danger to the gentle folk of Kolstoke. It could not be allowed.
"I will certainly offer my sword to your cause, my lord. The people of Kolstoke have been welcoming ever since they have seen that our ambitions bring no harm to them. I would not see any others in pain." Sigfried looked to his comrades, not volunteering them to help defend this place but the look in his eyes was quietly beseeching them nonetheless.
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Fr. Murphy had a scrunched up look on his face, as if doing particularly hard math.
'So a Duke is more than a Count? But what if he was a Baron? Is that more or less than a Count? Or is a Baron over a Duke? Wait, what do they call a 'Barony'? Probably something ruled by a Baron. So that's probably pretty high. So this guy's a Baron? Or was a Duke. No, he wanted help from a Duke. So could this guy still also be a Duke? Could one Duke be over another one? Wait, don't nobles call each other 'Lord'? So this guy could be a Duke and just asking for help from his buddy? Or he could be a Baron. Or a Count. Do all all titles mean something or are some ceremonial? Do you have to change them every time you get more land, like a woman who marries...again?'
Deciding he wouldn't get any further until he could consult some kind of nobility...registry...thing...he comes back to the present and the task at hand.
"Ah, my...lord," 'That's right, isn't it? You can just call any noble that and they won't get salty, yeah? Well we're just gonna have a whole lot of hope on that one then.' "Yes, of course we shall provide a scouting force in this current quandary."
He looks up and askis his question, though loud enough so any could answer. "Ah, have we mounts? If we're to make haste, we must needs make more haste mounted, eh?"
The Count looks over to Father Murphy and smiles.
"I would give you horses if I thought they would help, but for this, I am afraid you will travel better on foot. I am sure you will need to enter the forest, and a horse would only slow you down in that wild tangle of trees and brush."
"Aye, and watch out for any roots and rocks sticking up out of the ground as well," Brother Jacob intones as he rubs the back of his sore head.
"Horses are big and scary anyway. When do we leave"?
Dzhim nods in agreement, "Scary, are the horses of misfortune... scary indeed."
Brother Jacob turns to Dzhimburt, a quizzical look on his face. "What are the Horses of Misfortune? Are they omens of ill fate?"
"I-I think it is just a figure of speech, Jacob." Sigfried says softly, frowning for a moment before looking at the others. He shoulders his packs and readies to head out to do what he can against the goblin menace.
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The party readies itself to venture once again into the Dolmen Wood.
The weather is at least cooperating as the warm sun shines down on the group as they walk along the edge of the forest. This soon changes as they enter the cool, dark wood. Everything takes on a slightly greenish hue as the group follows a number of animal trails deeper into the forest.
He perks up and says, "The horses of misfortune are an old tale about the death of magic and the ascendency of bad juju. I thought that was what Mr. Pickles was referring to. Anywho..."
Dzhim grabs his rucksack and marches towards their objective, wondering what kind of macabre things they would run into on their journey.
Brother Jacob gives the wizard a quizzical look as they carefully make their way through the overgrown forest.
"Juju? Isn't that a kind of candy made from sugar and gelatin?"
The quizzical look is returned as Dzhim shrugs and explains, "Juju is something resembles a religious belief but similar to good and poor luck but also mixed certain types of reactions to how a person comports himself in the world but it is also arcane in certain ways. I am not a shaman or a witchdoctor of wondrous ways of juju but one must be aware that bad juju is something that someone should try to avoid but respect all the same."
Brother Jacob is equally fascinated and scandalized by Dzhimburt's description of Juju.
"And who practices this religion? I have never heard of it."
Sigfried can already hear a headache beginning to form in his head as they make their way along the muddied paths towards where the goblins had attacked. He almost hoped for an ambush to contain the prattle between the cleric and the mage.
"Don't talk so loudly. We're in enemy territory." As he walks, Sigfried's steps seem to become more and more quiet. It was strange to hear as the warrior suddenly became utterly silent.
Brother Jacob's eyebrows raise in surprise as Sigfried passes him.
"Sorry, sir," he mutters under his breath as he grimaces in embarrassment at Dzhimburt.
He hefts his shield higher and reaches into his pocket to pull out a rosary, sliding it around his wrist and starting a series of silent prayers.
Pickles glad to be back in the forest and hoping to redeem his earlier clumsy efforts, tries to scout ahead. He leaves his pup back with the remainder of the party, as he's not fully trained yet.
Hiding in Woods (90% chance)
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Pickles blends silently into the woodlands as he moves ahead of the party to scout. His small pup starts to follow, but a stern word from the halfling keeps the dog from going. It looks around and suddenly attaches itself to Dzhimbert.
The going is not too bad on foot, and you make good time back to the area just south of where the burnt homestead is located. Nothing looks different from the last time you passed by this way (Was it only a few days ago?!). Pickles comes back from the woods and informs the party that the way ahead appears clear.
Brother Jacob sits on the remains of the burnt outer wall to catch his breath. "Thank you for that good scouting, Master Twiddletoe. What would we do without you?"
Brother Jacob stops and drops to the ground when he hears the large group, motioning for others to do the same.
Dzhim shrugs his shoulders and says, "Trade Caravan?"
Sigfried nods in approval at the halfling's quiet nature, ready to lead the group deeper into the forest to keep an eye out on the enemy's forces. Day turns towards dusk and dusk slowly turns to twilight, the shadows of the forest growing longer and more nefarious by the minute. When the sound of a large caravan begins to be heard, Sigfried moves behind a tree large enough to hide his bulk and looks around the side of it carefully to see what approaches them all.
Pickles decides to move forward quietly and see what the disturbance might be.
Hiding in Woods (90% chance)
Brother Jacob motions for the others to be quiet and assume his supine position while the halfling does his halfling things.
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Sneaking forward, Pickles can spy a group of goblins standing around a broken cart. There are 5 goblins and a larger creature that seems to be in charge. As you watch another band of about 20 goblins marches past...their leader growls something at the cart group as he moves past them.
After several more minutes, no other groups of goblins pass this one, and they are working hard to repair their wagon.
Sigfried remains tense and ready, quietly unsheathing his blade and strapping his shield to his arm. Pickles had made their way ahead through the forest but there was nothing but darkness and the glimmer of a torchlight ahead. He silently prayed for the halfling's wellbeing and prepared himself for the inevitable battle to come.
Pickles sneaks back to the group, and gathers them around to describe the scene ahead.
"Perhaps we give it a couple more minutes, then take out the group around the cart"?
Sigfried nods, agreeing with the small man's plans.
"I will lead the charge and engage the foe with the hammer. Those that feel confident, engage the goblins in melee. Prioritize any ranged combatants." It was a simple but brutally effective plan. Their task was to harass the enemy, destroy supplies, and take out those that they could. Dying now would be not be a worthy death.
When the others were ready, Sigfried would begin to approach. The magic of the cloak he had helping him blend into the forest even more so than usual as he got as close as he dared before charging into glorious battle!
Brother Jacob slowly picks himself up off the ground and silently nods at Sigfried's commands, preparing his flail and shield.
Dzhimburt says, "would you like me to pepper it with a magic missile first?" as unfastens the cover containing his spellbook.
"On your mark then, Dzhim." Sigfried would whisper, waiting for the mage to unleash arcane fury before rushing in on the attack.
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Fr. Murphy raises his eyebrows in surprise at the report of so grand a host of goblins.
"Usually they have trouble organizing a pair to go get lunch, so to have a full tribe, and in strength!" he murmurs to Brother Jacob. "Ill tidings."
Himself, already well armored, he hefts his own shield and again takes the weight of his hammer of war. He has named it "Sturmgeschütz". A name that, for all he can tell, means 'the weapon that will bring all the assault one can imagine'.
So too, his spells, ingrained on his mind like names upon flagstones, reflect his philosophy of a more direct approach to bringing the faith to infidels and the unclean. He has only the ability to heal the wounded. This is something that he just thinks is more worthwhile, for a drop of blood of one of pure heart is worth a hundredweight of one that is unclean.
Sturmgeschütz is ready. Time to begin.
"Let's go."
Pickles watches all the big rush by, and carefully loads and shoots his shortbow at the ugliest Goblin...
Shortbow
Arrow
Dzhim opens his spellbook and says the magic words for magic missile "Fulminictus Donnerkeil, triff und töte wie ein Pfeil!"
The missiles come out of Dzim's hand in the shape of an arrow and the sound of thunder hitting the goblin carrying the hammer.