Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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_Inside the cave entrance the extent of what happened can be visibly seen. The edges of the cave mouth are chipped and gouged by lightning and acid. Everywhere seems blackened by flame, the dirt on the ground crackles as if stepping on broken glass. Skeletal remains of goblins are apparent , a number seemingly cleaved in two, sometimes three. The remains seem to have been long picked over as they yield no valuables or anything useful. The cave tunnels are pitch black and slope steeply down. A breeze blows softly from somewhere down below carrying the sounds of clanking metal up.
As the party progresses down they come across numerous signs of conflict. Old blood splatters and pools of dried blood blood litter the tunnels though surprisingly few bodies. Periodic marks on the walls seem much higher then a goblin could manage, or even a tall human for that matter.
One thing does seem to strike the party as odd. It seems the defenders were using unorthodox combat methods for Rawlinswood goblins by using corners and tight sections of the tunnels to fight the attackers and pull back seemingly trying to bleed their opponents.
After traveling down several miles of tunnels (most going down) and expecting a number of various side caves the clanging seems to be drawing closer.
The tunnel suddenly opens up to a 30 ft cave with the floor mostly filled with water. A path of stones seemed to be piled into a rock bridge across the cave to an entrance to the other side. As the party enters the cave a figure appears (to people that can see past your light source) in a cave entrance 20 ft above the entrance across the cave. The figure looks roughly goblin sized dressed in mail armor wielding and axe. The face of the goblin and all uncovered flesh is a stark white and comes off as ice cold to darkvision.
'I Grahk ghost! Flee before Grahk chop heads off! Curse on those that kill Grahk tribe!'
The figure then disappears back into the cave to be replaced by the sound of even more banging metal._
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((…nudges for plot advancement... cue the cave set and bat squeaks!))
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_The armored dwarf peers at the preparations the group makes before they enter and ponders for a moment.
He looks at his 'squire' holding a pan in a defensive stance as his knees as his eyes jump left and right at every natural noise of the woods. It appears he may 'water his feet' any moment from sheer fright.
Raising a brow, the dwarf comes up with a plan._
'Riiiiiight. Dis is what we is goin teh do. Frumma what me lookin at, dey is enterin summa sort of tunnel. Now, since yeh nay appear to be able teh defend an ale from a hinnish baby, yeh job is teh stay behind me anna squeal like a Legionaire if yeh see somthing scary.
Which in yeh case might include, rats, bats er wee spiders.
Our undead friend eer will be walkin first as he rarely complains about deh pain a trap, acid, er arrow may bring.
Me goes next anna yeh stay close. Nae more den an arm's length.
Now afore we go in, we is goin teh hide dat pak yeh carryin anna move a bit lighter.
Just thins we might be needin, anna maybe un weapon fer yeh.'
_The dwarf tries to take the pan from the goblin, but the small hands of the greenskin have a deathgrip on the handle. The dwarf tugs once more and starts to chuckle.
He thinks for a moment and digs into the pack for a cast iron (+1 vs Fey) pan the dwarf uses to fry bacon and deer meet. Being heavier and more solid than the lighter 'pot', he shows it to the goblin._
'May as well use dis "master werk" pan.. Careful now..Its a two hander.'
_With a hearty laugh the dwarf takes away the goblin's current weaponry and holds out its replacement. The goblin takes it urgently, already feeling safer armed with his two handed frying pan.
Chuckling to himself as he peers at the goblin, the dwarf begins to tighten straps and pull out some ancient, dark plate, swapping the light armor he is wearing for full plate. Gutteral muttering in time with pouring of ale over various parts of the armor precedes the dwarf donning various parts of his armor.
After adorning himself with the appropriate rings, boots, belt and a charm, the dwarf peers back at the group preparing to enter the cave.
As a final thought, a masterwork dagger is hidden inside the back of his tower shield.
He kneels for a moment surveying the party prepare. He chuckles at Dwin's boots. Actually, more amazement of having survived all these years under all that weight and all those miles.
He says a final prayer to his mistress, and motions to the goblin to prepare. Not needing an invitation, the greenskin has been vesting himself with the scraps from the dwarf's pack. An interesting shimmering cloak, some pieces of leather armor, some gloves.
Smaller packs ready, the two are ready to follow the party into the caves._
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Dwin grunts and pulls out an impossibly long staff from a bag. The staff glows at the end with a dull reddish color. ((its the trap-finding/diffusing staff from teh GC))
Gobs and their farkin traps… best let me and me cousin go first and make sure we aint about to get spiked, gassed, burnt, shocked, or all o the above...
The group heads in.... ((right?))
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_Ragnhild touches her hands to the golden bracers circling her forearms, murmuring a small prayer in solemn preparation. Looking up, her eyes are alert and filled with determination. She nods to Dwin and prepares to enter when the blackened marks around the cave's entrance seem to make her think twice, and with a swift motion, she activates the elemental protections hidden in the sturdy cloak draped over her broad shoulders.
She stoops low to fit inside the low cave opening, spear held out before her. Dwin's comment causes a temporary grin on her otherwise grim face, and without looking back, she calls back over her shoulder:_
"Elven tea parti? Vouldn't that fall into the categori of a fate vorse than a fate vorse than death, Dwin? I no think we're quite that bad off.. yet!
Thinking now that I introduce myself loud and clear soon.. if someone living make that noise, they bound to hear us soon annivay, we be not exactly most stealthi group, huh."
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_After suiting up, Dwin pulls some straps on his boots which seem to have some effects on him, namely covering him in a dark bark-like substance.
Watching his comrades similarly prepare, he bows to Raghnild who declared her desire to enter first._
I'm right behind ya, lassy, lets see who's makin' all that racket.
Keep yer eyes peeled and yer noses and ears open, folks… I'm gettin the feelin that we arent walkin into anything resemblin an elven-tea-party here. That'd probably make me more nervous anyway...
Dwin follows Rag into the cave and makes sure the rest of the party stays close as well.
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_Farther back the dwarf and his 'squire' make their way through the wasteland.
The dwarf looks intently at the remains and takes note of the complete lack of sound making as little of his own as he can. He step are deliberate as they find the dirt instead of disturbing any rocks or remains.
For all the conservation of sound the dwarf is making, his squire compensates for. He trembles and rambles through a few goblin prayers as he passes each set of remains. He turns away from each set and leans as far away from them as possible to avoid the 'hundred years bad JuJu' that they may pass on to him.
Suddenly the dwarf holds up a hand, motioning to the squeamish goblin to stop. The goblin facing the other way, backs right into the hand and emits a small childish like yelp._
'BAD JU JU!"
_But the sound of his screams are quickly muffled as a strong smithy's hand closes around his throat. The hand turns him easily so the goblin can see the dwarf motion to be quiet with a finger. Slowly the vise like grip releases, allowing air to enter and sound to escape the green form.
The dwarf tilts his head to the side, the looks around a bit confused. Using a pinkie he clears an ear and listens again._
[D] Wind chimes?
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Dwin turns quickly to his cousin.
Iron? I think ya need to stop pickin yer nose… yer ability to smell Dumathoin's gifts is falterin.
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((not mining or smithing, just like steel on steel but not fighting like))
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Belin grunts, pulling her battle axe from her hip and adding her shield to her arm. She sniffs the air much like Tindra does.
That smell like iron tuh meh kin. Or meh nose playin tricks?
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((Would the metal-on-metal sound be familiar to a master smith? Or is it some irregular, non-smithing noise?))
Dwin stands near the entrance of the cave, listening intently to the clanging of the metal. Slowly, after seeming to understand the noise, and possibly even the kind of metal involved, he fits his helm to his head and straps it on tight.
Best get ready for some action, folks. Seems our trail ends here.
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_Pausing in her stride, Ragnhild stares up at the cave entrance while her her hand tightens its grip on her spear, the goblin charm on it still fluttering in the light breeze. The tall warrioress has been increasingly wary and tense ever since the crossed daggers landmark, the sense of being watched along with the ale supply dwindling to dangerously low levels both contributing greatly to her mood. Blueberries and apples are poor compensation in Ragnhild's book, and her usual cheer is nowhere to be found as they draw closer to the bird's nest.
The almost palpable feeling of wrongness causes an inadvertant snarl to form on Ragnhild's lips, muscles and tendons tensing and her eyes burning a bright, icy blue as they note the many signs of old battle surrounding the hill. As the sounds of metal against metal reaches her ears, she seems to freeze before looking to the others in the group.
In a low, terse voice she says:_
"Seems we are not alone.. Vhatever or vhoever is in there be cause of much death once, judging from grounds. I guess we go find out if there still morr death to be found there, huh.. better let me go firrst."
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:: speeds things up::
_Using the stone Grahk was sitting as the 'crown' and the 'hook' as the sacred circle the adventurers start off. After some hunting they find the blue dots as a large blueberry patch. Hooping they are on the right track, they continue towards the intertwining lines with red dots till they find a pair of apple trees intertwined. All the way they keep getting the feeling they are being watched. The 'scared face' remarkably is just that, a large boulder carved into a face with a scared expression, the stone is definitely not goblin make and seems quite old. Nothing else nearby suggests anything else in regards to the head. The next item on the map, the wiggley lines, seem to correspond with a odd patch of bamboo. As the party continues the dwarves pick up the scent of mined stone. Ahead they find a large rock tumbled scene which seems to have been crudely worked for centuries. Shiney stones glimmer from the rocks (and you always wondered where goblins got those from). The quality of stones is quite low, but quite abundant. Continuing on Tindra's sense light up as they near 'lot's of death' something dark is nearby, something terrible and out of sorts with the woods. Luckily, the adventurers seem to not run into whatever it was. The sound of water greets the PCs as they come to an odd sight. Up ahead is a hill seemingly topped with old marble stones, perhaps a structure at one point, seems to almost tumble down the hill. Some of the large pillars form almost a slide down the hill. Investigation of the ruins doesn't reveal much as it seems to have been picked over by goblins for years. The hill ends up being what looks like an old burial mound, rune sons tones suggest an old barbarian tribe. As the party gets nearer to the crossed daggers the more martial in the party get the feeling of an ambush. Pressing cautiously ahead the part finds a natural path leading between several large boulders. The place smells of old death and a number of normal goblin bodies are found a the stones positioned as if to ambush those going between the stones. Apparently, something got them first. The way the bodies are laid out. you expect they were hit unawares and probably didn't have a chance to give warning. Moving further on an old battlefield is found, seems a large number of wolves were killed here, the fur long rotten and bones sticking out from the leaves.
And…after several weeks of going from landmark to landmark.....
As the party approaches toward the bird nest an overwhelming sense of wrongness fills the party. The birds are quiet, not but the sound of the wind on leaves and rustle of the party's footsteps can be heard. Old goblin bones protrude from the leaves here and there, periodically a goblin corpse impaled on a spear into a tree is found. Further in several defensive positions are found, old burn marks and goblin dead are found. Seems whatever happened here happened a long time ago. Ahead a small hill rises from the forest. Facing the party is a small cave entrance, even from here what only could be bones litter the cave entrance and blackened marks rim the cave mouth. A noise rises to the party's ears. The sounds of metal on metal...._
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Assuming the clearing away of vines and weeds yeilds nothing new or unexpected, Ragnhild walks slowly over to the nearby ridge, peering to the map on occasion and scanning the nearby area closely.
"Vhat be those blue dot things all jumbled together? Seem close to circle, no? Maybe kould be something like well or other small bodi of vater? I vill try get up a bit on ridge, maybe see something from there…"
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"Ok, we start vith vhat closest, ja? Let's finish clear throne rock from weeds, and start tearing avay vines from pillars too, in case there might be hidden message on them. After that, we make way to slippi rocks if we kan, not sure juss how slippi they be. We don't vhant to fall headlong into lots death, but maybe from there see vhere pretti stones might be!"
Ragnhild grins wide, clearly excited about the prospect of getting somewhere with the search. She heads immediately over to the pillars, using a fine dagger to carefully cut the clinging vines loose, exposing the stone beneith.
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_…meanwhile not too far away, the dwarf tracking the party and his 'subjugated' squire find ways to pass the time.
A variety of topics are discussed as they wait for the rag-tag party to finish their debate.
Few topics are of mutual interest, until the topic of hin tossing is mentioned in passing by the dwarf.
At this, his squire becomes curious asking about all the details of the 'sport'. Its form, its lore, the curious fact that the more ales consumed makes one better at the sport. What really gets the greenskin's curiosity is the seemingly sanctioned action of throwing a hin over a wall or for distance, without fear of being jailed or without caring for the safety of the halfing.
Curios the greenskin rests on a log asking various questions of the dwarf, seeking more knowledge about the sport._
"Howz one goeses about grabbing halfing with purposes to throw far?"
Sensing the increased interest, the dwarf turns from watching the party motioning and walking around a hill, and looks at his new squire with a raised eyebrow.
"By deh belt anna deh scruff of der hair if dey wearing a shirt, er by deh neck of der shirt if dey is. Eer let me shows yeh…"
_With that the dwarf finds a hin size log, the weight irrelevant to the arms and hands of the dwarf, their strength forged for years of swinging a hammer against an anvil. Quickly he ties two pieces of rope, approximately where the neck and waist would be. He grabs both ends of the rope, and begins to swing it.
As his swing picks up pace and strength, he resembles one dwarf battering ram. The dwarf's breathing setting the pace for the swing.
Done he drops the log._
"Yeh care teh try? Yeh a bit skinny fer tossin a hin, unless of course yeh speakin of tossin in a bardic manner.." A quick chuckle at the joke "…but carryin me shite through deh woods goin teh help yeh with that."
_The gobber shrugs and takes off the pack, leaning it against a tree for the time being. Under the eye of the dwarf, he grabs the log and begins to swing it awkwardly. He tries to control it, but his arms and hands just aren't up to the task. As the log gains speed and momentum, it finally pulls the goblin towards a tree, his hand caught in the rope.
The log pulls him face first into the tree and then to the ground, his hand still firmly tied to the log._
"Holy shite! Yeh deh worst lumberjack me as eer seen! ARR ARR ARR!"
The goblin lay on the ground for a moment, listening to the dwarf's laughter. Hearing the occasional knee slap. But at the sound of the axe being driven into the log, freeing his hand from the log, his eyes went wide and he was awake. Slowly he stood and muttered, rubbing his aching face.
"Nae worry lad… We get yeh in shape teh throw a hin... Anna nae any hin, fat un too.."
The dwarf looked around on the ground quickly for two similar weight rocks, and picked them up. Then he made his way to the greenskin.
"Get yeh pack back on…. Now hold dese rocks, un in each hand.."
The greenskin pulled the pack back on and took the rocks. The weight pulling his arms towards the ground.
"Carry em until dey is light, den we get yeh summa heavier ones."
The dwarf's eyes look toward the group and he motions.
"Best get ready… Dey appear to ave made un decision.."
_The goblin took a deep breath and started to follow, rocks in hand. After a bit, the greenskin got the idea to make the sound of a horse, banging the two rocks to a tempo akin to a trot.
He smiled as he thought the dwarf pretended to ride a horse, but quickly stopped as the dwarf held up a finger to shush him._
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Naw kin I think these beh all tuh close together teh beh dat far away.
Meh think dis beh un map o just dis 'ere near area. da slippy stones right 'ere near the crown und da pretty stones.
Well Ragger mebbe yuh should go tuh each spot und see if'n anythin occurs tuh yuh?
Oy und think like un gobber aye.
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it seems that "Lots death" and "pretty stones" are the next places we should look for. Lots-death from the goblin view could be the Norwick gates smirks, or perhaps the graveyard?
Pretty-stones… could be those blue shards that stick out of the ground near Tindra's home in the near-west woods?
Both seem to be in the same direction... what do you think?
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"Uhm, we look for vay for me to prove myself vorthy of leading gobbalin tribes. Instructions say that vhen I am redi follow Grahk, I go to place vhere axe of chieftain's daughter hide. There, I find map, which lead us here. I am not sure if we supposed to find an object like maybe actual crown, or if it is knowledge we seek, or ritual that need perform for me to take chieftain's place. Maybe each symbol mark both place and test of sort, for all I know, huh. At least now hopefully we have proper bearings, to know vhere all places relate to each other better."
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Belin looks up at Ragnhild and then to Dwin's face
Aye whut weh lookin fer again?
