Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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((it seems an invisible barrier is across the room preventing passage))
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GET THAT LOONIE GOB WIGGLER!
Dwin also advances, trying to flank the seated Goblin with the added bonus of not getting anywhere near Grak's swings.
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:: as the egg gets absorbed into the statue the results are almost immediate as several things become obvious. First the motionless stone statue becomes a raging mad goblin that seems to have it's full attention on the goblin on the throne. Second, the goblin on the throne suddenly becomes quite lucid as he stops his imaginary actions and stares down at Grahk with hatred in his eyes. The Lady behind the throne seems bewildered for a few seconds looking to Grahk and Back to the throned goblin with a perplexed look on her face.
Grahk, seemingly oblivious to others in the room, wastes no time and readies his axe and begins to advance on the goblin who responds with a few quick gestures with his hands stopping Grahk with some invisible force.
Axe swinging, Grahk delivers powerful blows to the invisible obstacle infront of him (wall of force) seemingly to no effect::
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_Dwin looks at the loon on the throne and shrugs as he moves directly behind Grak.
In a blink of an eye he smashes the 'egg' onto the back of the Grak-statue with hopes of releasing Rag's father from his stoney-tomb.
He then jumps back ((Dwin's got a high Tumble, y'all!)) and grasps his axe ready for whatever happens next._
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(( sorry for the huge delay))
_The goblin on the throne seems completely oblivious to the party's presence, in fact he seems to be miming eating food. Each bite he grins foolishly licking his l;ips then reaches out to thin air and motioning as id bringing something to his mouth. The tall lady just watches, giving the feel of a cat watching mice scurry about.
The party is able to make their actions without any hindrance._
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Belin having become more and more taciturn during the journey with the goblins pipes up at the sight of the doors. She offers prayers to protect their minds from evil asking all to stand close while she does. (magic circle).
Oy now meh got some more prayers if'n weh needs them. Meh nay want to use up meh prayers though now. Might have tuh walk un mile inside there aye.
she quiets up again looking in her pack for her emergency ale or three, thus reassured she loosens her axe and hoists her shield. Checking also to make sure her bow and arrows are easily accessible. She trundles off after the others through the doors.
After arriving in the room and assessing the situation she hangs back doing her best to look nonthreatening. She follows behind Ragnhild looking around. She doesn't comment much to dwin's hushed conversation. She does move herself to try and block the large woman's view of Dwin.
oy what meh would nay do fer a keg o' ale.
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Before going in through the door lined with demonic runes, Tindra offer some protective spells to her companions, even the two goblins. "I don't know what those things say, but it can't be anything pleasant waiting for us."
She listens briefly to the exchange between Dwin and Ragnhild and does her best to sneak over to the statue Dwin heads toward. She resists the urge to turn feline; instincts tell her that she will need to fight, but she knows that her smaller half-elven form could be harder to spot. She keeps an eye on the tall woman beside the old dwarf, ready to strike at her with spells.
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Dwin gestures to the rest of the group to advance slightly as well. He himself steers slightly in the direction of the Grak-statue, reaching into his bag.
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Light blue eyes fixed on the pair infront of her, Ragnhild murmurs back:
"Ja.. I vill step up and talk, if think have chance free him, do it. Tall one give me chills though.. is demon maybe?"
Briefly awaiting response from the others, Ragnhild then strides purposefully forwards, towards the throne, planting the blunt end of her spear onto the floor with a loud bang. She gives the old goblin a challenging look, her posture straight and proud as she utters simply:
<gob>"I am Ragnhild, daughter of Grahk."</gob>
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Dwin whispers back.
I've got a few more of those magic-eggs, lass. You want to distract them while I free yer pa from that stone?
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Tearing her gaze from the statue, Ragnhild gives the old goblin and the very tall woman at his right a hard look, murmuring in a quiet snarl to Dwin:
"Grim Creeper chieftain, I vould think.. leader of tribe that start meddling vith demons. Father beat his tribe once, send him running vith tail between legs. Then years later, the killings start.. and Kal'Vargen appear."
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_Dwin holds his shield high and his axe higher as he follows Rag into the room, watching every shadow and corner for the next threat.
As he sees the exchange and the statue, he quietly mumbles to Rag…_
Who's this fool on the throne, lass? Any idea?
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_Ragnhild is very much on edge as the group travels deeper into the woods, keeping a close eye on Mark, sometimes joustling the poor goblin as if trying to keep him rooted to reality. She and Spitter follow immediately after their tribesman as he walks into the cave, Ragnhild cutting at vines and weeds with the sharp, icy tooth of her dragon spear.
As they reach the summoning circles and the goblin corpses scattered there, Ragnhild makes a warding gesture, mumbling a soft prayer in her native tongue. The demonic signs on the doors ahead may not tell the tall, illiterate barbarian much, but nonetheless cause a shiver down her spine, sharp blue eyes noting the foreigness of the doors make before she touches a hand to them, entering the throne room as the first of the group, likely closely followed by the two goblins.
Muddied winter wolf boots thud loudly against the smooth stone floor as Ragnhild makes her way towards the throne, spear gripped tightly in her hand. She stops dead in her tracks as she gets close enough to take in the scene, staring at the two figures on the dais before following the old goblin's pointed finger with a sharp intake of breath. All else seems forgotten for one instant as her eyes look to the immobile statue, breathing out his name:_
"Grahk.."
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_You travel for several days south and east deeper into the woods. Mark seems more and more distant,aloof the further you travel. Tindra's senses reveal danger every step of the way and..something else..something elusive. A darkness,indescribable and ever present seems to be behind every tree.
Eventually the woods opens up to a clearing before a small ridge. Centered in the ridge is a nondescript cave. Seemingly unused in sometime, weeds now choke the entry way. Mark seems almost pulled towards the cave and walks straight forward across the clearing into the cave.
The cave's darkness hides an old death. Tunnels are devoid of any sign of recent travel and open up to a series of rooms. Brushing back the cobwebs the rooms reveal their contents. Sprawled out on the floors are the mummified remains of goblins intermixed various summoning circles. Old blood stains the grounds. Inspecting the corpses shows a number with holes in their chests or stomach. Most likely the cause of their death.
Further down the tunnels the passage way ends in grand stone double doors. Obviously not goblin work,they are inscribed with a myriad of demonic sigils. The doors swing open with the slightest touch to reveal a large throne room.
Approximately100 feet deep and 40 feet wide the room is lined with Corinthian columns reaching to the 20 ft high roof. The walls and floor are polished smooth and lead up to a stone throne on a simple dais.
Upon the throne sits a shriveled old goblin wearing old robes with a bone crown upon his head. To his right stands a tall woman nearly 8 feet in height garbed in black chainmail. Her unearthly beauty is betrayed by her eyes that glow like hot embers. Her delicate left hand rests on the goblins shoulder seemingly enveloping the entire shoulder.
The room is empty save the 6 goblin statues arranged around the room.
<old goblin=""><g>dance Grak! See how the fool dances! ::laughs:: now bark like a dog! ::laughs:: :: points at one of the statues:: who is in charge now?
((note to the players, the statues do not move))</g></old>_
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Ragnhild's ice blue eyes flash dangerously as she replies in a near growl:
"Karing for vhat you call green-skin is vhole reason I am here, and if you no kan seem to fit name of my kin into thick head yours, I may juss forget yours, dwarf."
She stabs the ground with her spear, then irritably repeats Dwin's gesture, searching in vain for a bottle of ale to cool her temper with as she hears Tindra out. Squatting next to her pack, Ragnhild takes a deep breath and lets it out, before going on in a calmer, almost wry tone of voice:
"You know trip gone on too long vhen I am voice of caution, huh.. onli bad lack of ale cause me to act such. But.. someone or something steer us on now, and use one of us to do so. Vhen darkness invades your dreams, I think it reasonabel to not expekt green fields and rivers of ale at end of road, huh.
I no mean to snap at you Dwin, nor do I ask anni of you to kare in your hearts for me and mine, but I have no doubt troubel avait us. I vish we be prepared right and meet it together. If one mind kan be mess vith, so kan another's, and we be too few to afford mistakes. We go, vith minds warded and arms redi."
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Tindra seems a tad bothered by Ragnhild's description of his problem. She glances around nervously. "Can't say I'm the expert at guarding a mind against dark influences… but I suppose I could offer a spell of warding against evil. Though Dwin's got the right idea. We might as well follow the direction given."
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Mark gets an uneasy look about him and seems to look about as if looking for something. Finally he sighs and points south east.
<g>darkness say go that way</g>
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Dwin looks at the sickly looking goblin with a squint. He starts to ask something, then stops. Finally, he says to the group.
If this little greenskin can show us where to go, then lets be on our way! Caring for green-geenskin's aint gonna help us at this point. Ask him to draw a map if we dont think he's gonna survive these night-tremors!
After his little tirade, Dwin steps back and looks around the group, as if he thinks they might be watched. He then sniffs the air and goes back to his pack searching for a non-existent last bottle of ale.
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"Marrk say he know vhere Kal'Vargen lair is now, say darkness khum at night and tell him, tell to hurri also. Everi night it khum to him, turn air cold and probabli make sleep hard. I fear his mind be under some dark magicks, someone or something sneak into his dreams, but let's hear him out firrst. Belin, Tindra, kan check if something wrong vith him?"
After translating this to Spitter, Ragnhild turns her attention back to Mark, doing her best to calm any worries he might have about the attention of the others.
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Arms folded, Dwin watches the exchange between Rag and her pet.
Whats wrong with the run-..er, the smaller one, Rag? It sick or sumtin'?
