Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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Dwin nods knowingly.
O course, lass. Tis your honor here. But if we see any signs of witchery at work that would prove to be treacherous, or you ask for us, we'll be at your side in a heart-beat.
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A glint of anger sparks in Ragnhild's eyes at the ghost's words. She remains unmoving, feet so stubbornly set into the ground that it seems it would take a giant to budge her even an inch.
"Grahk's daughter is not dead, she is NOT liar and she is not going avay. Grahk kan tri to make daughter move, but he vill onli lose another wrestel match to her then."
Under her breath, she murmurs to the others:
"They all truli dead, or is this some sort trickeri or nasti magicks at worrk? Either vay, I vill fajt him if need to. I ask you let me do so alone, for if I kan not prove vorthy, we have no business be here at all."
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Tindra stays back a bit when Ragnhild steps forward to speak to the white goblin. She tries her best to stay in the shadows, crouching low and ready to pounce forward should Ragnhild order an attack. Her eyes, ears, and nose are fixed on the white goblin.
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(( clarification: he didn't come out of the ground, he was just crouched over and stood up))
_The figure gestures to the bodies.
'You lie, clan all dead, Grahk dead. You go, go away, or Grahk kill you.'
:: makes shooing motions::
'You go now'_
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Belin who was heard to be agreeing about the ale stops abruptly at Ragnhild does. She moves to Ragnhilds other side flanking her. She leaves Tindra to figure out where a cat belongs.
Yer sure dat un ghost. Remember dat wus un gobber statue back there. mebbe they are trying tuh trick long shanks?
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_Dwin makes his way through the halls and rooms, having switched out Luckbringer for the smaller, more agile Steelcutter.
A few times he pokes through the supplies looking for traps. "Bait" he mumbles a few times, but finds nothing out of the ordinary.
When the ghost materializes he takes up a flanking stance to the side of Rag as she speaks, and awaits a signal from her, or the ghost for that matter, on how to proceed._
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_Ragnhild moves warily through the caves, seemingly constantly ready for trouble at each new room entered and grunting slightly to find nothing but well-kept and well-stocked facilities. Relaxing slightly at the lack of murderous minotaurs or soul-sucking succubi, she makes a half-hearted comment about having to find the ale storage, when at last they reach the final room.
Ragnhild trails off and grinds to a halt, eyes going wide at the sight of the rows upon rows of bodies. As the ghost appears before them, she grips her spear with whitened knuckles, murmuring in her native tongue and making a warding gesture with her free hand. Her face is pale with fright, but her posture straight and proud as she steps forwards to face the ghost._
"Grahk himself send me, his daughter here, and -no one-, not even his ghost, vill make me leave until I find vhat he vished for me to find."
She sets her jaw stubbornly after this statement, holding her spear with both hands as she plants firmly infront of her and looking straight at the ghost with defiance in her glacial blue eyes.
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_The constant breeze plays havoc on Tindra's attempts to determine what's ahead. The breeze is damp and smells of old goblins and metal. Delving deeper into the caves the party crosses the makeshift walkway. The floor slopes even more steeply for 30 ft then opens into a large room. The center of the room looms a deep dark hole from which a steady breeze blows from. Several pieces of miscellaneous armor and weapons seem hung across the hole producing the odd banging. On the other side of the room a tunnel heads for a good forty feet before turning right. From here the party can smell goblin, old goblin smells, and something else, goblin but odd. Heading down the passage the party finds a dozen large rooms. Several seem dedicated to storage with enough supplies for 100 hundred men (or 200 goblins) to last months. Other rooms seem dedicated to worship, combat training, cooking, and a meeting hall. All of them seem in very good upkeep, oddly so. Finally the party comes to the last room down the tunnel, a large room stretching several hundred feet across. At one time it was perhaps a sleeping area, now it houses naught but row after row of goblin bodies covered in some white substance.
No sooner has the party taken in the view when a white goblin figure clad in armor rises some 60 ft away from the ground.
'Me ghost of Grahk, flee now before me kill all. Leave this place!'_
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Tindra slinks alongside Ragnhild, pausing a moment to look at the goblin "statue." Her ears twitch back and forth, trying to catch all the sounds around her as she looks about for any odd signs. Every now and then, she takes sniffs the air, hoping for some odd scent that will clue her in on what may lie ahead.
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Kisses the coin at her neck and follows him pulling her battleaxe to hand again
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Dwin sniffs the wind coming at them from the metal-clanging noise.
Cave-winds are usually caused when there's a big underground river, or when there's another entrance or exit nearby. That bein' said, nuthin about this seems "usual" to me. We aint gonna know until we're there.
Dwin enters the cave mouth ahead and draws Luckbringer.
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Ragnhild makes a quick warding gesture, taking the egg and stowing it away securely in her pack before continuing on towards the cave mouth ahead, a few short strides behind Dwin and Belin. She gives the submerged goblin a scrutinizing look as she passes, tapping the blunt end of her spear on its head curiously.
"Minotaurs big, tall creatures.. remember those marks high up on cave walls here and there as we go down? Kould be from those, huh."
The goblin charms on her spear flutter in the strong breeze as she tightens her grip on the spear, muscles tensing in anticipation of a possible fight. As an afterthought, she adds almost to herself:
"Vhere -is- that wind khum from, down here?"
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((Sorry for not keeping up earlier, but… damn 14 posts just today?))
When entering the cave, Tindra casts a couple of quick spells upon herself and offer her companions some too. She decides to shift into her feline form after they enter. With powerful muscles, sharp claws, and big teeth, it's easy to see why she prefers to be a panther when facing a combat situation.
Tindra keeps mostly quiet as the group explores, feline instincts suggest it's better to stalk in the shadows. Of course, she can't really speak when she's fully feline...
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belin does the whispering and then the staff catching. Her dark eyes watching the cave warily.
Aye kin. Meh seen these used. weh'll nay let yuh become un towel rack fer un minitaur.
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After failing to flail the greenskin and assuming that there is trickery in place, Dwin quickly gets up grunting, and takes his staff back from Belin.
Either someone is droppin gob-statues in the water,
…he pokes several times at the submerged stone entity...
Or there's a minotaur-like threat here that can turn its foes t'stone.
Unfortunately, I doubt its the latter. Lets get movin'…
After he shakes his hand dry, he forages through his bag until he finds what he is looking for. He pulls out a small bag and hands an egg shaped item to each of the party members.
I want these back if we dont use em… If any of us, meanin' me, gets turned to stone, ya crack this egg on it and it will bring ya back to skin and beard.
After passing them out, he continues carefully across the rest of the way, sweeping his staff from side to side along the way.
((I have them on my inventory, if we end up using anything like this we can take care of that IG))
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_On the other side of the walkway, the armored dwarf and his squire peer at the group.
The dwarf peers from one knee, leaning on an old runed staff that dries the damp stone with a quite sizzle, creating a small expanding dry circle.
He turns a bit at the sound of dripping water, muttering to himself as he realizes its his squire wetting himself for the third time since they have entered the cave._
"Unless yeh is markin it as yeh territory, hows about yeh pretend yeh has deh stones to pee standin up?"
_The goblin just makes some quite noises, chewing on the stick that the dwarf placed between his teeth to stop the sound of the chattering, that sounded like a tap dancing skeleton on the wet stones of the cave.
The dwarf realized that the goblin was quickly driving himself mentally insane, replaying the words of the seemingly undead goblin had spoken to the small party.
He had to keep him sane. He could still serve a purpose._
"Juss think of yeh cut of whatever we finds down eer. Yeh will be richer than any other gobber me knows."
The dwarf gives a quick glance backwards at the gobber to see if this has the desired effect. He was stable, but not quite calm. What else could he say?
"Nae fear lad… Me has nae allowed anyun werkin fer me to die doin me biddin."
_At these words the goblin started to smile, the stick falling out of his mouth. With fumbling sweating hands, he somehow catches it before it hits the ground and stuffs it back into his mouth. He forces a smile with the stick firmly in place, taking some solace in the dwarf's words that he has a chance at living.
The dwarf mutters a bit to himself in dwarven._
[D] Well nae un important has died, lately…
_He pulls out an amulet from around his chain and gives it a quick kiss as he stuffs it back inside his plate.
He peers closer at the group that appears to be playing charades. "Fishing?"
His gaze fixed on the party, he holds his arm backwards towards his squire. The sound of a cork being pulled and sloshing liquid precedes his hand and forearm taking a quick bath in ale, as the squire does his best to hand him a bottle with a shaky arm.
The dwarf mutters as he downs the rest of the bottle before handing the bottle back, shaking his hand dry once the goblin has taken hold of the glass._
"Nae piss in deh empties.."
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(( the goblin face does not move as Dwin grabs it's throat except the goblin doesn't move at all. Dwin's hand grasp what feel like stone and pretty darn heavy stone at that and is unable to bring it up))
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_Dwin takes a step forward, then pivots quickly, tossing his staff to Belin as he spins and lunges for the floor.
He thrusts one hand into the water aiming for the greenskin's throat.
If successful, its assumed that he will flop his wet prey out of the water and onto the path directly in front of the group, much like a retired Floridian would do with a Mahi-Mahi; keeping a death grip on its throat._
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Ragnhild isn't far behind, long impatient legs bringing her constantly a bit too close to the trappers. She leans closer to Belin at the whispering, then looks ahead to Dwin with a questioning look, making a fishing motion, mouthing the word "alive".
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((the blood and burn marks look old, very old. More likely from a fight then a trap))
