The Fall of the Silver Valley
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_The small and charming town, home to many good hearted hinfolk and ingenious gnomes, sat peacefully on the edge of the Rawlinwoods for years nearly forgotten by friends and foes alike, just the way the small townfolk liked it. Always hearing the great and terrible stories of the battles fought against monstrous and wicked enemies of Narfell, but never truly a victim or target of these treats. Until now…
Not long after hearing the tales of gigantic beetles and goblin armies swarming the gates of Norwick, they too we're targeted by the ever-growing hoards of this new threat. Though not as defensible as Norwick, the townsfolk we're able to push the armies back with the help of local adventurers, but not without suffering terrible costs with every engagement. Again and again the attacks came, taking more lives and leaving less to defend the small town. The death toll lost count, buildings lie in ruins and monuments lay crumbled or cracked. It was only a matter of time... Unless the threat was quickly dealt with, the town would not be able to suffer another full on assault.
Then it came...
The largest army to have poured out of the Rawlinwoods in decades. Huge, scuttling, powderkeg strapped beetles being driven onward by wicked goblins lusting for destruction. They would not wreak havoc and then fall back to the safety of their tribe's territory, they would not be content until they had butchered every last hin, gnome, and animal of the Silver Valley and claimed it as their own. Though the efforts of the Avoreen and the adventurers saw hundreds of the enemy ranks cast dead upon the battlefield, it would not be enough to turn the tide against this never-ending ocean of beetles and bogarts. The enemy eventually pushed through into the Valley, marching over heaps of their own dead and rushing into the town to claim as many lives as they could. The townsfolk screamed and begged for mercy, but they found none. The valiant efforts of the defenders saw dozens rescued from the hell that became the Silver Valley, but many more we're cut down, crushed, or burned to death.
Now the town lies in ruin, goblins celebrate around pires of the Silver Valley's burning history, leaving nothing but long ominous trails of smoke and ash to remind the displaced townsfolk of their home._
//If your PC lives in the Silver Valley, feel free to post your PC's actions or reactions here.
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Were anyone watching the settlement in the weeks following it's fall to the goblin invaders, they might spot a small figure clad in oiled hides making her way to a tent in the nearby woods where signs of a struggle were found. The figure soon followed some tracks into the woods, only to find the mutilated remains of a halfling woman in a simple dress. Soon after, a drawn out scream of agony is heard from the woods, followed only by silence.
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_Moon and her children on that day had been out of town, though upon coming by the information of what had happened in Peltarch, and seeing the devastation for themselves visiting the site under Maki's invisibility, the feeling of sadness and somberness was overwhelming for the Hiltold crew.
Moon and her two girls Marie and wept softly as Maki did his best to keep a straight face, the halfling sorcerer doing his best to stay strong for 'his girls'. They make their way to the campsite by the Kelemvorite temple at this point and offer any assistance they can, save for the mother, who can be seen needing some alone time.
Mara returns hours later covered in scars, burns, and blood; a majority of it not necessarily her own. Despite having gone on a rampage slaying dozens upon dozens of goblin, it seemed to do little to quell her anger and frustration for not being around when the attack happened. The hin woman looked tired as she seemed to take no joy in any of it, her baby blue eyes easy to read, full of pain and sadness as they reflected upon the polished silver axe in her possession._
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_Trotter, the hin ranger, watched the smoke rise from Silver Valley from the tree line in the Wooded Pass west of Norwick. He had lived in Silver Valley about as much as he lived in any town, which was not much. Most days he camped out deep in the Rawlingswood. He didn't have much verbal reaction, because he never talks much. But silently he mourned, and inside he burned. If there's one thing he hated more than cities or people killing animals, it was goblins.
Sometime later he was watching from the treeline south of Norwick when he spotted a goblin hunting party moving into the fields south of South Gate. Arrows flew from several goblin short bows, knocking a hawk from the sky. Goblin cackles could be heard. Slowly Trotter crept up from the south. There were five goblins, archers all and quite deadly shots. Too many for him to take on alone. He hung back trying to decide if he could hit one and run when all of a sudden he heard an explosion. A figure on top the hill inside Norwick's gates had fired a ballista and the firey bolt exploded with fury, hitting one of the archers and blasting all five of them.
Two dropped dead, but the others began firing quickly and with deadly accuracy at the lone defender. It was the red-haired ranger named Shesarai. Despite being twice wounded, she calmly aimed the ballista and fired again. The bolt hit another of the goblin archers and exploded. The three remaining goblins dropped dead, burned to a crisp. Trotter smiled and tipped his cap, though there was no way the woman could see him. Just as well, he thought._
AubreyMaturin
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…a humanoid form can be seen on a hill in the distance. The figure stands and watches the pillars of smoke rise into the air for many minutes then raises the bow in hand into the air and walks back into the tree line. A challenge? A salute?...
