Chapter 1 - Rescue at Rivenroar

[Black Plauge]

"Gareth, get up here! The sun's almost reached the high tower on the Keep."

Clutching a bugle, a man in a tabbard that is too clean to have seen actual battle comes scrambling up the stairs to the top of the East Gate. Turning to face the west, he watches the sun as it dips towards the horizon, stamping his feet to ward off the slight chill carried by the autumn winds.

Raising the bugle to his lips, Gareth sounds the first notes of Captian's Call (http://www.fmaalumni.org/qt/_capt.wav) and each of the towers takes up their notes in turn, circling the city twice in the space of a few seconds.

"Sounds like the new bugler is stationed at the Market Gates today," Gareth remarks as the temple bells begin their answering peal, marking the end of the work day.

* * *

*bong* *bong*

As the last of the temple bells fades away, the Antler and Thistle begins to fill, it's business picking up as other businesses close down for the evening and the shop owners and workers come in for a drink and comradeship before heading home for the evening. In the back corner three patrons play a game of silver ante (http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/ante/welcome) while a neighboring table hosts a game of Wishing Well (http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/dg/20070502a). Around the central fire place several men gather, listening as one of their number spins a tale, while those at the tables form groups 3 or 4 or 5 and talk about their day as they share drinks and food. Near the front an individual issues a general challenge for a game of darts, loser buys the drinks, while those at a nearby table start taking bets as to the outcome. Behind the bar the proprietor fills drink orders, calling occasionally to his wife back in the kitchen, while his kids bustle back and forth between the bar, the tables, and the kitchen carrying orders back and forth.

[zachol]

Cyril (of the Green Isle, and a host of other things) drops a few coins in the pot and leans back, a shockingly annoying grin spreading across his face as he examines his cards.
"Now, really. Who's idea was it to challenge thine own Ril in a game of ante? Thought you all would've learned by now."
The hell? Why do I always get such lame cards? Tupping seven white is my best card? I should've stuck to just singing a ballad or something. Oh bugger, play it cool...

He leans down, resting on one elbow, keeping his cards close. The grin is still there, like always, his eyes piercing and predatory.
Okay, maybe if someone leads right...

[Mercutio]

Taraka sat near the fire, listening to the bard spinning yarns. The ranger had no interest in gambling, and strong drink didn't agree with him. Sipping on a coffee brew, dark and bitter like it had been roasting for days, and it probably had, Taraka thought it was perfect. Much better than the light tasting, darkened water that he tended to brew out in the wilderness. He simply never had the time to brew it right.

The tale being told was one he'd heard before, one that was common among campfires and along the trade routes. It was a simple tale a some long-forgotten hero and his quest to slay some dragon or other, inspiring to those who sat home and lived the drab life in safety and security, but tired and trite to anyone that had spent even a week or two away from home.

[treehouse]

Lorien stands near Ril, a bemused look on his face as he stares down at the still-full stein in his hands. It has been at least fifteen minutes since he retrieved the drink from the barman, but he is still having trouble taking the first sip.

He flexes his left arm and rotates it in a half-circle experimentally.

Still stiff, still painful...this would definitely take the edge off.

He wavers for a moment, then sets the stein down and walks over to where the ranger is sitting.

"Thought we were all buggered for a while there. Never got around to thanking you for showing up like you did."

[Scythe]

A cloaked figure approaches the lot, which easily hid from view his infernal traits; he didn't have a choice really. Ever since he was imprisoned and liberated, the villagers of Brindol would never have accepted and approved of his presence in their small town. And his kin, Tieflings, weren't usually liked in these parts where humans and elves ruled.

The Wizard stands a few paces from the his comrades, staying close to Myriam as well. It was all thanks to her, she was the only reason he still lingered. He kept a watchful eye on the people within, sipping on his drink.

[Mercutio]

Taraka sipped at his coffee and turned to look the fighter in the face. "No need to thank me. I certainly was not planning to jump into a large-scale fight. I was simply trying to pick off bandit stragglers here and there, hoping to convince them to move on."

[Stringbean2142]

Myriam glanced at Balam and chuckled softly. "Bal, relax. No one here's preparing to knife us for what little money we have." Her eyes shifted briefly to Ril, then back. "Ril's the most likely one in here to go for our coin, and from what Dad said he's more like to annoy us t' the point we give in."

She paused, then turned to look at him more fully. "Or is it our visibility here?" She forgot at times what he must go through as a tiefling. To her, he was simply Balam, but that's not what most people saw. She sometimes wondered what he saw, looking in the mirror. Did he see the man, or the infernal legacy carried in his blood?

She shifted closer to Taraka, Lorien, and the fire. Dressed in simple armor and factoring in her pack, sword, and clothes, she cast a sizable shadow and her movement redirected that shadow so it better obscured Balam from prying eyes. It also let her hear Taraka's reply. "Planning or not, Dad said you saved some lives out there, sir, including his. I'm glad you showed up to help them."

[Black Plauge]

The sun had just begun to set when those with families start to make excuses and those without try to convince them to stay just one more round. It was a nightly ritual, and one that the families almost always won. That night, however, the ritual's progress was interrupted rather rudely as the front door flew off the its hinges and landed amid the near by tables. Four hobgoblins rushed into the bar, swords outstretched to skewer the nearest bar patrons.

"For Sinruth! For the Hand!" they shouted as a bitumen torch crashed through one of the windows, landing on one of the tables and revealing 3 more hobgoblins and a goblin with more torches just outside.

This thread will be locked for the duration of combat. Please proceed to the Combat Thread (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?p=358136#post358136) for the time being.

[Black Plauge]

At first, the hobgoblin attack was disorganized, with each simply going after the nearest and easiest targets. However, with most of the patrons scrambling for cover when more hobgoblins came in the rear exit, Balam, Lorien, Taraka, and Ril quickly mounted the only real resistance, thus drawing the hobgoblins to them before dispatching them with alacrity.

Meanwhile, the goblins ignored the resistance as much as possible, throwing more bitumen torches around in an attempt to burn the Antler and Thistle to the ground.

That strategy proved to be the undoing of the goblin up front when Taraka, Balam, and Lorien ganged up on him, but the one in the back was able to escape out the way he came in, after leaving a couple of more fires as a parting gift.

Cautiously, the patrons hiding under the tables peaked out as the sounds of combat ended.

"The fires!" shouted the bartender, "Help put out the fires before this whole place goes up!"

[treehouse]

Lorien quickly wiped the blood off his sword and sheathed it before helping the surviving tavern patrons and his comrades put out the fires around the common room.

[do we need to post fire-extinguishing strategies or is it assumed that all of us working together can do it?]

[zachol]

"Bloody insane goblins!"
Ril scrabbles back from the corpses, then looks at the bartender. Aaand suddenly there's a huge fire at the counter?
He ran forward, using his cloak the same way he had a few seconds ago to beat out the fire.

[Scythe]

Once the last of the few goblins left have fled the scene, it took a few moments for Balam to notice that the skirmish was already over, that blood needed not to be shed anymore. As he takes conscious of his surroundings, he notices that the whole place was starting to burn up rapidly, they had to put out the fires quickly.

Slightly concentrating, he conjures a "Mage Hand" to hush out the fires as best he can, while sustaining his summon as long as it takes.

[Black Plauge]

Working together, the fires were quickly put out, though not without significant damage to the bar and the kitchen. The tavern may have been standing, but it would be a week or two before it was serving drinks again, and even longer until it could serve food.

[treehouse]

Lorien wasn't one to stand around idly. As soon as the last fire was under control, he spoke it a loud voice that hopefully commanded attention.

"Bunch of stinking goblins didn't just waltz into town and attack one building. Chances are, there are more of them out there. Glory awaits us, comrades!"

He unsheathed his sword and walked briskly out the front door.

[walking outside, searching for signs of combat elsewhere]

[Black Plauge]

Things outside the Antler and Thistle weren't in much better shape than inside it: smoke could be seen coming out of places which weren't chimneys in several spots in the city, small groups of guards would occasionally run past, directing everyone off the streets or asking about goblin sightings, and most of the regular citizens were holed up in what ever building they had been in when the attack started, the bravest peeking out windows.

Given that the goblins had been more focused on property damage than attacking patrons at the Antler and Thistle, Lorien led the group towards the highest concentration of smoke first. They had only gone a few blocks, however, when a guard patrol stopped them.

"What are you doing out and about?" the frazzled sergeant demanded of them, "Haven't you been told to stay inside with the doors barred like everyone else?"

[treehouse]

Lorien snorted, throwing his best disdainful look at the guard.

"We've probably killed a lot more goblins than you today. Get out of our way."

[Mercutio]

Taraka whistled for his tiger, who came bounding up to the ranger's heel. The shifter figured the presence of a large cat would be noteworthy if not outright frightening. He shifted his maul on his shoulder and walked right past the guard, looking for the biggest pocket of goblins to attend to.

[zachol]

"Ha ha, Lorien, always so diplomatic about these things!"
Grinning, Ril pushed Lorien aside, moving up to the sergeant and quickly invading his personal space, resting a hand on his shoulder.
He waved back at the Antler and Thistle.
"Just got attacked by goblins. We fought them off. Heroes! And such. We're here to help. We'll stay out of your way. Like a public service!"

He glanced back at the others, then pulled the sergeant in closer, speaking in a hoarse not-whisper.
"Frankly, I think they're insane, but there's no stopping them. Best to just go along with it and focus on the goblins. Right?"
He winked, patted the sergeant on the shoulder, then pushed back, twirling to face Lorien. "All right, Lor my friend! Town center, kill some gobbos!"

[Black Plauge]

Clearly nervous at the sight of the tiger, one of the guards, who looked barely old enough to shave, clutched nervously at the spear shaft in his hand.

"Killed goblins?" the sergeant responded, flustered by the flood of words coming from Ril. "Town center? Insane?"

The sound of a suppressed laugh from one of the guards cut off the sergeant's flustered sentences, and drew his attention away from Ril for a moment. When it returned, he seemed to have gained some composure and attempted to regain control of the situation.

"Where were you attacked and how many of them were there?"

[zachol]

"Oh you know. We'd been relaxing at the bar, some goblins come in, start flingin' these torches everywhere! I get up, shoot one mumble mumble get knocked over, these guys kill a few more. I think there was... lesse, ten? Twelve? Ha, I couldn't even count, it happened so fast. This guy," Ril leaned into Lorien, "This guy here, killed three of them before I could even blink! Ha ha ha! All dead, fires stopped, on to more, all that!"

Absolutely radiating charm and confidence, Ril leaned back forward toward the sergeant. "So. Yes. Antler and Thistle. Dozen goblins. Attacked, killed some patrons, set fires. We retaliated, killed them all, are going to help defend against the others. No time to talk, you do your jobs, we'll help, all good, yes? Yes!"
He subtly nodded, hopefully enough for Lorien to know "go ahead," and continued to distract the sergeant as the others filed past.

[Black Plauge]

Apparently satisfied with Ril's explanation, the sergeant grunted and waved his troops forward.

"Sounds like you got the better of that group. The goblins appear to have broken up into small groups, and we haven't been able to pin any of them down for very long. Keep you're eyes and ears open."

Despite his apparent acceptance of their story, Ril and Taraka overheard the sergeant mutter something about checking out their story as he and his troops left the party to their own devices once more.

[treehouse]

Lorien continued marching to the center of town, sword and shield at the ready. He scanned the store fronts and residences to his left and right as he walked, but in truth he wasn't much of a scout, and he hoped one of the others was following closely enough behind him that they would see an ambush before he walked into it.

There was certainly glory in falling under a hail of goblin arrows, but it was far more heroic to save the town first.

[Searching for gobbos. If we go too long without an encounter, Lorien will begin blowing on his horn in a challenging sort of way.]

[Black Plauge]

Wandering through the streets, Lorien leads the way towards shouts in the distance. As he and the others get closer, they spot a pair of injured guards hurrying away as best they can. One guard's tabard is badly scorched, and his face is beet red and blistering. The other has the broken off shaft of an arrow protruding from one thigh and he leans on his companion for support.

Turning the corner to go back the way the guards had come from, the party is treated to a curious sight: a full-grown ogre pulling a wagon by a yoke around its waist. The ogre holds a cask in one hand and a massive club in the other. Riding atop the wagon are two hobgoblins with bows.

Combat time again. New combat thread here. (http://www.online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?p=361198#post361198)

[Black Plauge]

As he moves forward to engage the ogre, Taraka witnesses first hand why the ogre is pulling a wagon when it throws a cask of flaming pitch in his general direction. Fortunately for Taraka, but unfortunately for the barbershop nearby, the ogre's aim with the cask isn't very good.

Intent on preventing the ogre from using any more casks, Taraka engages it head on while the Ril and Balaam hang back to harass it from afar. Said tactic, however, proves to be incredibly dangerous, especially when the cask the ogre was getting ready to throw explodes while the ogre uses his club, forcing Taraka to retreat fairly quickly.

The exploding cask, however, does have some good effects as it forces the hobgoblins away from the ogre, depriving him of additional casks, and setting the cart containing the casks on fire.

Braving the flames, Lorien takes over the job of pinning the ogre down while the other party members continue to harass it from afar or go after the scattering hobgoblins.

*ka-boom*

As the fire on the cart spreads to the unused casks, a chain of explosions begins, setting fire to bar and inn nearby and burning the ogre badly before it can extract itself from the cart yoke.

Their cart destroyed, the ogre and the hobgoblins attempt to retreat towards the Market Gates, only to be chased down by the party.

Savoring the victory, the party is soon surrounded by a small crowd.

"Is that a giant?"

"Is it really dead?"

"Too small for a giant, I think. Must be some kind of orc."

"You must be great heroes to kill something like that."

"Orcs and hobgoblins? I thought they were supposed to be enemies."

"Has anyone seen Adronsius?"

"Some heroes. My brother's barbershop is destroyed and Brindol's Gentlemen's Club and Chatrenn and Sons are both going to be severely damaged.

"Only in Hareb. It's some kind of local blood feud."

[Scythe]

Once the situation has been resolved with those unsettling creatures, he conjures up his personal Mage Hand to try and control the spread of fire. Even though, the populace still found a way to surround him and his companions, asking questions that he feels not that he can answer, and one blaming them partly for the destruction of the town.

"There would have been more considerable damage without our presence, why can't the people understand the most basic of concepts?"

He didn't felt comfortable taking to these people, and looking around his companions, he hoped someone would take word and calm these peasants, or else someone might recognize him and blame himself and his kinship, demons, for everything that has happened.

[zachol]

"People, people!"
Ril surveyed the crowd, a grin plastered on his face, his hands raised in a 'calm down' gesture.
"It was nothing, really! The moment we saw the ogre, setting fire to your fair city, well, there was simply no question that we had to stop it. In fact, this man,"
He leaned into Taraka, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "This man here, Taraka Linneaus, was the first, and he bravely, bravely ran straight up to that ogre, suffering through flame and fire, all for the sake of bringing it down and saving as much as possible, as quickly as possible."

He broke away, continuing to ham it up.
"Now! The fact remains, that we are still under attack! Am I not right?" He glanced at Lorien, briefly nodding toward the center of town.
"There are still likely many goblins running amok, and although the fires are under control, those fighting them still need all the help they can get! We'll be off, finding more goblins to slay, if I could just ask you all to aid in recovering this city and controlling the damage, and we'll be off!"

Ril made a relatively subtle retreat, verbally repelling any more peasants and herding everyone past some winding streets to somewhere private. When they managed to find somewhere quiet, he turned, looking at the group.
"Alright. So. Now what? I'm fairly certain we won't be able to deal with another one of those. Am I right?"

[Mercutio]

"Another ogre? Not likely. More goblins? Maybe. There are still attacks going on in the city, so we need to do something."

[zachol]

"Ugh, fine. Just... let's take a rest, first."
Ril frowned. Idly, he began to hum something, softly, while still concentrating. After a moment, he glanced up.
"Can anyone think of why they're doing this? Random destruction might be well and good, but they seemed particularly intent on destroying things, and although maybe I don't know goblins so well, this does seem like a fairly larger event than you'd expect out of a raiding party."

He left the question hanging, grumbled, then turned to sit on a random crate.
"Well, doesn't matter. Can find that out later. For now... for now, let's just take a breather, mmhm? No point in rushing out in the state we're in. Just get us all killed. Lorien, you know how to treat burns, right?"
He nodded at Taraka, then returned to humming. Soon, he retrieved his Lyre from the bag, fiddling with notes for a little while. The effect was strangely soothing.

After a few minutes, he suddenly glanced up. "Right. Ok, so, more stupid heroics. Thrilling. Off we go?"

[kind of dictating actions. argh. sorry. just sort of move on. unless there're objections, short rest w/ song of rest, people can spend healing surges with a +4 bonus to each]

[Black Plauge]

"They're headed for the Market Gates!"

The sound of a shouted warning or order, it's hard to tell which, gives the party's wandering a direction and they turn north towards the river. Very quickly they are joined by guard patrols who heard the same cry and before long they stand admist a large contingent of the guard in the Market Square. Before them the Market Gates stand closed, and on the other side rapidly moving away can be seen the backs of several goblinoid forms.

[treehouse]

"Well, you see there, Ril...word must have reached them about the dead ogre. Look at them flee before us!"

Lorien mock-grinned at his friend, sheathing the sword at his hip and loosening his shield straps.

"I wonder if we were able to take any prisoners. Goblins tend to raid little villages or attack groups of travelers. I rarely hear of them trying anything with this level of coordination."

He looked for the nearest guard. "Is there anyone in this town who passes for a sage, or an expert on local affairs? A historian of sorts?"

[Spending healing surges to get back to full health - I'm not actually sure how damaged I am though.]

[Scythe]

Once the battle and the immediate rush from the peasants slightly calm themselves, Balaam takes a breather. Strangely, the Bard's song easily relaxes and soothes his mind and his body. Though, this lovely sensation doesn't last long, as the peasants immediately screams and yells as more attacks are happening around the small village.

"I suppose having another go might be slightly interesting..."

The demon in human shape prepares himself for another upcoming battle. He hasn't delivered so much bloodshed in a single day ever since he was imprisoned a few years back, and where Myriam saved him from an everlasting agony; from himself.

"Should we follow them? This coordinated attack from lowly creatures intrigues my curiosity."

[Mercutio]

"I daresay following them might help us learn the intent and reasoning behind this strange assault, but I would hesitate to do so in a confrontational manner."

Taraka looked to the bard and nodded appreciatively. He began to to feel the demons of pain lifting from his body.

Spend a healing surge

[Black Plauge]

After pushing their way to the front of the crowd of guards, the party is able to quickly ascertain why no one else seems intent on pursuing the fleeing goblinoids: the gates have been jammed shut. The hobgoblins, it seems, were even more coordinated than they originally thought, and several guard members are already at work trying to free the jammed winches.

With little left to do but watch their prey get further away, the party notices that one of the hobgoblins has fallen behind the rest. While it's hard to tell at this distance, he appears to be limping and perhaps was injured during the raid.

Out beyond the gates, another has noticed this as well, and chooses that moment to strike, charging upon the hobgoblin from hiding and expertly hamstringing his good leg. Using his pommel to knock the hobgoblin out, the stranger quickly grabs the hobgoblin by the back of his jerkin and drags him towards the gate.

As he gets closer, it becomes impossible not to notice that the stranger's movements are oddly mechanical and Ril is the first to see why: the stranger is a warforged.

As if on cue, the guardsmen manage to free one of the winches just as the warforged arrives at the gate, his prisoner in tow.

"Tell Councilmember Troyas that I have a guest for him," the warforged states in a voice which is oddly flat and full of life at the same time.

[zachol]

Ril blinked a few times. "Huh. Takes care of that."

He nodded to Lorien, still watching the warforged with the goblin.
"I know of a few. We can visit them later. Right now, this seems a bit important."

[treehouse]

Lorien watched the development outside with interest.

"Yes, the sage will wait," he muttered before advancing on the warforged.

"Hey, you there! Bucket of bolts! We'll take him, thank you."

[zachol]

"Lorien! How rude!"
Ril slapped a hand on his shoulder, lightly shoving him back while he began to talk at the warforged.
"My knightly friend still hasn't quite gotten the hang of propriety, I apologize! My name is Cyril Radegonde Kilyan Corentin du Ile-Vert, you may call me Ril if you wish, this buffoon is Sir, though you wouldn't know it, Sir Lorien Agrivail. We are accompanied by Taraka Linnaeus, Balam Daigon, and the most lovely Miss Myriam Stidolph. We would be happy, no, honored to accompany you to meet with Councilman Troyas and present your fine catch."
He leaned closer, grinning slightly. "That was truly impressive of you, by the way. A takedown most magnifique!"

He leaned back, eyeing a guard. "The trouble remains, we do not know exactly the location of Master Troyas. He may yet be outside, or at the Hall, or even among us at this very moment, surveying the destruction those foul wretches have brought."
He looked at the warforged, leaning forward. "Which I suppose is why you had the forethought to request for someone to bring him here, as opposed to what my friend might have thought appropriate, tromping around all day with a hobgoblin in tow, looking for the councilman himself!"
Looked back at the guard. "So! May I ask, most kindly sir, if you should know, where, indeed, is Master Troyas, such that we may sally forth and deliver this fine catch?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

...Bucket of bolts? Cannot win them all, I guess.

Seeing Lorien as capable of handling the hobgoblin, he casually hands him over.

...At least this one seems generous enough, if not a little long winded...

"Thank you, good sir," he nodded to Ril for his complement and turned to the guard after Ril finished speaking.

"Finding Councilmember Troyas is important. This one," pointing at the helpless hobgoblin now with Lorien, "will be of help to figuring out what just happened here."

[treehouse]

Lorien was taken aback by Ril's reproach. He started to say something about how it was unnecessary to apologize to an automaton, but the warforged spoke first, and he decided it was unnecessary.

"It has a point, Ril. We should make haste to this councilman and deliver the prisoner."

He shook the hobgoblin for emphasis.

[Black Plauge]

"C..C..Councilmember Troyas doesn't handle the disposition of prisoners," a nervous, and very young looking, member of the guard replies to the continued inquiries. "Th..Th..That would be the Lord Warden's responsibility."

"Or one of his duly appointed representatives," a gruffer looking officer interjects as he walks up. "Go find Captain Kartenix, lad. I'll take over from here."

"I'm Lieutenant Dewitt," he says, turning to Ril, "if you don't mind, I'll have some of my men take that prisoner off of your hands and see to that crossbow bolt in his leg. Can't have him bleeding to death before we execute him, now can we?"

[Scythe]

Balam eyes the warforged carefully. His magical inclination naturally made him very interested in this creature; he had yet seen a warforged up close. He observes every inch of his structure, intrigued by it's composition, the melange of magic and life, mixed together for a perfect sentient being.

"Let's find him then; this strange matter still needs to resolved", he says whilst looking at his coterie of companions.

[zachol]

"He, Lorien, l'andréides do happen to be sentient beings." He blinked. "Although I am rather curious just what one is doing here."

He smiled, leaning in to the gruffer officer. "Nevermind, though. Yes, that would be most wonderful, most delightfully helpful of you, however." His smile dropped. "Well, I would not even think to question your ability. I am sure you can handle a single wounded hobgoblin, to think otherwise would be gauche, however, it is simply the case that we have taken a keen interest in these recent developments. Not to boast, but we have taken down a number of the goblins, as well as one of those fearsome ogres, and we would be most keen on finding out the cause of all this mess, the situation, as it were."
He smiled again, leaning back. "Simply, we'd like to come along."

A pause. "Also, our most metallic friend seems keen on reporting something to Master Troyas, and although it is true that, of course, he is not normally one to be a part of the questioning of prisoners, these are special times, and this is a special case, wherein the information held by this goblin is perhaps more... vital, than the usual knowledge gleaned from a common criminal. No?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

Cutter stands still, taking in all the action around him. Not being used to diplomatic courtesies, he struggles with trying to find the right words. Ril then manages to catch him completely off guard, causing him to do a double take as he mentions the use of he over it.

Taking a moment to bring himself back to the situation, he then responds to the guard adding on to what Ril said "I do not doubt you at all, but your town is up in flames and you think the council or the lord warden would not want to be involved in the interrogation of the captured?"

That should at least put the guard on his toes. It would be nice to see Troyas again, as he has been evasive since our first meeting. It will be nice to see if things work out to meet him again, and see why he has taken a keen interest in me.

[Black Plauge]

"You can come along so long as you understand that this is the Lord Warden's prisoner," the lieutenant replies before gesturing for two guards to take custody of the prisoner.

Barking orders, the lieutenant sends milling guards back to their posts or out into the city to help fight the fires. He also sends another messenger to the Shrine of the Sun to get one of the acolytes to tend to the prisoner's wound.

Leading the way, he guides the group to the Keep where he orders the two guards with the prisoner to chain the captive to the stocks, but not to place him in them until his wounds have been tended. That done, he orders one guard inside to advise the Lord Warden of the prisoner.

As everyone waits for the Lord Warden to appear, the messenger sent to the Shrine of the Sun reappears with a white robed girl in tow. From the looks of things, the girl is 13, maybe 14 years old, but she bears the sun emblem of an initiate of Pelor on her robe. As she sets to work removing the crossbow bolt and binding the hobgoblin's wounds, Lorien and Ril can tell that she is competent, if rough with her patient.

Emerging from the keep, an older human, though one still in the prime of his life, strides ahead of a younger half-elf and the guard sent to get the Lord Warden tags nervously behind.

"I'm telling you Eoffram, I don't have the man power to spare going after the caravan raiders. If anything this attack demonstrates that I'm short handed as is just defending the town."

"But we can't let them continue to go unanswered. If we don't take action the raiders will only get more brazen. If you can't spare the men, then let me find some freelancers who will take care of the job."

"You know the council's stance on that and I can't authorize the release of funds to pay mercenaries without their consent. You will have to convince your fellow council members first."

Sighing, the half-elf looks over the group assembled in front of the keep for the first time, his eye brows rising a bit when he sees Cutter.

"Lieutenant Dewitt," the older human says, addressing the guard officer, "where is Captain Kartenix?"

"I've sent Recruit Waton to find him, sir. It's his wife's birthday so he wasn't on duty when the attack started."

"Good. We'll start without him, and you can bring him up to speed later. Has Rebekah finished tending to the prisoner's wounds?"

"Just about, sir. The only major wounds seem to be the crossbow bolt to the left leg and the hamstring cut to the right. The bolt was still in the former wound, however, and the cut was rather expertly done so the blood loss was minimal."

"Hmm... Well then we'll have to compliment the guard who manged that hamstring cut. That's not the easiest thing in the world to pull off."

"It wasn't a guard, sir," the lieutenant replies, gesturing to Cutter, "this, th... er... gentleman? was the one who captured the prisoner."

"Really?" the Lord Warden replies. Looking Cutter over, he turns to the half-elf, "Eoffram, is this one of your schemes?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

It seems that Troyas hasn't told some others of him contacting me. Now what?

Cutter takes a small step forward, trying to not act intimidating in front of the Lord Warden. "No scheme, sir." Not sure what to do when speaking to someone of importance like the Lord Warden, he does a slight bow that looks very foreign to his metallic nature.

"I saw large fires and came to see if I could help. I took advantage of an opportunity when it arose." I can't get Troyas in trouble. He's been the biggest source of work I've had so far.

Cutter looks around at the others trying to think of some way to get the attention off of him. "These people did more for your town. They said they killed an ogre."

[Black Plauge]

While Cutter's assurances don't seem to mollify the Lord Warden, the mention of an ogre distracts him from that issue and he turns to the rest of those assembled.

"An ogre? There was an ogre involved in this raid?"

[zachol]

"Why yes, a big one! I'm surprised you haven't heard!"

Ril grinned. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cyril of the Green Isles. These are Taraka Linnaeus, Balam Daigon, and Sir Lorien Agrivail. We, along with the lovely miss Myriam Stidolph, were relaxing at the Antler and Thistle, when a fairly large group of goblins attacked. We managed to fight them off and suppress the fires they'd started, and, realizing this most lovely town was under attack, thought it best to aid in its defense.
"We travelled toward the center of town, when we came upon an ogre throwing barrels of oil around, lighting the various buildings on fire. The most brave Taraka, in fact, without a shred of concern for himself, rushed into the fray, braving the numerous deadly fires, followed by Sir Agrivail, whereupon, with the arcane support of Mr. Daigon, we overcame the ogre."

He smiles. "And no, before you ask, this was entirely voluntary. The skirmish at the Antler and Thistle was fought on their terms, and our decision to further aid in this towns defense was done out of a matter of civic pride and a sense of duty."

[treehouse]

Lorien cleared his throat, looking rather embarrassed.

"Pardons, m'lord, but I am no ser, yet."

Ril's going to get me put in jail. They have laws about impersonating nobility.

[zachol]

Ril's smiling faltered, and he blinked a few times, staring at Lorien.
After a moment, he recovered his grin, and turned back to the Lord Warden. "Ah-hah, I apologize! Unfortunately, I am as yet still a bit unused to some of the more finicky aspects of noble policy overseas, er, well, I suppose not overseas to you, of course! A slip of the tongue, and an overstatement of the circumstances, perhaps a misunderstanding, purely on my part. I am sorry!"

He clapped his hands, approaching the Warden, slightly. "Actually, and although I don't like to boast, the recent combats have been, well, let us just say that the shadow cast by an ogre does not overtake its strength. Though we have persevered, obviously, it was a battle most fiercely contested, and for the most part, both from our sense of justice and our own personal interest, we consider ourselves still quite involved in the matter, and would like to see it through."
His grin turned sly, and he leaned in forward. "In fact, I couldn't help but overhear your slight, er, discussion, with Master Troyas, about how you may be a bit short on manpower..."

[Scythe]

The Wizard follows the group from behind, trying not to attract any attention upon himself.

As the Bard presented their group in a poetic fashion, he suddenly realised that he was being introduced to city guards. The idea of him being recognized as a criminal was the only thing that crossed his mind at that single moment. His devil eyes crossed with those of Myriam's, completely understanding what he was thinking at the moment, until he understood that her presence wasn't there anymore.

"It was nothing", he quickly snaps with the pressure, trying to discreetly hide his face from the Lord's inquisitive look, while also wondering where was Myriam and if she was safe.

[Mercutio]

Taraka busied himself studying the young initiate of Pelor, watching her actions in healing the hobgoblin. He held no love for the brutish beast, but the talk of a public execution of a prisoner was intriguing. Why heal what were essentially flesh wounds just to hang a creature? The ranger would have rather just bashed in the beast's face why it still fought. If you're not going to interrogate it, why not just kill it now? It seemed that the city environs held mercy in contempt, something the army and the wild took for granted. Neither institution would have publicly executed a mere tool of the opposition. A leader? Maybe, but not a mook like this one.

As he was lost in thought, Taraka heard Ril introducing the group. At mention of his name he looked up into the face of the Lord Warden, showing neither deference nor outright hostility. He merely felt that the measure of a man was not his position, but rather his abilities. After a quick look-over, the Lord Warden seemed to fit his position.

[Black Plauge]

As he watches the initiate tend to the hobgoblin's wounds, Taraka notices that the hobgoblin's armor bears an insignia (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=3006&stc=1&d=1265034535) which looks oddly familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

"Keep taking on ogres," the Lord Warden responds to Lorien's dissembling, "and you'll get a title from some one."

"And an ogre isn't nothing," Councilmember Troyas pipes in, "Clearly, Harrik, these men have been beneficial to the town. The least we can do is keep them in the loop."

Rolling his eyes and the councilmember, the Lord Warden agrees, "If you think the presence of an ogre in the raiding party is going to convince Ronan Teskerwill, then I think you've got another thing coming Eoffram. However, these folk do seem inclined to see this through and I've no objections to keeping them informed, so long as they stay within the bounds of the law."

[Mercutio]

"That insignia, the red hand, on the hobgoblin's armor," Taraka noted aloud, "looks familiar. I can't place it, but I'd swear I've seen it somewhere before."

[Scythe]

Balam's gaze quickly moved upon the symbol, hoping that his many years of research could at least try and identify it's meaning. He supposed beforehand that it must be either some clan or group, or maybe a deity of some sorts.

[zachol]

"...oh." Ril's eyes darted from the Lord Warden to Councilmember Troyas.
"Well alright! Wonderful, and... hmm?"
He turned his attention to Taraka, and the symbol.

[Da Mad Hatter]

For the first time since he last spoke, the only sign of life from Cutter was a quiet 'huff' as the Lord Warden mentioned getting a title. I doubt someone of my kind could do enough good to earn a title of the people.

Thoughts suddenly changed as Taraka mentioned the symbol on the armor. Cutter's eyes glanced up and down at the symbol, trying to recollect anything about it. Seeing the red hand didn't set anything off upon initial measure, but he returned to his previous stance and thought intently about what he had just seen.

[Black Plauge]

After examining the insignia, Balam quickly recognizes it as the symbol of the Red Hand of Doom, the band of goblinoids and dragonspawn which nearly conquered the Elsir Vale under leadership from Tiamat and her Exarch's approximately 20 years ago. What made it hard to place, however, is that the symbol is upside-down from the way the Red Hand of Doom had originally been depicted.

[Scythe]

Balam's intrigued eyes uncovers the secret of the mysterious insignia, though now he never wished to know their upcoming threat. Being already involved in this situation, he couldn't just back out now, and the other guards were already pressuring the Lord to engage into freelancers.

His gaze moves towards the Lord's, slightly uncovering his visage: "That symbol refers to the infamous Red Hand of Doom, I'm afraid, even though upside down. They nearly devastated the Elsir Vale a few years, twentyish down."

The Wizards takes a slow breath, and sighs desperately.

"Lord Warden, I'm sorry to inform you, but... there is a larger problem then just your town, now, and simply defending it will not suffice" he says, though he wished he could take back those words; his tone wasn't appropriate, he believed.

[Black Plauge]

"The Red Hand of Doom?" Pointing to a page that had been lurking around the edge of the courtyard, the Lord Warden continues, "Betrand! Go to the Hall of Great Valor and get Sertanian immediately. And when you get back report to Olver. I'm sure he can find something for you to do besides skulking in the shadows."

Chastised, the young page runs off towards the Hall of Great Valor, nearly bowling over the young recruit that Lieutenant Dewitt had sent after Captain Kartenix earlier.

"S..S..Sirs," the recruit stuters when he sees the Lord Warden.

"Well, out with it Waton. Where is Captain Kartenix?"

"I c..c..can't find him, sir. His wife was killed in the raid, but none of his neighbors have seen him or his son, Thurann, since before Captain's Call."

"Nine Hells! The Red Hand reappearing and Captain Kartenix missing. Rebekah, can you wake the prisoner up? I want to ask him a few questions."

Glaring at the Lord Warden, it is clear that the initiate doesn't like the idea of waking her patient, but also realizes that the question was really an order. Gesturing to the guards to double check the chains, Rebekah pulls a small vial from beneath her robes and breaks it under the hobgoblin's nose. As the hobgoblin groggily comes around, the Lord Warden stands over him and roughly challenges him.

"Who do you work for?"

Testing his chains, the hobgoblin takes a weary look at the Lord Warden and declares "I ain't saying nothin' unless you people let me go."

Pressing his lips together, the Lord Warden testily responds, "You invaded my city, set fire to its building, and killed some of the residents. You will hang for all that, but you will tell us what you know first. Now, who do you work for?"

[zachol]

Ril stifled a chuckle, but chose not to actually say anything, remaining silent for the moment.
Casually, he glanced at Rebekah, the initiate, raising an eyebrow and nodding slightly towards the Lord Warden.
This whole situation was quite hilarious. Was this really what passed for nobility and government in these lands?

[Black Plauge]

"Why should I tell you anything? It's hang if I do, hang if I don't from the sounds of it."

Inordinately pleased with his wit, the hobgoblin smiles at the Lord Warden, and act which only seems to raise the Lord Warden's ire even further.

"Listen you lack wit.."

Seeing the direction that the interrogation is taking, Eoffram discreetly moves over to Ril and speaks in a low tone, "I'm afraid that the Lord Warden is a bit out of his depth when it comes to obtaining the cooperation of one that he deems beneath him. You seem to have something of a silver tongue, other than your gaff about your friends rank earlier. Do you think that if I distracted the Lord Warden you might be able to extract some meaningful information from the hobgoblin?"

[zachol]

Ril shrugged, responding quietly. "Possibly. To be honest, I'm unsure what I could say myself to convince him. Not much I can offer. Also, despite my mild contempt for the Lord Warden's methods, I am not myself a very good interrogator."
He winked. "Hard to take what I say seriously. But yes, I can try, if you think it would help."

[Black Plauge]

"Anything is bound to be better than the Lord Warden simply demanding the information," Eoffram replies.

Moving away from Ril, Eoffram approaches the increasingly frustrated Lord Warden, "Harrik, it's getting late and I'd like to talk with you and the council for a bit before the evening is out."

Sighing, the Lord Warden replies, "Very well, Eoffram. I'm not sure what you're going to say that is going to convince anyone to change their mind, but I will accompany you. As you for, scum. Perhaps a night in the stocks will make you more ameneable to answering my questions."

Gesturing to the guards, the Lord Warden turns and heads back into the Keep with Eoffram while they place the hobgoblin in the stocks.

[Mercutio]

Taraka was not the most intimidating fighter out there, but Corbin was a tiger, after all. That said, intimidation didn't need to be based solely on the emotional act of scaring someone. "If he's uncooperative, pulling out a hobgoblin fingernail or two would probably help. Or maybe some painful but not immediately deadly cuts to the abdomen."

[zachol]

Ril turns to Taraka, Cutter, and the others, raising his hands.
"Hold on a second."

With a wink, he doubles back, walking calmly up to the hobgoblin.
Smiling good-naturedly, he crouches down, putting his head on level with the goblin's.
"So, what's this all about, then?"

[I'm assuming the stocks are in the same room(ish) as we were, and that the rest of the group is standing visible but still away from Ril and the hobgoblin.]

[Black Plauge]

Scowling at the simple question, the hobgoblin repeats his earlier statement, "I ain't saying nothin' unless you people let me go."

[zachol]

Ril rolled his eyes slightly, though he retained the smile.
"Now, we both know that's not really an option. I don't have the power to let you go, and I know I won't be able to convince the Warden. So, I can't really offer that."
He leans back slightly. "Plus, we also both know that you wouldn't really tell us anything if we did let you go, or you'd simply lie, or similar. Let's just take that off the table."
He raises an eyebrow. "Surely I can offer something, for just a hint of information? I mean, it's not like I'm really asking you who your leader is or what your plans are, I'm just a little curious, what's this all about? Goblins, attacking the city, something about reviving the Red Hand from twenty years back? Is there a problem, something we should know? Surely you've got some sort of motivation besides just killing things..."

[Black Plauge]

"Motivations are Sinruth's department. I just follow orders. Now, maybe if you got me something to drink, I might tell you about those orders. I've been told that I'm a talkative drunk."

[zachol]

"Hah, well then. Fancy that, let's see what I have here..."
Ril shuffles around in his bag for a moment before pulling out a smallish green bottle, going through the motions of opening it.
"Now, personally I would prefer something like a Montblanc Sucré or a Petit Marmot, something lighter, maybe whatever would pass for a Baile Noir mix around here. Not even asking for real wine, of course I can't actually import it, but... hr..." pop! "...there, alright. There you go. No, I mean at least someone knowing what grape they're using. But everywhere I go, I ask and ask, and people just look at me, saying 'grapes is grapes' and acting like I'm some sort of idiot asking what 'kind' of grapes they're using."

He smiles, taking the bottle away from a moment to let the hobgoblin swallow. Whatever was in the bottle, it was not wine. Some sort of hard liquor. Probably... brandy? Maybe.
"It's good, no? It gets so frustrating sometimes, you listen to those damn dwarves all the time, nobody questions when they yammer on and on about their beer. Well, I had thought I'd found something interesting when I was served some rosé in a town called Algren up north, but it was fairly mediocre, and apparently just a fluke, they were getting rid of the skin early on. Then, when I was east, at Three Rivers, I came across some vintners who finally knew what they were doing.
"They were blending a handful of grapes, some Nesim, some Aubeis, and they pretty much knew what they were doing. And, they'd somehow managed to get ahold of some Montagne Glaise, although they can't grow it worth shit, it's nice to see the effort. And, they were making some actual marc, some, er, cognac... pomace brandy, I think it's called? Actually, the idiots in Algren had just heard 'something' about what they were doing at Three Rivers, I can't imagine how you can get from marc to rosé except by completely reversing everything you're supposed to do. Ha..."

He sort of stares off into space. Idly, he offers the bottle again.
"Mmm. And they were all excited about having an actual prince from the Green Isles, asking how they did. I mean, it was still horrible. Hm. If anything, that I could tell what they were trying to do, could tell what it was supposed to taste like, made it even worse. But, I told them, 'best I'd tasted so far,' and they were so happy. It was hilarious. Kind of sad. Well, they were snottier than that, trying to retain their composure. Hah. Their cognac is actually pretty alright."
He frowns, wrinkling his nose. "Too expensive, though. Not as much as importing wine, of course, but still. Recently I broke down and have been trying the various beers. People around here seem to find it more comprehendible that I'd want some specific sort of beer. But then I get all these jokes about elves and beer, and honestly it's hard to really appreciate. I've found a couple sorts of dwarven stout that were interesting, and there was this strange iedic-mead thing I found once that was bizarrely good, made by some monks. But the dwarves always laugh at me, and it's all these problems, so I don't even bother anymore."

He stops, staring off into space still. After a moment, he glances down, grins, and winks.
"Enough to make someone go and sack a town, eh? So, considering you've drank..." he holds up the bottle, raising an eyebrow "...around 2/3 of a bottle of the best brandy I've found in this pitiful excuse for a 'state,' perhaps I can assume you're sufficiently en-drunkened and are willing to have a little chat about this messy 'killing people' business?"


[Note: can really replace most of that with "blah blah blah."]

[Scythe]

Balam preferred to remain silent, as he deemed that Ril had a decent control over what he was doing. He stood there, observing how the hoggoblin reacted, and focuses on what the creatures says and what he can connect to the Red Hand of Doom, if anything.

[treehouse]

Lorien blinked as he listened to Ril ramble. He realized what his friend was doing and held back an admiring grin. If he could actually get the gobbo to relax, his tongue might loosen.

Still, he kept one hand on his hilt, ready to try a much more direct method of inquisition if the need arose.

[Black Plauge]

Drinking from a bottle while restrained by the stocks is not the easiest thing in the world to accomplish, even with help. As a result, the hobgoblin ends up with a fair bit of the brandy dribbling down his chin, not his throat.

"It's not so messy when you supposed to be taking prisoners" the hobgoblin replies, not even remotely slurring his words, "I feel your pain, however, on the whole wine thing. Don't care for wine myself, but it's hard to make a good moonshine when you're out raiding all the time. Sinruth's been sending out parties almost every day to keep the prisoner count up and you've really got to watch the fire and water levels in the still if you're going to get a good distillation. We had to put out and relight the fire three times on the last batch and that just wrecked the flavor. It was all smokey, not clean at all. Better than the sulfury stuff my cousin in Umbraforge makes, though. Open lava vents may give a nice consistent heat, but the vapors seem to get into everything no matter how well built your cooling tower is. He says you stay there long enough, you get used to the brimstone smell, but me, I like good clean moonshine. No flavors, no aging. Just a clear burn that warms you on even the coldest nights. But what say you to undoing this stocks so that we can stop wasting the brandy. It may not be as strong as moonshine, comes from only distilling twice you know, but it's still a shame to waste good drink."

[zachol]

Ril frowned, leaning to the side and poking the stocks, jangling the lock.
He glanced at the hobgoblin. "Probably not an option, but I'll go check."

Rather quickly, he stood, walking back to the loitering guards.
"Hey hi. I've been having a little 'chat' with the hobgoblin, and things seem to be progressing quite well. In fact, I might be able to get him to talk about quite a lot, possibly, or at least how much he knows, if I could make him a little more... well, comfortable, I suppose you could say. I was just thinking if the point of the stocks is to get him to talk, and he's ready to talk, well then you don't really need the stocks anymore, especially if it's making him less likely to talk, right?"
This seemed oddly reasonable, for some reason...

[Words of Friendship: +5 to a diplomacy check]

[Black Plauge]

"The Lord Warden isn't going to like that," one of the guard replies. "He ordered the prisoner placed in the stocks until the morning. If we let him out..."

[zachol]

"Yes, but if he's in the stocks in the morning, when the Lord Warden comes back again, isn't that the same thing?"
Ril smiles, nodding his head slightly towards the goblin. "And besides, the Lord Warden said that a night in the stocks would make him more amendable to asking questions. Certainly, letting him out for perhaps a half hour, then putting him back in, well, he'd still be in the stocks for the night. And, again, I do stress that the entire point of the stocks is to get him to answer questions; if it's interfering with asking questions, if I can get him to answer questions without the stocks, then it seems pretty clear, at least to me, that taking him out of the stocks, just for a little bit, would work out better than leaving him in."

[Diplomacy [roll0]]

[Black Plauge]

"I suppose..." the first guard responds.

"So he's answering questions then," the second guard chimes in, "this I've got to see."

Taking the keys, the second guard comes over to the stocks and raps them across the hobgoblin's face, "Now, these guys say that you're willing to answer questions if I let you out of the stocks. I trust them, they killed that ogre that was with you, after all, but I don't trust you. Try anything funny and I'll slap you back in the stocks upside down."

Unlocking the hobgoblin, the guard steps back and gestures dramatically at Ril while keeping an eye on the hobgoblin. The hobgoblin, for his part, alternates between eying the guard and looking hungrily at the bottle of brandy.

[zachol]

Ril shrugs, rolling his eyes slightly, and whispers to the guards as they're approaching the stocks. "Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm basically bribing him."
He grins, handing off the brandy to the goblin. He takes a seat on the ground, near the stocks, and pats the area next to him.

"Soooo, what, the still's been fizzling out and ruining your moonshine? Because of all the slaving runs from Sinruth?"

[Diplomacy [roll0] ha ha, fumble]

[Da Mad Hatter]

Letting the prisoner out of the stocks? This is a whole other side of interrogation. Lets see if I can help out this man, act like the rough 'guy' to help bring out the niceness.

While not really wanting to push Ril's luck so far, he wants to make it clear to the prisoner that escape is not an option. He doesn't want to speak up and break the hobgoblin from the charms that Ril is putting on him, so he decides to 'show' the futility of escaping.

Seeing the guards release the prisoner, Cutter swings his head about. He then takes his right arm, making a dramatic circular stretch with it before resting his hand against the hilt of his sword resting across his right shoulder. He slowly begins to draw the blade as the guards begin to back away from the hobgoblin, while keeping an intense stare on the prisoner.

He takes the gigantic sword and lets the blade rest on his other palm. While taking a few steps to put himself in a better position to keep an eye on the hobgoblin, he lets the blade tap against his metal skin to make a few clinks and accentuate his point. When finally in position, he lets the tip of the blade dip down to the ground and to his right side, while letting his left hand come to a grip on the hilt.

[Intimidate [roll0]]

[Black Plauge]

"Not fizzling. We aren't stupid," the hobgoblin replies, taking the brandy and ignoring Cutter, "It's a really bad idea to let the still operate unattended so we keep having to put the fire out and relighting it. If you have any kind of experience with operating a still, you know that it can take several hours to prep a good fire and heat the still to the point where it starts to boil. A single distillation normally takes a whole day for the size still we've got, something that's been in short supply recently."

Taking a large swing on the brandy bottle, the hobgoblin holds it up and swills the last dregs around against the dying light to gauge how much is left.

"For something made from grapes, this isn't bad, if a bit weak. And, the weakness could be fixed by running it through the still again. Personally, however, I prefer to make my stuff from millet, though amarath, sorghum, and fonio work too. Course, most of what I get is wheat, barely, and rye, the kind of stuff we can raid for around here. I haven't made a good millet moonshine in several years, though I do have a bottle squirreled away. Guess I won't be drinking that after all. Bah! It's bound to have mellowed with how long I've been holding on to it. I shouldn't have tried to save it."

Finishing the bottle, the hobgoblin hands the empty to Ril, "You got any more of this stuff? Or how about something stronger? I'd need a whole case to really get drunk on this."

[Scythe]

The Wizard takes note in his mind about those four components the creature mentioned.

"My savvy about ingredients as such isn't as profound as another. However, they may be linked in someway to pinpoint a peculiar region in the Realms" he says to himself, repeating those four ingredients (amarath, fonio, millet, sorghum), as such as they are memorized. It was a stretch, but if the hobgoblin wasn't giving any useful information, well it was a start.

[treehouse]

Lorien's eyebrows raised in alarm as the captive was released from the stocks, but he waited a little while to see what Ril was up to. Unfortunately, his patience was measured in seconds, not minutes, when it came to making gobbo filth comfortable during an interrogation.

He rushed forward, batting the brandy out of the captive's hand and punching the side of his head with a gauntlet-shod fist.

"We're doing this my way now. Tell us who you work for and why you are here or you'll be drinking your own blood next."

[Intimidate: [roll0].]

[Black Plauge]

Sprawled out flat by Lorien's sudden interruption, the hobgoblin cringes but doesn't react to the pain exactly as expected, indicating that he's a bit drunker than he let on. He does, however, start talking.

"œ¥®∑¨¥πø œˆ®π¨¥£! I told you already, Sinruth is the one in charge and this raid was to collect a few prisoners to hand over to the undead horrors that Sinruth has allied us with. We're holed up in their crypt after all, and the last thing we want to be doing is feeding them ourselves."

Brought to his feet by Lorien's outburst, the guard who stayed at the wall rushes over and grabs the fighter by the upper arm. "I want to see this hobo suffer as much as you, but the Lord Warden wants to put him on trial, not summarily execute him."

[treehouse]

Lorien snarled at the guard, yanking his arm away but taking a step back.

"You've heard it from the monster's own mouth, they're feeding your people to zombies. Citizens get trials, these types get the sword if they're lucky. That's how it should be, anyway."

[Black Plauge]

"The prisoners aren't for the zombies," the hobgoblin whimpers, seemingly unaware that the claim does nothing to improve his position, "it's that other ... thing ... that gets the prisoners."

[treehouse]

With a speed that belied his size and armor, Lorien darted around the guardsman, sword leaving sheath with a terrifying hiss. He rested the tip of the blade on the goblin's throat.

His voice was quiet, but no one could mistake the repressed rage.

"Pray tell...what 'other thing'?"

[Black Plauge]

"I don't know what it is," the hobgoblin replies, cringing again at the sight of the blade, "It calls itself the Lord of Rivenroar and claims it once ruled this whole area, but I don't know anything more about it. I avoid it as much as possible. It gives me the willies."

[zachol]

"Alright, alright, calm down."
Ril stood, trying to placate Lorien. "Really, no need to kill him."

He turns, facing the hobgoblin, and grumbles something under his breath before addressing him.
"Look, I'm a pretty open-minded guy. Nothing wrong with goblins, or hobgoblins, or whatever. Heck, nothing even really wrong with the undead. However, I do draw the line at hobgoblins making raids on other peoples settlements to acquire slaves to feed to the undead. So, my normally unending patience and good-will is a bit scarce at the moment."
He kneels down. "I've got just two questions, and then our group will go away and not bother you anymore, and if I tell the Warden what I've learned then it's likely he won't bother you more, or at least not as much, besides the hanging of course. So, question one, or perhaps topic one. Who is Sinruth, why are you following him instead of just being out and hobgoblinish? Two, where is this crypt? Also, bonus rhetorical question. Why, if this was a slaving raid, did you seem more intent on burning down the city and killing people? Surely there are easier towns to raid?"

[Diplomacy [roll0]]

[treehouse]

Lorien applied very light pressure to the blade, but the captive almost certainly felt the shift as it dug into his flesh, drawing a tiny bead of blood.

"Answer his questions."

[Intimidate: [roll0].]

[Scythe]

While the Wizard was listening, something came to his mind while the hobgoblin mentionnes the Lord of Rivenroar. He looks back a few months back as he was studying this continents history.

[ History [roll0] ]

[Black Plauge]

"Warlord Sinruth plans to recreate the glory of the Red Hand of Doom and carve out a fiefdom where hobgoblins will rule instead of humans." Looking at Lorien and his blade, the hobgoblin gulps before continuing, "I figured that it'd be easier to live in a hobgoblin ruled fiefdom instead of always scrounging a living on the edge of human ones."

"The crypt is under the ruins of Rivenroar Castle, north of here in The Giant's Shield mountains. I could draw you a map if you really wanted to find it."

"Sinruth ordered the burning. He said it would create more of a distraction when it came time to get away. Doesn't seem to me like it worked very well."

* * *

Puzzling over the mention of Rivenroar, Balam recalls that a family by the name of Rivenroar did indeed used to hold sway in the Elsir Vale. Indeed, their dominion stretched north into the Endless Plain and south past the Wyvrenwatch Mountains. However, that was hundreds of years ago and the site of their castle has long since been forgotten.

[treehouse]

Lorien muttered an oath under his breath and pulled the sword away, nodding at Ril as if this had all been part of some plan that they had discussed. He pulled a rag from his pack and wiped his blade clean before re-sheathing it.

"There is no place in this land for your ilk. This won't be the first time we've put down one of your uprisings, but with any luck it will be the last."

[zachol]

"Hm. Alright."
He glances at Lorien. "Um... Lorien? Look, the point of the hanging is to provide catharsis for the rest of the town. They just got raided by a bunch of hobgoblins, public hanging of one makes them feel better. Alright? It's not like there's an actual trial or anything, it's not for his benefit, it's for the town's."

He looks back at the hobgoblin. "Sorry, I don't have any more liquor. Thank you for answering the questions."
Then to the guards. "I apologize for my friend's outburst. The goblin is still alive, mostly unharmed, and we have some important questions answered. I, of course, will leave out the matter of you relieving the goblin from the stocks when I speak with the Lord Warden."

He turns to the others. "Does anyone have any more pressing questions, or wants to take up his offer of the map? Otherwise I think we should leave."

[Scythe]

Balam turns his back to the creature and faces his comrades: "I think he's said quite enough, and it gives us a whole new approach to what is forthcoming in the days to come" he says.

[Da Mad Hatter]

Bringing his blade before him, Cutter speaks up "I've got no questions beyond what's been asked." He then takes the gigantic blade and sheathes it back.

He then takes a quick moment to look at Ril, "Thank you for getting answers out of this one." At least now the town can be a little more informed about what just occurred.

[zachol]

"Fabulous. Now, on to the Lord Warden."

He waves to the hobgoblin. "Again, I thank you for our talk. It was interesting, and not unpleasant. Goodbye."
He glances at the guards. "So, where would the Lord Warden be? I need to tell him about all this."

Once (if) directed, Ril leads the group to wherever the Warden and so on are.
Midway, in an empty spot, he pauses, and looks at Lorien, grinning. "That was great! It worked well. Also, you're really not a Knight? I thought you said something like that a while ago?"
He eyes Cutter, raising an eyebrow. "Also, are you going to stick around for a while? I'm Cyril of the Green Isles, only son of Adèle, heir to the throne, blah blah blah. You're... Cutter? Do you have a designation, a forgemark? You don't look terribly gnomic..."

Then to the others. "Also, do we have a plan? I'm thinking tell the Warden what's happening, but after that... this seems quite serious. Ideas?"

[That doesn't all happen at exactly the same time, just putting it out there at once.]

[treehouse]

Lorien's eyes were a bit downcast.

"Only delusions of grandeur, my friend. I am not a knight. My initial plan was to locate this Castle Rivenroar, storm in and kill everything that isn't human. My second plan was to storm in and kill everything that isn't human while riding on a horse."

[zachol]

"Hm. Let's call that the plan beta for now. Anyone have an idea that doesn't involve horrible, horrible death?"

[Black Plauge]

Chuckling at the party's rather abrupt dismissal of the hobgoblin, the two guards put the hobgoblin back in the stocks. They also provide directions to the council chambers within the Keep when asked.

[Mercutio]

"Hrm. Lorien, the direct approach may not be the best. I know my rush into combat against the ogre belies that, but when facing such an overwhelming force, perhaps a more diversionary tactic might be better?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

Cutter begins laughing on the inside as Lorien throws his idea on the table. Not so much at it being a bad idea, but moreso that he had been thinking along similar lines at first.

"What if we used me somehow? The forces don't know who everyone is, and these goblinoids would probably believe that one of my kind would be on their side."

[zachol]

"That's extremely interesting. I love it. However, and not to question your range of useful abilities, I am somewhat suspicious of whether you could actually consistently convince them that you hold certain untrue sentiments."
He raises an eyebrow. "I suppose you could just act typically opaque and enigmatic as they'd expect of an andreide, but it also seems fairly prone to sudden horrible death from frankly minor mistakes."
He smiles. "Again, though, I do love the idea. Perhaps we can keep it in mind as a sort of short term diversion. I just don't find the idea of a long term double agent very plausible."

"Still, though... spying, diversions, this is all very good. Perhaps a number of small skirmishes? I suspect we could unearth more of their intentions by questioning various parties, even just from inference if they don't know anything specifically themselves. Although, we could not do that often without making it obvious what our most metallic friend's allegiances truly are, and it's not as if his kind are at all common in this area, so that would take his suggestion off the table."

[Da Mad Hatter]

"Yeah, you're probably right." Hanging his head in defeat, Cutter looks over at the others of the group intermittently, hoping that they could come up with something better then the idea he had.

[Scythe]

Balam listen carefully as he thinks about the situation, though he could not hold his thoughts in any longer.

"However, we may be fighting against something way stronger than a bunch of Goblins. The creature mentioned a group of undead fiends that they were working for, and what intrigued me the most was when he mentioned about the rule of Lord Rivenroar."

The Wizard takes a slight pause and makes sure everyone's listening.

"There was an old noble family of that name that ruled over these lands, but centuries ago; and eventually their reign came to an end, according to my latest studies in this matter. If what the hobgoblin mentioned was true, then this indescribable creature may be as old as that, and, such... their old castle is also at the same place, under those same ruins of their Castle, in what the creature described as a crypt... These events are becoming more and more intriguing, and...may confirm that a greater danger awaits us if we move out unprepared, in the slightest."

It is odd though, the demon-kin rarely speaks in this manner, something must be bothering him.

[Black Plauge]

"... people are missing," an unfamiliar voice is saying as the party approaches the council chamber, "The Lord Warden has already indicated that he doesn't have the men to spare for a rescue mission, Eoffram. What would you have us do? Leave the town undefended in order to rescue a handful of people?"

Catching the entrance of the party out of the corner of his eye, Councilmember Troyas cuts himself off before he can start his reply and glances their way. As he makes eye contact with each party member, the party sees a momentary light in his eye. Turning back to the general chamber, Troyas begins his response.

"Councilmember Teskerwill, I'd like to present my proposed solution. Each of these individuals has already distinguished themselves in the defense of Brindol today. These men are the self same who took on the ogre who caused so much destruction," Eoffram says, gesturing to Ril, Lorien, Balam, and Taraka, before pointing to Cutter and continuing, "while this sentient automaton secured the capture of the one and only prisoner that we took during this affair. Since the Lord Warden has no men to spare from the guard, I say we ask these outstanding citizens to track down the force which raided us and rescue the prisoners."

Suddenly the focus of everyone's attention, the party finds themselves facing 6 interested stares. Two come from the Lord Warden and Eoffram Troyas, whom the party members already recognize. The other four, however, are unfamiliar and belong to three humans and a dwarf.

Clearly hostile, one of the older humans is the first to break the silence and the party recognize his voice as the one who was speaking as they approached the council chambers, "Well, what have you to say for yourselves? Councilmember Troyas here puts much stock in what you did today, but I did more than that in my youth. Nine Hells, even today I was hearing about a group calling themselves the Farstriders who had bested a dragon. Why should we trust you with this rescue mission?"

[treehouse]

Lorien made a show of looking around in every direction, even going so far as to peek under the nearest rug. Finally - "Well, I don't see any Farstriders."

[zachol]

"Lorien, do be quiet."

Ril half-glares at Lorien, then returns his gaze to the council. "I apologize for my friend's supreme lack of taste. I began this day under the misapprehension that he was a knight, but I am now hard-pressed to even remember why I would even consider such an idea. However, on the subject of us performing a rescue. I would not be so presumptuous as to claim we are the best option, though I would still hold that we are an option, and at the very least not the worst. Regardless, I have some information that you may wish to hear, on the subject of these goblins."
He sighs, briefly, glancing at Lorien, again half-glaring, before focusing on the council, and especially on the Lord Warden.

"I had a small chat with the prisoner after the Lord Warden left, and was able to glean some small measure of information. The goblins are lead by a certain 'Sinruth,' one who has been able to unite a number of their kind under the old banner of the Red Hand. Sinruth promises a new nation for the goblins themselves, in this area, and intends eventual war.
"Unfortunately, Sinruth has allied himself with some sort of undead horror calling itself the 'Lord of Rivenroar,' and which is presumably responsible for much of Sinruth's confidence and strength. They base themselves in the old castle Rivenroar, in the mountains to the north. Supposedly, this 'Lord of Rivenroar' is some sort of reanimated scion of the Rivenroar family. The 'Lord' claims that he used to rule this valley, and supposedly intends to reassert this rule, along with Sinruth.
"The rather horrible part is that the 'Lord,' whatever it is, requires human flesh to feed on. Sinruth has been making raiding parties upon the local area, on various towns, capturing prisoners with the express purpose of giving them to the 'Lord.' This recent attack was another raid, the destruction intended to distract us while the goblins captured some number of prisoners."

He sighs again. "I believe that is the extent of the information I acquired. Do you have any further questions?"

[Black Plauge]

At the revelation of the likely fate of the prisoners, there is a general intake of breath and making of warding gestures from those within the council chamber. Eoffram, however, while no less shocked by the revelation, clearly sees the opportunity which Ril has just presented him with and recovers the quickest.

"Councilmembers, in light of this new information I believe it imperative that we take action. Even if we are willing to let our citizens fall into a life of slavery to goblinoids and worse because of a 'lack of manpower,' we cannot sign their death warrant through our own inaction. You all know my proposal. I move that it be voted on immediately."

"Seconded," the dwarven member of the council states after only a moments hesitation.

"Very well," the Lord Warden replies, "All in favor of Eoffram's proposal?"

Around the table, the hands of Eoffram, the dwarf, and one of the other councilmembers rise almost immediately. More slowly, the Lord Warden raises his own hand, and the last human council member joins the clear majority.

As all eyes swivel to the sole remaining dissenter, Coucilmember Taskerwill, the man's eyes burn with fury at Eoffram and he raises his hand as well.

"It's unanimous then," the Lord Warden states, making the decision formal, "The Council will endorse the use of adventurers to secure the release of those captured by the raid and to retrieve the artifacts taken from the Hall of Great Valor."

"To that end, Lord Warden, I move that Eoffram be designated the Council's liason with the adventurers on this matter," Councilmember Taskerwill adds, a slow smile spreading across his face, "You have enough on your plate in handling the aftermath of this raid here in Brindol. As he clearly already has some connection to these mercenaries he will be in the best position to represent the council's wishes."

Seeing the trap that Councilmember Taskerwill is setting for him, Eoffram shakes his head as if to refuse, but several of the other councilmembers immediately voice their approval for this suggestion and it passes by acclamation.

"Very well," the Lord Warden states, taking control of the meeting once more, "It is getting late and I still have much work to do. If there is nothing else which is pressing we will adjourn." Glancing at each councilmember he then adds, "Then we stand adjourned."

As the other councilmembers leave the chamber, Eoffram comes over to the party.

"That went about as well as could be expected. Not perfect, but fairly well. Your timing was impeccable. Now, let us retire to my office were we can discuss details."

[treehouse]

Lorien nodded briskly, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Ril. He wasn't sure whether he was furious or ashamed, but he was certain he didn't want to trade words with his best friend just now. Instead, he fell into step behind Eoffram, following the councilor to his office.

[zachol]

Ril smiles lightly. "But of course."
As they crowd into the office, he looks at Lorien. "I'm sorry about the comment earlier. I didn't actually mean it. You really could've picked a better time, though."

He turns to the councilman. "Now, mon sieur Troyas, what exactly is all this about?"

[treehouse]

Lorien shook his head, whispering furiously. "That ogre nearly killed Taraka, and that stuffed up noble nearly spit in our faces over it. I know I don't seem like a discerning man, and I obviously don't understand courtly affairs, but I choose my battles very carefully."

[Black Plauge]

Ignoring the whispered words back and forth, Eoffram starts in on the matter at hand.

"As you no doubt surmised from the goings on in the council chamber, as well as your own interrogation of the prisoner, this was more than a simple raid. In addition to the taking of prisoners, for purposes you so adeptly discovered, the hobgoblins also raided the Hall of Great Valor and stole several artifacts. We can't be entirely sure as to which ones were stolen because it appears that Sertanian, the castellan of the Hall, was one of those taken prisoner on the raid, but it seems some 5 to 8 items are missing. In addition to rescuing the prisoners, 4 that we know of so far, we will need you to retrieve those items."

[zachol]

Ril grinned at Lorien. "Ha ha, that's what I like about you. Strong sense of justice. Very knightly, in fact."
He leaned forward, invading Lorien's personal space, still smiling. "Very knightly. However, not appropriate for the situation. When you're an exalted hero, you can throw your weight around. For now, however, regardless of your nobility, it is not taken very well by the 'nobles,' and I would appreciate it if you, well, if not chose your battles more carefully, then realized when the practical effects will overwhelm maintaining your ideals."

He leaned back, eyebrows raised. "We settled? To clarify, no I did not mean my barb at all, although I am still slightly sore that I somehow was belaboring under the idea that you were a knight. That you are still struggling to achieve that is an easy replacement for my conception of your post."
He paused, for a moment, staring off. "Or something. I still have trouble forming some sentences in your tongue, you know? Anyway, Master Troyas," he turned. "I apologize."

[Edit: Argh. Just shove that before Troyas' bit.]

After Troyas' explanation of the artifacts, Ril thought, for a moment.
"Hm. Although, as you said, you are unsure what exactly they stole, it would be favorable to know what manner of thing they stole. I am sorry to say that I am not quite that familiar with the Hall of Great Valor. Also, although I suppose it doesn't matter terribly, we would rescue them regardless, but you say there were 4 people kidnapped. The castellan, and who else? Have you located Captain, er, Kartenix, and his family yet?"

[Black Plauge]

"We're currently tracking down a couple of the boys who occasionally helped Sertanian out with odd chores in the hopes that they'll be able to come up with a probable list of what's missing.

However, given that people are missing, verifying the whereabouts of other townsfolk is currently taking priority. As I said, we've confirmed four missing thus far: Captain Kartenix, his son Thurann, Sertanian, and Mirtala, a cook in the employ of House Kaal. Confusion from the raid, however, hasn't completely settled yet and some of our runners have yet to return. If taking prisoners was the primary objective of this raid, then I wouldn't be surprised to find out that more were missing before dawn."

[Scythe]

The Wizard kept silent during most of the hearing, though he refrained himself from snide comments, seeing as Ril beat him to the chase. Furthermore, the egotistical Bard wasn't to his fancy either, but no matter.

Balam listens to Eoffram as he mentions something about artifacts. Normally, he would be intrigued by the nature of these historical items, but now he was simply annoyed. He wouldn't break his back to retrieved some worthless scraps that this town wasn't even able to protect, and not even able to properly defend it's people. The lives of those kidnapped were his priority, and acquiring information on this new Red Hand of Doom was also of some great importance.

"We bring back any innocents we find, no need to idle here while the goblinoïds are on the move" he says, annoyed by everything around him.

[Mercutio]

Taraka wasn't keen on the idea of sticking his nose into this, but as he had managed to do that already, he figured he'd stick with it for the time being.

"Sounds like we've got a plan. Let's get moving before the trail gets too cold, if it hasn't already."

[Da Mad Hatter]

Maintaining true to his nature, Cutter remains silent.

Lorien's mistreatment towards the nobles put him on edge, almost bringing him to withdraw his weapon should the need have arisen. He still remains unsure of what side he would have been on if it had come to blows at that point. Sticking with the councilmembers would be the 'smart' choice in his mind, but there's something about this group.

He's not sure what it is, but there's just something that seems to be calling to him to stick with the group for the time. It may just be that there are kidnapped people that need rescuing, but Cutter believes deep down that there's more to this group (outside of Lorien's egotistical attitude).

Motioning towards Taraka, Cutter responds "I'm ready to go now."

[Black Plauge]

Looking surprised at the intent of the party to depart immediately, Eoffram responds excitedly, "You'll be able to track the goblins at night?"

Catching himself, Eoffram composes himself before continuing, "Of course, I defer to your judgment on the matter, as I am no tracker myself. I simply anticipated you waiting for dawn, especially as it seems you already know where the hobgoblins are headed. If you wish to leave tonight, though, I will make the effort to speed up the process of figuring out who and what is missing. Can you give me an hour to do so?"

[Mercutio]

"Trails can be followed at night, especially if the goblins stop to rest. The worry is that the trail becomes too cold with too much time. But I'll defer final judgment to my comrades here."

[treehouse]

"If the captives are fodder for some sort of dark sacrifice, every hour may be precious if you wish to recover all of them. So yes, I believe we should begin following the trail tonight. We can rest on the way."

[zachol]

"Also, though it may seem relatively selfish, it may be best to, er, recapture the prisoners before the raiders actually reach Rivenroar. An attack on a temporary camp would be likely more reasonable than a raid on their castle. Yes?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

"The less time they can get a lead, they more ground we can make up. If you need to gather information Councilmember Troyas, do so fast."

[Black Plauge]

"Yes, yes. Very well. Do you have preparations of your own to make, or can you wait for me here while I get you the information?"

[Da Mad Hatter]

Having grabbed his bag before coming into town, Cutter looks at the others as he answers "I'm ready to go once the others are ready."

[Scythe]

The Wizard speaks: "I've also prepared beforehand, and am ready to continue at any moment. Please make haste, however. Lives are at stake here, and time is wasting".

He says this in a decisive tone, something he hasn't demonstrated often. Once Eoffram has left to gather information, he will commence the study of his spells and abilities, revising what needs to be remembered for their upcoming battles.

Though he really wished otherwise.

[zachol]

Ril grinned. "Well that settles it. I have a few things, but they can wait until we're leaving, just two stops. I have to compose the letter anyway."

[Ril is set. Letter is a missive to home, other nonspecified stuff, can drop it off at the inn, along with picking up the rest of the adventurer's kit.]

[Black Plauge]

"Very well," Eoffram replies, "Please, make yourselves comfortable, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Disappearing out the door, the party can hear Eoffram calling for a page before his voice fades out.

About 45 minutes later he returns, looking a little more disheveled than when he left.

"Well, I've done what I can for now. I still have people out checking for more unaccounted for individuals, but it will take several more hours for them to complete that process and you don't have that kind of time to wait.

From what I've been able to determine, the goblinoids stole a ceremonial longsword, three shields, and battle standard from the Hall of Great Valor. There are a couple of other empty spots in the case, but I've been unable to determine what was in them as of yet.

More importantly, we know of 5 people that were taken prisoner. Captian Kartenix, his son Thurann, Sertanian, and Mirtala I already told you about. Since then word has reached me that Jalissa, an acolyte at the College of Ioun is also missing. There may be others, I just don't know yet and won't for at least a few more hours."

[treehouse]

Lorien pounded a gauntleted fist on his chest and gave Eoffram a stiff bow.

"We will find these people and return them safely to Brindol, or die trying. You have my word on that, my lord."

[I'm ready to go.]

[Da Mad Hatter]

Giving a slight nod to Councilmember Troyas, Cutter responds with a quick and resounding "We'll get them."

Putting his right arm through a full circle as if stretching, Cutter looks at the others hoping someone else is ready to step up and take lead point for tracking purposes.

[Mercutio]

Finally, thought Taraka, but he kept his face as blank as possible to avoid showing his irritation. He set out to find and follow the tracks, hoping the others were keeping up.

[Black Plauge]

As the party makes their way to the market gate, they can see the varying reactions of the citizens of Brindol to the attack. Some sections of town are closed up tight, deserted, with barely a crack of light spilling out of barricaded doors and windows. Others are well illuminated, with people milling about with torches or even bonfires (though some are clearly the remains of a building). It is from one of those "bright" patches, that Lorien is able to acquire a few extra torches to help light the trail that they are going to follow.

Outside the Market Gates, the signs of the goblinoids passage earlier are clear, but Cutter takes the time to familiarize himself with them while they are still easy to identify.

Tracking:
Perception: Cutter [roll0]
Nature: Taraka [roll1]
Insight: Ril [roll2]

Endurance:
Ril: [roll3]
Taraka: [roll4]
Balam: [roll5]
Lorien: [roll6]
Cutter: [roll7]

[Black Plauge]

Pushing hard to gain ground on the fleeing hobgoblins, Cutter loses track of the signs fairly quickly, but Taraka's knowledge of the terrain and Ril's understanding of their quarry make up for the matter and after an hour or so, the party finds clear signs of the trail again. Better yet, these signs are just marginally fresher than those they had seen outside of Brindol. By Ril's estimate, they've carved maybe a quarter hour out of the two hour lead their quarry started with.

Tracking:
Perception: Cutter [roll0]
Nature: Taraka [roll1]
Insight: Ril [roll2]

Endurance:
Ril: [roll3]
Taraka: [roll4]
Balam: [roll5]
Lorien: [roll6]
Cutter: [roll7]

[Black Plauge]

Seemingly inspired by his earlier failures, Cutter is able to stick to the hobgoblin's trail like a bloodhound for a while. It's only when Ril and Taraka guide the party along a daring detour through a bog, rather than around it as the signs indicate the goblinoids did, that the party runs into any trouble as Ril flounders in the mucky water. Here again, however, Cutter proves his worth, practically dragging Ril out of the bog so that when the party regains the trail, they estimate another quarter of an hour gained.

Tracking:
Perception: Cutter [roll0]
Nature: Taraka [roll1]
Insight: Ril [roll2]

Endurance:
Ril: [roll3]
Taraka: [roll4]
Balam: [roll5]
Lorien: [roll6]
Cutter: [roll7]

[Black Plauge]

As the terrain begins to shift towards the rolling hills, that mark the foothills of The Giant's Shield Mountians, the trail the party is following is fairly straight, and so despite several instances when Cutter looses track of the signs, Ril and Taraka are able to keep the party on track. Indeed, the hardest part is keeping the pace up in the rolling hills. Both Cutter and Lorien find themselves wheezing (or the warforged equivalent, in the case of Cutter) on several of the uphills. With some pushing from Taraka and Ril, the two manage to keep the pace up and the party is able to continue to gain on the goblinoid party.

As Lorien's last torch sputters out, they estimate that they've cut the total lead in half and are now just an hour or so behind the goblinoids and their prisoners. It is, however, now near midnight and they've yet to see any signs that their quarry plans to stop for the night. Nevertheless, the party pushes on, hoping to catch their quarry and rest when they do.

Tracking:
Perception: Cutter [roll0]
Nature: Taraka [roll1]
Insight: Ril [roll2]

Endurance:
Ril: [roll3]
Taraka: [roll4]
Balam: [roll5]
Lorien: [roll6]
Cutter: [roll7]

[Black Plauge]

With a sunrod now lighting their way, Cutter finds the signs of the goblinoids passage much easier to find and even begins to pick out signs of their prisoners for the first time.

Balam, however, finds that his lack of physical training is finally catching up with him. Tired by the already long day, it is only with Ril's substantial help that he is able to keep up with the party.

Tracking:
Perception: Cutter [roll0]
Nature: Taraka [roll1]
Insight: Ril [roll2]

Endurance:
Ril: [roll3]
Taraka: [roll4]
Balam: [roll5]
Lorien: [roll6]
Cutter: [roll7]

[Black Plauge]

Progressing through a particularly hard patch of ground, the party experiences the worst: they lose the trail. Circling around to refind it, they come across an ancient road. Suspecting that the road might lead towards the ancient Rivenroar Keep that the hobgoblin prisoner mentioned, Ril urges the party to explore it for a bit before continuing with their search pattern.

A little ways on, the ancient road winds within a canyon between two ridges. Suddenly, chittering, armored buglike creatures emerge from the ground just north of the party and quickly move in their direction.

Combat starts here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?t=10947)

[Black Plauge]

Spreading out across the battlefield, the buglike creatures attempt what tacticians would call a pincer maneuver (though it is doubtful that these creatures know that). Only Taraka, however, enters the jaws of the pincer and the creatures are unable to snap it shut as Lorien and Cutter move to prevent the party from being flanked.

After that, the fight is considerably less interesting with only the ground nearly opening up beneath Balam's feet creating excitement as the party quickly dispatches their foes.

With the defeat of the creatures, the party cautiously probes forward again, keeping an eye out for weak ground and is rewarded with the sight of the goblinoid's trail entering the road well past the kruthik nest (which Ril suspects the goblinoids knew about, given the evidence).

Between the loss of the trail and the battle with the kruthiks, the party appears to have lost a little time. By Taraka's estimate, they are an hour behind the goblinoids now.

[Black Plauge]

While sunrise might only be a few hours away, the party has been pushing themselves for several hours now and the combined effect with the various battles they have fought that day has left them tired enough to concede the chase for a bit. Finding a small clearing just off the old trail, they settle down to rest.

It's mid-morning before the party is rested and ready to travel again. Returning to the old trail, it doesn't take long for Cutter, Taraka, and Ril to find the signs of the goblinoid party again. The signs may be older, but in the daylight they are far easier to find and follow than they were the night before and it takes very little effort for the party to follow the trail.

A couple of hours after lunch, the party spots the remains of a tower poking through the treetops ahead where the old road appears to wrap around a rise in the landscape.

[Black Plauge]

While sunrise might only be a few hours away, the party has been pushing themselves for several hours now and the combined effect with the various battles they have fought that day has left them tired enough to concede the chase for a bit. Finding a small clearing just off the old trail, they settle down to rest.

It's mid-morning before the party is rested and ready to travel again. Returning to the old trail, it doesn't take long for Cutter, Taraka, and Ril to find the signs of the goblinoid party again. The signs may be older, but in the daylight they are far easier to find and follow than they were the night before and it takes very little effort for the party to follow the trail.

A couple of hours after lunch, the party spots the remains of a tower poking through the treetops ahead where the old road appears to wrap around a rise in the landscape.

[Mercutio]

"The trail appears to be heading towards that ruined tower. Anyone know anything about it? Balam? Ril?"

[Black Plauge]

Assessing the tower from a distance is difficult, and neither Balam or Ril can really make out any features which would positively identify it. It's shape is deteriorated with age, making a positive identification of its architectural style impossible without closer study and all they can really tell about the materials are that it's made of rock.

As the party pauses to consider the tower, they hear a shout. The speaker is somewhere behind the hill and trees provide some baffling that prevent any of the party from making out the words, or even the language. A few moments later, another shout is heard, but this one is even further muffled, as if the speaker was responding from inside a building through an open door or window.

[zachol]

Ril adds softly, "No. Probably just some abandoned tower they've been using as a rest stop or supply store or something."
He glances at Lorien, mumbling to himself. "So, go for..."

[treehouse]

Lorien unsheathed his sword at the sound of shouting.

"We can do this my way or the smart way. Does somebody want to go up and take a look quietly? It's not my forte."

He hoped no one would volunteer. Lorien liked doing things his way.

[zachol]

Ril blinks a few times. "I was going to say we could go for stupid heroics, which is always 'fun,' or maybe Taraka could check it out a little?"
He nods at the tracker. "Just a little bit ahead, everyone take things slow, right?"

[Mercutio]

Taraka blinked a few times at that suggestion. "I suppose I am the stealthiest of this crew. Come, Corbin."

The ranger and his companion moved to the tree line, and crept forward, keeping care not to announce their presence.

OOC - stealth rolls are secret, correct?

[Black Plauge]

Melting into the woods alongside the road, Taraka and Corbin start by heading down hill a bit before turning to parallel the road. Stalking quietly, they move slowly to avoid notice. Nearly halfway around the rise, they turn back towards the road only to find it further away than they had expected. Apparently the road spirals up the rise, not just around it.

Still within the trees, Taraka peers through to the road to spy the remains of an old gatehouse. Outside the gatehouse a small fire smolders in a low brazier and a couple of hobgoblins lounge around, apparently watching the road. As he watches, a goblin emerges from the old gatehouse and stands in its door, drawing Taraka's attention to the structure. Looking closely as he listens to the goblin say something to the hobgoblins, Taraka notices that the building's roof structure isn't as deteriorated as it first looked: new thatch covers one end of the building.

Getting up from where he is lounging, one of the hobgoblins grabs a bow and quiver and sets about checking them over in a clear sign that he is getting ready to hunt.

[Mercutio]

Taraka quietly backed out of the woods. Once clear and fairly sure that he wouldn't have to worry about stealth, he sped up to get back to the group and tell them what he had seen.

[treehouse]

Lorien scratched his head irritably. He hated what he was about to suggest - it went against everything he enjoyed about battle. But sometimes you just had to be practical.

"If one of the hobbos is going off on his own, perhaps we should take him and ask him some questions."

[Mercutio]

"I'm shocked you feel that way, but I agree." Taraka led the way to find a decent ambush spot for capturing the hobgoblin.

[Black Plauge]

Leading the party into the woods, Taraka guides them towards the old gate that he found. Instead of approaching it directly, however, he swings a wider, hoping to intersect the hunter's trail without revealing the party's presence.

Group Stealth:
Primary:
Taraka: [roll0]
Secondaries (+2 to the primary for each over 10):
Lorien: [roll1]
Cutter: [roll2]
Balam: [roll3]
Ril: [roll4]

[Black Plauge]

Finding the hobgoblin's trail turns out to be easy, but sneaking up on him turns out to be considerably harder. Even with Taraka guiding their movements, Lorien, Ril, and Cutter are clumsy: releasing branches so that the swish back quickly and sometimes catch their fellows in the face and failing to watch their footing so that they step on dried leaves and twigs.

The consequences of this noise become apparent when Taraka determines that the hobgoblin's trail has turned back towards the old gate. A few minutes later, it becomes even more obvious as the hobgoblin, having gotten between the party and the gate, abandons all attempts at stealth and the party hears him fleeing towards the gate, shouting as he goes.

[Mercutio]

Taraka spat, "Damn," and charged ahead, hoping to catch the screaming hobgoblin before he got back to the gatehouse. He knew surprise was no longer an option, but hoped he could dispatch one enemy before the others made it to the battlefield.

[treehouse]

Lorien sprang forward at nearly the same time as Taraka - he wasn't nearly as fast as the woodsman, but perhaps he was faster than the goblin.

[I'll take the opposed Endurance check if that's an option, but Taraka's speed allows him to reach the hobbo before Lorien, so consider mine the 'second tier'. Endurance check = [roll0]]

[Black Plauge]

Plowing through the underbrush, Taraka and Lorien chase after the fleeing hobgoblin, intent on catching him before he can warn the others. Of course, motivation makes a difference, and despite being easily faster than the hobgoblin, Taraka finds that he's slowly falling behind as he gets caught up in the various underbrush.

Lorien's efforts, however, are better rewarded. Maybe it's the way his armor prevents the branches from scratching him as much, or maybe he's just a bit too bull headed to notice them, but Lorien plows through the underbrush as if it wasn't there.

Falling in behind his companion, Taraka follows through the hole that Lorien breaks in the underbrush, breaking out at the last minute when a particularly clear stretch of forest allows him to overtake the hobgoblin and trip him up. Soon Lorien is adding his own armored bulk to capturing the hobgoblin and their quarry is unable to escape. Quieting him, however, is considerably more difficult.

Taking a quick assessment of their position, Taraka is unsure if they are close enough to the old gate for the hobgoblin's shouts to reach his compatriots.

Other Endurance Rolls:
Taraka: [roll0]
Hobgoblin: [roll1]

[Mercutio]

Lorien slammed a gauntlet into the hobgoblin soldier's jaw, trying his best to shatter it as the captive struggled to escape.

"The most we can hope for is to draw some more of them out of the tower to investigate, I think," he growled, settling into a rhythmic sort of pounding with both fists.

"Alert the others. The trap isn't even formed and it may have already sprung."

Before anyone had a chance to object, Taraka pulled out his war pick and embedded the spike into the goblin's head. When the others caught up, Taraka launched into a offensive speech in order to stave off any complaints to the contrary.

"Mercy is for the weak here. Besides, he wouldn't have been much good to us alive at this point. We'll count ourselves as lucky if the guards aren't already alerted to our presence here."

[Posted by treehouse and Mercutio with a little editting help from BP.]

[treehouse]

Lorien chuckled.

"You talk like I am on the verge of objecting. This filth doesn't deserve to breathe the same air we do. Now, we should probably set a trap for any hobbos who come looking to see what happened to this fellow..."

He turned to find the others and bring them back to the place where the hobgoblin had first begun shouting, then surveyed the area for good hiding places.

[Mercutio]

"Good point. I suppose you and I are more alike than I would have first thought. I prefer not to have had to come to this point, liking surprise better, but when it comes down to it, the direct method does seem to work."

Taraka nodded at Lorien's suggestion and started helping to set up the trap.

OOC - if there doesn't seem to be any movement from the guard shack after a few minutes or so, Taraka will go forward and offer himself as bait for the trap.

[Black Plauge]

Finding ample hiding places to set a trap turns out to be easy. Springing said trap, however, is more complicated, especially since it seems that the quarry doesn't want to cooperate and actually show up.

Motioning for the others to stay put, Taraka heads back towards the gatehouse to see what is keeping the other goblinoids and perhaps to draw them into the trap's jaws.

Stopping just short of the tree line, the first thing Taraka notices at the gatehouse is a massive hobgoblin in spiked armor. In his presence the other goblinoids seem subdued and perhaps even deferential, but that might also be a side effect of the way he so completely outsizes them (especially the goblins). After observing for a few moments, Taraka notices that the massive hobgoblin isn't the only additional individual at the gate house. By his side is what at first glance is another goblin, but that wouldn't explain why it took Taraka so long to notice him. Studying the figure carefully, Taraka finally picks up on what is so unusual about the figure: even in the direct light of the mid-afternoon sun shadows seem to cling to this goblin-like figure, causing the eye to pass over him with deceptive ease.

[Mercutio]

Taraka was pretty sure these guys weren't dumb enough to fall for a simply trap like the one his comrades and he had decided on, but he knew he had to try something.

"Hey, you smelly bastards! Looking for me?"

Taraka only waited for a second to make sure the hobgoblin and the shadowy goblin heard him before turning tail and running back through the trapped area. He was pretty certain they wouldn't follow him, but even so, he would have head back to get the rest of the group anyway.

[Black Plauge]

While he's certain he was heard and noticed, Taraka can't hear any sounds of pursuit as he makes his way back to the others and after a tense several minutes of waiting with the others, it appears that even a more cautious pursuit isn't materializing right away.

[Mercutio]

"Didn't think they'd be dumb enough for that. And now they're REALLY alerted to our presence. In any case, there's a new twist. There's some goblin that shadows seem to cling to, and a hulking brutish looking hobgoblin. They look like they'd give us a run for our money. Suggestions?"

[Mercutio]

After waiting a few moments for his companions to respond Taraka shrugged. "Okay, we've got to do something. Surprise didn't work, the trap didn't work, and that pretty much leaves us with nothing but the direct approach. Let's get to it. Those prisoners are counting on us."

[treehouse]

Lorien shook himself roughly, trying to clear the strange ringing from his ears.

Now is not the time to become a craven again.

"The direct approach is really all I know. I will form the vanguard."

Sword left sheath with a leathery rasp as he stepped ahead of the others, checking the straps on his shield and rolling his shoulders experimentally to check for loose plates around the neck.

[Black Plauge]

The group returns to the gatehouse, fully prepared for battle this time, only to be disappointed. They find the gatehouse abandoned. While the coals still burning in the brazier indicates that the abandonment was done quickly, it clearly was done in an ordered fashion as nothing else of any use was left behind. With no fight in the offing, Taraka looks over the tracks left by the goblinoids trying to determine where they went. The process, however, proves difficult as the goblinoids made some effort to efface their trail and thus he has to spend some time puzzling through the signs.

As he does so, the sound of new arrivals is heard on the road coming towards the gate house.

* * *

An old road to an abandoned tower: it is here that the trails left by the caravan raiders who used the old symbol of the Red Hand have led. By spirit and skill Ieza had been able to track them this far and if the increased agitation of the spirits was any indication, this was as far as he and Karon would have to go to find them. At the same time, memories from lives forgotten tickle at the back of Ieza's mind, telling him that he should know this place, if he could just remember...

For Karon, the motivations are far simpler. Somewhere ahead was a foe against which he could test his mettle. A foe with intelligence, one who would fight back and force him to use more than just his race's natural ferocity. A foe who might be a worthy test.

Following the old road around the rise, Ieza and Karon catch sight of a mixed group in front of an old gatehouse: a human, a half-elf, a warforged, a tiefling, a shifter, and a tiger. Caught off guard by the unexpected, the two pause several dozen paces from the other group.

* * *

The one was clearly a minotaur, that was as clear as the sky was blue. The other, however, was strange. It, or rather she, had the shape of a human female, but her coloration is distinctly not human, tending towards purple rather than brown and her movements betray a calmness and experience that no human could ever hope to match.

"Deva," Balam whispers, finding the word which names the creature before them, a rare sight indeed. Reincarnate beings, some said devas where angles who had chosen mortal form to better serve in the battle for mortal souls. Others claimed they were drifting spirits given a chance to recall their past lives in this one instance so that they might carry out some specific task. Whichever was right, the being before them was one few saw in their lifetime.

And it is that rarity that strikes Ril as most odd. Always on the lookout for more stories (gossip really) Ril had heard tales of alternately a Cobra Witch and Serpent Angel active in the Elsir Vale recently. While descriptions varied dramatically, many pointed to a being very much resembling a deva.

[zachol]

Ril had been very irritated. On one hand, going against these goblins was silly, and he was more and more regretting going along with all this dumb heroism business. Only the infamy he'd fa... er, only the thought of the plight of those poor captives had kept him going along with all of this.
And now they were intending to go up against the goblins in the keep? Excessively silly, though he had no idea how to say this without showing his cow... without coming across as some sort of coward. Perhaps if he suggested "tactics" or "strategy" or something like that?
The gatehouse being empty was a relief, perhaps, though he was worried that would mean his companions would be emboldened, and then that there would simply be more goblins, more concentrated, later on. He was about to actually suggest just falling back when he noticed Taraka's ears pricking, focusing on the road. Ril remained silent as the two new arrivals approached, motioning for the others to hold back and pondering. A... minotaur, and a Deva? What?

Ril, the half-elf, glanced at Lorien, the man in the heavy armor, then back, his face breaking into an easy smile. He approached the pair, quickly but casually, ruffling his hair, and pausing midway between the two groups.
"Hello! My name is Cyril du Ile-Vert. These are my companions Lorien Agrivail, Taraka Linnaeus, his companion Corbin, Balam Daigon, and the Warforged designated Cutter. We are following the goblins for the sake of Brindol. Might I ask your names and reasons for being in these parts, please?"
He seemed relaxed, friendly, and open, though there was a directness and a slight edge of 'we're really not in the mood to mess around' in his voice.

[Mercutio]

"Okay, the tracks are hard to follow, but it appears they've taken off that way," Taraka pointed northeast, "avoiding the rise itself but heading in the same general direction as this old road."

Taraka paused as he heard the approaching travelers, and was about to say something when Ril started in. Instead he went back to looking at the tracks and puzzling out what exactly their retreat meant.

[treehouse]

Lorien gave the minotaur a hard look, and his sword-hand twitched noticeably, but he smoothed his face to stillness as he took a place next to Ril. The deva he regarded with something close to congeniality.

To Taraka - "I'm surprised they are even thinking of following a road. Perhaps we are getting close to their lair, and they do not fear pursuit as much?"

[Ergonomic Cat]

Karon shook his head in thought. Who were these people? The ones that had destroyed the caravan? That seemed unlikely - those attacks didn't look like the work of humans? Something like what they claimed to be? But "for the sake of" was a rather vague statement. More likely, some where in the middle.

He raised his hand in greeting, keeping it conspicuously away from the hilt of his Khopesh, but noticeably stepping between the newcomers and his travelling companion. "We are travellers. I am Karon, sometimes called Splinterhoof. I am a student of the blade, and the book. You are well met. What is your purpose with these goblins?"

As he waited for a response, he unconsciously brushed his forelock away from his eyes, and ran a hand along one of his coal black horns. He cut an imposing figure, standing well over six foot tall and dressed in simple leather armor that had clearly seen battle. Strange whorls of color covered his pale brown fur, alternating black and white across his entire body, except for his left arm.

His gaze alternated between the man who had spoken and the large mechanical man, rarely falling on any of the others.

[LeadPal]

In a gesture of goodwill, the deva planted her longspear in the ground before approaching, open-palmed. She (he? it?) didn't hesitate to brush past Karon, seeming to trust the group implicitly.

"And Ieza, the Seraph." She spoke in a low, androgynous alto, with a local accent. "We found a merchant caravan on the road to Brindol, slaughtered to the last man—we're looking for who did it. Your goblins, I imagine."

[zachol]

"Hmm, possible. Alright."
He glanced at Lorien again, raising an eyebrow, seemed to come to a decision, then turned back to the Deva.
"The goblins recently raided Brindol, capturing several of its citizens, including a few of very high standing. We have been tasked by the leaders of Brindol with securing their freedom, as well as learning anything we can about why the goblins are massing and engaging in uncharacteristically organized raids."
He grinned, sheepishly, spreading his hands to indicate the group. "As you can imagine, Brindol's strength is stretched rather thin at this time."

[Ergonomic Cat]

Karon grinned at Ieza. "Even you can't try to talk me out of that fight, milady. Killing foul beasts in the name of rescuing civic leaders. Seems a fair bet that's worthy of your attention."

He looks the other group over, clearly trying to assess their strengths and abilities while he waits for Ieza to respond. As before, his eyes return to the Warforged most often.

[LeadPal]

The deva nodded at Karon, but didn't respond immediately. She glanced into the air, deliberating upon Ril's words, visibly tense.

"Yes—it is. We haven't been to Brindol yet, but its situation sounds dire. If your companions are willing to let us on, we have every intention of helping."

[Mercutio]

Taraka was getting impatient. "Yes, yes. I hate to be the whipcracker here, but some of our quarry are right now moving away from us around the hill. Perhaps we can continue this discussion as we follow them? I think it best to kill them before they can reach their next stop, wherever that might be."

[zachol]

Ril glances from Taraka to the newcomers, raises an eyebrow at Lorien one last time, then turns to address them.
"Well, this is convenient. We can make further introductions as we follow the goblins. Alright?"
He smiles, then follows the rest.

[treehouse]

Lorien's face visibly relaxed when the minotaur spoke. His first instinct had been to drive off the monster, but its manner was more eloquent than his own. He released his hand from the hilt at his side and straightened, nodding amiably at the horned giant.

"More hands would be welcome, especially if they are competent ones. I am Lorien Agrivail."

He glanced back at some of the other members of the group, who were milling uncertainly near the tower, then lowered his voice.

"I do not believe they all really have their heart in this quest anymore. It may be time to send some of them back to Brindol. Trail rations won't hold out for this many."

[LeadPal]

Satisfied, Ieza turned back to fetch her spear. Something curious had happened while her back was turned: a snake had entwined around the shaft, and was watching the meeting from a vantage at the top. Its scales were pure white, almost reflective, and glimmered in the light of the sun. Ieza ignored it, grabbing the spear without hesitation, and allowed the snake to slither onto her arm; it was more than long enough to drape across her shoulders, while still being coiled on the weapon's end.

She stopped a few yards back to give everyone the chance to look at it before getting too close, and tried to nudge the snake to look back at its new friends. It didn't seem to care, and kept turning away.

The deva was overcome with a candid little smile. "Meet Laban. A familiar of mine."

[Black Plauge]

Leading the others along the same route the goblinoids had taken before them, Taraka follows the old remains of a fence around the rise. Besides the fence, however, there is nothing to break up the forest for quite a ways, giving everyone ample time to wonder where the goblinoids might be headed. It isn't until the old tower is nearly due east of them that they spy something through the trees that breaks the monotony.

Maybe a couple of hundred feet from the fence a stone entrance way stands in the side of the rise. Its doorway stands open, the remains of a bronze and wood door hanging from one side. Carvings worn to simple nubs by the weather adorn the columns which flank the door and the lintel above. Stairs lead down from the door, into the hill and blackness as far as the eye can see. Occasionally sounds echo faintly out of the darkness and for a moment Taraka is almost certain he sees a light far in its depths, but as the others catch up, the light is gone and none of the others can see it, so maybe it was a trick of the eye.

One thing is sure though, the goblinoids' tracks go into the opening.

[Mercutio]

"Huh. Last thing I expected was for them to retreat into some sort of base. Well, this is the way they headed, and it appears from the outside to be some sort of fortified dungeon or crypt. Perhaps we should establish some sort of order of procession, a line-up, if you will."

[LeadPal]

The others nodded in assent, and after some shuffling, settled upon an order: Lorien and Taraka leading Ril and Corbin, with the newcomers Ieza and Karon just behind. Ieza's familiar slithered to the front of the line-up just as they began moving into it--no one thought it important enough to try to send the snake back. Balam and Cutter would keep guard at the entrance, as the last thing anyone wanted was for it to be blocked off if more goblins arrived.

"Stealth isn't your priority, is it?" Ieza was weighing an unlit, golden-tipped sunrod in one hand, bobbing it up and down to draw the group's attention. "If it's dark down there, we could keep two of these lit, and throw one ahead as we go--perhaps catch ambushes and traps before they're sprung."

[Mercutio]

"That's an excellent idea, Ieza. Stealth stopped being a priority awhile ago, and now I would say it's best to see what in the Nine Hells we're going up against."

Taraka was not used to walking into abandoned cave systems or whatever this was. He preferred to do his exploration outside, under the open skies. But the darkness wasn't what really bothered him about this adventure; it was the closing spaces on either side that were worrisome. Taraka was not necessarily afraid of such spaces, but he certainly felt more comfortable when he had the sun or stars above and uninhibited room to swing his maul.

[Black Plauge]

The gloom kept at bay by the sunrods, the party descends in a leapfrog fashion down the steps into the depths. After a couple of minutes, the sunrod thrown ahead clatters onto a level floor, drawing an quick grunt of warning from someone in the room before the quiet of anticipation descends.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they party finds two flail-wielding hobgoblins standing ready in the center of a dank chamber. Braziers flank double doors on the north wall where two goblins with crossbows stand ready.

Combat takes place here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?t=11314)

[Black Plauge]

Rushing forward into the illuminated chamber, Lorien, Taraka, and Karon take on the hobgoblins upfront while Ieza directs Laban back towards the goblins in the back. Barking orders back and forth that the party can't understand, the goblinoids attempt to take advantage of a hazardous display in the room to confuse the combat and turn things in their favor, but they quickly find themselves overwhelmed by the party's tactics and fall one by one, with Karon cutting down the last goblin as he attempts to make his way to the east doors.

[LeadPal]

One of the goblins took the time to open the north doors before attacking. Ieza took the trouble of running past the fiery display to gently push it shut. If the goblin had any reason for opening the door, she wanted to confound it.

[Black Plauge]

With the door shut, the braziers groan back to their original positions and their fiery display ceases.

Note: As she shuts the door, Ieza can see a set of stairs leading down to another door on the other side. She also notices a split plaque (half on each door) on the doors which reads "To Rivenroar Family" in an archaic script.

[Ergonomic Cat]

Karon stands over the body of his foe and roars a victory cry. He kicks the body one last time for good measure then turns and realizes the party is watching. He drops his head and looks around sheepishly. "We should, uh, check the bodies for keys or the like."

[LeadPal]

The party takes a few minutes to catch their breath, and a half more to give the bodies a once-over, before turning their attention towards the doors.

"A dungeoneer could guess which path is wisest, but I've never been in a dungeon." Ieza frowns, and motions towards each door in turn. "The brazier trap is tied to the door ahead, but that last goblin fled to the right, and I've heard to always keep a hand on the left wall. And..."

She hesitates. "It's... not much to base a decision on. Perhaps if we hear something behind the doors?"

[Short rest, then active Perception checks listen at each door: [roll0] [roll1] [roll2]]

[zachol]

Ril hummed as he walked around the perimeter of the room, quieting as he neared each door, checking it, then moving on.
"Hand on the left is for mazes. This place should be functional in terms of living area and not terribly... dungeonish, for the most part."
He stopped in front of the right-hand door again, becoming completely silent. "The right door is probably the best option. There are likely reinforcements that way, military, and the prisoners may be nearby."

He glanced back, smirking at Lorien. "Obviously, that isn't the most sensible option, but that we're here already fairly negates sensibility."
He edged up against the door. The goblins likely knew they were here already, but perhaps he could pick something out.

[Song of Rest: +4 hp per healing surge during short rest; Perception check at east door [roll0]- north [roll1]- west [roll2]- east again [roll3]]

[Black Plauge]

As Ieza and Ril place their ears against the doors to listen, they get the strange feeling that their ears are plugged with cotton. So much so, that they even pull away and reflexively try to clean out their ear the first time it happens. Curious they check each of the doors and find the same phenomena repeated. Apparently the builders of this place intended for there to be a fair degree of privacy between the various rooms.

Despite the sound deadening nature of the doors, Ieza (but not Ril) can make out the sounds of a conversation through the doors to the west. She can't make out any words, but there are definitely several individuals in the room beyond. Neither she nor Ril can hear anything on the other side of the north or east doors.

Note: The east and west doors have plaques similar to the one on the north doors. The east plaque reads: "To Von Jallach." The west plaque reads: "To Von Urstadt."

[LeadPal]

"Another thought." Ieza quickly backs away from the west door. "This room is nearly soundproof, but I can just make out a conversation behind those doors. Let's deal with whomever's there first, before they become a problem."

[treehouse]

Lorien nodded briskly at Ieza's suggestion.

"If we heard them, it is likely they heard us. We don't want enemies behind us when there might also be enemies ahead."

[Ergonomic Cat]

"Another thought." Ieza quickly backs away from the west door. "This room is nearly soundproof, but I can just make out a conversation behind those doors. Let's deal with whomever's there first, before they become a problem."

Karon smiles gratefully at Ieza, glad that she had made a decision. He strides directly to the door, having spent the last few minutes catching his breath.

(Short rest, move to the door, ready an action to beat stuff. :))

[Black Plauge]

Throwing open the door, the party finds itself faced with a corridor that takes a sharp right hand turn 10 ft from the door and the sound of orders being given in what is probably Goblin around said corner. Proceeding down the hall, Lorien and Taraka reach the corner first, and can see a group of hobgoblins readying weapons and pointing at them.

Combat takes place here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?p=379468)

[Black Plauge]

Charging forward, most of the party quickly engages with the mass of hobgoblins, making short work of the grunts. The apparent leader, however, proves to be far more tenacious and hangs on against the combined might of the party for several seconds before finally falling.

While this battle rages, shots from the darkness to the north harry the party and force Taraka and Corbin to ignore the melee and hurry in that direction to find a pair of goblins protected on the far side of a large pit. Throwing caution to the wind, Taraka leaps the pit, pushing the goblins aside and engaging them directly. He is soon joined by Laban and between the two of them they quickly dispatch the goblins. That proves not to be the end of the issue, however, as the goblins were able to call for reinforcements before they fell and Taraka, Corbin, and Laban have to travel deeper down the hall to deal with them as well.

[Mercutio]

Taraka moved back to the main room, easily jumping the small pits in the hallway. He collected Corbin as he went. After moving through the doors and rejoining his comrades, he gestured to the double doors to the west. "I think we should head that way."

[treehouse]

Lorien nodded, taking up a position near the door.

[LeadPal]

"Fair," said Ieza, "but let's take a moment to catch our breath." She spent a few minutes poking through the contents of the room and listening at the doors before moving on.

Perception: [roll0]

[Black Plauge]

Searching amongst the pallets around the edge of the room, Ieza finds the typical personal effects that one would expect to find in someone's sleeping quarters. A scrap of embroidered cloth, a string necklace, spare clothing, and the like. Nothing worth very much to anyone besides the owner.

Before she can move on to the bags to the south, however, the party is interrupted by the doors they had been planning on going though bursting open and three hobogoblins and a guard drake bursting through. Clearly as surprised to find the party in front of them as the party is to see them, everyone freezes for a moment before all hell breaks loose again.

The party has not had sufficient time for a short rest yet, though healing surges have been spent as you decided in the OOC. Combat takes place here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?t=11493)

[Black Plauge]

Reacting quickly, the party swarms over the hobgoblins, trapping them in the doorway they burst through. Surrounded, the hobgoblins stand little chance, though their pet drake proves to be a slightly more tenacious foe.

The combat ends as quickly as it started, with the party looking at each other over a growing pile of corpses.

[treehouse]

Lorien grunted as he sat down. too tired even to sheathe his blade. He pulled his dented half-helm off and wiped a sheet of sweat off his forehead with one arm.

"We should think about resting, friends."

[Mercutio]

"Friend Lorien, you speak the gods-honest truth."

Taraka knelt down and tried to catch his breath.

[Ergonomic Cat]

As the group talks, Karon begins dragging the hobgoblin bodies to the edge of the pit, muttering to himself.

"We should strip these of valuables, and then toss away the bodies - it may help keep our presence somewhat concealed."

He suits action to his words, and begins rummaging through pockets, and removing armor and weaponry. "There must be a room with only a single entrance. I can guard the door while the rest of you rest - I feel hale enough to do so."

[zachol]

"Should stop exploring. Hmmm. The goblins will likely notice that we're here, and mount something of an attack... perhaps it might be better to stay here. A single entrance is a single exit, after all, and I doubt we could stem the flood of the whole fort coming at once."

[LeadPal]

"Myself, I would sooner rest outside." Ieza spoke with her eyes closed, leaning in a corner against the shaft of her longspear. "Or, at least in the central chamber. Should the goblins become aware of our presence en masse, I fear they'll prepare a blockade at the only known exit--making our situation rather desperate."

[Black Plauge]

Besides their weapons and armor, the goblinoids don't seem to be carrying anything of value. There are enough of them, however, that Karon ends up with a fairly decent pile of well used, and in somewhat questionable repair, stuff.

Throwing the bodies down the pit, he easily makes out the sound of them thumping to the bottom: a muffled sound as if they hit something relatively soft. After the third or fourth body, the sound changes a bit, indicating that the bodies are beginning to pile up.

Karon Perception: [roll0]

[Black Plauge]

After throwing the last body into the pit, Karon stands over it for a bit, brushing his hands off and catches the sound of hissing and chomping coming from the darkness below.

Karon Nature: [roll0]

[zachol]

Ril glances down the pit. "Hmm. Convenient."
He glances at Ieza, then the rest. "I agree... perhaps... let's stay in the entrance hall for now. Protected from the elements, easy escape, and so on. Mmm?"

[treehouse]

Lorien shrugged. "The entrance hall has two unexplored doors. I am not sure which chambers are occupied by enemies, but it seems like if we sleep in there, we could end up knee-deep in gobbos before we're out of bed. I would rather sleep outside altogether, make them track us a bit. If they come back behind us as we leave and refortify the positions we've already taken, well, I was planning to kill anything in here with too much fur and teeth anyway."

He glanced at Karon.

"Okay, almost everything."

[Ergonomic Cat]

Lorien shrugged. "The entrance hall has two unexplored doors. I am not sure which chambers are occupied by enemies, but it seems like if we sleep in there, we could end up knee-deep in gobbos before we're out of bed. I would rather sleep outside altogether, make them track us a bit. If they come back behind us as we leave and refortify the positions we've already taken, well, I was planning to kill anything in here with too much fur and teeth anyway."

He glanced at Karon.

"Okay, almost everything."

Karon's laugh is as surprising as it is sudden. He bares his teeth in what is presumably a friendly grin, and claps Lorien on the back, seeming very different from the slightly brooding and quiet minotaur they met on the road. "I have just the right number of teeth, and only slightly more fur than I need, my friend. I will bow to those wiser and more travelled than I. Name the place, and I will be there."

[Mercutio]

"Well, we don't need to camp really. Just take a breather. Maybe wipe some blood and sweat from our eyes, take stock of our situation so far." Taraka turned his gaze to Lorien. "We can move on once we get you patched up."

[zachol]

"Mmm. Sure. Front room, though, just in case."

Ril led the way, and began pacing the border of the room, humming softly. Perhaps from another person this could be described as "incessant," but Ril somehow seemed to make even idle humming enjoyable.
Midway through, he sat down, tapping at a piece of rubble. Some lyrics in elven emerged from the humming, as he apparently tried to find the right words, trying slight differences from verse to verse.

After a fairly long time, he sighed, then looked up.
"Alright then? Try the east door, north door, or keep exploring the west section?"

[zachol]

Ril's eyes darted, watching the rest of the group.
Clearly nobody wanted to be here (well, maybe that was just Ril projecting), but the consensus seemed to be on continuing up the west section.

"So... west, then? Makes sense, I guess."

[West, then... west door of the room we just fought in?]

[Black Plauge]

Heading back through the room of their recent conflict, the party finds the room undisturbed, with blood stains and the pile of weapons and armor the only reminders of what had taken place.

Proceeding through the western doorway, the party notices a faint glow coming from around the corner at the end of a short hallway. Rounding that corner, the party finds themselves faced with a picture in the middle of this room. At first glance, the picture shows flickering images of a sinister castle in the middle of a swamp and it crackles whenever the image flickers away.

The room is otherwise featureless, except for two doors: one each to the east and west. The one to the west stands open, but the one to the east is closed.

[zachol]

"Huh. That's... different."
Ril bends down, picking a random bit of rubble from the ground, and gently lobs it at the image.

[Ergonomic Cat]

"Ieza, does your snake companion feel pain? Could it go...investigate for us?"

[Black Plauge]

As the pebble arches towards the image, it crackles and flickers once more, but the pebble passes through the picture as if it wasn't there. Was the image reacting to the pebble? Ril can't be entirely sure, as another crackle and flicker drive home a second or two after the pebble has fallen to the ground.

[LeadPal]

"It's not out of the question. Laban is not strictly real." Ieza glanced at Karon, with an eyebrow raised. "But--yes. He feels pain."

The deva slid through the ranks of the group to get a better look at the image. She stared at it intently, seeming to expect some sudden revelation within the image.

Nothing happened.

After a moment, she turned to the rest of the party, and fell back against one of the walls, looking nauseated. "I'm--not sure what the image is. But..."

Trying to use Perception [roll0] to catch any details, History [roll1] to recognize the castle, Arcana [roll2] to figure out what's going on here. Speak with Spirits adds +5 to arcana.

[zachol]

"Hmm."
Ril moves back to the previous room, grabbing one of the shields left by the goblins, and returns. He tosses the shield at the image, and watches for any changes, or anything else notable.

[similar rolls, perception [roll0], history [roll1], arcana [roll2]]

[Ergonomic Cat]

Karon quickly moved to stand between Ieza and the image keeping his eyes averted. His fur bristled and he clenched his fingers tightly around his khopesh. "Did something happen? Did it attack you?"

[Black Plauge]

Taking the time to study the image carefully, Ieza thinks she might recognize the castle. It's too far away to make out the details that would allow her to be sure, but the number of spires, and other features of the general outline remind her of Castle Cavitius, a legendary location associated with Vecna. The problem, however, with that identification is that Castle Cavitius is said to be locked in the Shadowfell, and while this particular castle is clearly in a fairly dreary swamp, the landscape doesn't bear the distinctive marks of a Shadowfell domain. Perhaps this is simply a castle who's builders took inspiration from the legendary Cavitius.

Jerked out of his recollection by a shield flying through the image, Ieza turns to see Ril smiling slightly as he watches the picture for any reaction. Ril, however, seems doomed to disappointment, as not even a crackle and flicker accompany the shield on its trajectory through the image. Still, the picture reminds Ril of something. Not the image itself, that's just some castle he's never seen before. No, this is more about the whole concept of a floating image. If either the shield or the portal had gone through, he would have immediately concluded that he was looking at a portal: a magical link between this location and another. Clearly, however, nothing was going to go from here to there through this image.

Turning back to the image, Ieza notices that what she had originally taken for a slime covered puddle has moved towards the foreground of the picture.

Ieza Nature [roll0]

[LeadPal]

"No, no, Karon, I'm fine--I thought I'd seen the castle before, but..." She breathes deeply, counting to herself slowly. "It's just something about the swamp. Something--do you see that? That stagnant water--it's moving across the landscape."

Regaining her composure, she takes her spear in both hands and moves back into formation. "Ril? Any ideas?"

[Black Plauge]

Once Ieza points it out, the moving "puddle" is obvious to everyone but it's Ril that manages to recognize it for what it is: an ochre jelly. As the party watches, the ochre jelly continues to moves towards them.

Nature checks for everyone:
Karon: [roll0]
Lorien: [roll1]
Taraka: [roll2]
Ril: [roll3]

[zachol]

"I think it's a distraction so that we ignore the slime monster creeping toward us from behind the semi-transparent image."
He pauses, watching it creep. "Or maybe not. Either way..."
Quickly, he draws an arrow, shooting it straight at the jelly, more to test whether there's something actually there than harm it.

[Black Plauge]

Ril's arrow flies through the image and clatters against the far wall. The jelly, however, becomes all too real a moment later as it slips out of the image and into the dungeon room.

Ril's attack: [roll0] vs. AC. [roll1] damage.

Combat takes place here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?t=11595)

[Black Plauge]

Slightly panicked by the sudden reality of the ooze, the party quickly converges on it, splitting it in two under the barrage of attacks. This leaves the party slightly vulnerable, however, as they are caught unawares by two opportunistic specters which phase out of the walls behind them.

Everyone quickly adjusts, however, and while the insubstantial nature of the specters gives them some trouble, their unnatural "life" is soon ended.

[Mercutio]

After a short rest to catch a breath, Taraka and Corbin moved forward to the left-hand door.

[Black Plauge]

Leaving the strange picture/portal behind, the party proceeds through the open door to the west and finds a passage which bends around before opening up into a larger chamber and then continuing on the far side. Within the chamber, niches filled with shroud wrapped bodies line most of the two walls extending away from the party. The only interruption is along the north wall where a set of double doors takes up the far side of the room.

[Mercutio]

Taraka and Corbin entered the room, ready to attack shuld the shroud-wrapped bodies magically come to life.

[Black Plauge]

Despite their precautions, the shroud-wrapped bodies stay in their niches lying as still and as ominous as before.

[LeadPal]

"The Von Jallachs, perhaps." Ieza stays on guard as the party continues through the room. She pauses to listen at the doors.

[perception [roll0]]

[zachol]

"Hm. Anticlimax. Or perhaps a ruse."
Ril glances around the room, peering slightly at anything that catches his attention.

"Not to say I'm disappointed, but I'm surprised we haven't been swarmed by the goblins by now. We're making quite a racket."

[perception [roll0]]

[Black Plauge]

Putting her ear to the door, Ieza is quickly reminded of just why the group may have been lucky to avoid getting swarmed thus far as she experiences the muffling effect of the doors again. As with those the group encountered earlier, the muffling makes it next to impossible to make out anything on the other side, and in this case Ieza can't hear anything suspicious.

Looking around the room, Ril finds nothing out of the ordinary for a crypt. Most alcoves contains a single body wrapped in a cloth shroud. Both the bodies and the shrouds have started to deteriorate with age and the smell of old decay hangs in the air. The bodies were clearly preserved prior to burial, however, as there are no signs of insects or other, larger, agents of decay that one would normally expect around dead bodies. Near each occupied alcove there is an inscription on the wall, presumably identifying the remains as the ones near male bodies end with "von Urstadt" while the ones near female bodies have "von Urstadt geborene" in the middle.

[LeadPal]

Satisfied with the door for the moment, Ieza looks over the inscriptions, fully expecting to recognize at least one of the bodies.

[History [roll0] ]

[Black Plauge]

Reading through the names inscribed near the alcoves, Ieza finds that most of the names are unfamiliar beyond the "von Urstadt" surname, one or two, however, stand out as having once been prominent nobles in the Vale some four or five hundred years ago. These particular members of the family had been involved with the daily ruling of the western portion of the Vale under the Lords of Rivenroar. The rest are likely lesser relations who may or may not have held minor positions.

One thing is clear, however, the youngest body is at least 300 years old, something which makes sense given Ieza's knowledge of the Vale's history. While the reason for the fall of the Lords of Rivenroar and their servants isn't clear, they did essentially disappear some 300 years ago.

[Mercutio]

"So, what do you know? We still haven't found the hostages and have no idea what's really going on here."

[zachol]

"This whole place is confusing."

Ril continued to wander around the room. "We could try making a racket, see what pops up?"

[treehouse]

Lorien shrugs.

"That sounds as good as any plan, Ril. Are there any places in this crypt that we haven't covered?"

[LeadPal]

Ieza conveys what she knows about the corpses to the party, and then considers their options. "Except for runners, there's no way to signal an alarm here; the walls are totally soundproof beyond a few yards. Letting the goblins know we're coming in advance would make it easier for one of them to escape the room and put the complex on alert."

Laban slithers up Ieza's leg and onto her arm, and she strokes his scaly body thoughtfully. "Perhaps... perhaps we could interrogate the next goblins. They would most likely lead us into a trap, but the most dangerous place in the crypt would be a logical place to keep hostages, so we might come out ahead."

[Black Plauge]

Opening the doors to the north, the party finds that the corridor runs for 20ft before turning to the left and going down the stairs. Hearing the rustle of straw as the light from their sunrods begins to spill down the stairs, the party proceeds cautiously, but finds no ambush at the bottom of the stairs. Instead, they find a room which seems out of place in a crypt: a jail, with a large area for guards to lounge in while watching the prisoners (including a table and some chairs) and two cells to the north. While one cell is empty, its rusted door stuck open, the other has a new padlock and contains a weathered old man who eyes the party suspiciously.

"This is new. Have you been sent here to rescue me or escort me to my death?"

[zachol]

Ril grins. "The second. Might you know where the rest of the prisoners are, so that we may escort them to their end?"
His grin flattens, and he glances back, out the door, nervous. "I'm joking of course, but we need to get moving. Wait."
He pauses, then moves closer. "Were you taken in the recent raid on Brindol? Or have the bounds of our quest expanded now?"

[Black Plauge]

"Questers, are you?" the old man responds, chuckling at the idea. "Yes, I was taken from Brindol. I'm Sertanian, castellan of the Hall of Great Valor. Six others were taken with me: Jalissa, Captian Kartenix, Thurann, Mirtala, Zerriksa, and Adronsius. Those thrice-damned hobgoblins split us up when we got here and blindfolded us when they moved us, so I don't know were all the others are. Mirtala and I were taken to a room with frescos and statues at first, but the bloody hobgoblins moved me here after just a couple hours. Said Mirtala would make a better meal. I wish they were referring to her cooking skills."

[LeadPal]

"...Dammit." Ieza takes a last glance back at the stairs, then hustles towards the cell door. "Finding Mirtala is our priority, then. We'll take you to our rear guard on the surface while we keep searching. Now, about getting you out."

She guides her hand around the threshold of the door, looking for traps, and then settles on the padlock. "Sturdy, but... Karon? I'm sure you can handle this."

[Perception +10]

[Black Plauge]

The sills and jams of the cage door show signs of rust, leaving a red dust on Ieza's hands, but no traps.

"How will you keep searching while taking me to the surface?" Sertanian asks, "Seems to me that you have to one and then the other. I know I don't look it any more, but I'll have you know that I served in the army that drove back the Red Hand and know a thing or two about sword play. If you've got spare armor and weapons, then I can help. If not, then I at least know how to stay out of the way. As you pointed out, we need to find Mirtala quickly."

Perception: [roll0]

[LeadPal]

"Then take my longspear, and stay by my side. We'll see if we can't strip armour that fits off one of the hobgoblins." Ieza stands aside for someone else to break the door open, while brushing the dust off her fingertips.

[Black Plauge]

"Gods, no!" Sertanian responds, "I'd rather run around naked than wear something one of those bastards has sullied. Surely you must have some spare armor in your supplies. What kind of army marches without a proper supply train?"

[zachol]

"The kind that consists of four people. This is kind of a small, uh, operation. Really small. We're it. Which is why we need to get moving, fast."

[Black Plauge]

"Just you four?" Sertanian asks in disbelief, "Damn! I knew the council was cheap but I didn't think they were that cheap." The last is muttered more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Regaining his composure, Sertanian continues, "Okay, have you seen a spiral staircase? When they moved me, we used a spiral staircase, so the room where Mirtala is must be near there."

[zachol]

"Well, us five now. Actually it was four, then one... left, and now these two showed up. Anyway."
Ril kneeled in front of the lock, frowning, before pulling out some springy little metal things. "I usually don't do this, haven't in years, but we might as well try the quiet way before we start bashing things."

He began to fiddle with the lock, halfway through pulling out a dagger and twisting at it.
"We haven't seen any sort of spiral staircase yet, I don't think."

[Thievery using improvised tools (not using thieves' tools) at +4, [roll0][roll1][roll2], if it's acceptable to do so untrained]

[Black Plauge]

Despite his lack of practice, persistence pays off for Rill and he's able to pop the lock after a couple of false starts. It seems that the third time really is the charm.

Freed from his prison, Sertanian takes a few moments to walk around the ante-room of the prison, stretching his legs after his imprisonment. In doing so, Ieza can't help but notice that his claims to the contrary, Sertanian is clearly in no shape to be fighting, even fully armored. His movements betray signs both of age and of rough treatment by his captors, though Sertanian is clearly making an effort to keep them hidden.

Before she can say anything, however, the sound of exclamations and fighting echo down the corridor from the room they just vacated. Listening closely, Taraka is able to detect the subtle sound of a burning fire underneath the louder sounds of weapons hitting armor and cries of pain.

[treehouse]

Lorien's full blade was out of the sheath on his back in a flash. He turned toward the commotion, placing himself in front of the others as he cursed under his breath.

[zachol]

"Wonderful."
Ril drew his bow, then glanced at Sertanian.
"Stay back, out of trouble. Don't want you getting killed."

He turned back to the doorway, grumbling under his breath. "That's our job."

[Black Plauge]

Heading back up the stairs, the party looks into the room they just vacated to see a small, dark cloaked creature trying to work it's way free of one of the alcoves while fighting off a creature of fire and rock.

[OOC: Combat begins here. (http://online-roleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?t=11849)]

[Black Plauge]

Taking a chance to try and create an ally, Ieza directs the spirits to aid the Creepers while harming the Magma Claws. The rest of the party follows Ieza's lead and the Magma Claws are quickly turned back into their constituent material.

"Hail!"
Ril paused, at a loss for words. Attempting diplomacy in the thick of combat was a little strange, even for him.
"Might we hold a truce, temporarily? What were those things?"

Looking at each other as if unsure of how to react to some one asking them a question, the two Creepers seem to be trying to defer to one another, neither wanting to take the responsibility of being the first to speak. Finally, the one which Ieza helped out of the niche replies, "Guardians. Leaving the doors open summons them." He then lapses into silence, as if afraid he's said too much.