Not wanting to lose sight of the goblin, the rough collie carefully pads along the top of the cliff while skirting the great buttresses supporting the cathedral's southern wing. The hunter ponders why its prey might seek refuge in the Boneyard. Being fenced in by the Cathedral, the city's curtain wall and a sheer drop down the cliff to the Turandarok river below the Boneyard is a literal and figurative dead end. Rounding the Cathedral's southern wing, the rough collie pauses in the shadow of a buttress to determine its quarry's route through the forest of tombstones before following.
OOC: Sandstone will indeed follow, albeit at a discreet distance before it finally succeeds in catching up to the goblin. He's curious to see where the goblin thinks it's going; uncertain whether it's simply lost or if it has a destination in mind. Either way, Sandstone will attempt to circle around and ambush the creature unawares.
Tac perked up at the prospect of a free meal, especially at such a nice locale.
"You know, with the dedication deadline, I haven't had much more than stale bread and cold soup for the past week," he says.
Quote:
Originally Posted by CanadienneBacon
Grokk stumbles out from behind the northern building, bleeding heavily and breathing hard. The half-orc priest still has his warhammer, but the mattocks hangs limply in one hand as the priest walks with obvious labor toward the White Deer. "Got the last one." Grokk grunts, then sits down hard on the grass beside the byway.
At the sight of the bleeding half-orc, Tac rushes to the cleric's side.
"Gods, Grokk, are you all right?" Knowing he has no healing potions on him, Tac looks around, trying to remember where he might find the closest healer (managing, of course, to completely forget that Grokk himself is one).
"I thought he is a cleric. He helped the other wounded. Do you need a hand to get to the inn? Somtimes a good wine and a meal is all what is needed!" Sivan says concerned, before looking again at the sorceress, but says nothing more.
ooc: .
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Talashia sighs. On the one hand, the Rusty Dragon WAS a pretty nice place, and she was tired of travel rations as well. On the other...
"I suppose there's no harm in accepting his invitation," she relents.
After all, she reasoned to herself, it wasn't as if letting him pay for supper was incurring a debt. He owed -them-. This was him making good on that. And it wasn't as if he was in a position to press his suit should she rebuff him. If goblins caused him such troubles, she doubted very much he could enforce his will on her.
Abruptly she snapped her fingers, brightening.
"But we still have a job to do! The White Deer, AND the junkyard. That's where we were headed." She nods at the White Deer inn. "We still have to check the junkyard."
Aldern Foxglove flushes with unfettered delight at Talashia's acceptance of his offer of supper. "Right, then! The evening of your choosing within the next three days, lovely girl. I look forward to it." Foxglove sweeps a low bow, this time careful to miss Talashia. Straightening, the man winks at Tac. "And a meal you shall have, good sir! 'Tis with eager anticipation that I await the honor of your company." Completely and purposefully ignoring both Sivan and Elrya, Foxglove turns to collect his dog but shrugs with disuse when he sights the dead animal lying in front of the rain barrel. "Not much use, either as hunting companion or protector, evidently. I'll call for a wagon to have him carted off to the cliffs." The dog already disposed of in his mind, Aldern straightens his torn sleeve and, bowing a half-notch a third time, quits the byway with a brief, "Milady" directed at Talashia.
At Foxglove's passing, Grokk sits up and moves to stand. "I'll be alright, just need a bite and a sup, and a good night's rest. Just a little winded, is all. That last one 'were a bit of a cagey beast." After standing up from the grass with Tac's help (the force of Grokk's leaning stance almost fells the younger and lighter Tac), Grokk straightens his hauberk with a tug and grasps his warhammer a bit firmer. "A quick gander inside the Inn wouldn't be far amiss--might be intruders inside."
Still in pursuit of the lone fleeing goblin, Taran rounds the Cathedral's southern wing and pauses in the shadow of a buttress to determine its quarry's route through the forest of tombstones before following. Following at a distance, Taran notes the oddity of the top of a ladder propped up against the boneyard wall on the wrong side of town. A bit of fresh earth has been dug up near one of the tombstones, but the boneyard is otherwise empty of denizens.
Still curious about the goblin's circuit, Sandstone follows after the goblin, noting that the creature's path is indeed circuitous and leads behind the church back north toward the North Gate. After a few moments more, Taran spies the bulking wooden guard towers abutting the North Gate. With the North Gate in sight, the goblin's pace speeds up to a loping run. The creature pauses between buildings to peer back toward the White Deer and Church Street, then makes a mad dash for the Gate, which in the confusion appears to have been left unguarded and open, neither of which is normal.
Initiative:
Goblin 15
Taran 10
The goblin runs for the gate and gets within 30 feet of the exit. The creature appears to be aware of the goings on in front of the White Deer but is aiming for fleetness of foot and the safety of the wildnerness beyond town. There is 40 feet between the goblin and Taran, who--suspecting the goblin's thoughts--crept a bit closer than could prudently be judged "discrete" as soon as the Gate came in view. Given the unguarded Gate and the distance stated, the goblin will easily gain the Gate and freedom if Taran elects not to prevent his departure.
Breaking into a lopping run at the same moment as the fleeing goblin, the tawny collie lets loose with a series of thunderous barks in hopes of alerting those near the White Deer of the city gate's open and unguarded condition. Leaping the last few yards of Tomb street, Sandstone lunges at its quarry with fangs bared.
OOC: Charge 40-ft. Melee bite +6 (1d6+4); –2 penalty to AC; barking as a free action.
After standing up from the grass with Tac's help (the force of Grokk's leaning stance almost fells the younger and lighter Tac), Grokk straightens his hauberk with a tug and grasps his warhammer a bit firmer. "A quick gander inside the Inn wouldn't be far amiss--might be intruders inside."
Tac nods. "Inn's much closer, at least, and you could probably use with more rest," he grunts out, cheerful despite the extra weight of supporting his companion.
Tac nods. "Inn's much closer, at least, and you could probably use with more rest," he grunts out, cheerful despite the extra weight of supporting his companion.
Elyra wordlessly steps up to the half-orc's other side, helping Tac support the wounded cleric. She throws a sidelong glance at Tac, inspecting her cousin for injuries, but concludes he is unharmed.
The three fall in step with the group as they make their way to the inn.
Elyra and Tac help the injured Grokk to the heavy wooden front door of the White Deer Inn and Tavern. The door is closed and apparently barred from the inside, but prolonged banging results in a male voice calling out in gruff tones from within. "GO AWAY! We don't want no trouble here!" Tac, despite not having been long in Sandpoint, recognizes the voice of Garridan Viskalai, the brother of Sheriff Hemlock, and owner proprietor of the White Deer. Normally quiet and somber like his Shoanti brother, Garridan's voice has an edge of fear-tinged grit to it. Right after Garridan calls out from inside the tavern, the thunderous barking of Sandstone coming from around the corner where the North Gate gives way to the Long Coast Road reverberates in the evening air, followed by the squeal of a goblin and a sickening crunch.
********************************************At the North Gate*****************************************
Sandstone flings himself at the fleeing backside of Goblin4 but despite catching the goblin with its guard down as it runs, the rough collie's bite misses. The charge at the goblin does, however, result in Sandstone landing between the Gate and the goblin and when the stricken goblin fearfully moves to bolt past Sandstone, the collie reacts with a vengeance, lunging forward and snapping the throat out of the beast for 6 points of damage. Having given all the sport it ever will, the goblin falls limp like a bloated bag in Sandstone's mouth.
Status: Goblin4 dropped. End of initiative for Taran. Please post at will.
Tac cringes at the sound of dogs and goblins, and hopes for the best. He turns back to the door.
"Master Viskalai, your brother sent us to check up on you. We've taken care of the goblins, but our friend is injured. If we could just come in to let him rest?"
The tawny collie lopes the fifty or so yards down Church street to rejoin the allied group near the White Deer inn. Turning the corner, Sandstone unceremoniously drops the small carcass he carries in his mouth down amidst the pile other slain raiders. The canine offers those assembled there a few short barks as he repeatedly turns in place to draw their attention towards the undefended north gate.
"But...I thought..." Talashia seems at a loss, but quickly recovers her bearings, especially when Garridan's rebuke is heard.
She strides towards the inn door, pausing a moment to hiss a 'shush' at the barking dog before continuing to her destination. There she gives the door a good pounding and yells, "Garridan, open up! It's your brother who sent us here, so there's no trouble unless you're making it!"
After Sandstone presents his quarry as prize and stops barking, someone from inside the White Deer at length unbars the door. The sound of wood being forcibly pried away, followed by what is evidently an interior wooden bar sliding across the door resounds in the evening's thickening fog ere at length the door is flung open by a coal-skinned Shoanti man roughly the height and stature of the Sheriff. "Baylor sent you, eh?" Garridan eyes first Tac then Talashia a moment, then his eyes widen just a hair in recognition. "You'd better be coming in, looks like one of your number's injured and the night's drawing dark." The innkeeper issues everyone inside then, casting a look at Sandstone and the heap of dead goblins at the dog's feet, whistles low. "You too, old pal. I reckon that night's work deserves something from the kitchen."
Those who enter quickly ascertain that the White Deer has become a makeshift station for the sick. Garridan's apron is stained with blood, as is the white apron of his cook, and a pair of patients lie on old blankets on the floor in front of the tavern's hearth. One, a middle aged woman, has a bad cut in her thigh that has been cursorily bandaged with kitchen towels but is still seeping blood. The other, an elderly man with a balding head and a thin grey mullet of hair, lies still a few feet from the hearth and doesn't move. The air of death hangs heavy inside the tavern. Garridan gestures to the elderly man and matter-of-factly states, "They ripped out Old Walt's innards. Wasn't much I could do. Elsie'll probably make it, but we need someone with a better hand to help. Good thing you lot came along--with the crowd of scavengers out front the Deer playing nasty games with that hunting dog, it was only a matter of time before the beasts found their way in. Other than Walt and Elsie, the rest of us're doing alright. What news of my brother and the rest of the town?"
While he debriefs his guests, Garridan puts a plate of sliced ham on the floor for the dog, then lines up tankards of ale on the wooden bar and gestures for Elyra, Grokk, Sivan, and Tac to take one if they wish. The fifth tankard, however, Garridan covers with the flat of his hand before offering to Talashia. "You weren't but a pup of a girl when you left, you sure you're old enough for a drink, lassie?" With a wink, Garridan offers the tankard to Talashia anyway. "Reckon you earned it."
Garridan listens intently to news of Sandpoint and his brother with a solemn shake of his head. Eyeing Grokk with a frown, the innkeeper grunts. "Wounded as he is, his company here at the Deer wouldn't go amiss. If Elsie makes it through the night, the priest can heal her right as rain in the morning after he's got his wind back." Grokk starts to bark in protest but quiets after stealing a glance at Old Dead Hank just as the wound in his own thigh oozes new blood. "I'll stay, you lot go," the priest grunts in pain.
Tac gapes at the dead man a moment, then regains his composure. At least, a little.
"Gods, this is all just so ... wrong," he mutters.
"It started at the temple dedication," Tac explains, "Not sure if you were there; still not sure why they attacked. Your brother's been organizing volunteers to check out trouble spots since then, which is how we got here." It's perhaps the most concise Tac's explanation of something has been in quite some time.
He drinks the ale quickly, not caring that a small trickle escapes out the corner of his mouth. He doesn't breathe until he's done. Then he nods, and smiles a little in embarrassment. "Sorry. I'm an engineer. This whole kill and be killed is very new--and unsettling--to me."
Looking around the room, Tac nods at Grokk's decision to stay.
"I've seen enough death already. I'd hate for a new friend to be among the bodies, and it looks like you might be of better use here, using the gifts the gods gave you.
"Maybe we should leave Sandstone, too? In case there's any more trouble? Gods know I'd prefer he was filling up on ham than goblin."
Surrounded by his fellow injured and suffering townsfolk, the rough collie finds that he has little appetite for the kindly proffered ham. Instead, he pads over to a bucket of water and begins to lap up its contents with a long tongue; if only to wash the foul taste of goblin out of his bloody mouth.
Licking the dripping water from the end of his snout, Sandstone looks over at Ol' Walt's still form with mournful eyes and offers a soft canine whimper. The dog knew him as a quiet man who enjoyed spending hours whittling driftwood on his front stoop. He'd often throw a stick for Sandstone to fetch whenever the collie would happen to pass by. And now the man lay dead on the White Deer's taproom floor; all because the guard dog had failed to notice or stop the goblin interlopers as they stole into town during the holiday.
With his head and tail hanging low, the tawny collie silently pads back out the door. There is little he can do to help ease the townfolk's suffering, but he can certainly act to prevent any further goblin raiding; and the first step is to secure the town's boundaries. He turns to offer those in the common room a single bark before heading out into the deepening twilight, back towards the open and undefended north gate.
OOC: CB, What's involved in closing and barring the gate?
Garridan nods at Tac's assessment, adding, "I warn't at the Festival. Stayed here at the Deer, serving from the taproom and making sure the hired help running the Deer's festival buffet table didn't run out of roasted loin. Old Walt stumbled in, bleeding his guts out, an' Elsie right after 'im." Garridan shakes his head with sorrow. "Damned nasty vermin, them goblins. I'd like to do them the same as wot they done Old Walt. What'samatter, boy? Not hungry?" Garridan looks down and, noticing the untouched plate of boiled ham, adds, "Sometimes I could swear that dog's human. Where'd he go, anyway? HELL FIRE!!!" Noticing he'd left the front door unbarred and open, Garridan swears and swiftly crosses the taproom floor to peer out into the pressing dark and fog. "Dog'll get hisself killed! He belong to one of you?" The innkeeper closes the door and re-bars it.
Tac groans as Sandstone runs off, and in response to Garridan's query, says, "I'm beginning to think that dog belongs to some trickster god. He's got the most insane nose for trouble.
"If you bar the door again after we leave, I think you'll be okay. But if I'm gonna keep that dog alive after all the good it did, I think we need to go. Guys?" Tac says, addressing his recent companions as he moves toward the door, straining to catch sight of Sandstone.
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