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<blockquote data-quote="soanso" data-source="post: 6188713" data-attributes="member: 6684655"><p>Both goblin sentries were dead when I reached the top of the tower. We crouched low, keeping cover between ourselves and any sentries in the left tower. Playing cards were scattered across the floor; none of us was surprised to find the deck short. We saw the other tower, an open courtyard, and the steep drop from the fortress to the sea. </p><p> </p><p>Jae took a moment to scout the area. “There are two figures in the courtyard, likely goblins, crouched by a far door leading back into the compound. Two sentries man the other tower- beyond that, I do not see further patrols. Our approach has likely alerted the compound. I will take post here, to guard your pass through the courtyard; should you encounter resistance, draw them out and I will lay waste to their villainy. At dawn I must send word to Shalelu; my absence is a blessing. You have allies in these woods.”</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Jae looked Shaiira in the eye, a gesture missed as the rest worked a trap door leading to the bowels of the tower, but I saw it. The ranger picked a short bow off one of the goblin guards, and up-ended a crate, setting both quivers in it. He looked ridiculous holding the pea-sized bow, but his hands were steady as he nocked an arrow and whipped around, firing the too-small bow at the opposite tower. I heard the arrow ricochet off a helmet or a shield, and the far-off curses of the goblins in the other tower. “Desna smiles,” I said. Jae did not look up, but busied himself with securing the tower.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>The trap door led us to the ground floor, and an unlocked door led us to a room decorated with a garish and chilling display of primitive taxidermy. The walls were adorned with crudely taken trophies, mostly horse and dog heads; but a curious pair of black-feathered wings were also pinned to the wall, a pearlescent-handled dagger struck though the left wing. I recognized their span at once.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“Harpy wings,” I said low; not that it mattered. The room was already stirring with goblins.</p><p></p><p> “A rally or release point,” Shaiira said, nodding to the barred double doors that likely led outside.</p><p> “A bottleneck,” murmured Mundin, axes raised to the horde that descended upon us.</p><p> </p><p>The fight was bloody and quick. Seven goblins fell dead on the hard-packed earth of the gatehouse. Of all, one carried a horse-chopper- yet another cruel goblin blade. I tossed it aside for a scavenger’s eye. We had already refused to bring the makeshift dogslicers popular among goblins to market out of self-respect. Though the ‘chopper is a rare find, I’d rather it rust than collect dust in a shop or on a collector’s shelf. Shaiira pulled the pearl-handled dagger from the wall; though exceptionally crafted, it was not magical. She kept it anyways.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>We made our way to the next tower, carefully ascending the ladder before bursting open the trap door and surprising the pair of goblins atop the tor. They were quickly dispatched.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“Pickles?” Caramour’s voice was at once surprised and confused.</p><p></p><p> I looked around. Dozens of pickles littered the floor, most having but one or two bites from it.</p><p> “Well, they aren’t magical,” Vohoi said, equally confused and serious.</p><p> “Looks like they were licked clean,” Noria said. We burst into laughter.</p><p> “Let’s head down to the courtyard,” I said; I tarried long enough to see Noria gather a handful of pickles into her pack.</p><p> </p><p>We crept through the open-air courtyard to an outbuilding; Jae’s surveillance was spot-on. Two goblins lay dead in front of a large door that had been nailed shut. It appears they had died from the crushing blows of horse’s hooves. Knowing their hatred of the noble beasts, we decided to pursue the interior of the fort before forcing open the doors. </p><p></p><p> </p><p>We swept through the north and west sections of the fortress, finding only the unholy commode of the Thistletop goblins, and a stairway to the depths. We abandoned this place to further explore the fortress. Nothing of note save a goblin-dog kennel. We released the rabbits held there and threw the tack and harnesses to the ground. We pressed deeper into the compound.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“It’s locked,” Shaiira said, a light dancing in her eye.</p><p></p><p> “Well, open it,” Mundin said, bringing his axes to bear. Noria unsheathed her sword and C calmly meditated. I drew my rapier, and Vohoi fell into a short trance before life again filled his skin. Shaiira deftly manipulated the tools she’d lifted from Tsuto’s body. In the silence, a soft click made my sister smile; she quietly opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>A few goblin dogs suddenly shifted from sleep to attention, and five goblins’ heads snapped to our intrusion. One sat upon a throne of bones, itself topped by a bleached horse skull. A battered metal crown sat on his head and a large gecko lashed its tail at his side. Three goblins held weapons, while one stood off to the side.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“You there you, interruptingness! Say what is and unless okay we chop so hard!” The goblin wearing the tattered crown spoke in halting Varisian, and then sat back in his vile throne, expecting a reply.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>My companions stood, eerily silent. I waited but a moment before I understood.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>My cares were always Grandy Vin’s, my fights were always PopPop’s, or Uncle Max, or Cheevie, or Ant Grazine. My lessons were market days with Lizelle, or card halls with Shadow Jaffy, spellcraft with Jarna. And they are all gone. I can never depend on them again, they will never step into my mess, my fight, my victory, my growth. They are gone, and it is only me, looking after me. So now I am their mouthpiece, their guiding star, their history, their record, them. I am them. I am the last of me. My voice struck the air.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>I looked at the goblin king, and I knew what fate had spun for us. I chose to spin another tale; I kept my rapier drawn, but dropped it to my side. He would fall, but perhaps I could convince him to concede first.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“Ripnugget, we seek nothing from you but parlay. We are looking for the one called Nualia. We know she has been seen in the area, and we seek to bring her to justice. Many deaths can be avoided if you help us.” As I stepped into the chieftan’s lair, I knew my words fell on deaf ears. I repeated them in the goblin tongue, which impressed him.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“Inside you go and we get talky,” he said in my native tongue. Quickly, Shaiira and Mundin filled the small chamber by my side; Noria waited at the doorway. As we entered and lowered our guard, Ripnugget hissed, “Stabby!” The goblin chief leapt onto the giant gecko as his guard advanced; the goblin dogs bayed and nipped at us. The goblin at the back of the room began inciting a terrible war-chant I recognized from my youth.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>“Kill the bard!” I yelled to my allies.</p><p></p><p> “Will do!” a goblin grunt chortled in his own tongue as he brought his blade to me.</p><p> </p><p>The battle was a flash of movement, shouts, and blood. Ripnugget took to coursing the walls and ceilings on his lizard mount, slashing at us as we fought his minions. Vohoi was the first to go down by the chief’s blade; C was able to bring him back up to fight. Vohoi’s <em>magic missile</em> proved potent against the lizard, while I sang a Kellid ballad recounting revenge against evil winter fey. Mundin waded through the mire to meet and drop the goblin bard; unfortunately that prompted Ripnugget to slash me at the knees. Desna keeps Caramour close, and I was back in the fray. Noria, Mundin, and Shaiira made quick work of Ripnugget’s guards, and one of Vohoi’s missiles dropped the chief’s mount. Surrounded, I cast <em>ear-piercing scream</em> on Ripnugget, waffling him while the dwarves flanked; Ripnugget fell to Mundin’s deadly axes.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>The Thistletop goblins were defeated. We celebrated briefly, and Shaiira went to signal Jae; the elf was already gone, likely delivering the news to Shalelu. Noria shuttered their eyes, so Pharasma could judge them. </p><p></p><p> </p><p>We explored the rest of the compound, finding little of interest, unless one is a goblin-obsessed scholar. We came across their larder and their workshop, and their living quarters. In one room we found an ornately carved but sundered headboard, behind which a silver plate carved with the likeness of Lamashtu with garnets in its eyes was hidden.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>We doubled back and pried open the nailed-shut door near the stomped goblins. Inside, an irate and beautiful horse stamped and whinnied, obviously distraught. I saw the wild look in its eyes, and prepared Uncle Max’s Harvest Tamp by summoning a small drum, always a remedy for an unruly animal.</p><p></p><p></p><p> But then Noria approached the wild beast, speaking calmly. The horse tempered a bit, and Noria produced- of all things- a pickle, which the steed graciously devoured. With some coaxing and a few more pickles, she was able to lead the horse over the rope bridge and through the briar to where our own mounts rested. As we watched it majestically whinny and kick its forelegs in the air, the name Shadowmist came to mind. We decided to rest- it had been an important day. Ripnugget was dead and the Thistletop goblins are no longer a threat to Sandpoint. Nualia remains, and we know she is at Thistletop; two staircases await us when the morning comes.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="soanso, post: 6188713, member: 6684655"] Both goblin sentries were dead when I reached the top of the tower. We crouched low, keeping cover between ourselves and any sentries in the left tower. Playing cards were scattered across the floor; none of us was surprised to find the deck short. We saw the other tower, an open courtyard, and the steep drop from the fortress to the sea. Jae took a moment to scout the area. “There are two figures in the courtyard, likely goblins, crouched by a far door leading back into the compound. Two sentries man the other tower- beyond that, I do not see further patrols. Our approach has likely alerted the compound. I will take post here, to guard your pass through the courtyard; should you encounter resistance, draw them out and I will lay waste to their villainy. At dawn I must send word to Shalelu; my absence is a blessing. You have allies in these woods.” Jae looked Shaiira in the eye, a gesture missed as the rest worked a trap door leading to the bowels of the tower, but I saw it. The ranger picked a short bow off one of the goblin guards, and up-ended a crate, setting both quivers in it. He looked ridiculous holding the pea-sized bow, but his hands were steady as he nocked an arrow and whipped around, firing the too-small bow at the opposite tower. I heard the arrow ricochet off a helmet or a shield, and the far-off curses of the goblins in the other tower. “Desna smiles,” I said. Jae did not look up, but busied himself with securing the tower. The trap door led us to the ground floor, and an unlocked door led us to a room decorated with a garish and chilling display of primitive taxidermy. The walls were adorned with crudely taken trophies, mostly horse and dog heads; but a curious pair of black-feathered wings were also pinned to the wall, a pearlescent-handled dagger struck though the left wing. I recognized their span at once. “Harpy wings,” I said low; not that it mattered. The room was already stirring with goblins. “A rally or release point,” Shaiira said, nodding to the barred double doors that likely led outside. “A bottleneck,” murmured Mundin, axes raised to the horde that descended upon us. The fight was bloody and quick. Seven goblins fell dead on the hard-packed earth of the gatehouse. Of all, one carried a horse-chopper- yet another cruel goblin blade. I tossed it aside for a scavenger’s eye. We had already refused to bring the makeshift dogslicers popular among goblins to market out of self-respect. Though the ‘chopper is a rare find, I’d rather it rust than collect dust in a shop or on a collector’s shelf. Shaiira pulled the pearl-handled dagger from the wall; though exceptionally crafted, it was not magical. She kept it anyways. We made our way to the next tower, carefully ascending the ladder before bursting open the trap door and surprising the pair of goblins atop the tor. They were quickly dispatched. “Pickles?” Caramour’s voice was at once surprised and confused. I looked around. Dozens of pickles littered the floor, most having but one or two bites from it. “Well, they aren’t magical,” Vohoi said, equally confused and serious. “Looks like they were licked clean,” Noria said. We burst into laughter. “Let’s head down to the courtyard,” I said; I tarried long enough to see Noria gather a handful of pickles into her pack. We crept through the open-air courtyard to an outbuilding; Jae’s surveillance was spot-on. Two goblins lay dead in front of a large door that had been nailed shut. It appears they had died from the crushing blows of horse’s hooves. Knowing their hatred of the noble beasts, we decided to pursue the interior of the fort before forcing open the doors. We swept through the north and west sections of the fortress, finding only the unholy commode of the Thistletop goblins, and a stairway to the depths. We abandoned this place to further explore the fortress. Nothing of note save a goblin-dog kennel. We released the rabbits held there and threw the tack and harnesses to the ground. We pressed deeper into the compound. “It’s locked,” Shaiira said, a light dancing in her eye. “Well, open it,” Mundin said, bringing his axes to bear. Noria unsheathed her sword and C calmly meditated. I drew my rapier, and Vohoi fell into a short trance before life again filled his skin. Shaiira deftly manipulated the tools she’d lifted from Tsuto’s body. In the silence, a soft click made my sister smile; she quietly opened the door. A few goblin dogs suddenly shifted from sleep to attention, and five goblins’ heads snapped to our intrusion. One sat upon a throne of bones, itself topped by a bleached horse skull. A battered metal crown sat on his head and a large gecko lashed its tail at his side. Three goblins held weapons, while one stood off to the side. “You there you, interruptingness! Say what is and unless okay we chop so hard!” The goblin wearing the tattered crown spoke in halting Varisian, and then sat back in his vile throne, expecting a reply. My companions stood, eerily silent. I waited but a moment before I understood. My cares were always Grandy Vin’s, my fights were always PopPop’s, or Uncle Max, or Cheevie, or Ant Grazine. My lessons were market days with Lizelle, or card halls with Shadow Jaffy, spellcraft with Jarna. And they are all gone. I can never depend on them again, they will never step into my mess, my fight, my victory, my growth. They are gone, and it is only me, looking after me. So now I am their mouthpiece, their guiding star, their history, their record, them. I am them. I am the last of me. My voice struck the air. I looked at the goblin king, and I knew what fate had spun for us. I chose to spin another tale; I kept my rapier drawn, but dropped it to my side. He would fall, but perhaps I could convince him to concede first. “Ripnugget, we seek nothing from you but parlay. We are looking for the one called Nualia. We know she has been seen in the area, and we seek to bring her to justice. Many deaths can be avoided if you help us.” As I stepped into the chieftan’s lair, I knew my words fell on deaf ears. I repeated them in the goblin tongue, which impressed him. “Inside you go and we get talky,” he said in my native tongue. Quickly, Shaiira and Mundin filled the small chamber by my side; Noria waited at the doorway. As we entered and lowered our guard, Ripnugget hissed, “Stabby!” The goblin chief leapt onto the giant gecko as his guard advanced; the goblin dogs bayed and nipped at us. The goblin at the back of the room began inciting a terrible war-chant I recognized from my youth. “Kill the bard!” I yelled to my allies. “Will do!” a goblin grunt chortled in his own tongue as he brought his blade to me. The battle was a flash of movement, shouts, and blood. Ripnugget took to coursing the walls and ceilings on his lizard mount, slashing at us as we fought his minions. Vohoi was the first to go down by the chief’s blade; C was able to bring him back up to fight. Vohoi’s [I]magic missile[/I] proved potent against the lizard, while I sang a Kellid ballad recounting revenge against evil winter fey. Mundin waded through the mire to meet and drop the goblin bard; unfortunately that prompted Ripnugget to slash me at the knees. Desna keeps Caramour close, and I was back in the fray. Noria, Mundin, and Shaiira made quick work of Ripnugget’s guards, and one of Vohoi’s missiles dropped the chief’s mount. Surrounded, I cast [I]ear-piercing scream[/I] on Ripnugget, waffling him while the dwarves flanked; Ripnugget fell to Mundin’s deadly axes. The Thistletop goblins were defeated. We celebrated briefly, and Shaiira went to signal Jae; the elf was already gone, likely delivering the news to Shalelu. Noria shuttered their eyes, so Pharasma could judge them. We explored the rest of the compound, finding little of interest, unless one is a goblin-obsessed scholar. We came across their larder and their workshop, and their living quarters. In one room we found an ornately carved but sundered headboard, behind which a silver plate carved with the likeness of Lamashtu with garnets in its eyes was hidden. We doubled back and pried open the nailed-shut door near the stomped goblins. Inside, an irate and beautiful horse stamped and whinnied, obviously distraught. I saw the wild look in its eyes, and prepared Uncle Max’s Harvest Tamp by summoning a small drum, always a remedy for an unruly animal. But then Noria approached the wild beast, speaking calmly. The horse tempered a bit, and Noria produced- of all things- a pickle, which the steed graciously devoured. With some coaxing and a few more pickles, she was able to lead the horse over the rope bridge and through the briar to where our own mounts rested. As we watched it majestically whinny and kick its forelegs in the air, the name Shadowmist came to mind. We decided to rest- it had been an important day. Ripnugget was dead and the Thistletop goblins are no longer a threat to Sandpoint. Nualia remains, and we know she is at Thistletop; two staircases await us when the morning comes. [/QUOTE]
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