[IC, 3.5] The Rage of Endless War

[Goaty14]

The Rage of Endless War

You are on Acheron. After days of harrowing fights and wise choices for your survival, here you are, on a hill overlooking a small military camp, blocking the direction you've been traveling in. As goblins travel to and fro the tents, you know that you must get past them to continue your journey... somehow.

Behind you were some small battalions clashing with each other, too busy to notice you passing by. You don't hear the sounds of war from them anymore, meaning whoever is left could possibly notice your presence more easily. To your fore are three green tents arranged in a circle. Judging by their rotating guards, there are at least three goblin warriors within the camp. Nothing prevents you from going around them, though the area is flat and without natural concealment.

What do you do?

[Foryn Gilnith]

Alain reaches into his spell component pouch (one of the few articles on his body that isn't stained with blood or grime) and idly rummages through it - one of the stranger habits he's developed under stress. Helps him focus, he says. Glancing around to the rest of the party to confirm they're alert and present, he cranes his head up to address Gryfhild with his thoughts. "They're just goblins," he mutters, contempt obvious on his face. "Way I see it is we should bag em, tag em, and take cover in the tents until those squadrons behind us pass. Up to you, though."

[Jopustopin]

Gryf

The towering man had introduced himself as Gryf and simply by being near him your wounds had superficially healed over as if being packed with snow. The healing had been enough that, despite taking multiple wounds and fighting multiple battles, the healing had given the party the will to fight on. That was three days ago now and the party has for the most part fallen into their respective roles in the group. With nothing learned of a way off Archeron and no clear direction to travel except for away from the fight, the party was in a desperate situation.

"Seems a weird set-up." Gryf says eyeing the three tents, "They on a camping trip from their army or something?"

He listens to Alain with a thought and nods. "Lyle you want to scout them out? See if it's just three of em'? We're not in a hurry, no need to get overconfident. Maybe they know a way off this plane... or someone who does."

[Luccan]

Lyle had come close to death in the past few days more times than he cared to. He'd never been one to believe The Laughing Rogue was malicious, but it seemed a cruel prank to send one of his followers to plane of war to save him. The thief crouches near his allies, cleaning some of the grime from the curved knife he favored with his rapier. His eyes flick to the tents every few seconds, however.
Could be scouts? Or its a set up. As diversionary tricks go it's simple, but I've seen far smarter men lose life and purse to lesser cons. He stands and stows his kukri, before reaching for his own component pouch I can do it, unless someone has a better idea.