The Red Hand of Doom (3.5)

[A.A.King]

Alastor feels the potion going throw him and slowly opens his eyes to see the priest above him "Arendi?" he says, though with a lot less boom to his voice than normal "How did things go? Where is everybody else?"

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Nightfall, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 1 of 6

Chatty and Jim

Spoiler

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Chatty’s once-over didn’t reveal anything likely to jump out or kill herself or Jim, so with a nod to the mage, she busied herself taking a good, proper look at the two rooms. The one she’d entered first was open and spacious. Wooden timbers supported the roof above (apart from one crucial area which had a spray of broken slate tiles next to a section of fallen timber). Here and there the remains of what were probably once dividing walls were evident. Rubble from holes in the walls lay piled in a circle forming a crude firepit. Four double bunk beds stood against the west wall, each strewn with filthy covers. Another, considerably larger, lay near the north wall. Under this large bed – which stunk of cow – Chatty found a small pouch containing a decent sum of gold coin, minted out of Dambrath by the look of it – though the coinage could have come from anywhere really. There didn’t seem to be much else of value in the room beyond the firewood and rocks.

The room the bugbear had come from, though, was something else. Beyond the solid wooden door was a self-contained room. A large table all but filled it, barely leaving enough room for the half-dozen chairs arrayed around its edge. There was a faint smell of old tobacco in the room.

Some large piece of canvas must have been pinned to the table’s surface by four daggers; there were shreds of the stuff trailing from all four daggers where they’d been rammed into the table. Chatty experimentally ran a finger along one shred; sniffed another. Observed what looked like the ripped part of a compass rose on another shred. Some sort of map had been on this table, she guessed.

There were piles of parchment stacked in the corners of the room, but it only took Jim a casual glance to know that they weren’t arcane scrolls. The wizard picked up a yellowing page from the nearest pile, frowned at the first couple of lines:

ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

Jim put the paper back. He couldn’t read the words, but he did recognise the language: Infernal, the Voice of the Nine Hells. It’d take a couple of hours to go through the papers in here assuming one wanted to translate it.

Chatty happened to look back at the doorway to the room at that moment, and found a familiar form staring at her. It was little. Its fur was a drab brown, its tail tending towards the short rather than magnificent. Its whiskers were a pathetic-looking array of crooked spines, and its claws looked a little unpolished. The rat, however, was on its hind legs, in the doorway, both sniffing the air and continuing to stare at her with round, black, and uncommonly clear eyes.

Vokon
Policing the bodies took a fair amount of time, though any observer would have noticed how very gentle the big goliath was with the mortal remains of his companions.

The creatures had been reasonably well-equipped. To begin with, there were more of the inscriptions Morlin Coalhewer would surely have confirmed as runes. He found two sets on iron rings slotted over the hobgoblins’ bows, although curiously the goblin’s shortbow didn’t have the same additions. And there were runes of different kinds again, on the hobgoblins, scribed onto rough-looking bits of quartz. Once again, the goblin held none of these.

The minotaur’s greataxe looked a fairly mundane piece of equipment. It was huge, to be certain, and Vokon could attest to its danger having seen it in action. But it didn’t seem to have been made with much skill. The blade wasn’t forged with a lot of skill, the handle was rough-hewn and with splintered bits up and down its length. That was in contrast to the finely-made weapons of the goblin and a set of armour that looked entirely unstained – magical, perhaps.

Not so some of the equipment on the bugbear. It had a wand of some kind that likely Jim would have to look closer at; a well-crafted morningstar it had never had the chance to use; and a good thousand gold pieces in a dirty leather pouch at its belt. Most interesting, though, was an ordinary-looking sack it had looped over its shoulder. Vokon pulled the bag open to reveal an endless darkness, one that trapped all light, one whose bottom was not visible.
A bag of holding. He’d seen or heard of enough such things in his wanderings. The goliath emptied the bag out to reveal three more runes inscribed on round river stones big enough for the palm of a hand, a scroll, two delicate glass bottles with some sort of elixir in it … and, to the big goliath’s surprise, a large piece of canvas, which he unfolded. The canvas turned out to be a massive map:

Spoiler: The Chronicler’s Map

Show

It didn’t take much effort to realise it was a map of the region, but no human cartographer had sketched this thing. There were notes scrawled clearly in what had been a goblinoid hand all over the map.

Vokon withheld further study of the map, folding it carefully and placing it back in the bag of holding for safekeeping, and moved across to the door in the southwestern corner of the complex.

This, then, had been the manticore’s lair. Certainly whatever it had been used for was now unclear. All the furniture of the large, round room had been crushed into rubble, and a large nestlike mound of tree branches, bones, bits and pieces of foul-smelling animal parts, and long thin spikes of some sort of black material filled the northwest corner of the room. A gaping hole in the roof provided a view of deep indigo of the sky above. The last hobgoblin’s body was here, too, and Vokon stripped it down quickly.

He then turned his attention to the nest, which was strewn with gold and jewelry. On a few minutes’ search he turned up a good couple hundred gold, a gold necklace which looked too fine to have been crafted by any goblinoid type, and a filthy silk cloak which still had gold and silver thread embroidered through it.

Vokon came back to the courtyard and took a look over in the eastern building, the stables. There didn’t seem to have been much there; there were a few heavily-chewed bones and some signs that the goblins had been playing some form of rough dice game, but the large building contained a decrepit, dust-caked forge that likely would have given Morlin a heart attack to look at and four horse stalls that hadn’t been used by equines for centuries.

The goliath returned to the courtyard, having completed his inspection.

Spoiler: The Chronicler’s Marginalia

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Complication Pool rises by 1 since you guys have spent some time picking up bodies and searching the place. Items recovered from bodies and prisoners thus far, remembering there’s still the northeastern tower to look at, which is accessed from the northern building where Chatty and Jim are right now:

Bugbear:
- Wand of Magic Missile (5th level, 15 charges)*
- 3 runes (1 of a distinct type, 2 the same)
- Masterwork Morningstar
- Bag of Holding (Type 1)
- Scroll
- 2 elixirs
- 980 gp

Minotaur:
- Greataxe

Hobgoblins:
- 8 runes (4 of one kind on river stones, 2 of another on 2 iron rings, 2 of another on 2 more iron rings)
- Banded Mail x4
- Heavy Steel Shield x4
- Masterwork short sword x4
- Masterwork Composite Longbow (+2 STR bonus) x4
- 76 arrows

Goblin and Worgs:
- Masterwork scimitar
- Masterwork composite shortbow
- +1 studded leather armor
- Buckler

Items recovered from rooms checked so far:

Manticore’s Nest:
- 296 gp
- Gold necklace
- Filthy silk cloak embroidered with silver and gold thread.

Barracks:
- 351 gp.

* Jim gets to automatically identify this when he sees it since he has a strong affinity for the spell and knows the … harmonic? Scent? Taste? of a magic item that allows you to shoot magic missiles at people.)

[danielxcutter]

Alastor feels the potion going throw him and slowly opens his eyes to see the priest above him "Arendi?" he says, though with a lot less boom to his voice than normal "How did things go? Where is everybody else?"

A pained sound somewhere between a whine and a groan escaped Arendi's helm. "...I'm sorry Alastor. Vokon, Jim and Chatty are okay but..."

[A.A.King]

"Oh" Alastor said softly, as he looked at the charred corpses around him of Diana, Dobble and Pogo. The idea that Tymora's fortune had only managed to barely save him hit him hard. For maybe the first time in his life, he was lost for words.

[Toliudar]

Chatty

Chatty had been going methodically through the inner chambers, looking closely at the place where the map had been and looking around for signs of danger in the wizard's room, when the unmistakable smell of her folk reached her nose. She whirled to confront the rat, clearly an animal that had been joined to the bugbear. She stared steadily at the creature and moved into her rat-form, the better to use her body to convey the very simple messages she needed to convey.

"I was one of those who killed your master
Attack and I will kill you.
Help us and I will share food.
Or go now."

She shifted back into her hybrid form to await the rat's response.

[Aracor]

Vokon walks back to Arendi and Alastor, and calls out for Jim and Chatty to join him.

I think I found something important, here! It's a map of the Vale with a lot of writing on it! It was being carried in a Bag of Holding by the bugbear caster. Jorr, you should look, too. You're probably more familiar with the terrain than anyone else here.

He'll find a clear area on the ground to spread it out.

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Nightfall, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 1 of 6

Chatty
Chatty had never seen a rat look so sad in her life. At her communication, its ears drooped (and until now, Chatty hadn't even been sure that a rat could droop its ears) and she could see water pooling around the bottom of its eyes. Its nose stopped sniffing for just a moment, and dropped sadly back to all fours. It raised its little claws and preened at one of its whiskers, slowly turning away. Before it had completely turned, it looked back at her one more time, giving a few little griefstruck squeaks, which were clear to her ears:

Was not servant. Was slave. Victim. This was clan's home. Whole clan beaten. Killed. Wanted thank you. For killing murderers.

The rat turned and ambled away, its tail dragging sadly on the ground.


Vokon
"Told y', I'm not comin' in tha' courtyard for anything," said Jorr, hand trembling as he picked his cigarette from his mouth. "But I'll watch over yer friends' bodies 'til you're ready t' deal wi' em. Night's coming."

[Toliudar]

Chatty

Great. Now you're even an a**hole to your kin. Well done, girl.

Turning to Jim, Chatty twists her hand, and the blood splotch vanishes from his beloved shirt. The tears, however, are beyond her. Eying Jim with the expectation that he was coming to, Chatty hefted the bag of gold and made her way out to Vokon and the map he had found. Setting down the gold for now, she examined the map to see if it had torn corners, matching up with the table inside. Staring at the map with the others, she taps meaningfully on the left edge, where the ominous note "all tribes muster here under kharn" is scrawled.

F*ck. Any kind of further gathering of the strength of the goblinoid tribes is bad news all around.

[danielxcutter]

Arendi yanked off his helm and spat on the ground three times. "Did you use magic to search? I don't want to stay in this godsforsaken place a second longer than necessary, but if nightfall's soon then we'll have to stick around until next morning anyways. Maybe there's a Raise Dead scroll down the back of a couch or something."

[Aracor]

I had actually intended to bring it outside of the keep to honor Jorr's wishes not to enter. I figured bringing it through the breach to where we entered would be sufficient for Jorr. Apologies if that wasn't clear in the original post.

[A.A.King]

After having collected himself a little bit, Alastor activates his belt to recover some of his wounds. "Thanks Jor, I appreciate you watching over the bodies. They deserve a proper send of." He then turns to the other members of the circus that have gathered outside "Though with Night approaching, what do we want to do? Continue through the night or make some place to rest a bit and gather our thoughts?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Activate my healing belt twice to recover wounds

Roll 1: (2d8)[7]
Roll 2: (2d8)[3]

[Toliudar]

Chatty

The wererat is delighted to see Alastor back up and on his feet. When Arendi asks if they used magic to search, Chatty looks over at Sam, since he was clearly not addressing her. When Alastor asks about next steps, Chatty glances at Jorr to see if their guide has any recommendations. Failing that, she inscribes and then erases words on the ground next to the map.

We need distance from this place, and then we can bury Diana and grieve.

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Nightfall, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 1 of 6

"Dangerous t' go tramping aroun' in this jungle at night," grunted Jorr. "Really dangerous. Least if I'm stuck here on watch I've got a little clear ground around th' front of the place to move in. No such ground in th' jungle. Plenty of stuff can see a lot better than me in the dark tha' likes t' come out at night. Could take you, I guess. But no guarantees we make it wherever yer goin'. Least not alive."

The old man sucked on his cigarette. He frowned, stumping over to where Vokon had laid out the map outside the walls, crouching down, squinting at it. He stayed that way for several long moments. When he stood up again, he did so slowly, and his face had an even more grave look than it already did.

Spoiler: The Chronicler’s Map

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"This isn't some ****ty little sketch of the Vale. This is an invasion plan. See those towns on the Dawn Way? 'Day 5' at the Ferry, 'day 12' at Terrelton, 'day 19' at Nimon's Gap, 'day 25' at Talar ... and 'day 35' at ****ing Rethmar. That's a ****ing itinerary for a ****ing army. Someone's going to lead a force right up the Dawn Way up to ****ing Rethmar itself."

He looked back at the spot Chatty had indicated, where 'All tribes muster here under Kharn' was scribbled. Again he was silent for a moment. "That's seriously bad ****ing juju if I'm reading it right. If they're talking about every tribe of ****ing hobgoblins in those mountains assembling for war, ya'd have t' grab every ****ing fighting man in the whole Vale t' match their numbers. ****ing mountains're crawlin' wi' them. And tha's just th' hobgoblins. Ye got ****ing goblins here too. Normally they don' ****ing get on too well I thought. But if they're all ****ing fighting together, th' Vale's in deep ****."

He took another deep suck on his cigarette, enough to set him coughing and hawking up a big, black ball of spit. He indicated the western end of Shaareach Forest. "Guessin' 'Forest Keep' is where we are now. Dunno who that 'Koth' is, but looks like the hobgoblins're callin' this place his ****ing base. But anyway, turns out I was ****ing right. They came down here from Skull Gorge. If they're massing troops at Cinder Hill, the easiest way t' bring tha' force into th' Vale is t' use the old bridge over the Gorge. If there's no bridge, they'd be slowed down. Y' could still ford the river a long ways west, upriver of the gorge, but tha's all thick jungle. Slow 'em down a lot. But looks t' me like th' hobgoblins already thought of that. They're gonna hold th' bridge until they've moved all their troops over it - dunno who this 'Ozyrrandion' is that they're talkin' about, but looks like he's been put t' guard th' bridge t' me." He looked up at the others. "This all ye got?"

Spoiler: The Chronicler's Marginalia

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Just a note here that there's still your goblin prisoner, who hasn't gone anywhere yet, the copious notes and papers in the map room, and the northwest tower that you guys haven't explored as yet.

[Rizban]

Jim "Shalamanzer"

Tapping Chatty on the shoulder as she turns to walk away dejected, Jim points off to the northwest.

"I'm going to go search the other tower."

There's really not much he's good at beyond magic missile, not that anything else truly matters, but he's always trying to help where he can.

[Toliudar]

Chatty

Chatty grimaced as Jorr assessed the situation, but she saw nothing objectionable in his analysis. She simply nodded, and seemed to be about to write something on the ground when Jim announced that he was heading back into the courtyard. Before joining Jim as he looked through the northwest tower, she detoured back to the bugbear's room to grab his pile of papers and files.

Chatty gestured for Jim to let her go first, trusting him to understand the magicky stuff but not wanting him to take the crossbow trap to the face.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

As before, a quick pass to check for nastiness to jump out at her, then starting a more detailed search.

[danielxcutter]

"I dunno, was it?" asked the death priest, looking at Chatty. "And of course there's always that little asswipe," he said, jerking his thumb at the goblin.

[A.A.King]

"If this is there plan" Alastor said "then do we know what day it is now? I mean, from the hobgoblins perspective? Day 5 at the ferry, is that 5 days from now or less or did that attack already happen?"

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Nightfall, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 1 of 6

"I c'n think of couple of ways t' find out," muttered Jorr to Alastor. "But th' pig****ers don't come in handfuls. One big warband outta one tribe's enough t' put a hunnerd hobgoblins in these woods. If all th' tribes outta th' Wyrmbones are assemblin' like this map says, yer talking thousands. Seems t' me if a ****ing army of hobgoblins and **** knows what else had come down th' Dawn Way already, we'd a'had a lot more heat gettin' here, even allowin' for goin' up the cutters' trails. So nah - I'm thinkin' tha's a plan f'r where they wan'a be after they march, but hasn't happened yet."


Over in the map room, it became quickly apparent to Chatty that she wouldn't be able to conveniently carry all of the papers in one lot. There were piles in all corners as high as her chin. However, likely that bag of holding Vokon had found would be able to take the load once they had decided what they were doing here.

She headed over to join Jim. He'd already opened the door to the northwest. A circular chamber - the base of the tower - was revealed. It had been outfitted with a mix of furniture, including a large desk, an overstuffed chair, a massive four-poster bed, and a large easel that held a sizeable canvas covered with a sheet. Nothing seemed to be on it at the moment. A flight of stairs arced up along the south wall to the upper floor, and a fair amount of rubble from a hole in the ceiling lay heaped on the base of those stairs.

This, it seemed to Chatty and Jim, must have been the bugbear's real quarters. There was a softness about the surroundings that wasn't consistent with any of the militaristic creatures they'd dealt with. Also a smell familiar to Jim and one that Chatty had become familiar with, having been in Jim's presence for a significant while: the stink of spell components, although none were in immediate evidence.

And there was something else.

It was faint. Very faint. It took a fine nose to detect it. Like glimpsing a faint star out of the corner of your eye, one had to be standing in the right spot at the right moment for the subtle currents of air to be just right. But once Chatty detected the smell, she couldn't ignore that it was there. It was a faint odor of mustiness: the smell of old mould long dead, of paper long since rotted, the last song of decay before it became dust. It was a perfume that one associated with vaults, or tombs, or chambers long sealed underground. Which was not consistent with this room, both with a damaged, open roof and being above the ground.

[danielxcutter]

"Well minotaurs or bugbear mages can't be that common or the entire area'd be a smoking crater by now." Arendi muttered bitterly. "I'll go get the f***ing bastard that surrendered and you can ask the questions."

[Toliudar]

Chatty

The wererat's nose twitched. Well, it twitched more than usual. She held up a hand to stop Sam from advancing further. Words appear at his feet.

Stop. Smell could mean old writings, or undead creatures, or nothing. We need the others.

Returning to gathering around the map outside, Chatty forms more words on the wall behind her, then erases them after a moment.

Found the bugbear's room. Smell could mean trouble, or opportunity. Bring the magic bag. Jorr, please watch map. Rest come.

She pauses to answer any questions that may emerge, and then leads the other three to the entrance to the northwest tower. Words appear on the wall.

Smell decay. Could be dead-thing, or not-quite-dead thing, or scroll that Arendi wanted. Wanted you here as backup.

Again, she pauses to confirm that there are no questions, and then attempts to scent out the source of the smell.

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Night, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 2 of 6

It was well-hidden.

They’d been through the room twice, moved the bed from its position and back again. As they moved it back, though, Jim noticed a shadow where one shouldn’t have been. An innocuous-looking stone in the wall, just below the bedhead’s top, was not a stone but a panel. The difference was only visible in the flickering light of the torch that Vokon struck as they searched.

The panel retreated an inch at Chatty’s touch. There was a groan of long-sleeping levers and a rush of long-contained air. Vokon’s torch flickered; shadows jittered in reply. The odour of concealed decay billowed through the room. One of the flagstones in the floor, indistinguishable from any other, slid slowly aside, revealing the dark rectangle of a manhole beneath.

Chatty moved to the edge of the manhole, her darkvision uncloaking the black below. It was a vertical drop, maybe forty feet, but the shaft was spacious and fitted with a well-made iron ladder lightly touched with rust. Nothing moved or exploded from the shaft, and after a few cautious moments making sure, the wererat shinnied down the ladder.

She reached the stone floor of the chamber below a moment later. Nothing moved or exploded at her here, either. The walls of this small vault were of worked stone, the ceiling twelve feet overhead, arched in a graceful dome decorated with stylised ‘V’ carvings. The air was thick and smelled stale and musty. Three alcoves had been cut into the walls, two to the north and one to the east. Each alcove was sealed by an iron gate and locked with chains and a large padlock. Beyond one alcove were several shelves bearing ten small iron coffers as well as two dusty (and clothed) mannequins. Beyond the second was a small desk and chair, the desk piled high with papers and books. Beyond the third, eastern alcove was a single large trunk.

The vault itself had only one significant feature: the remains of a human-sized skeleton, slumped by the eastern alcove’s gate. Still dressed in tattered chainmail, a massive arrow protruded from its ribs. Four skeletal fingers on one unmoving hand yet gripped the handle of a great hammer. Motes of light drifted over the hammer’s surface; to Chatty’s darkvision, they seemed trapped fireflies, in the great square jar of the hammer’s head.

[danielxcutter]

Arendi snapped his fingers and touched his holy symbol, causing Reason to glow. He climbed down after Chatty and held the blade up, illuminating the vault. "...I suppose this place was never a stranger to death, was it?" He spoke another word and looked around to see if there was any magic.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Arendi casts Light on Reason, and then Detect Magic.

Also let's say he's refreshed his spells by now.

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Night, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 2 of 6

Nothing answered Arendi's question from the vault at least.

The song of magic, though, did. There were a number of items in the vault radiating power. The hammer, of course, with a moderate aura of the transmutation school. There was also a pair of gloves of some kind, obscured below the skeleton's ribcage, which held a faint aura of the transmutation school. There were also auras radiating from the alcove with the mannequins, faint, of the transmutation school again. And then there was the chest in the eastern alcove. At least three distinct aurae within it. One of them was seemed to be a faint aura of transmutation. A second was some strange admixture of transmutation and conjuration. And the third aura was stronger than any of the others, a strong aura of conjuration ... an aura that gave Arendi a bitter taste on his tongue for some reason he couldn't put his finger on.

[danielxcutter]

"Hey, there's a lot of magic down here!" Arendi called up. "Anyone else want to come down?"

[A.A.King]

Alastor, who had recovered enough strength to help in the search, followed Arendi. He was intriqued by the secret room. He didn't do well in the dark though, so after he climbed down he snapped his fingers and four dancing lights started circling around his tophat.

"Too bright, too sudden!" gawked Libby who was sitting on his shoulder. "Give a warning next time, wouldya?!" as he was covering his eyes with one of his wings.

Alastor looked around: "I guess we found their treasure room"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Use one of my cantrips to cast dancing lights, centered on my tophat because why not cast it that way?

[Toliudar]

Chatty

Chatty moves cautiously around the vault before allowing the others to proceed further inside. She is pleased to have Aracor and Arendi with them, and gestures for Vokon to toss down the bag. It would be easier to shovel all of this into the bag and sift it later, wherever they chose to make their camp.

Grab now, read later appeared on the wall beside the skeleton.

Rather than fiddling with the locked gates for the alcoves, Chatty simply stepped through shadow to the other side, then reached into herself in order to prepare for further walks before examining the contents. She stuffs the small iron coffers into the bag unexamined, and plops the bag over the large trunk entirely, engulfing it in order to take it with them. She hands the sheaves of papers from the desk out to Arendi and Alastor, judging them much more likely to be capable of discerning their meaning than she would be.

Popping back out of the last alcove, she hauls the hammer into the bag as well, snatches up the glove, and climbs out.

[Saintheart]

Vraath Keep,
Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Night, the Ninth of Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Dice: 2 of 6

When the circus came back out to the wall breach, Jorr and the goblin were both sitting, the goblin against the Keep wall with its head between its knees, Jorr half-perched on one of the boulders, smoking another cigarette, staring off into the jungle. The red glow at the lit end flared and faded as they approached. The lights circling Alastor's hat revealed the beginnings of a large blue bruise on the goblin’s left cheek.

Jorr stood up, knees crackling. “We’re in deep ****,” he said. “Turns out that bugbear was Koth. This was his base. Th’ piglet here an’ the others serv’d him. Koth was some sort of … ah … general or somethin’. They called him Wyrmlord – haven’t heard of that title before. Not chieftain, not headman or shaman like you’d expect from tribals. Anyway, the bugbear was big man here, and that minotaur of his was some smart ****er of a beast, been with the bugbear f’r years. He w’s Koth’s lieutenant.”

He tossed his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with a bootheel. “And I know who ‘Ozyrrandion’ is. ‘s a ****ing dragon. Green dragon. Works for th’ hobgoblins as a scout an’ messenger. Piglet, there, says the dragon’s been here three times – it only spoke with Koth.”

Jorr turned toward the goblin. “This place was a stagin’ ground for th’ warbands reaving aroun’ Drellin’s Ferry. Koth’s job was t’ gather inf’rmation about the Vale’s defences. ‘pparently there’s bin spies rangin’ through th’ Vale f’r weeks. And th’ goblin also says there’s a big army gatherin’ somewhere up on th’ far side of Skull Gorge – so I guess th’ map sayin’ it’s Cinder Hill is right. He says pretty much every hobgoblin tribe outta the Wyrmbones is mustering. And most of the goblin tribes’ve come along for th’ ride, too, even if they’re low man in the pack when it comes to goblinoids. Piglet says they’re all t’gether as one army under the Wyrmlords. One great ****ing horde, comin’ to th’ Vale. They call themselves the Red Hand.”

He folded his arms, looking off into the jungle, silent for a long moment. “And ‘e’s sayin’ the Red Hand marches from Cinder Hill three days from now. If that’s right, they’ll reach Skull Gorge on th’ fourteenth of Mirtul. And come th’ eighteenth, Drellin’s Ferry burns.”

[danielxcutter]

"...Well, sh*t." said Arendi. "Guess heading back to town's out of the question... how far is that bridge you mentioned earlier?"

[A.A.King]

"Wait wait wait, back up a little" Alastor said "These goblins that we were hired to clear out have a DRAGON in their employ?!" That was not the kind of information he was expecting to hear. "Bless our luck that we didn't run into that thing while we were here. How do you even get a dragon to work for you? Did they train it like a pet? Did they hire it? Does it charge much? Do you think we could get one for the circus?"

[danielxcutter]

"Alastor," the death priest snarled, "not now. Besides, these goblins are Tiamatian zealots. That's probably why the dragon's not eating them."