The Black Dahlias [IC]

[CozJa]

"A poisonous bombing could make for a great diversion, but it kind of nullifies the stealthy approach of going through the rice fields. Besides" He points at Rijn "I'm not sure about our ability to sneak by unnoticed. I'd say we try to ascertain their numbers, and just take the direct route."

[Forsaken]

Listening to the group while still being wary of the gaze he felt. Lucian says We split up. Im immune to poison. If you can help two others we will approachthe gate. While the rest sneak through the fields. You can apply your poison over the keep while we help to bid time. Lucian not wanting to deal with to many small fry devises a plan to try and play into the groups strength.

[Metastachydium]

Only a very emphatic repeat of the previous weasel-kicks saves the warband from Rijn banging the shaft of his spear hard against his shield. With a displeased grunt, he settles for a firm nod, pointed, first and foremost, at the large armoured warrior. I will come. he asserts firmly. There's a good mind, an honest mind behind that steel! This will be a good fight, he is certain.

[BelGareth]

The Gatehouse

As you approach the grand entrance of the castle, you find yourselves amidst a train of people making their way up the only road leading to the gatehouse. The path is bustling with activity, as soldiers, dignitaries, and various attendants move towards the fortress for the Kurultai of Blades, the prestigious General Summit. The road is flanked by gulleys that feed into the surrounding rice paddies, creating a patchwork of green and brown.

The castle looms ahead, its uniform walls slightly declined, made of large interlocked stones. The structure rises in tiered levels, each smaller than the one below, topped with elegant, sweeping roofs that evoke a sense of ancient artistry. Towers stand at each corner of the castle, vigilant and imposing, while a single massive gate serves as the main entrance.

As you draw nearer, the voices of the hobgoblin guards stationed at the gatehouse drift over to you. They speak in low tones, but the snippets of conversation you catch reveal glimpses of their personal lives.

“Did you hear about Kurog’s son?" one guard says, a hint of pride in his voice. “He just completed his first patrol. Made his old man proud."

The other guard chuckles, nodding. “And Rakka’s daughter won the archery contest last week. Quite the marksman, that one. Must run in the family."

The guards continue their casual banter, momentarily oblivious to your presence. But as you edge closer, one of them glances in your direction and his expression shifts to one of suspicion.

“Hold there!" he barks, stepping forward with a hand raised. His eyes scan your group, taking in your appearance and demeanor. “State your business at the Kurultai of Blades. This area is restricted to authorized personnel only."

---

Rice Paddies

As you make your way through the dense forest, you step out into a picturesque landscape that stretches before you. The land is vibrant and teeming with life, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. The area around the castle is generally flat, with intricate rice paddies stretching out in all directions. Their waters shimmer in the fading light, creating a patchwork of green and brown that surrounds the fortress.

The air is filled with the gentle sounds of nature – the rustling of leaves, the murmur of a nearby stream, and the occasional call of a distant bird. The scent of earth and growing plants mingles with the fresh air, creating a serene atmosphere.

As you move closer, you notice the rice paddies, carefully maintained and terraced into the flat landscape. Stalks of rice sway gently, their golden heads heavy with grain. The narrow dikes separating the paddies are lined with stones, worn smooth by time and water.

Amidst this peaceful scene, hobgoblin farmers work diligently, their movements precise and rhythmic. They tend to the fields with a quiet determination, their hands moving with practiced ease.

“Good day to you, travelers," one of the farmers calls out, pausing in his work to offer a respectful bow. His weathered face shows the marks of a life spent under the sun, but his eyes shine with pride. “What brings you to these fields on such a fine day?"

[Metastachydium]

Rijn straightens up, his armour glittering in the light, and stares the guards dead in the face. We come with purpose. he says, shortly, simply. Step aside. he says, his words neither a request, nor a warning. Having clambered up oin his back on the way and now concealed below his cape, the weird weasel thing shakes with a soundless giggle.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Not much done here beyond speaking. Bataff the Weasel should have Rijn-shaped cover from the appropriate directions and is otherwise Hiding under his cape: (1d20+11)[23]

[CozJa]

"Ah damn it... might as well just go for it" says the mercenary while he follows part of the group to the main gate