Chapter 1, Day 2: Into the Witchwood

"Rurik! Zaris exclaims. "Are you alright?!" Zaris walks over to him and puts his hand on his shoulder, eyeing the black ooze on the ground.

"Aye, I'm f-fine....my....*ahem* master gifted me with knowledge." seeing Zaris eyeing the ooze, he smiles wanly "Try not to step in that....Now the book should hold a few rituals that should aid us, once I spend some time studying it."

Pawetha shivers at the sudden surge of energy, and peeks through the trap door. After a few moments sharing worried glances with Jorr, the conversation below seems to have calmed. Pawetha sits back down to continue her rest.

"Good then. We can use all the help we can get. Now, should we continue or make camp for the night? I'll leave it up to a vote. Who wants to continue?" I'm getting good at this leadership business. We're still alive!

Still uncomfortable with Rurik's ... manifestation, I turn to face Xara. "We should go, yes. Somehow, this is all connected. If these hobgoblins are serving Tiamat, then that does not bode well for ... anyone." I look around to see if anyone else agrees with me or understands my implication when I mention the name Tiamat.

After collecting any discarded arrows that were serviceable, Jorr had been quietly watching the castle grounds, occasionally glancing at Pawetha, and occasionally turning his attention to the whetstone he was slowly working against his long sword, "Can never be too prepared." He notes absently. A few moments pass and he looks up again, "Wasn't that bugbear carrying something? I looked over it and saw nothing there, but Xara had gotten to it first." He shrugs, "Something to ask her when that lot are done playing around in the pit."

"This thing?" I grab the map from Zaris' hands and wave it around.

"Aye." Jorr retreives the map from Xara and rolls it open. He studies it for a moment and frowns deeply, "Someone who can read goblin, and can translate readily into common, might want to translate this for everyone. Looks to me like we've stumbled onto something much bigger than a half dozen hobgoblins stinking up the ruins of this here keep."

With help from those who speak goblin, eventually everyone comes to read the map:

Map found in Vraath Keep

OOC: It's fair to assume, I think, that everyone has gravitated to the main area. While it's been a bit ambiguous who is in the vault still and who isn't, I don't want to lock the game down sorting out relatively minor details about continuity

Looking over the map, I sneer at the notes scrawled in Goblin. "It looks like an attack is planned on this entire area." I move my finger across the map as I note the itinerary. "Beginning by a gathering at Cinder Hill. Hitting everyone along the Dawn Way. Ending at Brindol?" I issue a low, short growl. "No, not stopping there. What has spurred these creatures on to this?" I ask rhetorically of course.
[OOC: Where are we on this map?]

"Huh. Someone or something got them all ruled up maybe?" I shrug. Can't say I know much about how goblins think. Maybe they just decided they wanted it all for themselves. Who knows.

Pawetha peeks between legs at the map and studies the goblin script as she listens to Kaiakas. "All tribes," she mutters, then turns to Jorr. "How many tribes are we talking about here?" she asks.

She tries to point at the bridge at Skull Gorge, but it is out of reach, and she settles for just indicating it as best she can. "It says someone named Ozurrendion will hold the bridge until the... 'Red Hand?' Until the Red Hand crosses. Seems like that was important enough to note."

Jorr picks up his blade and slides it carefully into its sheath, "I couldn't say. Looks like they're converging from the Wyrmsmoke mountains. Only the most well equipped merchants dare brave those passes. Goblins, giants and all manner of uncivilized life call that place their home." He reaches in and points to the part of the map Pawetha is gesturing towards, "Skull Gorge Bridge. There are two ways to cross into the forest from the north. The bridge, which is about an hour along the Dawn Way from here, less time at a forced march. If not the bridge, then the other other option is to travel around the perimeter of the gorge to the Old Forest Road, which is just east of my cabin. The crossing at Old Forest Road is where the river is its narrowest and, on a nice day, is possible to ford. If you're trying to move wagons, or an army, the bridge at Skull Gorge is the route to take."

"Can we destroy the bridge? Seems like that would be a good way to slow them down while we raise an army of our own, or least warn the people in their path."

"That's a sound tactical objective," says Pawetha, nodding to Corban. "These notes indicate there's a timeline at stake. Day 5 at Drellin's Ferry, Day 12 at Terrelton... Whatever we do to delay this Red Hand should help, at least as far as allowing... let's see... Brindol? Allowing Brindol time to reinforce."

Pawetha steps back from the map, feeling a tad claustrophobic amongst the taller folk. "I've got a bad feeling about this. There's a greater organization to this band. Allying with minotaurs and manticores... and that stable over there is used by numerous worgs, indicating a rotation of sorts. Patrols or scouts, maybe.

Upstairs, there was a scarecrow made out of a real person, lit up by magic flame. Someone wanted people to stay away from this building, and I'm guessing it was so that whoever was here could act as a vanguard. That means this has been in the works for quite some time."

"Agreed, I think we need to find out more, at the very least we can scout the Gorge to see if they've already crossed the bridge, if not we can see what we're working with and possibly get a better idea of their status in this itinerary."

"Then it is settled. Jorr, thank you for your assistance this far. Would you be willing to ride to Brindol? They must be warned. In fact, warn all along this road. We will do what we can, but should we fail someone must know of this attack."

Pawetha tugs at the paladin's chain mail, idly rubbing some of the links. She says in a low voice, ideally for only the tiefling's ears, "He might need more information, if folk are to believe his warnings. Maybe we ought to take him with us to the gorge?"

"Hmmm, you are right. I suppose we don't have enough information to cause a panic, yet." I look to the map, wondering if that would be enough to convince people.

"I figure we'll need numbers, at least," says Pawetha. "Are we dealing with a hundred hobgoblins, or a thousand? And what kind of allies, if minotaurs, manticores, and worgs aren't the only things they're dealing with. The map indicates lizard folk, and a... Ghostlord?"

I peer at the map, going to tap a spot, then pausing and wiping my finger off. My blunt finger taps the edge that says "Ghostlord", "I dinnae know if the 'Ghostlord' is an ally, there's an arrow obscured by the H....maybe a warning?"