Game Play: Welcome to White Oak

The women looks on in amusement as Cyriel and Valrakas banter back and forth. As they continue on she leans in towards Vex and Erevior:

"Your offers of help are certainly wonderful news to the people of White Oak. I'm not sure how we'd ever be able to repay you, but know this; none of you will ever have to pay to eat at The Broken Spoon! You'll want to talk to Abram, "Mayor Dale" we call him. He's not really a mayor but he's the one who always makes sure that the citizens are taken care of. Put forth some of his own money so that Bob and I can keep this place open and feed the workers through these tough times."

She stands back again and smiles as Valrakas asks for another Ale.

"Our pleasure friend! One more round for the table and I'll have Bob show you to Abram's place. He knows more about them damned Picts than anyone else here."

I'll have some more tonight, just thought I'd get in a little post while I had the chance.

As you’re finishing up your drinks the man behind the counter limps over to the table supporting his weight with a staff as he walks. Standing at least six and half feet tall and twice as wide as any of the others in the room you can easily tell he would have made an excellent ally (or formidable opponent) in his not too distant past. Looking down at the seated minotaur a large grin appears on his face and through a laugh says, "In me younger days you and me be arm wrassling for that ale ya drinking."

He introduces himself as Bob and after some small talk while you all finish up your drinks he leads you out the back of the tavern. "Abram Dale’s a good man. Not much of a worker like the rest of us here but he’s smart. Handles business, trading with other villages and such." Approaching one of the many rundown shacks a small, frail looking man bursts out the front door and immediately notices Bob.

"Byrnn Lowe! The gobo bastards have taken Brynn! Lowering his head as he starts to sob the man adds, "We’ve got to do something, Bob. Those Picts have to be stopped."

Shocked by the news that the goblins have taken the little boy Bob leans heavy on his staff. "Abram, I think my new friends here may just be able to help."

Taking a few moments to regain his composure Abram lifts his head as he wipes his eyes. Dressed in plain but unworn clothing and appearing fairly well groomed it's obvious that he's not one to work in the fields. He is, however, as gaunt as the rest of the people from the village. Looking over the party he takes a step back upon seeing Valrakas. Bob, catching his reaction quickly reassures him, "No need to worry ‘bout ‘im, Abram. Just tell us ‘bout Brynn. How ya know they got him?"

Abram goes on to explain that Brynn’s mother, Sophie, was found staggering about in the front of her home no more than an hour ago with a nasty wound to her head. At first she had trouble remembering what had happened but was eventually able to recall that three or four goblins had bust into her home late last night and grabbed her son. They knocked her about as she tried to stop them, most likely leaving her for dead.

"Why they would take the boy is beyond me, but I do know where about they would cross the river." Abram looks over the group one more time before adding, "If you’re able to return Brynn to us and do something about the Picts I’ll see what I can do to provide some sort of reward. He was last seen at his home if that’s where you’d like to start otherwise I can show you to the river."

Determined not to let the goblins get any further of a head start than they have already, you have Abram lead you to the river. Crossing the road in front of the Broken Spoon he leads you through a small copse of trees and into the fields. This time of the year the crops should be well on but all you see is small patches of poorly growing grains here and there. Most of the fields are barren and as you continue to cross them Abram points out precisely where and what method goblins chose for their destruction.

"Burned that area a couple of weeks ago. Over there they simply hacked the corn down; that was just the other day. They’re almost methodical in their approach to this. Very ungobo like. Especially how they’ve been entering the village at night. Slowly taking away our means of survival as opposed to just coming right at us."

Nearing the river you can see the woods on the opposite bank. "Pict Woods", Abram calls out as he points across the river, "Hasn’t been a single villager in those woods for generations. High canopy trees with thick underbrush come right up to the river’s bank and a obvious trail leads further in. "Two points where they appear to coming across. Here…" he motions to tracks in the muddy bank "…and about 100 feet to the right. Not sure if they’re rafting across or simply swimming."

The river is about 20’ across with flat banks on either side.