Chapter 1 - Goblin Arrows

A half a day has passed since the group has started down the Triboar Trail and once again Tyr - a young half-elf hired by Gundren to drive the cart and tend to the oxen - is relentlessly regaling everyone with one of his ‘this is an absolute true, why would I lie, just ask my friends’ stories…

"So I look this Arch Lich - I’m pretty sure it was Acereraks’ boss - I look him right in the eye and draw my sword and I say ‘You may be a Lich, but your mama was a`", but before he can finish the sentence he draws back hard on the reins. The oxen shudder in protest but obediently come to a stop. Ahead of you, maybe fifty feet, are two dead horses sprawled across the road, each with several black feathered arrows sticking out of its hide.

"Ewww, gross" Tyr whines "You’re going to need to clear those things from the road if we’re going anywhere."

Unfortunately, Tyr is correct; but at least he has stopped talking for the moment. The woods press close to the trail, with a steep embankment and dense thickets on either side making the trail all but impassable without moving the dead horses.

[BUNCH OF ROLLS]

From his position in the front of the cart, a good fifty feet from the horses, Gerbo cannot make out any of the details about the arrows used in the attack. What he does detect while carefully eyeing the surroundings is a bit of movement in the thickets to the right of the road, a little way further down than the horses.

Approaching the scene, Orel and Kerisha come to the harsh realization of what they are looking at; Gundren’s and Sildar’s steeds. The saddlebags of both horses have been looted, leaving nothing behind but a few odds and ends of little value. A leather map bag, with Gundren’s monogram clearly visible on the flap, lies open near the side of the road.

Suddenly, from the right rush two goblins, crashing through the growth that encroaches the trail. The smaller one wields a short sword and is holding a small wooden shield. The larger one, with a scimitar in one hand and what appears be a large pot lid in the other, cries out in a voice that can only be described as a mix between a small child’s raspy scream and a cat vomiting up a hairball, "BREE-YARK!!" Whatever their intentions, it does not appear that they are here to surrender.

Tyr, seeing the two goblins emerge from the thickets, screams, and throws himself into the back of the crowded wagon, ducking down between two crates and remaining out of site. For all his talk it is clear the young half-elf will not be of any help when things turn nasty. Of course, sometimes it is better to be a coward than to be brave. Just as Tyr settles into his hiding spot, two black feathered arrows embed themselves into the front of the wagon.

Looking out over the target rich environment, one of the goblin archers sneers - too easy. But before he can even raise his bow, Gerbo's missile finds its target, passing right through the little goblin's head, killing it instantly.

The goblin just ducks under Orel’s swing, using its wooden shield to help deflect the blow. Momentarily thrown off guard the creature quickly comes back to what little senses it has and presses its attack, short sword at the ready.

The warlock’s blast finds it mark, striking the remaining archer square in the chest. It stumbles back a half a step and prepares to return fire, drawing back on its bow.

Kerisha’s blade sinks deep into the Goblin’s hide-armor and slices into its ribs. Grimacing in pain the creature manages a twisted smile.Dropping its shield, the goblin grabs the hilt of his scimitar with both hand and readies his attack.

From relative safety in front of the wagon Belanor witnesses his incantation take effect. The two goblins battling with Orel and Kerisha slowly fall to their knees, their weapons dropping from their hands as each try to maintain consciousness. It is to no avail, however, as both fall fast asleep at the feet of their opponents.

Watching his little comrades fall, the remaining goblin drops its bow and beats feet across the trail, crashing into the thickets on the opposite side and thrashing his way deeper into the undergrowth.