1: Dovedale

"Good sir, hail to you! We are indeed about to pay the Cog farm a visit. Is there aught else you might like to share with us afore we arrive there? Seems like an unusual way to greet strangers, but I am appreciative. Is there anything else we need to know?" says Maon.

Jabrano awoke at the crowing of the cock.
She had slept reasonably well. The bed was slightly too small for her liking, but that was hardly an uncommon problem for her.

After refreshing herself and having breakfast, she set about to put on her 'work clothes'. The armour was well made, but old and worn. She really ought to upgrade as soon as he could afford it.

After having bound her hair in a single braid, she donned the old chain mail and she moved her daggers and her swords to her sword belt.
Her freshly cleaned green cloak completed the ensemble. It made for a very different impression than her normal travelling clothes she wore the other day.

Her footsteps sounded a lot louder coming down the stairs than they had going up.

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Jabrano throws the farmer a disapproving glare, but she adds the information to the mental picture she'd been forming about this Mrs Cogs.
She apparently owns the largest farm, or at least the only one big or important enough to mark on the map... she's the head of the farmers' commune... So she's relatively wealthy and likely has some political pull locally.
And apparently she raised her kid to be a spoiled brat who can easily be mistaken for a goblin by the sound of it.
On top of that, her neighbours seem to dislike her enough that they gossip about this to complete strangers, but don't say a bad word about Mrs Cogs herself. Maybe they fear her a bit too?
Mrs. Cogs was starting to sound like a real nasty piece of work.
Or maybe she's just being completely paranoid.

"Maybe Mrs Cogs would like to hear who's been badmouthing her family..." she said to the farmer, just to see how he'd react.

The farmer leans on a pitchfork for a while, seemingly lost in thought as he ponders a response. "If'n ye plan on talking to Mrs. Cog's, she'll likely tell you some far-fetched tale about wolves and goblins. There are wolves in the Dalewold, that's true. But I doubt they have anything to do with the goblins. That Mrs. Cogs, she's a silly old woman and probably imagined the whole thing. Or maybe she's just making excuses for that rotten little kid of hers." He gives a nod, clearly confirming what he has said now.
At the comment from Jabrano, he gives a little jump! The man is embarrassed to be called out like this! "You don't have to say a thing! I was trying to give some friendly advice, is all!" He wrings his hands in a pathetic display, peering out from a bowed head sheepishly.

She feels a bit bad at the man's reaction, but the whole exchange does seem to lean towards something else going on than troublesome goblins.

She gives him her best attempt at an apologetic smile. "Don't worry about it. And you're probably not wrong about things."

While Odilo tried to focus on the loftier, more worthy problems of the regular folk, he had to admit that such issues crossed his table more times than he would like. Gossip, rivalries, and peasant diplomacy.

He grumbles a bit to himself, but then approaches the farmer. He casts an eye over the working man, seeing if he might recognize him or his lineage. And then he casts an eye over the work being done.

The wizard had a mind for agriculture, and yet he hadn’t been called to service by this man, or indeed most of the farmers on this side of the settlement.

"You may detest the child." the wizard says, with no hint as to the worthiness of the feeling "But to suggest that he could stopper a river by himself…"

The man quickly becomes flustered at being called out by his logical fallacy, and by the friendly wizard no less! "Well, I mean, I don't think the child did it... not this thing... but other things! And I just meant the wolves and goblins... together I mean! I still think the goblins have everything to do with the river."

He wrings his hands for a moment, "Ah hells, me and my big mouth. You may want to just head onto the farm, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention me!"

Odilo sniffles and then let’s out a friendly laugh as the man admonishes himself.

"We are no wiser than you! And we’ve heard all manner of suppositions as to why the river is stopped. Why should yours be any more or less wrong?"

He takes in a deep draw of the country air, before continuing:

"We will take your advice with us as we go! And we will surely pass this way on our return journey, and can advise you as to the cause. Unless the wolves and goblins get us first!" he says with a wink.

Trina listens carefully to the conversation, formulating some opinions of her own. It seemed unlikely that one human child could cause all the trouble, no matter how much of a brat he may or may not be. The wolves caused her a minor concern, as the goblins might well have allied with such, particularly if they were worgs. More intelligent than the average wolf, those.

"Why can't you just lead us to the farm?" Maard asks. "You obvious know your way around here. It would help us a lot." Based on the me and my big mouth comment Maard is fairly certain something is off about all this, but his morbid sense of curiosity pushes him to want to see what's going on.

The farmer shakes his head at the demand. "I've got much to do today, and besides, it's just up ahead. Keep following the path, you'll be there in no time." He shakes his head, and returns to his work.

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It doesn't take much longer for the party to reach their destination. Mrs. Cogs owns a large, prosperous farm on a hilltop to the west of Dovedale. Her farm boasts a large house, several barns, many acres of grazing land, and several hundred sheep. The odd child can be seen running around either playing or tending to chores. Directly due east, the group can see a large, steep-sided hill jutting from the earth, likely the locally-named Tor's Cloud Peak.

After knocking on the door of the main house, a large, businesslike woman answers the door and peers at each member in turn. "I only have half of an hour to talk with you, if you're hear about the goblins. Come inside, and let me find you some herbal tea and cookies." Without a hint of nonsense, she ushers the group inside and towards a large table.

"To start with, as the head of the local farmer's cooperative, I have been allowed to offer you a 100 gold coin reward for restoring the Dovedale River. This reward does not necessarily require you to kill the goblin. On the contrary, we have had a long history of coexisting with these goblins, and have never had an issue like this before; we would rather not start a blood feud with them. But of late, they have been more present, and not often in good ways. For the last few years, once or twice a year, a goblin rides out of the Dalewold on a great slavering wolf and steals one of my sheep. And it seems like every time I turn around, those nasty goblins are stealing my fresh-baked pies and cookies off the windowsill! I would love for you to knock some sense into the Dalewold goblins, so we can get back to life as it used to be."

"That is all the information I have, though you might have questions I can still answer. If you want to learn more, I might suggest heading to the Inn-on-the-Peak to speak with some other farmers that gather in the evenings. They have have other experiences that I haven't heard about. And finally, if you need some guides who know the area, my two oldest work with the militia and would be happy to walk with you."

"It's nice to meet you," says Malard politely. "Thank you for the tea and cookies. I'm not acting as the group's spokesperson, but am I to understand that, the goblins are accused of blocking the river, as well as stealing livestock and food? This isn't just you, right?"

"As far as I've heard, it has been only my livestock and crops. I have the largest farm, as you have no doubt seen, and the closest to the forest. But the river affects us all. Without water, our farms will wither and die. Without traffic on the river, Ashbourne will become much poorer, and the Inn-on-the-Peak will be unable to maintain its famous rose gardens."

"If I were to speculate... goblins are usually too disorganized to accomplish something like blocking the river. This points to some outside influence on the tribe. If we cut off the head of the snake, things may go back to normal." Trina poses.

Oren graciously accepts the tea and cookies and bites into one of the confections with zeal. It had been quite some time since the elf had taken any sugar and the sensation flooded his senses.

"You are an amazing baker Mrs. Cogs. Is there a Mr. Cogs around here somewhere?"

"Why thank you, uh, elf. I'm sorry, I never did catch your names! And to answer your question, no there is no mister anymore. He done and got himself put six feet under, leaving me with six children to raise and the largest farm to... Oh!" Mrs. Cogs blushes as she thinks she understands Oren's intent.

Jabrano thanked Mrs. Cogs for the cookies and tea. Mrs. Cogs' particular blend was a bit bitter for her taste, but she loved the cookies.

She did her best to try and keep a straight face as she heard the uncanny and strange things the local goblins were being accused of. The solitary goblin poaching a sheep once or so per year was bizarre enough but stealing of cakes and cookies? She'd be willing to bet a lot that the only witness to these crimes was young Ben Cogs. Maybe that farmer hadn't been that out of line to warn them.

"I also have a few questions..." she said as she put down the empty tea cup. "I agree with Trina. This seems very... ungoblinlike behaviour. And as far as can gather, nobody has actually been upriver to see what is going on. Is there any real evidence that points towards the goblins as the culprits here?"

After she listened to Mrs. Cogs' reply, she went on, "My other question is more practical. The matter of payment is a bit ambiguous. Would this be 100 gold each, or 100 gold split six ways?"

She wasn't in this for the money, but 16 gold and small change didn't seem like it would even cover their expenses. It seemed especially poor considering that the continued existence of the village may very well depend on their success.

The widow Cogs furls her brow at the questions from Jabrano. "Well, isn't it obvious that it was the goblins? They're the only ones in that forest, right by where the river forms! They're always up to something, and now they've managed to stop the river! What we don't know is why! And as for the money, it was 100 gold altogether. We may have thriving farms, but there is little money to be exchanged. I could probably pull together a little more if you demand it, but this is what we could spare."

"Mrs. Cogs, I for one am bound by providence and the grace of Ceranus and of course Eninath. The well being of this humble vale is of great importance to me as well. The agents of chaos serve their purpose, and yet are rarely bound by their ambitions and lusts. Your remuneration will go to the local temple - at least my portion.

"It seems though that our lady Jabrano offers a more investigative tact to our dilemma. It seems unlikely that goblins, however clever, would be at the heart of this conundrum, for conundrum it is. I would ask further questions; and yet courtesy forbids such intimations,, seeing as we've only been introduced to you. I would ask, however, if it pleases you, then, to allow us to further investigate your property as we piece together the extent of the damage caused?"

Mrs. Cogs turns her head to Maon, but her eyebrows scrunch in thought. "I'll be the first to admit I didn't understand half of what you said, but if you want to look around the property, feel free. Just try to stay out of the way. There's a lot of work to be done, and the water problem ain't doing us any favors. You'll find my oldest Percival and Petra wandering the property, if you need the help. With that being said, I don't imagine you'll find too much here. You'll want to follow the river or head into the Dalewold. That's where you'll find your answers."

"I guess we look around then?" Malard says to the others. "Shall we split up?"