1: Dovedale

Well, by the smell of that pie, I don't particularly blame the lad. But, if we're going to eliminate possibilities we should at least let him make enough tracks to compare to what we believe to be those belonging to goblins. And; to be fair, he must have the evidence in hand, or rather in his belly, when we catch him. If he leaves any of that pie, I daresy we'll be tempted to eat the evidence! Haha!

"If that is the child, and not a goblin wearing a magical disguise."

"Did somebody tell our employer that we'd be trying to catch somebody who looks exactly like her son? Because she may freak out when she sees our captive if we can't get them to change back..."

As the group sits back and watches, the child creeps forward towards the windowsill with exaggerated steps, emphasized for better sneaking. When he meets with no resistance, he swipes the pie and scampers off a short distance before plopping down into the dry grass behind a small wall that would protect him from being seen from the house. And that's when the group sees the child, Ben they assume, pull his face up over his head and begins devouring the pie with reckless abandon.

The goblin, now unmasked, kicks his feet with glee as he devours each and every baked berry (though many do end up on his face instead of in his mouth). It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to engorge himself, and he tosses the empty tin to the side. Still kicking his feet, the goblin begins singing a little ditty in an ugly but childlike voice.

"Pie and mash, pie and mash
Loads of nosh for not much cash
Warms yer cockles fills you up
Wash it down with a good strong cup
Pour the moonshine in the pie
Come on fellah don’t be shy
Loads of liquor, lovely stuff
Us goblin lads can’t get enough."

The goblin's appetite shocks Malard almost as much as the disguise. "Well, I had hoped that this wasn't the case," he says. "Now what? Do you think we can rush it? I think it might have answers to questions."

Oren is shocked and amazed at the turn of events! He was certain it was the son who had been filching baked goods but the duplicity of farie folk never ceased to amaze him.

"Maybe we should follow it back to it's lair, might not get another chance to find the rest of them..."

"I agree with Oren. It might serve us better to follow him than to confront him now."

Odilo smirks to himself in the gloom, standing their on the farm. The boy was innocent enough; as innocent as a young boy could be, he thought. And the warning they’d received from the neighboring farmer earlier was misplaced…

"Marching out into a goblin den at this hour, in this light…" the wizard starts up.

"Our advantage may take a turn. We had better hope that it is near, or we’ll be thrashing through the brush in full dark."

Maon tells the others:
We should apprehend the little monster and interrogate him in the barn so that his screams cannot be heard; or, we can keep him in a pit until we figure out what to do with the creature.

"We could try and subdue the goblin, but if we do that then we'd better be ready in case it's comrades cone looking for it," Mallard says.

"We could try and subdue the goblin, but if we do that then we'd better be ready in case it's comrades cone looking for it," Mallard says.

Jabrano is starting to realise if somebody isn't going to make a decision soon then the goblin is just going to finish its snack and leisurely wander off back to wherever it came from.

"Enough. There's no point in being here if we're not going to try and catch it. Oren, Trina, and Odilo sneak around to the other side. When they're in position, we rush it from both sides." she whispers in a commanding tone.

She fixates on the goblin, ready to run out and tackle it if it would start to move prematurely.

When focusing on the mask, it becomes clear that it is made of various woods and leathers to simulate a boy's face in the dark. It would likely be obvious when viewed directly that it is but a mask.

"Hrmph…" the wizard grunts, as the half-Orc sets about the business of whipping them into shape. He nods his head in the gloom, and readies to set off.

"Trina ought to go first. No doubt she has the best chance to get close!" he whispers to the others, waving the Halfling forward with his hand.

A halflings little legs don't seem sufficient for chasing down anyone or anything, but the goblin isn't very large. "They are about the same size, I suppose," says Malard. "It'll be a fair match-up, but we may have to ready to help follow quickly."

Oren is glad someone took the reigns on the matter and crouches low, ready to sneak.

"You got it Jabby! Let's go friends!"

Taking a wide path around the goblin, the elf sneaks as quietly as he can to the other side so as to pincer the little booger.

Trina creeps forward as fast as she dares, trying to remain unseen and unheard (40% hide in shadows, 45% move silently). I'll let the GM make the rolls, so I don't know if she is successful or not (the character always believes that they have succeeded until proven otherwise).

The Halfling, with movements practiced and innate, sneaks up on the goblin in the fading light. Not a crackle or snap is made as she moves forward, and before she knows it the goblin is just before her, facing away. Seemingly unaware.

Odilo holds back, and barely dares to breath, lest he rustle some dry leaf or bush in these parched lands, and gives their position away.

He lets the wet from his nose run down to his lip, so as to avoid the sniffling sound. The saltiness rests on his tongue in the gloom.