1: Dovedale

"Aha. Yes. Almost certainly. Come then. As Jabrano says, we best put some space between us and then. I dare say that they are a nimbler bunch than we!"

And the wizard begins to march away.

"Lead on!" he says to the nixie!

Oren jams the door as best as he can by wedging loose timber into the jam and then leaves with the others.

"No amount of distance will prevent the inevitable show-down we must have with this lot but for now, yes, let us away."

"We may all be exiles after this, friend." the wizard jokes.

"You praise those goblins too highly. I doubt they’ll remember us in a night or two!"

The wizard puts on a brave face. There was some truth in his thinking, but the words do ring a little hollow.

With the hidden door jammed shut, the party rushes off back to the river in search of the nixie's home. With some urgency, they rush north as the sun sinks lower in the sky. They cross over a small footbridge one foot wide and thirty feet long. The bridge is painted a fiery shade of red, with small painted waterflowers dotted all over its surface. Despite its light contstuction, it seems quite sturdy as all cross. The bridge's beauty is marred only be a few goblin chew-marks on the east side, and a number of half-hearted attempts at graffiti, including "Hah hah stupid fairy, we cot you," and "This bridge tastes terrible."

Another half mile up the side of the river you come to a small spring. The water from this spring comes out of a 6"-diameter hole on the top of a roughly spherical 10'-diameter boulder. The resulting stream is 3' wide and 6"-8" deep, a mere trickle compared to what you assume to be the normal flow of the Doveale River. Above this point the riverbed continues on, dry as a bone. Unda urges you to continue on, as this not her spring nor her home. You must continue on.

You continue on for almost a mile before you reach what must be the source of the Dovedale River, at least in normal times. The high walls of the dale close about you, steep and gray. The walls surround a 30'-diameter pool shaded by tall willows and lithe maples. The pool is evidently quite deep, but the water level has visibly dropped. You can see where water normally flows out of the pool and into the riverbed of the Dovedale River, but now that channel is dry. Nestled among the trees on the east side of the pool is a tiny two-story cottage of white stucco, complete with a railed porch and a brick chimney. The cottage appears to be built for someone who is no more than 2' tall.

The nixie springs from Jabrano's shoulders and rushes towards her home. Before entering, she turns back to the group and speaks. "I would ask one more favor of you, heroes. Stay for a day. Allow me to regain my strength, and protect me from Gravelbeak and his tribe. They have been scorned, and I believe they will seek vengeance. I am too weak to fight, and not strong enough to protect myself. And the sun is ever so low." Her words speak true, as it seems there would be one more hour before the sun sets. Time to prepare for the goblins, should you choose to stay.

Odilo furrows his brow as he looks at the surroundings.

"Here…" he mutters. It wasn’t goblin territory. They wouldn’t have the home advantage, but it wasn’t far off it either.

"They captured you here once already. Do you know how? Where did they come from? By which path did they take you back to their warren?"

Oren waits to hear the answer to Odilo's question before he speaks. Fighting the goblins at night and in the open was certainly not promising prospect but what had to be done had to be done. With any luck, quick thinking in a silver tongue might win out once more over violence, nonetheless the elven swordsman begins to search the area for any type of tactical advantage that might be had.

Even though Malard is happy the nixie is back in her pond, Malard can't help but think of the dried stream, nor the struggling farms. "We need to put an end to this," he says to others. "Do you think confronting the goblins will help the farms? "

"They took me by surprise before. They must have been watching for days, as they grabbed me once I had finished my daily task of tending to the river. Came from behind, they did; put me in a bag and shook it all around. I was completely disoriented, and then I found myself in that cage. Whatever runes they had carved in the bars prevented me from accessing my magicks. And then they brought me to their cave, and hung me up. I don't rightfully know how long I was their before you rescued me, but I am most grateful that you did. They can be quite sneaky, and will absolutely come in the night. They will find another way around to come from behind. But I am no expert in the ways of combat nor sneakery. I will be hiding in my home, if you don't mind."

---

As Oren explores the area around Unda's tiny home, he notices some few things that may be used for an advantage. First, the steep walls mean that the goblins will almost certainly be forced to come from the ravine opening; It is quite wide, but at least that gives you a window. Second, the trees are thick and would be rather easy to hide in. Third, the willow trees might even be useful for making snares, should one have the inclination. And fourth, there is a tight channel that cuts into the ravine bed that might be useful for channeling (pun intended) the goblins in tighter quarters. However, he also recalls the giant bats carrying at least one goblin, and the wolves carrying the chief.

"What say you all? I’ll need rest, to replenish my magicks and prepare new spells to work against the goblins when they come.

How might we fare? If my magick holds against the chief, at least him and his followers may remain at the warren."

Malard takes some time and looks around, guessing on the most obvious plan of action. "I can set an alarm in that ravine," Malard says. "It might make sure that we aren't going to be ambushed."

"Let the sorcerous among us take rest fast, Jabrano and I can keep watch. We could set snares around the ravine to try and channel them into the narrows."

Oren sets to work laying as many willow snares around the area as possible, focusing on forcing movement into their trap.

"I do have several methods to aid us…" he starts, before telling the others at length about the spells at his disposal.

Trina uses her skill at removing traps to help set a few snares.

Jabrano feels rather useless in the preparations. It's a familiar feeling. She's kind of used to hanging back and staying out of the way while the bosses and such do the prep work, until it's time to start hitting people.
She's sticking close to Unda. Way she sees it, the biggest threat is some of them sneaking past the guards. She also tries to get some shut-eye before nightfall. A tired warrior is of use to no-one.

"We should should all rest." Odilo remarks, finally.

"With luck, the magic will hold. With greater luck, they’ll have turned on themselves a hundred times already. Rest, and let us see."

While a full night's rest would normally be necessary for a mage like Odilo to awaken with a clear head, it is with Unda's magical singing that a mere hour is enough. The others begin their preparations, and are finished by the time he and Jabrano find themselves awake. The sun has set and the night is upon you. Maon leads Oren and Trina in setting snares from willow branches, and Malard enchants a small area near the mouth of the ravine to alert him if or when something crosses its boundary.

A small amount of time goes by where there is little to do but wait, eat, and memorize. Unda prepares a small (very small) meal from nearby vegetables and roots. And then you hear it. A loud ringing coming from downstream. The Alarm. They are here.

As Oren snaps to attention at the sound of the alarm, his hound Garçon comes bounding out of the brush where he had been napping.

"Good boy Garçon, guard!"

He points to the fairy house and the massive canine takes a defensive position near the tiny abode.

Drawing his blade, Oren focuses his chi and makes a few preparatory, limbering moves with it.

"Hopefully they will listen to reason" he says without much hope in his voice.