1: Dovedale

"Ah, tis true friend, but a friend of spiders might be frowned upon. I pray for the hives of various creatures, but have an affinity for the humble bee. And, honey mead, I might add! Ha!"
Maon smiles as he takes a gulp of his stein. Another chimney of smoke rings rises up into the gables.

And yet, there is some truth to Odilo's logic. Beavers are clever but hardly qualify as intelligent. Goblins on the other hand are evil and unpredictable. Yet they wouldn't have the will to give up devouring an elven or human infant. They are also clever, but spend their time with traps, ambushes and torture devices - which fills their evil little hearts with glee. They always manage to upset the balance somehow. Agents of Chaos they are! There may be more to it than meets the eye. The only way is to head up there and find out for ourselves. Along the way, we should pay a visit to Mrs. Cogs."

Maon sees a Raven across the way. It cocks its head, squawks, and takes flight. It's shadow crosses the high gables before it disappears.

"Ill portent," he thinks to himself. He makes the sign of Ceranus. "God's, who's superstitious now!" He chuckles to himself and has a bit more mead.

Oren laughs,

"Haha twins indeed! Clearly you got all the looks in the family!"

As Maon muses over the various creatures of the forest Oren finally manages to borrow a coal from the druid's pipe and puffs it into life.

"Yes, Mrs Cogs will certainly need visiting, the sooner the better."

The day is getting late, and the best information says that Mrs. Cogs lives roughly six miles away upriver and to the west.

Trina checked her purse. A single gold and 5 coppers. Things were looking dismal. With a sigh, she turned her eyes towards the boarding house. She had enough for a meal and a night, but beyond that, if something wasn't done, she would be sleeping on the streets. She entered the place with a cheery smile. No sense in letting other folks know her troubles. She would just have to find an adventuring party that was interested in investigating the troubles upriver.

The halfling wears a dark tunic and breeches and a black woolen cloak. She has twin daggers on either side of her slender waist, and another dagger hilt peeks from the top of each boot. Her raven tresses cascade around her shoulders and accent her blue eyes. To the untrained eye, she would seem little more than another halfling wanderer.

Entering the boarding house, she flips her remaining gold piece onto the counter and says, "I'd like a room for the night, a water, and a meal, please." She scans the room looking for anyone that might seem to be an adventurer.

Having seen Trina walk past and enter the boarding house, Oren suggests to the others standing outside that they should perhaps find a table within.

"Just saw the best burglar I know go in, what say we grab a table and sign her up? Seems like we are starting to collect quite the company, eh?"

Oren taps out his pipe and heads inside where he taps Trina on the shoulder.

"Best food in town, or so I hear! It's been quite some time Trina, has it not? Laying low I assume? Why else would you not have visited my camp?"

"Mostly looking for some way to make some cash. My purse is alarmingly light. Are you interested in investigating the goblin problem?"

"Of course I am! In need of some coin myself, and I have some friends to introduce you to. I think we might have put together a fairly outstanding group..."

Oren introduces Trina to the others and orders a pint while pleasantries are exchanged.

As Ned the gnome checks in those who wish a room, it is Ma Nettles who serves the meals. Alongside the standard fare of chicken or mutton, bread, cheeses, and honey cakes (locally sourced), tonight also offers chicken dumplings that smell absolutely delightful. The ale is brewed by a nearby gnome farmer, a close cousin to Ned, and it promises both a joyful evening and rough morning.

Oren gags at the smell of so much poultry and doubles down on the ale. It wasn't easy keeping one's sensibilities in the halls of men when all they seemed to live on was dead flesh and barley. At least the barley was good...

Due to the season being midsummer, fresh salads are also available, but looked on curiously by many of the locals

Maon speaks discreetly to Trina as he takes a seat near hers.

"So a Halfling. Far from the shires of Tethyr aren't we? It's a wonder your purse hasn't gone empty before now. That said, I am Maon, a druid of sorts, and we are in need of a scout. One who can move among the shadows and not be noticed, one like yourself. I can offer to pay your repast and a place to rest your head tonight, and of course a fair cut of any profits we may make. What say you milady? Are you in?"

He awaits her answer...

"Foodfoodfoood...," Malard counts out a few coins, coppers so as not to draw attention and has a meal sent to his table. "I wonder if I have any maps that I could use to study a path," he thinks to himself. Turning to the table next to him, he asks those seated nearest, "Sorry for the interruption, but do you know of there's a map of the area here? Perhaps town hall? I'm passing through and wanted to plan a route."

With a determined blow of his nose, Odilo leaves something wet and green on the ground outside the inn. It offers him a momentary relief from the stuffiness; though he wondered if the stuffiness was a blessing in a place like this!

As coin begins to change hands, he hoists himself up and begins to mutter something down into the ear of Ned, the gnome behind the bar.

The table turns and looks over Malard in his strangeness. While there was nothing truly odd about the man, he did stick out as an outsider in the area. One of the folks points towards Ned the gnome, saying that he would likely have the information. And if not, there was a local cartographer who helped with homesteading claims and land disputes. But that Jed would probably have what he needs.

And true to their word, the gnome pulls out a heavily folded map of the area for the abjurer to examine, "...or purchase!" The route to Mrs. Cogs is shown, as well as the directions to Inn-on-the-Peak, which is just northwest of Ashbourne and miles before he would reach the farm. Ned claims that it would be a decent source of information and preparation, and that their homemade beer, Hal's Ol' Singular', is worth the journey. In addition, he points out Tor's Cloud Peak, which is a landmark in the form of a tall, steep hill that is directly due east of the Cog's farm on the other side of the Dovedale River.

---

Odilo is already at the bar speaking with Ned when Malard approaches, and is able to hear all of this if he wishes to stay and listen. He had just been told that his money was no good here, given his nature and helpfulness. Ned offers Odilo a private room (though not the finest one), as well as a meal.

"I am. And while I appreciate your kind gesture, I can, at least for tonight, pay for myself. But come, let us sup and discuss the dangers that we may face. Are you familiar with my friend, Oren?

"Oren is a rowdy fellow and good in a fight. Yes, he is a thorn rose. Haha! It seems we will have company. There is that one asking for a map. Perhaps that might also be of some use to us. However, we don't have time for a cartographer to make us a copy. We'll have to invite him along. As for goblin troubles Odilo has brought up a valid idea. He believes there is more to this dammed river than just Goblins. I am inclined to agree, but as things stand we will most likely need to get a birds eye view of the situation. And that's where someone of your experience has the advantage. If coin is keeping you from a proper halfling meal, at least let me see to your libation. Another round of honey mead for me and one for me friend here! Ha!"

As Oren continues talking loudly with all the folks he has met in his long travels and trying to bring them together in pursuit of money, he feels someone bump into the back of him rather hard. Wobbling on his feet is a particularly drunk man in ratty clothes, suggesting that most of his money ends up in his liver rather than his health and home. hic! "Would'n ye be so kind as to purch... purchase a drink for a man down on his luck? Name's Ian McNeill, local collector of tales. My thirst is great, and I can give ye some company and secrets if'n ye oblige!" He stands swaying and trying his hardest to focus on one of the three elven warriors before him.

The map shown to Malard by Ned the gnome contains many local points, and the gnome goes on to suggest that there are many reasonable crossings of the Dovedale River to the western bank downstream of the pool and the hill just to its south.