Goblin Hunt

"I think Balan knows a bit of Grub’nak" Natasha was much less certain about the value (or lack) of interrogating the goblin than her companion "If you want, I could go fetch him for you, while you wait outside the city walls. Hunter is right, at least about that – the guards will never let a goblin inside Lugsid"

Please fetch good Balan for us. I will keep a watchful eye on the prisoner.

"Grub'nak eh?" Anton noted to himself. He wondered if that was a slang term for the Goblin language, or a proper dialect. "So, Hunter, seems you all killed a fair few Goblins yourselves?"

Well trudging back to town Nightshade would be quite happy to leave our pet goblin to Balan tender mercies. We need to think about our party if we're going to return to the woods and get to the root of this devilry. Nightshade asked Natasha "is there a Healer in town?" Already missing the forest to he thinks of another night spent inside eating a cooked meal, ahh the problems of civilization.

"I killed me a couple, yea" Hunter says proudly "nasty creatures, these goblins. One of ‘em nearly took my eye out with ‘ees spear"

"Balan is a healer. A holy man of the faith" Natasha answered the cowled stranger "the only other healers in Lugsid are at the Church" she gave the others a short nod, before leaving to fetch the man, Hunter hurrying behind her after nudging their mules onward.

It’s well over an hour, maybe closer to two, before they spot a man coming up the trail. He’s older, likely in his late fifties, wearing a yellowish shirt that has long since lost its white hue, and a wrinkled grey hat, not meant to shield him from the sun, but to cover his bald head from view. His eyebrows lift when he sees the group, and he quickens his pace, striding purposefully toward you.

"Good afternoon, sirs. May the blessings of the Three be upon you," he says, but his words falter as he notices some of you are injured, the blood staining your clothes unmistakable. "Are… are you all right?"

Nightshade steps out of the concealment of the woodland to meet the healer and introduce himself. "Greetings Balan, I am Nightshade a child of the forest. May the growth of the forest add you in your journey. Two members of our party are injured and would benefit from some healing. We'd appreciate it if you could help us. Also, we've captured a goblin, and I understand you speak a bit of the Grub'nak tongue. Would you be willing to help us interrogate him? Anything we could learn about this gang of marauders and who's riling them up would be useful in restoring Justice to the forest." Nightshade watches Balan trying to sense his motive (Insight) as he talks to the healer.

Brother Yakov bows his head politely to Balan. "I'm badly wounded, but I believe I'll survive another day. Nightshade hear has the right of it." Yakov looks at the captured goblin. "I'm beginning to wonder if I should have killed this one here. But I thought maybe he could prove useful."

Anton nods in response to Balan's blessing, and then chimes in after Brother Yakov, "I am injured as well." he then removes his hand from his side where it's clear the blood on his clothes has emanated from.

"Bless my beard! An Elf!! I haven’t seen one of your kind since I was a little boy" Balan could barely believe his own eyes. Elves very rarely left their wooden realm to travel among humans. For some, their existence was nothing more than faerie tales. He wondered what drove Nightshade to leave his home, he was sure there was an interesting tale behind it. But that question, and also the one regarding the tied-up goblin, would have to wait.

"In your tender mercy, Petra, heal this body and ease this suffering. Restore them with the gentleness of your grace" as soon as Balan finishes uttering the prayer, a warmth spreads throughout the wound, easing the pain as the skin knits together. The swelling fades, and the cuts close perfectly without leaving a trace of the injury.

Once your wounds are tended, the old priest nods at you "I will do what I can to help you with this one. I’m afraid I’m not fluent at Grub’nak, but I know enough to carry a simple conversation. What will you have me ask of him?"

Nightshade watches, feeling comforted, as he sees his companions restored to health. He then looks at the goblin prisoner with distaste. "I can think of three questions we could ask: How many goblins are there, where is your nest, and who is your leader?" Looking to his companions, Nightshade then asks, "What other useful information might this goblin have?"

"I'm curious why they seem so starved. Is something driving them from their usual hunting grounds into our lands?"

Anton felt his wound stitch together and he sighed in relief. He of course would have to spend some time scrubbing the blood from his clothes, but for now he was just happy to be whole.

"Thank you" he said to Balan

In response to the goblin questions Anton added, "What traps or defenses should we expect at your camp? And also is there a secondary location the tribe might move now that they are warned we are coming?"

Balan begins speaking with the goblin. The conversation is initially stiff and cautious, until he offers the goblin some water from his own skin, and the goblin drinks gratefully, sipping until his throat is no longer too dry to speak. After a few more brief exchanges, Balan offers him a small piece of bread, feeding him bit by bit in return for information. The goblin eats quickly, his hunger evident in every gulp.

"Mmm… He says his name is Wormpit. Their leader is Skunkmouth. He’s with the rest of the tribe"

Balan's brow furrows as he listens intently, his face tightening with concern. He turns to Nightshade and apologizes "I’m sorry, but the goblins don’t know how to measure distance, don’t use the four directions, and have no concept of numbers beyond ‘many.’ He can't really answer any of your questions"

He pauses for a moment, watching the goblin closely as he continues "He says a large pack of wolves drove them from their land. With no other place to go, they’ve been living in the forest for the past few weeks, hiding under the ‘hated’ sun and without any permanent shelter. They’ve lost many to starvation and disease, and their tribe has shrunk to barely half its original number. He sounds desperate, like they are all about to face extinction"

Nightshade listens to Balan interview the goblin, not surprised but annoyed that the goblin can't count or understand simple navigational techniques. Shifting impatiently on the trail, he eyes the goblin's gaunt, twitching frame.
The business with the wolves is interesting, as goblins have been known to ride wolves. Perhaps the wolves have a new alpha, leading them to rise up against the goblins. That thought sends a chill down Nightshade's spine. Wolves with a cunning alpha are dire enough, but a force capable of uniting them against the goblins? That hints at something far more sinister, something unnatural.
Regardless, there's something bigger than the goblins out there causing trouble in the forest. The problem is Wormpit isn't a reliable witness. He'd say anything for a scrap of food.
If nothing else, we'll have a story to tell at the Baron's town hall meeting.
"Balan, do you think the Baron's got a dungeon? Or maybe the Sheriff's jail could hold this slippery little rat for the night?

Yakov is pleased that his decision to spare the goblin has brought them potentially useful information. But now he is troubled by the question of what to do with the goblin. Assuming the goblin cannot understand him, he speaks openly, but keeps his voice calm and conversational.

"If the rest of the community has Hunter's attitude, we probably won't get him in the gate. In fact, we'll probably be expected to kill him on the spot or turn him over to be killed. I fear we may be faced with the choice of either killing him or setting him free. Neither option pleases me."

"I am just as reluctant as you are to kill him" the old priest sighs "The Sheriff will never put him in jail, even if we can somehow convince the guards to let him into the city. I think, all things considered, we should take a chance and let him go. One goblin isn't going to make much difference, and maybe we can get him to deliver a message to the rest of his tribe. Keep them from raiding the farmlands"

"All right," Nightshade says, his tone edged with impatience. Here's what I suggest. We release Wormpit back into the wild, but not without a task. We instruct him to relay a message to this Skunkmouth character. Tell him the town is off-limits. It's a death sentence for any goblin who dares to attack or poach from the townsfolk."
Nightshade crosses his arms, his expression thoughtful. "I suspect Skunkmouth won't take it as a warning. He'll see it as a challenge, and we'll have to deal with him sooner or later. But it will do for now." he glances toward the distant silhouette of the town as lights start to flicker on in the late afternoon." Let's meet the Baron and hear what he and the townsfolk have to say."

"We still have to contend with the Goblins to get the farmers pigs, and potentials his dogs corpse, back right? An alternative might be that we take Wormpit with us, bound and gagged, to serve as a bargaining chip for the pigs and dog corpse?" Anton was fine killing goblins before when they were armed, and dangerous, but he didn't have it in him to just kill a prisoner, even if a head on a pike might serve as the best deterrent.