The goblin’s eyes widen in fear at Maxwell’s comment.
“Not have!” the goblin says hastily, as he holds his arms wide in a gesture offering to be searched. “Garn’s treasure. Maybe he sold it, or traded. Even without the crown, you found enough to satisfy, yes? A fortune, even!”
Moftar to the group: “I dunno, something about his story still smells fishy. But he did help us with the combat, even if he wasn’t completely honest in his motivations. I know there was some force helping you folks fight… I kinda thought it was my prayer, at first. But… it could have been the goblin? If he used the crown to help fight the orc, that could explain why it’s gone now: the demon took it back. If there were a demon posessing the orc, and its horcrux isn’t the axe (sorry, Clayton. But hey, free axe!), then it stands to reason that it was the crown, right? So, if the crown is gone, so is the demon. And if this little shit doesn’t have it, it must be on its way to Fallenburgh. Which means that we HAVE to go help them, and we have to get there first, because they’re not just fighting orcs anymore.”
Dramatic pause
“They’re fighting demons.”
Moftar officially votes that we tie the goblin up (really good this time) and take it with us. It may know which army the crown went to.
Maxwell shakes his head.
“So we go charging after the demon so that I can get almost killed again, except this time instead of a pile of gold, he has backup? Fuck that. We’re a lot richer than we were yesterday, and we’re in a foreign land. We have no allegiance or obligation to these people.”
Gerald throws his pack over his shoulder, grabs his walking stick, and points it at Maxwell.
"You are correct, Mr. Grey; you have no allegiance to these people. But you do have allegiance to me.
Bind the goblin’s hands, and let’s get moving. I don’t want to spend another minute longer here than we have to. We can decide what to do with him once we reach Aven."
Sorry for being scarce lately, folks…I hope to have enough time now to make an appearance at least once or twice a day
Maxwell narrows his eyes at Gerald.
“Incorrect, my lord,” he says, with sardonic emphasis. “My allegiance is to my contract, which stipulates that I escort you from one place to another with *maximum *speed and *minimum *risk. If it’s your intention to create new opportunities to put yourself in danger, then you and I are going to need to sit down and draw up an addendum, or else there’s no deal at all.”
Clayton to Maxwell. “Listen, if you want to leave, go ahead. I see no reason for us to edit your contract over this.”
Cobar is amused by the discussions between Gerald and Maxwell, but he makes no outward show of it. After Gerald makes his decision Cobar speaks:
“Well, let’s get going then. My contract simply states that I am to guide you until you reach the final destination. The longer that takes, the more I get paid. Besides, any extra trouble we can make for the goblins is a good thing in my opinion, especially since the forts are valuable assets for keeping the goblinoids in check.”
He then addresses the goblin:
"I still don’t trust you, and apparently neither does anyone else. But we will travel with you as long as it appears it could be to mutual advantage to do so. However, understand this: you are our prisoner. You will submit to us tying you up. You will not attempt to escape if you value your life. We do this for two reasons. First, it lessens the chance you will betray us outright. Second, it actually protects you. There are many we will no doubt meet who won’t think twice about killing you. If you are running free, you’re as good as dead in these parts. By being our prisoner, we take on some legal responsibility for you, which means in the more civilized parts no one can do a thing to you without our permission.
"Of course if you escape, we can’t protect you anymore.
“So do we have a deal?”
Gerald has a strong suspicion that the goblin is attempting deceit regarding the promised crown. The goblin either knows exactly where the crown is, and doesn’t want the party to know…or it never existed in the first place, and the goblin just used the promise of it to trick the group into killing Garn. Whether Gerald brings this up to the others is up to him…
“We ought to give him a name,” Tasha says as Cobar and Maxwell bind the goblin yet again. “I think ‘hey, you’ isn’t a proper way to address anyone.”
The goblin suffers the indignity of being tied up a second time without comment. At Tasha’s suggestion, the creature’s brow furrows quizzically. “A name? Why?”
“How about Tip?” Tasha continues, completely ignoring the question. “We can call him Tip, because he stands on the tip of his toes.”
A sneaky goblin has joined the party. The goblin doesn’t care what the group decides to call him. If anyone would rather call the goblin by a different nickname, feel free to suggest it. Otherwise, Tasha will refer to him as Tip.
The delay and commotion of Tip’s unexpected arrival will cause the group to have to camp one more night on the road to Aven. The next major game update will describe the party entering the trading community of Aven. After that, you all have to make a final decision about whether to detour to Fallenburgh or not. Until the next update, feel free to interact with Tip or each other. The party will spend one more night camping and hopefully arrive in Aven before midday tomorrow.
Moftar reels as the extreme cute causes his blood sugar to spike; he’ll have to make an ACTION roll against diabetes to avoid permanent damage. “Tip? No, I think I’ll stick with ‘horrid pile of pigshit’” he gags. “It’s more fitting.”
Moftar’s stomach punctuates this with a disgusting rumbling as of hunger. “Speaking of food, it feels like a week since we woke up; I’m starving! What kinda food did we have packed on the horses?” When no immediate offer of tasty delectables is made, he digs into his own pockets and pulls out a handful of dried berries, fruits, nuts, and the occasional lint ball or dead insect, which he noisily munches on as the party travels down their path toward Aven. “Speaking of food… I mean, I was, nobody else seems interested… First thing I’m gonna do when we get to town is get a nice hot meal. Something fresh, something I’m the first one to eat. And some wine, something nice and fresh, maybe even fortified for a change, that sounds good now that I’m rich! And some ale, and some whiskey…”
The rest of the party carefully speeds up their pace, so that Moftar once again ends up trailing behind them, out of sight, out of hearing, and thankfully downwind. This doesn’t seem to stop his muttering, however.
Moftar uses his position behind the party to keep an eye on the goblin at all times. If it shows the slightest hint that it’s trying to escape, or cast a spell, or do anything at all beyond travel with the group, he will yell first and get staff-whacking immediately thereafter.
Cobar to Tasha:
“Tip, eh? Whatever.”
He shrugs and begins to lead the group through the lands again. He keeps an eye out for any game to hunt and will fire an arrow into any prime targets.
The party camps along the route to Aven for a final night. The goblin Tip is the only one of them who sleeps soundly. He is either oblivious to, or doesn’t care about, the rest of the party’s misgivings about his presence.
After a long, fretful (but uneventful) night, the party wakes and continues the last few miles to the trading town of Aven. Tip allows himself to be bound again, although the rope is chafing him and causing him to develop sores. Hopefully in Aven the group can purchase some proper shackles, or make some other kind of arrangement for transporting Tip.
Still a few miles from Aven, the group starts to see signs of civilization. The road becomes wider and paved. Cattle and horses graze behind fenced plots of land. Rows of crops are tended by farmers. Most of the people the party encounters are Obe savages, carrying baskets of goods back from the city. The weather is clear, the mood is light, and everyone can feel an eager excitement. Soon, they’ll have properly cooked food, a bed, beer, and a sprawling market in which to spend their newly acquired fortunes!
Before the sun has risen to its midday height, the group stands outside of the city of Aven. A group of four town militia stops the group.
“Hold!” one of the men, a militia captain, orders. He points at Tip and glares. “What is the meaning of this?” he says, glancing across the group. Clearly, he’s unhappy that the group is apparently bringing a goblin into the city.
Gerald and Moftar know exactly where this is headed. The guard captain is hoping for a bribe. One thing is certain, though. The captain won’t allow Tip to enter the city with the group, unless you can appease him somehow.
Moftar to nobody in particular: “Now that’s the kind of people I like to hang around: Day and a half, and nobody said a damned thing to anyone… that’s the Hermit’s life!”
Moftar motions the group to slow as they approach the town; his keen eyes scan the countryside, picking up whatever clues he can about how best to survive in a new environment: Where the rich and poor live, where traders travel, where to beg and where to run from guards, and where to find cheap (or free) alcohol and food.
What can we tell about Aven? Is it a large village, small city, or metropolis? Seaport or merely conjunction of road routes? How far away is Fallenburgh? Is it a wealthy city; is its military in good shape; does it have a strong ‘police’ presence or are gangs/thieves prevalent? Walled or not; does it have a central castle/keep… how are the guards keeping us out, drawbridge or gate or what? How heavy is traffic into the city, and what kind of goods?
I have a few ideas about how to get Pigshit into the city… could sneak him inside in a bundle of hay on a cart, we could disguise him, or we could call him ‘livestock’ and say we’re here to trade. I like the last idea best, but what does the rest of the group think?
Aven is small, for a trading hub. The trade is mostly between merchants representing “civilized” kingdoms in the east and the Obe tribesmen in the west. The traders sell crafted metal items like cookware, tools, weapons and armors, eating utensils, jewelry, and other similar items for Obe wares like leather saddles, clothing, clay work, medicine, and other low-tech items. Aven handles almost all of the trade between the Obe people and the eastern kingdoms.
The city is pretty well organized, for a trade center. It’s one of the few concentrations of civilized people not ruled by a lord, and therefore does not have a professional full time military. It is defended by a town militia that handles police duties, and in case of invasion, a coalition of all the interested kingdoms and Obe tribes which would join forces to defend Aven, if only to protect their own financial interests. The kingdoms and tribes are not allies in any sense.
There is not a large impressive military installation (like a castle or barracks) that you can see from the outskirts of the city. You have encountered a group of militia which are patrolling the roads a good distance away from the city, and so you haven’t had a chance to scope it out in detail yet.
When the group reaches Aven, there will be at least 1 new player joining the party. Anyone that decides to retire their character and leave the game can feel free to do so at that time. Also I’ll be retiring Tasha sometime before the group leaves Aven, also.
If the group makes the final decision to go to Fallenburgh, it’ll take about 3 days of game-time to get there.
Come on, really? Nobody has any ideas? Or is everyone else planning to retire already?
Gerald steps forward, arms spread to give a warm, friendly greeting to the guards, completely ignoring the fact that there is anything unusual about their party in the slightest.
“Good day to you! My companions and I are travelling to Preston Tower, far to the east of these lands. We plan to stop in Aven this night to resupply. What news is there?”
Cobar watches the scene unfold between Gerald and the guards. Not being one who’s particularly good at smooth-talking, Cobar figures the noble is probably better at handling this than Cobar would be. He does know that the Aven militia can be easily bribed and once appeased pretty much leave you alone, and many of the bands he’s guided in the past have taken that route, but if the party can save money through diplomacy, all the better.
He does perform a close sizing up of the militia, though, looking for anything that might tip the negotiations more in the party’s favor.
Moftar makes himself small and unassuming, blending in with the background rabble of the road, in the manner by which he’s learned to live his life. Downtrodden, helpless, old, poor and humble, hopefully the guards will pretty much ignore him and let him pass.
Clayton to Gerald:
“Perhaps we should beat the goblin until he blacks out. That should make it a lot more likely the guards won’t mind us bringing him in. Good?”
Moftar is a sad hermit.