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[h2][color=6ecff6][i][b]Hugh Caphazath[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=6ecff6][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 24/24	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 17	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] NA
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Avonshire Region, Main Trade Road
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/4a0uP44.png[/img][/right]
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There were only so many ways to approach a stranger with the intent of gathering information from them without looking suspicious. Hugh had long-since mastered the art of such things, and chief among his favored methods was the half-truth presentation of himself as just another traveler looking to educate themselves in the local ways.

It was this, in large part, that influenced his rather lackluster and down to earth appearance. Hugh, for better or worse, was a man who lived and breathed his job, and self-expression was a small price to pay for extraordinary boosts to his effectiveness and conspicuousness. He was just another stubbled face in the crowd. He could go anywhere, be anyone, and his appearance was so nondescript that it was hard to ever see a successful bounty or warrant for arrest being put out for him. He was simply too generic.

It was, in fact, entirely fair to say whatever social appeal Hugh might have was contained entirely within his ability to act… and the fey genetics that -at the very minimum- prevented him from being defined as “ugly”.

Case and point.

Hugh whistled out a low, impressed shrill at the sizable drift of swine currently on their way to the slaughter, catching the attention of their human, a weathered man with salt and pepper hair, who looked like he might just be on the verge of needing to retire this job to someone younger. There was a wagon a little ways ahead of the group of pigs that appeared to be acting as a tether for a great many leads that gently but firmly tugged the mass of swine along. A somewhat younger fellow appeared to be steering the cart, but Hugh couldn’t imagine what he was doing taking the less physically intensive task… assuming they were a relative or hire.

“Quite th’ imper’ssive bunch, wouldn’t ya’ say?” the nigh-venerable man spoke proudly, a single hand stroking his beard and goatee.

Hugh resisted the urge to itch at his own stubble at the sight, as he simply smiled and nodded. [color=6ecff6]“All yours?”[/color] He stepped a bit closer at the implied welcome and gestured broadly at the livestock. Hugh didn’t touch them, however, not even in a manner of apparent admiration. Not only couldn’t he be sure how the farmer would respond, but more importantly, he’d no idea how any of the animals would react. For all their open passivity, even with the farmer’s go-ahead, he’d be hesitant just as a matter of course.

“Aye,” the man replied, grinning toothily. “Before ye’ be the best batch we’ve ‘ad in least the past decade.”

[color=6ecff6]“Really now?”[/color] Hugh replied with outward and not entirely feigned interest. After all, he was typically always up to learn something new. [color=6ecff6]“They are quite large…”[/color] Several of the chonkers actually nearly reached his hip in height; truly, they were almost unnervingly large. [color=6ecff6]“I’m no farmer, so I’ll just have to take your word for it, Mr… Ah,”[/color] he spoke up as if in realization, stepping around the swine to hold out his free hand. [color=6ecff6]“I realized I never asked your name. How rude of me to forgo the pleasantries. Hugh, curious traveler, at your service.”[/color]

Raising a brow at that, the man nonetheless shook his hand. “Freddy Cumberbatch, ‘umble farmer, at ‘yer service, Mr. ‘Curious Traveler’.”

Hugh snorted mirthfully at that. [color=6ecff6]“Don’t I know it. This ‘Harvest-time’ something or another seems to have everyone in a hurry.”[/color]

“Harvestide, laddie,” the man corrected, just as planned. Such a verbal misstep on his own part should continue to enforce the image he was building of himself in Freddy’s mind. “Name’s p’erty self-explanetory. The time b’fer th’ cold rolls in that us smallfolk finally turn our labors inter’ profit and per’pare fer’ the anne’ul celebration.”

[color=6ecff6]Ahah, an opening![/color]

[color=6ecff6]“Is that what all the hurry is about?”[/color] Hugh mused thoughtfully. [color=6ecff6]“I’ve been around the block, and winter appears to be coming early this year. I imagine that can’t be good for anyone’s stress.”[/color]

“Aye,” Freddy nodded. “Time-tables movin’ up this year.” He hummed in his throat, frowning.

[color=6ecff6]“Pardon me if it’s presumptuous, but when you’ve gotten a feel for so many different places, you tend to grow accustomed to feeling out the mood of new locations more quickly,”[/color] Hugh said leadingly. [color=6ecff6]“Maybe I’m just hungry, but a gut feeling is telling me there’s something more troubling than an early winter pressing on the consciousness of the locals.”[/color]

Freddy’s brows furrowed at him. “Couldn’t say… Ah’m not the sort to mislead with mere rumors.” Unfortunately, rumors were exactly what Hugh wanted from him. At this point, any lead at all was valuable.

[color=6ecff6]“Like the goblins?”[/color] Hugh inquired.

Freddy shook his head. “Nay, the damned goblins are a familiar pest. Well…” he pawed at his goatee. “To be honest, they’re uncommon, ‘cept in the winter. It’s round the time the little blighters tend to get bolder fer’ whatever damned reason.”

[color=6ecff6]“Probably supplies?”[/color] Hugh shrugged. [color=6ecff6]“I can’t see it being all that easy for them to find food in the winter. If they don’t raid, they starve. It’s most likely desperation, not that it makes it any better how many people they hurt.”[/color]

“Aye,” Freddy nodded. “Ah’d considered as much.” He hummed thoughtfully and gave Hugh a searching look. “Say, yer’ pretty well-spoken fer’ a traveler.”

Hugh blinked at that but chuffed and smiled. [color=6ecff6]“That I am. I have, however, spent the vast majority of my time the past decade in cities and towns educating myself and making a living wherever and however I may find. Perhaps I once spoke a bit ‘rougher’, but it’s long since left my memory. Honestly, my manner of speech had never occurred to me as odd, nor do most people I think.”[/color]

“Aye, Mr. Hugh, that they don’t,” Freddy nodded.

[color=6ecff6]“Well, I wish you luck at the butcher’s,”[/color] Hugh started, preparing to disengage before the older man’s interest in him became much stronger. As a final redirection of topic, he asked, [color=6ecff6]“I’m planning on being around Avonshire for at least the next week. Anything a traveler should possibly be worried about?”[/color]

Freddy hummed at that, taking a moment to herd a couple wayward spine back into the general group. “Well… Iffin’ yer’ fixin t’ stick ‘rund fer’ a while longer, might want to mind the weather. Winter’s comin’ early, and ye’ might find yer’self trapped here for the fer’seeable future. If ye’ are, you best have saved up enough coin, cause work’ll be harder t’ find without a local presence.”

Hugh nodded along. Fair concerns, all told. After all, the locals would mostly be trying to conserve their own coin in these slow chilled months of little profit. Indeed, an outsider might have a more difficult time with seeing them part with said coin.

Bidding a final farewell to the pig farmer, Freddy Cumberbatch, Hugh briefly returned to his self-imposed watch, but luckily, it seemed as if no-one was particularly pasting the adventuring party any undue attention. His token gesture made, Hugh returned to his investigations.

(/._./)

He waited some time till such a moment as Freddy and his herd of pigs were long since out of sight, before he chose a new target. Best to ensure he wasn’t noted as a nosy outsider by many eyes.

This time, he chose a small family riding a cart loaded to the brim with barrels of -from what he could tell- all manner of crops, fruits and vegetables alike. Normally, he wouldn’t have much grounds to strike up a conversation, but the cart was currently tugged off to the side of the road to handle a dislodged wheel.

As he approached, Hugh could see that the apparent mother and two small children -one of which was an infant- could only really look on anxiously, as a young man struggled to lift the ominously leaning back-left side of the cart while simultaneously levering a wheel back into place. Hugh frowned at the nigh-overflowing cart and then at the man’s task, before stepping forward.

[color=6ecff6]“You know,”[/color] Hugh began conversationally, doing his best not to let condescension leak into his tone and leaning on his staff several feet away, [color=6ecff6]“you might have an easier time of it if you unloaded the cart first…”[/color] And/or, for that matter, just asked for his wife’s help. Assuming the similarly young woman could trust her elder child to hold her infant for a short time, the man could do the lifting, and she could slide the wheel back into place. This seemed like an obvious solution, so was the young man just engaging in relatively youthful stupidity and trying to show off? Possibly.

“Wah-?” the young man started in surprise, turning away from his task and wiping beads of sweat from his brow that was reddened from futile effort. His eyes panned over Hugh’s form for several seconds, before he scoffed. “Mind ‘yer own business, stranger. Les’ yer’ gonna make yerself useful, I’ve got work t’ do.”

So, youthful stupidity. Gotchya. 

Hugh openly rolled his eyes and doffed his backpack, leaning his staff atop it on the ground. The extra weight wouldn’t be doing him any good for the next little while. Rolling up his sleeves, Hugh stepped up to the back of the wagon and reached for the first of the barrels, only to have his hand slapped away by the now standing young man, who was glowering at him, still somewhat red in the face, likely from a combination of effort and frustration.

“The hell you think yer’ doing?” he demanded. “Best not try that again, or you’re face’ll be havin’ words with my fist.”

Hugh snorted dismissively. [color=6ecff6]“Disregarding exactly how utterly outclassed a mere civilian like you would be in a physical confrontation with an [i]adventurer[/i]…”[/color] He enjoyed the open blanche of the man. [color=6ecff6]“I’m just doing what you said and [i]‘making myself useful’[/i].”[/color] He waved his hand dismissively. [color=6ecff6]“Don’t let your pride get in the way, and just let me help. The more time you waste, the more time there is for the weather or far less savory individuals than myself to catch up with you… and your family.”[/color]

The young man’s face reddened, and he puffed up like he was going to start shouting, before glancing in his wife’s direction and then deflating with a grumble, as he bit out, “[i]Fine[/i].”

That little issue set aside, the young man begrudgingly set about doing things Hugh’s way, as the two of them slowly but surely unloaded the cart. By the end of things, Hugh was sweating notably more so than the young man. For all his skill and agility, he was no physical powerhouse. Hard labor like this didn’t agree with him, but if there was an upside to be found, his clear struggles seemed to soothe the wounded pride of the young farmer, who handled the lifting and moving with far more ease and routine.

Twenty minutes later, as the cart wheel retook it’s rightful place, Hugh groaned and leaned back against the repaired cart in relief. [color=6ecff6]“See, not so hard. Far less time wasted and far less risk of the cart collapsing under too much weight in the meantime.”[/color]

The young man grumbled, but at the nudging of his wife, he sighed long-sufferingly and held out a calloused hand. “Dwight.”

Clasping it firmly, the half-elf hid a wince at the perhaps competitive grip he was forced to contest for several moments. [color=6ecff6]“Hugh.”[/color]

Dwight sniffed and released his grip. “Ya’ can’t lift fer’ shit, but…”

“Hun,” the wife broke in, elbowing her taller man.

“Yeh, yeah,” he sighed, groaning. “Thank ye’ for your assistance.”

[color=6ecff6]“No problem,”[/color] Hugh replied dryly, shrugging somewhat self-deprecatingly. [color=6ecff6]“I’m no muscle-bound laborer. ‘Adventurer’ though I may be, I’ve always relied on skill and wits to carry the day. It’s the sort of approach that is valuable in nearabouts every situation.”[/color] He smiled. [color=6ecff6]“Instead of tackling problems head on, I do my best to think around them, expending far less effort for the same or better results. That said…”[/color] He glanced at the mass of barrels on the ground. [color=6ecff6]“I made this mess in a way, so don’t think I won’t help you clean it up. In the meantime, I’m not a local, so if you don’t mind, I’d love to ask some questions about the area?”[/color]

Begrudgingly, Dwight agreed.

All in all, Hugh came away from that conversation with more tidbits of farming knowledge than he could shake a stick at. While they couldn’t -or wouldn’t- clarify more regarding the vague feeling of unease that lay upon the land, they could further espouse upon what he’d mostly already gathered by osmosis. As farmers, they were naturally unhappy about the early winter and having to harvest several crops early or risk them be ruined entirely. They also happened to be delivering several batches of grapes and honey for a friend who lived further out. Apparently both foodstuffs were primarily produced on the outskirts of the region.

Beyond that, there was little to say or learn, and Hugh moved on once the cargo had been returned to its proper place. After another round of checking for traps or unsavory sorts tailing the party, Hugh made the executive decision that the rest of his time might be better served keeping a weather eye out. After all, any information he might gather would be useless if his team got killed because he wasn’t performing his role adequately. That said, one or two more divergences couldn’t hurt.

(/._./)

The pond was quiet and calm, tastefully so. Some distance away, the trade road bustled quietly with the sound of the party’s retreating cart, as Hugh observed the goings on with a raised brow.

An older fellow sat nearby with their fishing rod’s bait bobbing merrily on the water’s surface, a basket of river fish sitting beside them. Indeed, Hugh couldn’t recall their name, but they certainly seemed the sort of fish to leap up rapids, which was notable considering the presence of no such rapids anywhere nearby that he could tell. One might worry about such catches beginning to stink if they weren’t sold posthaste.

[color=6ecff6]“Not worried about those going bad?”[/color] Hugh inquired. He was honestly somewhat curious, as he really had no idea how long it took for fish to become unsafe for consumption.

The man simply shrugged, much to Hugh’s dismay. In all honestly, the conversation the followed was painfully slow, given the passivity of the target and Hugh’s inability to find a decent conversation hook until much further down the line than seemed reasonable.

What little relevant information he managed to get out of the man was also distinctly unhelpful. Apparently, the old codger had gotten a letter just last week from a cousin who lived in a border village called Southmoor. Given the circumstances, this could be either proof of nothing or one strike against the rumor of communication issues with outlying settlements. Hugh would simply add it to the list, but overall?

[color=6ecff6]“This was a waste of time,”[/color] he grumbled once out of earshot. Granted, it was less of a waste than sitting around chatting, but the point remained. He’d gotten unlucky it seemed, and nothing of real substance had been found. Sighing long-sufferingly, Hugh returned to the party and set about his vigil properly, slowly patrolling a small circle around the cart.

(/._./)

A thought had occurred to him quite quickly upon his return.

[color=6ecff6][i]What the hell happened to Naivara?[/i][/color]

Last he’d honestly seen her, they’d been in town, as he’d split off from the group to attend to his own self-imposed mission. Had she seen his act as an example to follow? Actually, since he’d never really explained what he was doing, what the hell did she manage to take away from his actions? Especially given he’d often been lost to the party’s sight entirely and had to quickly jog down the road to catch up again.

No one seemed to be concerned about it, nor did they make mention of it even once in the following hours, as the forestry began to pick up in thickness.

Had… he been wrong? Had he misjudged her as trustworthy so badly, or had she simply managed to get lost? He quite doubted the latter, given that someone of her profession should be well versed in navigating the land, and with such a massive landmark as the trade road around…? Her departure seemingly couldn’t be anything but deliberate.

Perhaps… she’d been captured or assassinated? Somehow, that seemed more reasonable, given what he’d seen of her thus far. Perhaps…

His hackles rising interrupted any further thoughts in that direction, and Hugh couldn’t help stiffening up, as a strange [i]quiet[/i] wormed its way into the area. His gut curdled, and that ever-present feather-light touch of fey intuition once more knocked at his mind. It wasn’t just a lack of fellow travelers that brought such silence… but instead the all too damning absence of nature’s background noise.

An ambush? A large predator? It could be all too many things that would scare off the wildlife.

Still, it seemed as though his fellow half-elf was feeling that same intuition, as the cart crested a rise over a notably more forested section of the area. Abruptly, the purple-clad Bard liberated the reins from the tiefling’s far less adept hands and brought the mule to an abrupt halt, doffing her hat to apparently enhance something only she was hearing.

Consumed in his thoughts and having been patrolling behind the cart at that moment, Hugh had been mostly buffeted by the noise of ongoing conversation and the clamor of the wagon, but now that it was suddenly so silent?

The half-elf crouched and crept the rest of the way up the rise, peering over the side and squinting futilely at the foliage below. He could hear it, now that the noise of the party was brought to an overall halt, the sound of a grating harsh language that tickled at his memory. It seemed in this observational respect too that his fellow half-elf fared better than him, as she proclaimed the existence of green-yellow skin.

Goblins. It almost had to be. Honestly, Hugh hadn’t expected they’d be earning their pay so soon this far from the regional borders, but in hindsight, this… would be a good test of competence. Yes, as much as he’d love to avoid such conflict altogether, especially given that this wasn’t actually their mission, merely their official excuse, this would still do quite nicely.

[color=6ecff6]“Sorry to say,”[/color] Hugh muttered quietly, [color=6ecff6]“but in addition to Common (obviously), I only hold the Elvish tongue to my name… along with my rather distantly ancestral language of the Fey.”[/color]

Scowling, he found himself tensing harshly at the sound of the cleric casting again. Bracing himself, he felt some of that tension leave his shoulders, as the wave of damned magic didn’t come. Instead, Marita seemed distinctly disappointed, as she and Kathryn disembarked from the cart and readied themselves for battle.

Marita made a fair point about not barging in, but on the other hand… [color=6ecff6]“Under no circumstances should we bring our cart, as we descend,”[/color] Hugh spoke up firmly. [color=6ecff6]“Not only would we abandon any possible chance at subtlety, but the vulnerable mule could be killed in any conflict that might arise. It costs us nothing to leave it behind up here. The beast seems docile enough, and while secured to that cart, I can’t see us having any trouble tracking it down if it wanders.”[/color]

He sighed. [color=6ecff6]“That aside, stealth may be the least of our worries… and yet remain absolutely vital all the same.”[/color] Firming up his shoulders, Hugh drew his bow and checked the string’s security. [color=6ecff6]“If this is goblins, which seems most likely to be the case, and considering the presence of the overturned cart…? We may very well have a hostage situation on our hands.”[/color]

His expression darkened. [color=6ecff6]“I’ve dealt with these pathetic bottom feeders on multiple occasions in my line of work. It is difficult to imagine more cowardly, selfish and ruthless beings, who are -somehow- ironically the most prideful little shits around.”[/color] Running a quick once-over of his stock of darts, Hugh continued. [color=6ecff6]“They are proud, yet simultaneously at least subconsciously aware of their own weakness and maliciously clever enough to compensate for said weakness. And roving, uncivilized bands like these also tend to be sadistic cannibals… In all likelihood, we may yet have survivors down below, ready and waiting to be made meat-shields at the slightest provocation.”[/color]

He grumbled at the necessity of offering, but making a final once-over of his two heavily-armored companions…? Yeah. [color=6ecff6]“As a Ki cultivator, I have the ability to do something similar to magic. In particular, I can infuse a fairly sized thirty foot area and those of my choice within it with the power to be all but one with the shadows, leaving absolutely no non-magical trace of their passage. To a degree, it also muffles sound as well.”[/color] Sighing, he scratched lightly at his stubble. [color=6ecff6]“Personally, to be safe, I’d much prefer to scout ahead alone, but if that’s unacceptable, this is the best I can do to mitigate the chances of us having a much more morally compromising situation before us. If there are hostages, our best bet is to strike first, strike hard and get the civvies shielded behind us.”[/color]

Huffing, he begrudgingly admitted, [color=6ecff6]“I most often default to my bow in situations of uncertain opposition, but if things are dire, I can handle myself in melee just fine. In addition, my Ki can manifest a single simple illusion over the hostages if we can divert attention from them. I can make it about five feet wide in any direction, so it should be sufficient.”[/color] Rolling his jaw tensely, he exhaled. [color=6ecff6]“In all honesty, because I don’t use magic to do what I do, rather my own internal reserves of cultivated life force, I’ll be fairly tapped out on anything else of significant magic-adjacent value, but regardless, I feel the best thing I can contribute to our efforts is the critical element of absolute surprise.”[/color]