[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/1LPpNsH/Signpost-Avonshire.jpg[/img][/center] [center][img]https://i.ibb.co/16tCqTN/Combat-Header-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] [center][hider=Battle Map][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c27085c7-d570-4444-966f-128e0d793255.png[/img][/hider][/center] Aside from the occasional laughter and snatch of conversation in a guttural, whiny language that no one seems to be able to understand, a series of burps (birthed of pilfered wine) let fly in a competitive nature for volume, depth, and duration, and the occasional meat-fart, most of what can be heard is the rustle of wind through leaves. No animals, be they the beasts of the earth or the birds of the sky; nary a cricket chirp nor scratching of an unwary squirrel upon tree bark could be heard over the gibbering victory sounds of the inebriated antagonists. The aroma of meat and sizzling fat hung irregularly in the air at the whims of the prevailing breeze, which itself suppressed the otherwise omnipresent scents of a rural autumn. As this group of intrepid adventurers silently (and dear sweet [i]bacon[/i] was it silent) moved to their intended locations to attempt control over the likely field of battle, the Goblins did not seem any the wiser. There was one moment where a single diminutive greenish bandit stood from near the fire, its mouth agape and eyes suddenly wide. A skinny arm reached up in the general direction of the party as they maneuvered, quite possibly to alert the others to the uninvited approach of tall humanoids to ruin their feasting and fun. The next second saw this Goblin close his eyes tight and let forth a single, quite gooey sneeze upon one of its fellow before crouching back down, blissfully unaware of anything amiss happening and returning to chew on a couple of bones before tossing them into the fire, stripped of any discernible flesh. A fuss was kicked up around the fire, following the phlegmy assault, but nothing that didn't resolve itself in a short moment. No one even seemed to notice the shadows deepening on the other side of the road and upon it; no twitch of ear or uttering to indicate that they saw anything moving from within it. The lookout is still laying atop the large rock, bow in hand yet apparently so addled by drink as to not know and/or care about the events around. So the question persists; what do you do?