Scrawl Banditta
RPM
esqueleto
xVampire3go
Guardian Angel Haruki
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Hugh Caphazath Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: Pass Without Trace Location: I14 -> Investigating the Goblin Camp Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A |  |
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As quickly as things had gone right, they went wrong all the more abruptly. Even as he lined up a shot on the fleeing coffin goblin, a shout of pain and then scream of rage from Victoria drew Hugh’s attention to an apparently occupied treetop.
Cursing under his breath his own carelessness and for allowing himself to be swept overmuch into the rest of the group’s reckless momentum, Hugh readjusted his priorities to the new archers, only for the Bard’s scream to take up a new and enchanted pitch, the tree quaking under the force of her magic before depositing its far less alive occupants to the ground with a twinned set of meaty crunches.
Also on lines of thought he had overlooked, it occurred to him that taking a hostage to interrogate would be most expedient… only for the pale Tieling to core them through the back with another eye-searing golden beam. To say the least, they were quite dead.
Gritting his teeth, Hugh’s eyes darted around in search of any more hidden hostiles, but as the team began to squabble somewhat and panic over Victoria’s injury, he could see no others ready to take advantage of their distraction. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Hugh returned his arrow to his quiver and left his cover to approach the camp. To be sure, however, he felt no need to release Pass Without Trace. After all, it would last an hour with the Ki he typically was forced to devote to it, and if anything significant occurred shortly, it would be all the better to have it still up, just in case.
As the current blame-game washed over him, Hugh couldn’t help rolling his eyes, as he strode over to his first target. “Wrong,” he addressed both Kathryn and Marita, taking hold of the arrow in the goblin’s chest. “Kathryn has no fault here. If anything, the only ones to blame are Victoria, herself… and perhaps me. As a magically inclined Bard, and one of her particular magical proclivities…” He shot a look at Morty, before giving a grunt and tugging the arrow free with a small squelch, grimacing at the bent tip and tossing it away. Useless. “I assumed she would be a more long-range combatant, especially considering her far less impressive armor. I had assumed -as she seemed originally amicable to going with me- that she would have ranged magic to apply, and…” He looked at the damaged tree, as he strode past it and inspected his other victim. “She did. What I want to know is what exactly possessed her to lunge forward past her armored comrades into melee when magic would have suited her just fine.”
Hugh sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will admit; as far as culpability goes, when I suggested the change in battle formation, I made assumptions about her combat proclivities, and assumptions can be dangerous things. But make no mistake, our frontline was near flawless in their execution. The blame -if such must indeed be assigned- does not lie there.”
His piece said, Hugh finally reached for his other arrow and far more gingerly tugged it free from the prone corpse, nodding in satisfaction and the wholeness of it. A little cleaning and he could reuse this one just fine. On that note… he was never one to turn down new gear he didn’t have to pay for, and he turned his attention back to the first goblin he’d shot.
Rifling through the goblin’s effects, he frowned, unstrapping the quiver and holding it up to the light that streamed through the forest canopy.
This was…
“Good quality…” he muttered to himself, drawing an arrow from the quiver and inspecting it, as his brows furrowed further. “Good craftsmanship… Actual craftsmanship.” It looked professionally made, a stark contrast to the far more… barbaric make of the goblin’s leather armor. Both the arrows and the quiver were of a make that he’d not see shunned in the military or well-made mercenary companies.
Standing up with a pensive frown, he made his way around the camp and found a similar story.
Good quality weapons. Homemade armor.
If it were just one or two of them, it would be one thing, but the entire group of goblins was professionally equipped in weaponry. More tellingly, the only weapons they had were bows, shortswords and daggers, and all of them were in good enough condition that they could honestly be resold with just a little cleanup. The weapons had no identifying marking or branding that he could determine. One and all down to the hilts, they were perfectly identical and made to last, with none of the flourishes a public blacksmith might employ for the sake of appealing to casual buyers.
On the one hand, one could assume that the goblins had raided their weaponry from a mercenary band. On the other, any mercenary band that was professional and strict enough to have completely matching weaponry was quite unlikely to be the type to fall victim to goblins that weren’t so well equipped before ambushing them. However, if the goblins had stolen their weapons from guards, they would likely be wielding a greater variety of things.
Crossbows, nets, spears and full on longswords. A properly equipped guard group had far more to offer than mere shortswords and daggers, and though small, goblins were perfectly capable of handling weaponry that wasn’t obnoxiously heavy, like a greatsword. It beggared belief that the goblins would take any larger weaponry and have dick-measuring contests over their weapon sizes.
No, unfortunately, Hugh was more inclined to believe that some greedy piece of shit had willingly sold weaponry to these little assholes. That or in the worse scenario, someone was actively collaborating with the region’s goblin raiders to obtain greater profits and perhaps receive tribute through the goblins’ “spoils of war”. Or maybe they were even trying to destabilize the region.
It was too soon to tell, but this was too strange to ignore.
“We can sell these,” Hugh voiced aloud, as he finished gathering the weaponry into a pile near the cart that Kathryn was busy getting back on its metaphorical feet. “They’re uniform, unmarked, and of the same style, the sort you’d expect from the military and the like. Give them a good shine-up, and I’m sure we could get someone to take them off our hands. Well, whatever it is that you don’t decide to keep. On that note…” Hugh tucked away a dagger, quiver, shortbow and an additional thirty arrows. “And whatever you don’t plan on using, we might be best keeping around for the sake of the investigation. Something’s not right here. These goblins were far too well equipped for simple raiders… yet not so well as one would expect if they had killed their weapons’ previous owners.”
And they were voraciously hungry to have eaten nearly a full humanoid.
Despite burning corpses being nothing unfamiliar, Hugh grimaced lightly at the sight and smell of the remains of the goblins’ meal, as he looked over the scorched bones and lightly kicked some dirt over to snuff the still burning fire.
Taking a bit of a closer look, he found himself frowning for different reasons. There weren’t enough bones here to make more than a single body, which implied… that the coffin was being transported empty? Perhaps. Between that and the wine in transport, it was clear that this delivery was intended for someone of relative means.
Perhaps the driver got away from the pack of likely far faster creatures, which was… not unfeasible, considering the lack of a beast of burden corpse. Perhaps the driver had managed to mount it and take off. Then again, given that any corpse in a coffin would have likely already started to undergo rigor mortis or otherwise be exposed to the tender mercies of preservatory techniques, Hugh couldn’t imagine it being palatable even to goblins… unless it had been preserved for burial by a Cleric or the like, which was fully possible considering the wealth hinted at by this cart.
Then again, he could hear the sounds of a herd animal echoing in the distance. And if he could hear it, certainly the goblins would have had no trouble. They just hadn’t had any need to care. A cursory glance around gave him a general heading for the raided cart’s missing animal, but he had somewhat more important things to look at.
Namely, if these goblins were so well equipped, perhaps they were cocky enough to still be carrying some manner of written conveyance regarding how such had come to be… And if turning out their pockets also made him back some of the exorbitant amount of coin he’d been put in a position to need to spend, well, that was just a bonus.
