Turn 2C -- Back to the Goblins Turn 2C -- Back to the Goblins Turning to Talimar with an exasperated look on his face, Kersath shakes his head disapprovingly. "I know we promised them the ring, but does it mean that we ourselves have to deliver it? Can't Kuiper maybe do the deal? That trip to the marsh will take us a great way off course and we might not make it back in time. Maybe Kuiper can get a few guards to go with him so he won't go by himself?" Kersath asks with a hopeful look in his eyes.
Seeing the hesitation in Talimar, Kersath continues, "The journey will take us all the way back, beyond Milbourne; and as much as I'd want to journey through the forest, it will only slow us down even more. Then there are the hills...I simply don't see how we can make it back to Milbourne, then to the mines on time."
Thinking to himself, Talimar gauges the distance to the lair of the goblins from Thurmaster and then from there to Milbourne. Satisfied with his answer, he replies, "This errand should only take an extra day or two." The elf looks unhappy at the thought of helping a tribe of goblins, "It is a pity Beleg is no longer with us. We could have relied on his sense of honor to deliver the ring for us."
Talimar takes the ring from Tauster, "We will leave at dawn and return the ring. Dain, return on time to Milbourne and have the others wait an extra two days for us. If we aren't there by then, go on for we probably won't be returning."
Dain nods solemnly at the words of his leader as Talimar rises from the table to take a walk outside. With that matter decided, Dain and Tauster clear off an area of the table and begin the preparations of identifying the magical items acquired by the company. Kersath looks around the cluttered residence of the wizard and decides a bit of fresh air would do him good as well.
10th day of Alturiak. Early Morning. Thurmaster.
Kersath and Talimar rise before dawn, each of the elves needing and receiving only a few hours of sleep. Taking a light breakfast, they do not disturb Tauster and Dain as they saddle their mounts and head southwest toward the lair of the goblins. As the sun rises behind them, the two companions ride into the thick trees of the Thornwood. The thick over-hanging branches of the forest cast eerie shadows as the light of the morning sun tries to slip through. The shadows bother the travelers none as they are each comfortable and happy to be back in the forest.
Setting a rapid pace through the forest, they have little time to enjoy the beauties of Mother Nature as they try to reach the goblin lair as quickly as possible. As the sun rises and the forest floor becomes ever more lit, the companions pick up the pace even more moving as fast as possible to avoid injury to their horses. Dismounting at intervals, they walk alongside their mounts to give them some rest and avoid tiring them out while continuing the journey. Despite the rapid pace, Kersath manages to check the trail quite often and finds no tracks of orcs or other tracks beyond those of simple hunters. Plenty of game is seen and encountered as they hurry through the forest, driving most of it away from them.
An hour before sunset, Kersath spots a wide trail cutting through the heart of the forest. The trail is that of several heavy wagons heading south along with a large group of men. The exact numbers are impossible to tell as the tracks all move over one another. Looking to Talimar who nods his head while frowning, the dark elf turns south to follow the trail. As they head south, Kersath begins to notice the familiar surroundings and quickly realizes that the trail is heading to the old Parlfray Keep. His heart sinks momentarily as he thinks of some bandits trying to rebuild the keep.
Within the hour, the duo reaches the outskirts of the clearing surrounding the keep. Dismounting, they quietly move forward to take a peek at the activity going on around the keep. From their vantage point along the forest's edge, they see that a mini-camp has been set up around the ruins of the keep. Several men work within the area clearing debris away while construction goes on in the heart of keep itself. The men appear to be skilled craftsmen, all working too hard to be the normal bandits working on fixing the keep. Mounting once again, the two elves guide their mounts through the treeline and toward the keep.
"Good day, sir," calls Talimar to a rather large man taking a break as he leans against a nearby boulder. His bald head dripping with sweat despite the chill in the afternoon air, the man wipes his head before jumping at the call from Talimar.
"Wha---? Didn't hear ye ride up," the man responds as he bows slowly, obviously taking the elf, Talimar, and the hooded Kersath as noblemen.
"Quite alright," continues Talimar. "Pardon me, but what construction goes on here and for whom?"
The man gauges Talimar for a moment before responding, "Well, we're rebuilding the keep here. It's fer Count Parlfray. A weddin' gift to his son, I believe."
"Ah yes, of course," replies Talimar. "Well thank you sir, and good day." He then turns his horse as he and Kersath head back west.
The man rubs his head for a moment as he frowns at the backs of the departing elves. Finally shrugging his shoulders, he returns to his work within the keep.
11th day of Alturiak. Morning. The Thornwood.
Talimar and Kersath travel well past nightfall, dismounting at sunset and leading their mounts as they again take a light meal. Several hours after sunset they finally stop in a nice clearing alongside a clear brook as they each get a few hours of sleep. Rising well before sunrise, they are quickly on the move again, hoping to make the goblin camp around sunset.
Morning finds storm clouds to the north of the elves as they stop such a southward trail and move more westerly. Shortly after lunch they emerge from the cover of the Thornwood and can make out the rising of the Patchwork Hills on the horizon. As they continue west, they begin to see more travelers and a few farmers as they work their fields along the hills. Talimar and Kersath wave at the farmers as they pass, deciding not to stop and chat as they don't have the time to waste.
That night the duo camps along the fringes of the Patchwork Hills and the area that used to be designated as the New Mire. The land has now dried up considerably with the departure of the malfunctioning ring and from the looks of things, many of the farmers are trying once again to farm the area. The companions are thankful to have another quiet evening as they camp under the stars.
Shortly after noon the next day, the companions reach the area leading to the caves of the goblins. Dismounting and tethering their horses nearby, Kersath and Talimar quietly make their way to the cave entrance. Just as before, the goblin guards stop them short of the entrance. Once explaining their purpose and being recognized by the sentries, the two elves are permitted to enter the complex. Not surprisingly, the goblins have changed little in the time since the two were last there. The cave stinks of the waste of the goblins and the musty smell of so many living in cramped quarters.
Kersath and Talimar are finally lead in to meet once again with Grundlegek and Burrukleyet, the goblin shaman. Burrukleyet is quite relieved and mildly surprised to see the two elves and even more shocked when they produce the fake ring. Although Burrukleyet knows that the ring is fake, he is still quite happy to have it with him, his station in the clan secured as his gift from his deity now returns to him.
Turnind down the offer of another goblin celebration, Kersath and Talimar take their leave of the goblins, hoping to never have to see them again. They travel on that afternoon and camp in the heart of the Patchwork Hills. Feeling confident that they will arrive in Milbourne on the appointed day, the two decide not to travel after nightfall. Fully enjoying their time out in the open and knowing they will shortly be back in the deep underground, they are in no hurry to get to Milbourne.
13th day of Alturiak. Noon. Patchwork Hills.
Assured that their pace will bring them safely to Milbourne on the next day, Kersath and Talimar took time this morning to practice their swordplay. A rousing hour of sparring showed Kersath the eventual winner although Talimar pushed him well on many occasions. The dark elf could easily see the improvement over the past month in his friend's skills and knew that it wasn't long before Talimar would be considered a master swordsman. Kersath took the time to show Talimar a few of the finer points of fighting with two weapons, Talimar using his dagger in his off hand instead of the additional longsword preferred by Kersath.
Both companions feeling refreshed from the rest afforded them by the previous evening and rejuvenated by the workout in the morning, they ride confidently across the Patchwork Hills northward to Milbourne. Shortly after taking their light lunch, Kersath reins in his mount, his eyes scanning the horizon before him. A deep fear, coming from the pit of their stomachs grips the companions as they watch a dark shape approach from the north. Both elves sit their horses as they are unable to move, eyes transfixed on the shape flying toward them. As the dark shape flies toward them, they begin to make it out. Large wings buffet the air below it as it speeds toward them. Body well over seventy feet in length, with a trailing tail reaching that length as well, the shape quickly becomes clear as a rather large, very old green dragon. The venerable lizard pays no heed to the two riders as it flies over, a slew of sheep hanging from the mouth of the beast.
Almost as quickly as it was upon them, the dragon is beyond them and the fear leaves the two. Kersath looks to Talimar with an expression of shock and is met with a similar look from the grey elf.
"What do we do now?" asks Kersath softly. "Warn Milbourne or no? Head after it?"