Keestake led the survivors east, up and down low hills and through narrow valleys. The trek was not as long or arduous as the survivors expected, and after only a short time a high hill came into view. Upon the summit, a mass of columns and weathered stones was silhouetted against the gray sky.
“There!” Keestake called, pointing up at the structure in the distance. The old man swung around without warning, an black-fletched arrow embedded in his shoulder.
“Take cover!” Arthur shouted, grabbing Keestake and dragging the old man away from the center of the valley. Guttural war-cries, barely audible above the driving rain, echoed off the rocks littering the hillsides as two goblins with long spears charged ahead.
Wandering Encounter: d6 = 1, yes
Fate Check (CF5): Has the archer called in reinforcements? Unlikely (-1) on 2d10 = 11, yes
Fate Check (CF5): Is there any cover in the valley? 50/50 (+0) on 2d10 = 6, no
⚔️Round 1 — Surprise⚔️
Goblin Archer fires at (d6 = 1) Keestake — 15 vs AC10 = hit for d6 = 3 damage
Spear Goblin 1 — moves into the valley, not in range for combat
Spear Goblin 2 — moves into the valley, not in range for combat
The goblin archer, now visible on the hilltop to the north, fired another arrow, this time aiming at Poppy who was in the process of drawing her crossbow. The arrow sunk into the soft, muddy ground at her feet. The two goblins converged on Arthur, who had stepped around Keestake and drew his dagger. Arthur managed to dodge one spear thrust, but the other lanced into his stomach, bursting the seams of his padded shirt and drawing blood.
Bertram growled, swinging his sword at the first goblin. The blade swiped harmlessly through the air in front of the green-skinned warrior. Arthur, one had holding his wound, tried to slash at the other goblin with his dagger to no avail. Poppy loosed a bolt at the archer on the hill, but it went wide of the mark. Blanche raced to her husband’s side, using the broken spear shaft as a staff. The goblin blocked her blow with his spear.
⚔️Round 2⚔️
Initiative
The Party on d6 = 1
The Goblins on d6 = 2
Goblin Archer fires at (d6 = 5) Poppy — 3 vs AC10 = miss
Spear Goblin 1 engages Arthur — 2 vs AC8 = miss
Spear Goblin 2 engages Arthur — 12 vs AC12 = hit for d6 = 3 damage
————
Bertram engages Spear Goblin 1 — 1 vs AC10 = miss
Arthur engages Spear Goblin 2 — 9 vs AC10 = miss
Poppy fires her crossbow at Goblin Archer — 2 vs AC10 = miss
Blanche swings her staff at Spear Goblin 2 — 2 vs AC10 = miss
An arrow slammed into Bertram, the black fletched barb only barely pierced the leather armor but the impact rocked the big man back on his heels. The goblin he had engaged took this moment of imbalance to thrust, shoving the tip of its spear into the butcher’s gut. The armor saved him from major harm, but blood now trickled from the wound.
Arthur was not so lucky. The goblin slapped the man’s dagger aside with the head of his spear before thrusting it in and through the man’s chest. A sickening pop filled Blanche’s ears as the padded armor on Arthur’s back burst open, spraying her and the prone Keestake with blood. In a fit of rage and anguish, Blanche screamed and brought her staff down hard on the goblin’s head. The green warrior’s skull crunched beneath the blow, its yellow eyes rolled back into his head and he fell lifeless to the soggy ground. Bertram attempted to end the other goblin, his chest heaving with grief as he watched his friend die in front of his eyes, but the sword just wouldn’t connect. Poppy stopped reloading her crossbow long enough to stare in wide-eyed horror.
⚔️Round 3⚔️
Initiative: The Party on d6 = 3
The Goblins on d6 = 6
Goblin Archer fires at (d6 = 2) Bertram — 18 vs AC7 = hit for d6 = 1 damage
Spear Goblin 1 engages Bertram — 15 vs AC8 = hit for d6 = 1 damage
Spear Goblin 2 engages Arthur — 15 vs AC7 = hit for d6 = 4 damage → Arthur dead
————
Blanche attacks Spear Goblin 2 with her staff — 16 vs AC10 = hit for d6 = 5 damage → Spear Goblin 2 dead
Bertram attacks Spear Goblin 1 with his sword (-4) — 8 vs AC10 = miss
Poppy spends her turn reloading
Tears welling in her eyes, Blanche’s attempt to kill the other goblin failed, but in the goblin’s attempt to avoid her anguished assault, he fell prey to Bertram’s broadsword. The big man’s blade sliced the goblin’s head clean from his shoulders. Poppy’s crossbow snapped, but the bolt sank into the ground just below the archer’s feet. Seeing its comrades dead in the mud below, the goblin archer once again turned tail and ran.
⚔️Round 4⚔️
Initiative: The Party on d6 = 4
The Goblins on d6 = 3
Blanche attacks Spear Goblin 1 with her staff — 4 vs AC10 = miss
Bertram attacks Spear Goblin 1 with his sword (-4) — 11 vs AC10 = hit for 2d4 = 6 damage → Spear Goblin 1 dead
Poppy fires at the Goblin Archer with the crossbow (-4) — 6 vs AC10 = miss
————
Goblin Archer checks morale — d% = 50, flees in panic
➕EXPERIENCE➕
The party recieves 8xp each for defeating the Goblin Spearmen
Blanche fell to her knees in the mud, gathering Arthur’s body into her arms. Her sobs turned to wails as she held his head to her chest, his eyes wide open in shock and pain. Bertram crouched beside her, his big hand resting on her shaking shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Blanche,” he whispered, tears beginning to well in his eyes.
Keestake screamed, puncturing the heavy air. Poppy knelt beside him, holding the broken shaft of an arrow and pressing a strip of wadded up cloth against the wound.
“Hold it there, or you’ll bleed out,” she ordered the old man. She moved over to Blanche and sat down in the mud beside her, wrapping her arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”
“Are you certain this temple won’t be a trap?” Bertram demanded of the old man.
“I’m positive.”
The big man turned his attention back to Blanche. “We need to get to this temple. I’ll carry him.”
Poppy shot the butcher a questioning look, but said nothing.
“Go with Poppy,” Bertram said, maneuvering himself in front of the weeping widow. “I’ll take care of him, I promise.”
Slowly, gently, Bertram lifted Arthur’s body from Blanche’s lap. Poppy helped Blanche to her feet. The former inn-keeper’s normally sharp eyes were glassy, her stare blank. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but the sobs ceased.
“Come with me, Blanche,” Poppy said, taking the woman’s hand and leading her a little ways ahead.
Bertram lowered Arthur to the ground and, with a grunt, pulled the spear free from his chest. He drove the bloody head of the spear into the gut of the goblin that wielded it, anger boiling within his broad chest. He hefted Arthur again, carrying across both arms.
“Get up, old man,” he ordered Keestake. “It's time to move.”
The old man grunted and climbed to his feet. “I am sorry for your loss. He saved me.”
“He should have let you die,” Bertram growled. “You’ve done nothing but cause us grief since we rescued you. And it was Arthur who argued for it. I would have left you there.”
The old man said nothing, and followed behind Bertram. Melisana, who had remained safely behind Poppy, matched Bertram’s stride.
“That was rather harsh, don’t you think?” she asked the butcher. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “It’s not his fault Arthur died. It was no one’s fault, except the goblins. Direct your rage toward them, not against an innocent old man.”
“You’re wrong,” he growled. “It’s my fault Arthur is dead. I should have held the line. I should have told him to lead the four of you to cover.”
“Then you would certainly be dead.”
“And? I don’t have anyone to mourn me. I knew the others only as well as anyone knows their neighbors. But Arthur was the love of Blanche’s life. They have been together as long as I can remember. Now he’s gone, and part of her is too.”
“The goblins would have come for us after they killed you. It does no good to blame yourself. Instead, protect his wife in his memory.”
Bertram didn’t respond, and Melisana remained quiet.
Ahead, Poppy was still leading Blanche forward by the hand. The usually straight backed and square shouldered innkeeper was slumped forward as if burdened by a heavy weight. The shepherd did not speak, knowing that there was nothing she could say to soothe Blanche’s broken heart.
They walked for only a few more minutes before the ground began to rise gently, up the hill upon which the old temple rested. The hike was not strenuous and they quickly found themselves standing before a two-story wooden edifice. It was obvious that the temple was once richly appointed and well-maintained. The walls, now beginning to rot from lack of care, were crafted from thick wooden planks that would have been beautiful before the temple was left to the elements. Wide windows, spaced evenly apart, would have once been cheerful portals into the temple itself. Some windows sported once brightly painted shutters. Now, the salt and rain had dulled the color and most no longer had any color at all. Keestake led them around to the front of the building where a broken iron fence, the gate bent almost in half, surrounded an overgrown courtyard. The doors to the temple were broken open, one hung precariously from a single rusted hinge.
“This is it. It was once in better shape, but it should provide protection from the storm and let you rest.”
“Are you not coming?” Poppy asked.
“Of course, of course,” the old man replied, smiling a gap-toothed smile. “Follow me.”
The old man led them into an antechamber drowned in shadow. Blanche paid no heed to the darkness, or that they were, for the first time since leaving the Gloamtide, fully out of the elements. Keestake moved through the antechamber with practiced ease, almost as if he could see in the darkness.
He led them through a wide entrance and announced, almost proudly, “This is the great hall of the goddess Oë, lady of the sea, master of waves.” The old man’s quiet voice boomed off of the walls, giving the survivors the impression that the room was massive. “I will build a fire. See if you can gather up some debris for fuel.
Fate Check (CF6): Does anyone object to the fire? Unlikely (+0) on 2d10 = 10, no
Bertram lowered Arthur’s body gently to the floor and, leaving Poppy to watchover Blanche, felt his way through the darkness until he stepped on a rod of broken wood. The butcher gathered what he could find, and returned to the old man.
In only a few moments, Keestake had a small fire going. In its light, Bertram could see that, in fact, the goddess’ hall was towering. The light of the fire did not reach the heights of its rafters, nor did it stretch out to illuminate the entirety of the hall. He could see, however, a statue upon a dias near the front of the room. The stone woman who sat upon it was beautiful, with seaweed sculpted into her long hair. Shells and pearls adorned her neck and arms. The statue was, however, defaced with a dark substance that Bertram refused to imagine what it might be.
“Ah yes,” Keestake said, catching Bertram’s gaze. “The statue of the goddess. It was said, once, that she resided here in this temple and would speak to her faithful like I am speaking to you. I never witnessed it, of course, but my master claimed to have many conversations with Oë. It is sad to see the state of the place. It was run down before the orcs came and defiled it. When my master was alive, the walls were covered in frescoes displaying the glory of the goddess in all her aspects. Alas, it shall never be again.”
“We should clean her off,” Blanche said, her voice barely a whisper but picked up by the cavernous room and amplified greatly. “No one deserves to be treated so, not even a statue of a goddess on this gods forsaken island.”
Poppy stared at the woman, shocked to see that this was what brought her out of her shocked stupor. She hadn’t known Blanche to be a religious person, though she hadn’t really known her well at all.
“Poppy, you and I could go look for something to hold water. Perhaps we could fill it with rainwater and clean the statue?”
“There might be an old bucket in the kitchen,” Keestake said, helpfully. “It's through that door and to the left.”
Fate Check (CF6): Will Blanche go with them? 50/50 (+1) on 2d10 = 7, no
“Will you come with us?” Poppy asked Blanche.
The other woman didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and sat down beside the body of her husband.
“I will stay with her,” Keestake said quietly. “Take a stave from the fire, you’ll not have any light within.”
“Is there anything here that we should know about?” Bertram asked.
“Not that I’m aware. Maybe some rats, a few spiders, but nothing dangerous.”
“We’ll be back soon, Blanche,” Poppy said softly, then drew a stave from the fire and followed Bertram to the door the old man had indicated.
At first I was like wow, Keelstake is really having a rough day but then Arthur…Nooooo. Poor Arthur. Poor Blanche. 😞😞 another great one Eric!