Farian immediately gets his rope off his pack and makes a loop, and lowers that end down the well.

"Put the loop over your head and under your arms! Use your feet and a free hand if you must to protect yourselves from the sides of the well. We'll pull you up!"

Narthian moves over to Farian and grabs the end of the rop to help pull the woman and child up. "Thunder, Guard. he said sternly to the wolf.

As the party of adventurers conduct their investigation, the barbarian patrols and scours the front area and keeps an eye out on the approach leading up from the road. He opts to stand ready at the front with the lady paladin.

At The Well



"Mia, hang on to Mama's neck," the woman says to the child.  The little girl clings like a limpet with arms around the woman's neck and legs around her waist.  Then the woman turns her face up, and it looks battered and bruised.  "I'll do what I can, sir, but I think I broke my arm when I jumped in here," she says with a gasp.  Wincing, she takes the loop with her left hand, and works it down around her body, actually passing under her thighs, and sort of sits in the loop, hanging on with her good arm.  "We're going for a ride, little songbird.  Hang on tight and don't let go.  This nice man is going to get us out of the well.  We're ready!" she raises her voice on the last.



Thunder looks around, pacing slightly as he begins a short patrol around the well.

Narthian lends his strength to the rope, and Dellas (and Bruenor, Drogo, and Haazheel if they wish) also join in, pulling steadily with Farian.  There are a few gasps of pain, and one childish whimper, but eventually a sopping wet arm reaches over the top of the well to clutch at the stones.  With people lending a hand, they can bring the woman over the edge and to solid ground.  She looks like a sturdy farmwife, blonde and blue-eyed, her hair in braids under a kerchief, now sopping and starting to slip, her clothing the sturdy, practical britches, long shirt, and smock for a working mother.  Her right arm between elbow and wrist is obviously bent in a way not intended by nature, though no blood mars her sleeve.  The girl is maybe four years old, a little copy of her mother.  Both are covered with soot where the well water hasn't washed it away, and the mother's face is bruised.  Both are shivering and wet.

"Gods bless all of you for hearing us.  We've been down there a whole day.  My husband, have you seen him?  Rath, he was in the house, did he bring you from town?" she asks desperately.  The little girl just whimpers and hugs her mother closer.

---

At the Front of the House

Sir Aberlayne and Volsh keep their senses alert for any return of the raiders who laid this place to waste.  Sir Aberlayne gets the horse on his feet and makes a makeshift halter from what wasn't wrecked in the barn.

Volsh listens keenly and watches carefully, but doesn't catch any glimpse of foes.

"We found your husband inside, I'm afraid he did not make it. This is going to hurt..." Farian takes the child from her and hands her to Bruenor, he takes her broken arm and pulls it into place, then casts CLW on her.

09:30, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 9 using 1d8+2. cure light wounds.

Bruenor moves into position and sheaths his rapier in one motion; gripping the rope tightly, he throws all of his strength and weight against that of the waterlogged innocents.

Bruenor accepts the child without hesitation, turning so as to put himself between her and the sight of her mother's arm being set back into place, trying to calm her as best he can.

10:05, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Charisma check.

Narthian did not have much experience with children so he took the chance to roll up the rope.  He did know that Thunder had an effect on kids and decided to move the wolf out of the area of the little girl.

When not in ear shot of the woman and little girl, he said softly, "Now it is more important that we get to town before dark.  We cannot risk these two.  I know it will be difficult but we must get them to move now."

"That should feel much better now. We need to get you and your daughter away from here and into town quickly before nightfall, Take my cloak to keep warm. Tomorrow, you and some of the town folk can see to your husband. Let us get moving quickly, we'll carry your daughter." Farian takes the little girl back from Bruenor.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Sat 21 June 2014.

Bruenor returns the child to the Cleric's care, returning to the front of the house. He approaches the paladin and barbarian and relays the other group's findings.

"Is the horse in any shape to ride? We need to leave without delay, or we could be stuck on the road in the dark, and now we have this pair to keep watch over," He urges, mostly to the paladin.

"You're right, let's move and bring them as fast as possible into a safe place. I send Mystique to scout the area between us and the town." On these words, Haazheel calls Mystique with a faint whistle and after a couple of gesture, Mystique flies away in the direction of the town.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:11, Sun 22 June 2014.

Sir Aberlayne's eyes get wide at the sight of the mother and child.  "He can be," she says in response to Bruenor's question.  She places her hand on the horse's side, and its wounds close up almost all the way.  She dashes back into the barn, and comes out under the weight of a blanket, saddle, and halter.  With a bit of help from a tall person, she can get the saddle on the horse, and the beast calmed down enough to ride.

The farmwife gasps in the relief of pain as Farian heals her arm with a single surge of Pelor's healing power, warmth enveloping both of them and leaving her hale and whole.

"Thank you, kind sirs," she says, and hides her face when told her husband didn't make it through the goblin attack.  "Rath pushed us outside, told us to get into the well and he'd try to hold them off..."  She holds back a sob as the rest of the group urgently gets them moving, helping her on the horse with her child.

Mystique comes back, shaking his head when asked about danger.  It seems there is nothing the owl's eyes spied on the last leg of the journey to Boltharrow.

Everyone else gathers themselves and heads back out, marching quickly down the road, hoping to outpace the sunset.  The last of the light is fading when the road finally opens up.  A heavy wooden palisade surrounds the village, several places scorched and blackened, spots on the ground outside burnt bare.  Villagers with bows and boar-spears can be seen just above the wall, patrolling and guarding.  Two stand on either side of the gate, their heads just visible above the wall.

A faint smell of old smoke permeates the air, and the place is very quiet, the noise of the town muffled.

"Who goes?" a voice rings out over the palisade.

 Breunor responds forcefully, using his most commanding tone, "We are agents of the Adventurer's guild, sent in response to your plea for aid against the goblins. We are also escorting with us survivors from a goblin attack. Open these gates, NOW!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Mon 23 June 2014.

As the band halts before the gates of the village, Volsh pivots to completely face the rear. He peers into the near darkness alert for any danger which may creep from behind.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Mon 23 June 2014.

"Hail and well met! Can you open for travelers to get inside to safety from these wild times? We have women and children!"

While the others were discovering and rescuing the pair from the bottom of the well, Averdante had been scouting a bit inside the edge of the forest, to see if anything could be seen.  He then stood watch on the far side of the house, so nothing could approach from the blind side.

On the matter of leaving versus staying, he matter of factly stated that pushing toward Boltharrow was the only option, that anything less was risking disaster, and nodded in satisfaction that the majority of the party agreed.

At the town gates, the gloom of evening pressing in around them, he keeps an eye on the edge of the forest, his elven eyes hoping to see what might wish to stay hidden.

The guards squint down at the group, then their eyes widen as they catch sight of the woman and the child.

"Elaina Bray?" one of them says.

"Get the gate open!  We've been waiting on these folk for weeks!" another says, his voice sounding more authoritative.

Two of the guards disappear from up top.  There's a long pause, some scraping sounds, and finally the gate is opened inwards.  The guards wave the party in quickly, and you hear a hollow log being beaten vigorously above your heads.  That seems to be the equivalent of a bell, because soon after the guards close and bar the gate again, several people arrive on the streets.  One wears the leathers of a smith, another the workday clothes of a craftsman, and the third is an old man a finer version of the second, along with a silver chain of office.  A young man near him bears a torch to dispel the twilight gloom, and you can see the lines of care on the third man's face.

"You're Guild members all?" he asks.  Assuming people show him their badges, he heaves a sigh of relief.  "Thaddius Harrow, I'm the mayor.  That's more people than I dared hope for.  Sometimes people look at goblins as a joke if they've never had to face them-  Elena Bray?" he breaks off suddenly, spying the woman on the horse.

The farmwife you rescued bursts into tears.  "Last night, they came out of the dark.  A whole filthy mob of them, flinging torches at the house and barn and slinging stones so Rath couldn't fire off a single arrow.  They went to break down the door, and Rath told me to hide in the well with Mia so he could try to drive them off.  And then all I heard was the most awful noises from them yelling and singing, and I never heard Rath again..."  Elena had been speaking through sobs, but at this last she can scarcely be understood from her tears, and the mayor coaxes her off the horse and gives her a shoulder to cry on, her child clinging to her skirts, before she's able to speak again.  "Then these folk rescued me, and Mia, and fixed my arm, and saved Blue," Elena finishes, tears still running down her face.

The mayor pats her about the shoulders in a fatherly manner.  "I'm so sorry, Elena.  You and Mia go with Will to Goodwife Hann's and get some rest now.  We'll be making sure you're safe."  The man in the craftsman's clothes takes Elena's elbow and leads her gently off into the village.  The mayor sighs heavily and turns to the rest of you.  "Not even agreed on a fee and you're already saving my people.  Sometimes the gods work in signs even an old man like me can understand.  Please, come with me."

The mayor only goes as far as the town square, and from there to a building marked with a quiver of arrows burned into the wood above the door.  "The crafthall, city hall, archives, and my home," he says in explanation, letting you in.  Sir Aberlayne and Dellas take a quick moment to dismount and tie their mounts to the hitching post before going in.

The main room is a large one, filled with craft benches, tools and half-finished arrows stacked neatly off to one side.  He waves for you to take a seat, as he and the smith find seats of their own.  The young torchbearer lights several lamps, illuminating the place warmly, before going to sit next to the mayor.  He pulls a book of loose foolscap out of bag slung about his body, and also uncorks a bottle of ink and fishes out a quill with some haste.

"My thanks to you, adventurers.  Redhaven's the only Guildhall we've had time to post our need at so far, so you must have come from there, and lucky that you spied the Bray farm.  Rath wouldn't hear of taking his family within the walls, determined and stubborn as he was to make things on his own.  Gods rest his soul."  The mayor sighs heavily.  "We've been having a goblin problem for a few weeks.  Little raids at first, then a few days ago, a concentrated attack on the village.  I'd sent a messenger south for adventurers just before that, first to Redhaven, then further west.  And I wasn't sure if we'd just get a few people looking to make a quick spot of gold against a goblin band when we've got a worse problem on our hands.  But with all of you, I believe you'll be able to beat them.  My folk aren't bad archers, but they can't see in darkness like goblins, and that's when they've been attacking, and I don't have enough trained folk to send them to the ruins.  What do you need to know to help us?" Mayor Harrow asks.

"Does anyone have a map of the ruins themselves?" Farian asks hopefully.

"Eh... a sketchy one.  I know it's around here somewhere.  Harris, when we're done here, go dig that up," Mayor Harrow says, nodding to the young man who's acting as a scribe.  "I can give you a bit of a description until we get that thing found.  We think it was some big temple long ago, with outbuildings.  There's lot of broken bits of walls and columns on the outskirts, a big expanse of paved stone with a fair bit of rubble towards the middle, and a place where part of the roof is still standing, maybe where the sanctuary was.  Part of the place glows on odd nights, blue light, and we've gotten an uncanny feeling from the place, so we try not to wake anything up.  There may be something buried there, but no one's tried to dig for it in my memory.  It's older than an elf's grandmother, if you'll pardon the expression, old enough that what few scholars have clapped eyes on it can't rightly place its history from what they could see.  Not that you get the cream of academy out here in the middle of the woods, truth to tell."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:01, Sun 06 July 2014.

"Thank you very much for these informations, Lord Mayor" says Haazheel "I am Haazheel Thorn, wandering wizard. May I ask you whether you can recall any legends or stories about this place? During my journeys on these lands, I discovered that legends, tales, bedtime stories are usually very informative. I think in order to take care of the goblins we might need to discover first the reason of these recent attacks and the source of their interest in the old ruins." Haazheel gives a gentle pat on his owl perched on his shoulder.

"Aye, and forgive my manners, I am Brother Farian Raymellie, priest of Saint Bane and Pelor, the Sun Father."

"Bruenor Sedricson," Bruenor adds, nodding respectfully to the mayor.

The Druid raised an eyebrow at the Mayor's choice of phrase but then smiled. "I am Narthian Goldleaf."  He reached down and patted Thunder, signaling the wolf to lie down.

"Drogo Underbough at your service. I would just like to say I would like to give up a fourth of what I receive to go to the woman and her child. I know it's hard for a mother without a father's earnings." Drogo says without trying to make it sound like a big deal.

"How far to the ruins from here?"