Tales of Cynroth Gethrane: Goblin Trickery

[Cynroth]

Cynroth looked to Orin, concern platered all over his face. Both of them had been hearing it for some time now, an hour or more. Goblin drums throbbing all throughout the hills, in an incessant, ominous rhythm. What this would portend, the pair didn't know, but doubted that it would be good for the residents of the Sundered Valley.

"Aye", came a voice from behind them,"ye hear it as well, don't ye?" The speaker was a dwarf, but unlike the majority of his brethren, wore not armor, but the robe of a spellcaster. "They are planning something... But what?", continued the dwarf. "I'll be finding out, or my name isn't Cadmus Runesmith!" he growled as he started to stride away. Looking over his shoulder he gave one last word to the Bard, and his Elven ranger companion. "Make for the excavation camp, the two of ye, others will be gathering there, and we belike need every blade we can muster. Now, go!!"

The two of them dashed off, to follow the dwarf Magus' order, for it was plain that he had the right of the matter, and that strength, and safety, lay in as many numbers as could be attained. Once there, they found that others were already arriving, and soon a band of a dozen, or more, adventurers, both seasoned, and untested, had gathered, even as the dwarf had predicted. Cadmus arrived on the heels of the two fledgling adventurers, and when all had prepared, as best they could, the entire band strode forth into the hills, to determine what the Spittlefist had planned...

Not far into the hills, the group of warriors were met by a single goblin, who looked at the assembled band without a shred of fear in its eyes, despite the fact he was greatly outnumbered. "Me diplomat!", the creatured exclaimed, "Spittlefist drums you hear call for TRADE, and not for war! Chief want trade with you, not fight!"

"What trade could your kind give us, goblin?", this from one of the more seasoned warriors, whose name Cynroth did not know,"Other than the usual trading of blows?"
"Rocks", replied the scrawny 'diplomat', "Magick rocks! Come to cave, and see!"

The assembled band followed the creature to the entrance of the cave, on guard for any sign of treachery on the part of the goblin tribe, which had long been a scourge in the hills. Once there the 'diplomat' displayed one of the so-called 'rocks' for the band to see. Cynroth, somewhere in the middle of the press, could not get a good look at what it was the creatured had displayed, and so could not determine exactly what it was that the creature had used as bait...

But, bait it indeed was, and its effect was almost immediate, as most of the band rushed headlong into the cave, the rush knocking Cynroth off his feet, and the force of his fall driving the breath from his body. It took a few moments for Cynroth to regain both his footiing, and his breath, but that was enough to fatefully separate him from the rest.

Though Cynroth followed them into the cave, they were a distance ahead of him, and he had scarcely entered, when the trap was sprung! The ground shook tremendously, as a portion of the ceiling ahead came crashing down, trapping those ahead within the cave, and forming a barrier to the young Bard from coming to assist them. When the dust from the cave in settled, Cynroth quickly studied his own predicament. Without help the trapped folk were in danger, to be sure, but he was equally so, alone in an area, where it could never be said to be good to be alone...

So, with a heart filled with foreboding, the young Bard steeled himself for the perilous journey back to the camp, in the hopes of finding help for those trapped inside the cave...

[Cynroth]

Part 2...

Cynroth stared blankly into the fire, once again cursing his helplessness. A dozen, or more good folk entrapped in that awful cave, at the mercy of the treacherous Spittlefists, or worse, and he could do nothing to help them. It had been a day since the collapse of the cavern ceiling, and the inability to find anyone to aid him weighed heavily on his mind.

"Ho there," came a voice,"you, by the fire! A word with you, if I may!" The voice belonged to a bearded man, dressed in well-worn travelling leathers, who bore a sickle by his side. "Have ye seen, or heard of, any strange occurrences in these hills of late? I've sensed that something is out of balance here, and seek to find the truth of it."

The talk of 'balance', along with the man's garb and weaponry confirmed to the young bard that the man striding into the camp was one of the druids, or nature priests that could be seen often in the Sundered Vale. As such, he would possibly be of assistance to the young bard in his plight.

"Aye," the bard answered, "there have been strange occurences here, and right recently at that!" Cynroth went on to explain to the Druid what had occurred the day before, the cunningly laid goblin trap, the cave in at the cave, and the fact that the others were still, to all appearances, trapped within.

"Hmmm... This bears investigation, to be sure," said the Druid, "I am Yuri Lornt, protector of the Balance. I will seek this cave out, and see what there is to be seen, accompany me, if ye wish."

"Aye, that I will sir," answered Cynroth, "I am Cynroth Gethrane, Bard and adventurer. Know sir, that one of those trapped within is a friend of mine, and I seek knowledge of her fate, good, or ill..." "Let us be off, good Druid," he continued, "for much time has passed, and I fear for the worst."

With that the pair strode off into the hills, keeping a wary eye out for the everpresent Spittlefist raiding parties, which were a constant scourge for those travelling the hills. Sure enough, the sounds of combat reached their ears, and the pair rushed to see what was afoot. Up ahead, two men were back to back fighting off a number of the vicious goblins. This time however, the goblins has chosen their victims a bit unwisely, as the pair were fairly accomplished swordsmen who cut them down with little trouble, though the shorter of the two had received a nasty cut from a goblin blade.

By the time Cynroth and Yuri reached the fray, it was over, but Cynroth muttered a spell of healing to ease the hurt on the injured stranger. "My thanks," said the man, whose deep tan hue bespoke of one accustomed to desert sun, and not the temperate clime of the Sundered Vale.

"I am Dhadmib Al'Faruk," he continued. "And I am Von Dracus," came from his taller companion. "Is your purpose the same as ours, then, to give these nasty little brutes a drubbing, so that they quit harrassing honest travellers?"

"I am Yuri Lornt, and we seek answers to some strange occurrences in these hills of late," said the Druid. He then indicated Cynroth "This bard knows somewhat of this, and is guiding me to the place."

"And I, am Cynroth," the bard said. "Ye seem capable, and if ye would, your assistance is appreciated..."

With that, the little band, now doubled in strength, strode forward, cutting down the few remaing Spittlefist goblins, to reach the entrance to the cave, and entered...

[Cynroth]

Part 3...

The four adventurers huddled together, in a large chamber, deep in the lower portion of the dank cave. "Friend Cynroth," said Von Dracus "it's obvious that you seek something in particluar here, what with the lure of treasure not drawing a bit of interest from ye! Tell us what it is ye seek..."

The young Bard looked at the three evenly, his green eyes empty of all emotion. "Aye, that I will, Von Dracus, Dadhib, Yuri... But not here, not in this place of ill-omen. Let us seek a warm fire, in a safe place, and there I'll tell my tale, but not here..."

The foursome had battled the numerous Spittlefist goblins within the dreary confines of this cavern, and had even discovered a secret place within the cavern, which was guarded by horrors from beyond the grave itself, walking dead, which was completely unexpected to them. Finally, in this same room they had met in direct battle with a hulking brute of a goblin, doubtless their current war-chief, and a human, a man of dark aspect which cast spells. While the young bard's skill in identifying magicks could only be charitably said to be spotty, at best, he did identify that the magick used by the dark man was of a priestly nature. After he had fallen, a quick glance at the symbol clutched in his dead hand confirmed the matter, and that the god the dark priest served, was Bane...

The four left the cave, and marched on into the night, a few hours walk later they found themselves before a cheery campfire, on the grounds of a trading post of the Exigo Company. It was here that the Bard began to relate to his comrades what had occurred the day before, of how his friend, the Elven Ranger Orin, had been trapped, with many others, within the cave they had just recently left.

"So, my friends, even as we fought i sought any sign of Orin, or any of the others, living or dead, yet as ye know...", concluded the bard.

"No sign of them at all...", replied Yuri the Druid, "not so much as a footprint..."

"Even so," said Cynroth "a full day passed, and I fear for the worst..."

"Fear what, Cynroth?" came another voice, one that the Bard recognized as belonging to Elentra Feren, another Druid that Cynroth and Orin had met in the hills a day or so before the events at the cavern. "What has happened to give you such concern?"

Cynroth briefly gave an account to the Druidess, concluding with "And no sign of Orin have I seen since, nor any of the others. While it looks bleak at the moment, I still have hope..."

"Now, who was this dwarf mage ye spoke of," asked Elentra "when the drumming caused the folk to gather?"

"Cadmus was the name he used," replied the Bard "Cadmus Runesmith..."

"Well!! and here he comes now!" This from a person at the fire listening to the tale whom Cynroth did not know. "Mayhap he'll be able to give us some answers..."

"Answers, exactly," growled the dwarf as he strode to the fire, "to what?"

"For me, I seek only knowledge of what happened to Orin, Master Cadmus," replied Cynroth, "surely, she has not come to harm...."

The dwarven mage turned to Cyunroth slowly, with eyes as bleak as a midwinter day. "The collapse of the caven ceiling landed right on top of her, lad. I am sorry, but she is dead..."

[PatriotBob]

Ah memories... but the worst part was that she really did get axed in the server vault roll-back. Ah but such is beta.

[Jaeram]

I was wondering what happened to Orin because I haven't seen her lol, but now I know your Caleb. He's already met some of my characters.

[Cynroth]

I was wondering what happened to Orin because I haven't seen her lol, but now I know your Caleb. He's already met some of my characters.

1: Tale isn't quite finished as yet, so please stand by.

2: Any assumption that I am a given character is just that, an assumption and not necessarily valid : )

[Jaeram]

Lol I meant patriot bob, it's in his signature *points up* , but great story so far, although I did think it was over because someone responded .

[Cynroth]

Lol I meant patriot bob, it's in his signature *points up* , but great story so far, although I did think it was over because someone responded .

Ah... That is the problem, for in most forums of these types in Persistent worlds, this kind of posting is usually not responded to by others (that's what PM's are for, I believe.) This helps to maintain story continuity, as any "replies" should be only a continuation of the story line. As PatriotBob *is* (or more properly, as the case is, *was*) Orin Leal, the assertion that the character is permanently dead should stand, and the planned continuation not go forward. (I obviously missed PatriotBob's signature line, or I would have posted neither comment...)