"That is the question that troubles us all, Keelan," he admits, his voice low and serious. "Goblin pests are a constant nuisance near the Greyfangs, yes. Small bands sometimes sneak down to steal livestock or lone travelers foolish enough to camp near the woods. But an organized assault on a palisade? With a Hobgoblin commander and a spell-flinger? That is... rare. Worryingly so."
He stares into the fire for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Goblins are cowardly creatures by nature. They only show such boldness when they are desperate, or when something pushes them. Perhaps a harsh winter in the mountains starved them out. Perhaps larger, more dangerous beasts – Orcs, or worse – have claimed goblin territory, forcing them down into the lowlands." (Orcs... troubling thought... Haven't had confirmed sightings this far east in years...)
"Or perhaps," he adds, his voice dropping further, a new layer of concern entering his eyes, "Something, or someone, is uniting them. A strong leader can make even goblins brave, or foolishly reckless. The presence of that Hob and Shaman together suggests more coordination than usual."
He looks directly at you. "We have defenses, yes. Oakhaven has stood for generations. But we are farmers and craftspeople, not soldiers. A determined assault, especially if led by something smarter or stronger than that Hobgoblin, could overwhelm us. Your arrival prevented what could have been a disaster last night." He pauses. "Did you notice anything else? About the goblins' gear, their markings, anything unusual?"
You shake your head slowly, considering Rowan's question. "Honestly, Elder, they just looked like… vicious little monsters in rags. Filthy, crude weapons, foul-smelling." You pause, choosing your words carefully. "I'm no expert on goblin clans or markings. To my eyes, they were just a savage pack. Nothing specific stood out as particularly unusual, beyond their numbers and the presence of the Hob and Shaman, as you noted."
You lean forward slightly, making eye contact, your expression earnest. "But what I do know is how to fight things like that. And as I said last night, after what happened to my caravan, I can't stand by while others are threatened." You gesture around the room, encompassing the village. "You've shown me kindness, given me food and shelter when I had nothing. While I am here, consider me an ally. I will gladly help Oakhaven face this threat, however I can."
Seeing the worry still etched on the old man's face, you press the idea that formed as he spoke. "Perhaps the best defense is finding the source of the problem. That cart might hold more clues than I realized – maybe about who attacked it before the goblins, if it wasn't them. And if there is a larger goblin force nearby, or Orcs as you fear, finding their camp before they find us seems wise." (Proposal: Active reconnaissance... Risky but necessary? Assess his reaction...)
You look towards the door where Torvin entered last night. "Maybe Torvin, myself, and a few of your strongest villagers could scout back towards the cart? We could examine the site more thoroughly in daylight, look for tracks leading away from it, perhaps follow the goblins' backtrail from the village? See where they came from, find out if they were part of a larger group."
You let the suggestion hang there. It's a proactive step, demonstrates your willingness to contribute beyond just reacting to attacks, and subtly positions you as someone with tracking and combat skills valuable to their current situation.
Rowan listens intently, his sharp eyes studying you. He glances at Meredith, who looks concerned but nods almost imperceptibly, seeming to trust your judgment after last night. Rowan turns his gaze back to the cold ashes in the hearth,
deep in thought. (Reconnaissance... Risky. Sending men out... but staying here blind is also risky... Stranger is capable... Torvin is capable... Might find answers... Might find more trouble... Orcs... a chilling possibility...)
After a long moment, he looks up, his decision made. "That is... a bold suggestion, Keelan. But perhaps a necessary one. Ignorance breeds fear, and fear weakens resolve. Knowing the enemy, even a dangerous one, is better than waiting blindly for the next attack."
He nods slowly. "Very well. I will authorize it. Torvin is our most experienced woodsman and Guard Captain. He will lead. Choose two other reliable men", "Torvin!" he calls out, Torvin rushing in from the back door, "Take Keelan. Go back to the cart. Search the area thoroughly. Follow the goblin trail if you can, but cautiously. Your primary mission is reconnaissance – gather information, assess the threat. Do not engage a superior force. Report back before nightfall."
He fixes you with a stern look. "You understand, Keelan? Information is the goal. Avoid unnecessary risks. Torvin's judgment in the wild is sound; defer to his experience of these lands."
Just as Rowan finishes giving his assent, the door to the house bursts open unceremoniously. Borin the smith stands there, his face flushed, not with anger this time, but with genuine alarm. He’s breathing heavily, as if he ran all the way here.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Elder! Torvin! Trouble!" he gasps, leaning against the doorframe. "Young Elara... she went missing from the wood gathering party near dawn! Her mother's frantic! They found tracks... big tracks... near the forest edge where she was last seen! Not goblin!"
The atmosphere in the room changes instantly from cautious planning to urgent crisis. A child missing, potentially taken by something large near the village itself – this might be connected to the goblins, or it could be an entirely new, and perhaps more immediate, threat. Your proposed scouting mission just took on a drastically different dimension.
Instinct takes over. The shift from planning a cautious scout mission to facing an immediate crisis – a missing child – flips a switch in you. You're on your feet before fully processing the change.
"A child?" you exclaim, turning towards Borin, then Rowan and Torvin. "Forget the cart for now! A missing child is the priority. I'll join the search. Where were they last seen? Show me these tracks!"
Your immediate, decisive reaction cuts through the initial shock in the room. Rowan's eyes widen slightly at your forceful intervention, but he doesn't object. Torvin, already primed for action, nods sharply, his focus instantly shifting. Borin looks relieved to have spurred immediate action.
"Aye! That's the spirit!" Borin says, relieved. "They were gathering firewood just past the South Gate fields, near the Old Willow bend." He gestures vaguely southwards. "Her mother, Lyra, is out there now with a few others, near frantic. The tracks... they're big, clawed, like some kinda beast... heading deeper into the woods."
"Right," Torvin takes command instantly, his voice sharp and clear. "Borin, round up four more able-bodied men with spears or axes. Meet us at the South Gate fields, now! Move!" Borin nods, his previous agitation replaced by grim purpose, and hurries back out the door, shouting for volunteers.
Torvin turns to you. "Keelan, you're with me. Your tracking skills might be needed, even if they weren't goblin." He grabs his spear, which was leaning near the door. Meredith rushes forward, pressing a small loaf of bread and a chunk of hard cheese wrapped in cloth into your hands. "Take this," she urges, her face pale with worry for the child. "You might be out there a while."
"Thank you, Meredith," you say, quickly stuffing the food into your jacket pocket alongside the roots (which you'd instinctively scooped back up from the table when you stood).
Rowan pushes himself up straighter in his chair, his frail appearance belying the steel in his voice. "Find her, Torvin. Bring Elara home. And Keelan..." He meets your eyes, a complex mix of hope and warning in his gaze. "Be careful. Clawed tracks could mean many things in these woods, few of them pleasant." (Fear: Dire Wolf? Owlbear? Worse? Pray it's something manageable...)
"We'll find her, Elder," Torvin says grimly. He nods to you. "Let's go!"
You follow Torvin out of the Elder's house at a near run, heading rapidly towards the South Gate. The sense of urgency is palpable. Villagers who hear Borin's shouts are emerging from their homes, faces etched with concern, directing you towards the southern fields with anxious gestures. The earlier cautious curiosity towards you is momentarily forgotten, replaced by shared fear for one of their own.
You reach the smaller South Gate – just a sturdy wooden barrier, currently open. Beyond it lie cultivated fields, bordered by the looming edge of the forest maybe a hundred meters away. Near the tree line, clustered around a distinctive large willow tree whose branches bend towards a nearby stream, you see a small group of figures. A woman – presumably Lyra, Elara's mother – is pacing frantically, occasionally crying out her daughter's name. A few other villagers, armed with sickles or wood axes, are scanning the ground near the forest edge, looking lost and fearful.
As you and Torvin approach, Lyra rushes towards Torvin, grabbing his arm. "Torvin! They're huge! The tracks! It took her! My Elara!" she cries, distraught.
Torvin gently pats her arm, his face grim. "Steady, Lyra. We're here now. Show us the tracks."
One of the men points towards the soft earth near the base of the Old Willow, just inside the forest's edge. "Here, Torvin. Clear as day."
You and Torvin move forward, pushing past worried villagers to examine the ground. The man wasn't exaggerating. Pressed deep into the damp soil are several massive footprints. They are distinctly non-humanoid, roughly triangular, bearing the clear imprints of three thick, powerful claws and a heavy rear pad. They are significantly larger than any wolf print you've ever seen, perhaps the size of a dinner plate. The stride between them is long, suggesting a large, powerful creature. And they lead directly from the edge of the field into the dense, shadowed woods. There's no sign of struggle right here, no blood, just the imposing tracks heading into the unknown.
Torvin crouches, examining the tracks closely, his face tightening. "By the ancestors..." he mutters under his breath. "Haven't seen sign like this so close to the village in years." He looks up at you, his expression grave. "This changes things, Keelan. This isn't just goblins we're dealing with."
Time: Morning (Approx 8:45 AM)
Date: 02/05/1042
Status:
- Hunger: Satisfied
- Thirst: Hydrated
- Stamina: Full
- Urgency: High (Missing child)
Inventory:
- (No change to Currency, Clothing, Worn Accessories, Bum Bag, Weapons)
- New Items: Small Loaf of Bread, Chunk of Hard Cheese (Added to jacket pocket).
- Location: Outside South Gate of Oakhaven, examining tracks.