The Triboar Trail, Chapter 10. Group Dynamics

10.1 Parting Company

Nalfos descends the stairs to the main hall of the Stonehill Inn. Fresh logs pop and crackle quietly in the hearth in the otherwise quiet room. He scans the tables and joins Valoric.

“Good morning.”

“G’morning,” responds Valoric.

Droop the goblin, slung low in the chair, waves a stick of jerky in response.

Nalfos considers the staff in his hand for a moment. Now attuned to him, the glass appears warm, strong, and perfectly clear. The firelight is dazzling as it reflects and refracts off the crystalline surfaces. He leans it against the wall and takes a seat in an open chair.

Toblen Stonehill trots from the kitchen with steaming mugs. “Here ya are. Fresh herbal tea. Trilena made it fresh this morning. First time in awhile that she’s felt safe enough to venture out and gather some wildflowers. On the house!”

“Very kind of you, Toblen. A large breakfast for each of our party,” Valoric requests. “We’ve a long day ahead.”

The innkeeper nods, “Your friends, the elf and the gnome, already ate and left. I barely heard them rise. They seemed to be in a hurry!”

Nalfos frowns, “Called back on urgent business at an unfortunate time.”

“You’re a brave bunch to keep pressing on! It’s very noble to help us with our troubles!”

Valoric nods, “Rouse Meza, would you? And don’t offer her ale. We’ll be leaving soon as well.”

“Alright. We’ll pack you each some food for the road,” he responds before retreating to the rear of house. “A warm lunch is the least we can do!

Nalfos lifts his mug as the front door opens. Sweet smelling tendrils of steam waft across the table.

Zaf the miner doffs his cap and enters. “Thought you lot’d be up!”

Valoric waves politely.

Droop smiles and shakes his hand vigorously. Bits of jerky scatter across the table.

The goblin’s bared teeth and clenched fist causes Zaf to freeze in place. His eyes dart between Valoric and Nalfos as they nonchalantly sip their tea.

“Would you like to join us Zaf?” Nalfos asks.

The miner smiles and stumbles through his response, “Oh, uh, no. Thanks though!” He walks towards them. “Actually, I have to start my shift, but I brought this!”

He draws a slingshot from his back pocket and offers it to Droop. “I said some things the other day that I’m not proud of. I wanted to make it right.”

Droop stuffs the last bits of jerky into his mouth and grabs the small weapon by the handle.

“I used to hunt birds with it. It doesn’t look like much, but it packs a wallop! Figured a member of your group can’t go marching into danger unarmed!”

Droop croaks a “Thank you!” through a large smile while he fiddles with the small weapon.

“Alright, well, I should head into the mines then. Good luck!” he says, replacing his hat.

Nalfos and Valoric wave as Meza trudges down the stairs. Toblen yells from the back room, “Breakfast is nearly ready. Just another moment!”

Valoric runs his hands through his hair. “Nalf, we’ve had some luck so far, but storming a castle with just three of us? It seems like we’re over our heads!”

Nalfos takes a sip from his mug before responding. “Four,” he says, pointing the mug towards Droop.

Meza chuckles, “Four mighty warriors indeed!” She takes a seat as Toblen arrives with hot plates of eggs and bacon. “You’re scared of a few goblins in a run-down castle? What threat are they to us? Heads to bash and glory to earn!”

Droop snatches a crisp piece of bacon from Meza’s plate. He hoists it in the air and screeches, “glory!”

Nalfos shakes his head and shrugs to Valoric. “There you have it.”

Valoric shrugs. “Alright. Best eat quickly. We’ve a day and a half of hiking.”

10.2 Cragmaw Castle

The adventurers retrace their steps without incident and return to their campsite just north of the Triboar Trail. After an uninterrupted night’s rest, they break camp and continue along the narrow trail as it winds into the southern edge of Neverwinter Wood.

As they crest a small rise, Valoric stops. A large brown furred beast blocks the trail ahead. The massive beast turns as it hears their approach revealing a massive beak and beady black eyes. It surveys them quietly.

Meza stops dead in her tracks. “An owlbear?” she says with a note of terror.

Valoric makes eye contact with it and attempts to hold it’s gaze. “What do we do?”

“Usually, they just eat you,” Nalfos replies. “They’re smart, but savage.”

In an effort to appeal to it, Valoric bows respectfully. As he bends forward the sunlight glints off Nalfos’s glass staff. A prism of light dances across the trail, reflecting in the owlbear’s large black eyes.

The owlbear turns to the west and lumbers off leaving them to continue their trek.

Valoric stands back up. “I honestly didn’t think that would work!” he says joyfully.

Droop emerges from the flap of Valoric’s pack and lets out a gratifying yawn. He surveys his surroundings before emitting a small squeak. “There! The split tree!”

They each look further down the path, towards a gnarled and blackened tree. The trunk has been shattered by a bolt of lightning. Each side peels away from the center, threatening to collapse.

“How much further until we reach the castle Droop?”

The goblin retreats to the safety of Valoric’s pack. He whimpers in response, “Very soon.”

They pass the split tree and crest the next rise. Rough stone walls jut from the earth forming the decaying structure of a long-forgotten stronghold. The walls reach up in irregular intervals. Many of the parapets have long since collapsed and their stones are scattered throughout the grass.

The grounds are quiet and the adventurers approach the front entryway carefully. The twisted and rusted metalwork of the front gate stands open.

The adventurers climb the ramps and proceed into the entrance. The metal plates of Valoric’s armor announce his presence. He curses as several goblins inside the castle shout in alarm. He raises his shield as four crude arrows are fired through a narrow window. He pushes forward and the shadows of the goblins disappear from the defensive position. Their voices quiet as they retreat further into the castle.

Valoric continues past the fortification into a quiet hallway. Rubble is strewn in piles throughout. Sunlight filters in through the tall crumbling walls.

Meza and Nalfos join Valoric. “They didn’t go far,” he explains. “The doorways provide ample cover for an ambush.”

Meza smirks, “Glory awaits!” She moves deeper into the castle, but her boot catches on a thin wire as she reaches for a doorway to the east. She stumbles on the taught line and it yanks a buckling piece of lumber near Valoric. The sprung trap releases a wave of rubble on the unsuspecting paladin.

Valoric raises his gauntlet and shields his eyes as the rocks and gravel collapse upon him. Larger stones collide with his metal armor ringing out and echoing throughout the halls.

Nalfos, standing just behind Valoric, coughs and gags in the dust. He stumbles backward, but leans in to drag the paladin free.

Valoric wades out of the trap with Nalfos’s assistance. He thanks Nalfos as he shakes dust and pebbles from between the plates of his armor. As he does so, he shifts some of the rubble with the toe of his boot, revealing aged, human bones.

Nalfos nods and turns to Meza. He opens his mouth to scold her, but instead mutters an arcane verse and launches a bolt of fire towards a goblin creeping from the cover behind her. The bolt collides with it in a burst of flame.

Meza turns and lunges forward, skewering the goblin with the sharp tip of her massive axe.

“I heard more than the one goblin near the entrance. We’d better move from this ambush spot,” says Nalfos through a raspy voice. He starts down the hallway to the south, scanning the ground for more traps.

He reaches the end of the hallway and listens through the door for a moment. Faint rustling and high-pitched grumbling noises echo in the opposite room. He places his left hand on the doorknob and counts down from three with his right. As he pulls the final digit into a fist, his hand erupts in flame. He shoves the door open, revealing two goblins struggling to don oversized leather jerkins.

Nalfos claps his hands together and then flings his fingers forward, sending two bolts of flame streaking into the room. The surprised goblins pitch backwards in shock, narrowly avoiding the flaming bolts.

Meza scoffs as she elbows past Nalfos. She leaps over a small filthy cot and brings her greataxe down on a goblin as it attempts to stand. The swing decapitates it easily. As she heaves her axe, the goblin’s ally lunges from underneath the folds of another cot. Meza howls in shock as the sharp blade presses into her unarmored leg, just below her hip.

A side door bursts open in the hallway between Nalfos and Valoric. The barbarian woman’s cry is answered by the taunts of two more goblins.

The warcry interrupts Nalfos’s spell. He releases the bolt haphazardly launches into the ceiling, shaking dust and ground rock free. He takes a step back into the room and conjures another bolt of fire. The bolt skips off the closest goblin and collides with the wall.

Valoric shoves the closest goblin with his shield, knocking it off balance. It retaliates, swinging a curved sword low across Valoric’s greaves. The paladin steps backward and swings his weapon down in an arc. The sword bites into the goblin hungrily. As the goblin succumbs to it’s wounds, the sword calls out to him telepathically. He’s startled, but the voice is comforting and motivates him to finish the battle.

Meza twists her axe up and steps back. The goblin’s sword rips free from her leg with a spray of blood. She jams the butt of her axe towards it’s head, but the goblin retreats and her attack instead destroys the filthy cot.

Valoric wrenches his sword free from the goblin corpse as Droop snickers from inside his pack. He advances on the second goblin, it turns as the shadow of the mighty paladin looms over it.

Nalfos turns as well. The cries from his friend drawing his concern. He hurls a fire bolt into the room towards Meza’s attacker. Meza jumps in surprise as the bolt of fire streaks past her. The goblin takes advantage and stabs her again. She swings her axe, but it retreats behind another cot.

Valoric advances on the goblin in the hallway. They dance back and forth, trading blows until the goblin stumbles in the course gravel. Valoric skewers it and twists his blade, flinging it into a pile of rubble. The goblin lurches into the rubble. It attempts to scramble away, scattering loose stonework until it collapses and lies still. As it does, a bright white light sparkles from between the bits of stone.

The injured goblin near Meza scampers through the cots in an attempt to flee. Nalfos hurls another bolt of fire and the spell collides in a shower of sparks. The scorched goblin collapses.

Meza grabs a filthy sheet and begins to tend to her wounds. She looks around, “I’ll be fine Nalf. Where’s Valoric?”

“Still in the hallway. Let me go check on him.”

10.3 Resurrection

Valoric begins to shift larger stones in the hallway, exposing more of the bright light. He reaches into the rubble and removes the source of the piercing light, a blunt metal chisel. He holds it aloft allowing Nalfos to inspect it. “What sort of magic is this?”

Nalfos inspects the tool, “It doesn’t feel like any magic I know. It feels…like emotions. Agony, anger.. It feels like something is stuck!”

Valoric’s sword whispers to him again, “Show me!”

Valoric looks to the hilt in his scabard and then draws his sword. The sudden action causes Nalfos to step back. Valoric responds, “Let me try something.”

As he brings the sword near the chisel, the light begins to pulse and shine brighter. As the light becomes unbearably bright, both he and Nalfos squint until they are forced to look away. They both stumble backwards and away from each other. The weight of the chisel seems to leave Valoric’s hand. He reaches for his shield and readies it.

The light suddenly goes dark. Spots of light dance in their vision as they struggle to see in the darkness. A strange voice grasps for breath between them.

As the after-effects of the glare subside and their vision returns, they discover a bearded half elf. He is caked in mud and gore, a outdated leather tunic has been ripped open at the torso. Despite a lack of wounds, he appears to have been through a great battle.

Valoric takes a defensive posture. The shifting plates of his armor catches the half elf’s attention.

He extends his left hand, raising the chisel in front of him like a crude dagger. “More attackers!” he glares at Valoric. His face is mad with anger, but it relaxes as he spies the symbol on Valoric’s shield. “A paladin of Helm! I apologize sir knight. I’m battle-worn and fatigued. Reinforcements are a welcome sight indeed! With your help, we may still save the keep!”

Nalfos eyes him suspiciously, “Who are you?”

The half elf turns and again raises the chisel defensively. “Ah, my name,” he says, lowering his hand. He looks at the chisel in his clenched fist and composes himself. “My name is Owen Silversea of the Kingdom of Uthtower.”

Valoric looks to Nalfos and asks, “Uthtower?”

“Uthtower was destroyed. It doesn’t exist,” responds Nalfos.

“Destroyed? A cruel jest! I’ve been in Dardath for some time, but I’d have heard news of the destruction of the finest city on the Sword Coast!”

Nalfos raises his hand as flames begin to lick against his palm “I’m tired of these lies and tricks, Owen.” He flicks his fingers forward and the flames coalesce into a single bolt of fire. It leaps forward as Owen raises his hands. The bolt explodes in a bright flash inches from his outstretched palm. The outline of a small winged elephant remains etched in light.

Owen is the first to regain his composure. He stumbles backwards, bumping into Valoric. “Moradin’s beard!”

Valoric steps between them. “That was uncalled for!”

“I disagree. We don’t know what lurks in this castle. Traps and goblins, but likely other things more powerful, more evil.” Nalfos blinks several times, reducing the halos in his vision. “I know the names of the places he mentioned, but they are long since destroyed. This is some sort of trap. We can’t trust him.”

Valoric turns to Owen, “How did you get here?”

“I left Dardath a tenday ago. The recent news of orc warbands from the north raised my concern. I was returning to return to my parents in Uthtower. “

Nalfos spits at the ground, “This is nonsense. The kingdom of Uthtower was destroyed hundreds of years ago.”

Owen shakes his head in confusion, “Hundreds of years? You’re mistaken.”

Valoric asks, “What is the last thing you remember?”

Owen responds, “My trip was long and camping under the stars wasn’t safe. I stopped at this keep for the night. They allowed me to stay and provided me with a meal and a cot with the soldiers. As I lay down for the night, the watch sounded the alarm. I dressed with the soldiers and prepared for combat.”

Owen stops for a second as Meza’s mighty form fills the doorway behind Nalfos. “Who’s this?” she asks, sizing up Owen.

Nalfos smirks, “Someone with some tall tales to…”

Valoric interrupts him, “We’re trying to figure that out Meza.” He nods to Owen, “Continue.”

“The orcs stormed the front gate. Far more of them than we expected. They pushed through our defenses. We pushed back, but they outnumbered us. One of them charged at me. His axe…” Owen’s story trails off as he surveys his damaged armor. A massive gash extends through the stiff leather from his collarbone to his navel.

He takes a step back and looks up in shock, “I think… I think I died.”

Nalfos regards him carefully for a moment. “What year is it?”

Owen responds absently, “What?” He’s enthralled by the gaping wound in his armor. Underneath, his skin is unbroken and unscarred. He brushes his hands against the dark, caked blood in the leather. As he does, some of the blood flakes off and disappears.

Nalfos restates his question, “I asked you what year it is.”

Owen stands up straight and confidently responds, “The Year of the Shattered Scepter, 614.”

Meza barks a laugh, “Ha! It’s 1498!”

Owen takes another step back in shock.

Nalfos frowns at her, “What else do you remember? If you died, how are you here now?”

“I’m not sure… I was cold for so long. I couldn’t leave without knowing what happened to my parents, or Dulnar.” He struggles for a moment, shaking his head, “I was stuck.”

“And then?”

“I made a deal.”

Nalfos frowns, “A deal?”

Owen nods his head, “Yes. I remember a radiant light. It felt warm, and good. It asked me to continue my fight. I agreed.”

Valoric turns to Nalfos, “I think he’s being honest with us. I’m not sure how he got here, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” replies Nalfos. He lets out a sigh, “Yeah. I agree. We should probably take him with us.”

Droop pokes his head out of Valoric’s pack.

“On your back!” Owen Crys out, “A goblin!”

Droops ears perk up and he growls in anger before raising his slingshot. He pulls back and launches a large pebble.

Owen ducks as the jagged rock sails past him. As he lands on the ground, he hears a gurgle of blood from the shadows behind him. A filthy goblin lurches from the darkness. Blood drools from between the fingers clamped around its throat. After taking a few steps forward, its face turns pale and it collapses face-first into the broken stone floor.

Meza claps and cheers. Valoric turns and nods in approval. “Droop’s with us,” he tells Owen. “You’re welcome to join us, but he stays too.”

Owen turns from the fallen goblin to Droop and nods. “I’m no fan of goblins, but if he’s a friend of a paladin of Helm, I can make an exception.”

“Great!” Nalfos exclaims, “This room’s clear, can we lie down for a little while? I’m exhausted and we’ve barely entered this castle.”

They return to the room and select spots amongst the ragged cots.

Owen enters last. “Can I see your sword?” he says, gesturing to the scabbard at Valoric’s hip.

Valoric draws the sword and hands it to Owen. Owen inspects it carefully, weighing it’s balance. He offers it back with a nod of approval, “It’s name is Talon. It’s an old, noble sword that’s been passed through the hands of many warriors. It was crafted specifically to kill orcs.”

Valoric sheathes Talon with a nod and finds a stable cot.

“I can keep watch. I’ve slept plenty,” says Owen. He takes a seat and contemplates the iron tool in his hand. He rolls the familiar shape over several times and inspects the tip. The makers mark he cast in life is still clean and unblemished. He recites a song of prayer to Moradin in his head. He asks for guidance and clarity as his new allies recline and tend to their wounds.