The cries of the towns wizard, Makoto, brought all of our heads up, it seems whatever world I'm in, these damn goblins are there too. The ones we saw were from a clan called the Frostfall clan, though there presence is known they are never seen closer then 5 leagues to this town apperently.
Now they seem to be scouting out Coldcreek to gather the results of their animated scarecrow. This having failed, they decided to come in and finish the job themselves.
Three blue skinned goblins pointed at the cleric and shouted excitedly, they propelled their giant beetle like mounts forward...the leader trigged his mount to breath a frost that froze the creek and allowed them to cross and charge onto us. The few minutes rest between the scarecrow and the goblins was all we needed to refocus and bring a renewed focus to eliminating the threat to the town.
The goblins and their mounts bared down on us moving quickly between the trees, we rushed towards them to keep them as far away from the homes as possible. Axe and sword in hand I leap onto the first goblin tearing at him. Makoto unleashes a ball of roiling fire that licks at the enemies and the flinch screaming out in pain. Cool and composed the Monk, Shishire, unleashes a pointed attack, his staff dancing around the beetle mount leaving crushing blows.
Sensing the danger the beetles unleash their breath slowing us in our places, the cold chilling to the bone. The leader of the goblins brings a wand up and blasts screaming blue fire at Morwynn. She gasps as it englufs her and responds with two, 'screaming blue sheep,' that ram into the goblin caster. (Remind me to tell Morwynn to remain focused when she's casting spells, it's all a question of style afterall.)
Seeing her falling fast, I dispatch the goblin and rush to her aid. The others in the battle seem to be doing well, I can admire the commanding voice of the dragonborn calling out which hits are the best to make, although he better use that spear or I'm going to poke him with it.
The battle turns out bad for the goblins and the leader seeing his companions fall starts to chant, summoning some evil force. Haggard, angry, and completely sober I flank the leader with three of the townsmen. Each of us swing as he dances, and glows...suddenly he raises his rod high and screams the final word, just as he sees a sword pierce him from behind...through his behind. The power of the spell draws in to the blade, and the goblin hexer shivers and dies...withdrawing the shortsword a gleam of frost and slight blue glow remain.
The others see Polmund raise the sword and observes it for a moment. "Thanks for the ale chiller."
Nearing the creek after the battle we see an errie mist coming from the cave as well as the creek freezing near the entrance.
"I don't mind going in there...but'll wait until tomorrow, for now I need a drink."
(writers note: I hope you guys are enjoying this, as you might have observed my blog has been between first and third person, I'm trying to find a happy place in which to write this. I like something of a journal, so from this point I will try to keep it in such fashion. Keep on reading, next we go into the cave.)
Tags: Polmund Ranger D&D 3.5 Booze
