Official Lore Chapter 1.6

Onwards To the Coast

"Ah, well, that is...certainly an option for us," considered Snorkfin. "The Bogwater would be extremely helpful, either in talks with Arwen and her tribe or on the mountains. But..." he continued, turning to face the group, "this is not my decision. It is yours. What should be our first priority on this journey?"

Snorfkin's question rang out within the tavern, prompting some murmurs from within the group at large. A few quiet side discussions broke out, the group weighing the potential consequences of the choice. Snorfkin sat back and sipped on his tea, letting the will of the group eventually come to a conensus.

Gromprich, eager to return to the bog, called out to his fellow goblins, "Alright you lot, it's time to gather our gear and prepare for our long trek back. We've gotten what we came for, and some food on top of it! You're a pretty good chef, even for a bogwollop such as yourself, Ulfric!" Turning to Sir Snorfkin, Gromprich comported himself more respectfully. "Well friend, we'll be outside while your crew comes to a decision. Even if it's not today, you are all welcome at the Tavern in Poku Bog, and we'll likely have some odd bounties if you're at all interested in that kind of work. If you don't come take care of the Wodniks, I'm sure we'll find a solution." In a surprising move, Gromprich extended a very dirty hand for Sir Snorfkin to shake. This was a sign of high respect in the Northern region of the Vale of Snorf, and did not go unnoticed.

"Aye, we'll see where our paths cross again. I'll inform you of the group's decision shortly" Snorfkin said, taking Gromprich's hand and giving it firm shake. Afterwards, he subtly wiped his hand against his trousers to get some of the dirt away.

Turning back towards Ulfric, Gromprich once again offered a hand: "Despite everything that's happene the past few days, you can always come back to Poku bog. Though be prepared to work if you aren't paying next time - you know we can find you! HA!"

Hesitantly, Ulfric shook Gromprich's hand and gave a quick and silent nod in response. Even though he was cordial, Gromprich had a slight grin when he saw Ulfric's glum, embarassed look, being yet again reminded of the whole affair and his attempt to escape consequences.

As the goblins slowly filed out of the tavern, the party of adventurers began to finish their conversations amongst one another. Noting the silence, Sir Snorfkin took charge of the room again and called for a vote. "It seems time to make our choice, everyone. Those in favor of journeying towards the Bog and helping Gromprich with the Wodnik problem, raise your hands."

A few hands of party members poked out from the crowd sitting around the tables. It was not a majority by any measure. Most still remembered what really happened the night before, and it seemed to influence the group's eagerness to take on another encounter with goblins so soon after. Sir Snorfkin nodded his head as he took count. "And those in favor of making the trek to the Obsidian Coast?" he asked, although it was already evident what the likely outcome would be. A significant number of hands were raised upon the second vote, though some of the party members abstained from the decision entirely. "Well then, it seems our course is set. Gather your belongings and we'll meet out front. Off to the Obsidian Coast then!"

"Yipee! I can't wait for a proper adventure!" exclaimed Bee gleefully.

Anachron interjected: "Don't get too excited just yet. A dose of caution is always healthy, no matter the circumstances." "Aye," Kira stated, nodding in agreement.

While most of the group either shuffled outside or returned to their rooms to pack their gear into their rucksacks, Sir Snorfkin approached Bjorn. "I thank you for your hospitality and hosting our group", Snorfkin said, sliding a satchel of coins to Bjorn. "We might not make it back here in the near future, but I truly hope our paths cross again soon."

Bjorn, shaking his head, pushed the coins back to Snorfkin. "Even though I run things, it is your tavern afterall. Besides, if what you say is true, I trust you and your band of adventurers will be doing the world a favor. I'd be honored to house the lot of you anytime." Bjorn leaned close to Snorfkin and whispered, "Even that scamp Ulfric, he's a better cook than I let on, and I could use some more excitement once in a while. Though, maybe we ought to limit it to less violence next time!" He let out a hearty laugh and winked.

One by one, the group of adventurers made their way outside of Bjorn's Tavern. Turning to the goblins, they said their farewells, and watched as Gromprich and the others slowly faded into the horizon on their journey North towards Poku Bog.

Once the party was fully gathered, they started upon their trek to the Obsidian Coast. The expedition required multiple days, but the adventurers faced a relatively unremarkable trip. The days were filled with the hike towards the coast, the paths were well marked and clearly frequently traversed. However, the group did get slightly lost when passing through the Tangled Grove.

The Tangled Grove exists within a different plane, and while one can see the path clearly, walking through it is a much different story. Despite the straightforward nature of the signposts, the grove is enshrouded by a dense fog that hides the nature of the greenery. One misstep between the wrong trees is akin to walking through a portal leading elsewhere in the forest, or worse: to a different plane. Unfortunately, it is much too difficult to detect these portals before walking through them, only realizing it when looking back and not seeing what is expected.

Luckily, with the expertise of Anachron and his knowledge of portal magic, the group eventually, made it through the grove unscathed, but thoroughly confused as to how walking straight could lead them in circles for hours.

That night, after exiting the grove, the band of adventurers decided to set up camp at the top of a rugged hill which overlooked a large swathe of the Obsidian Coast. Shortly before nightfall, the group made camp and lit a fire.

"If you look closely, you can see the gates leading to Arwen the Red's encampment from here, it's not too much further. Let's rest for the night, and approach in the morning with caution." suggested Ulfric. His prior experience in the Obsidian Coast was evident, as he looked hastily around to ensure they were not being folloewd. Having traveled far that day, the group was too exhausted to argue for pushing onward. While it was a short distance, a rest and approaching in the morning felt preferable.

Tents were pitched and the party sat around the campfire. Aveanth and Forky couldn't have been more pleased, and jumped at the first opportunity to take of their boots and warm their aching feet. Nearby, a rustling noise was heard in the bushes. "Erm, did anyone else hear that?" Bee asked, slightly unnerved. Ulfric began to look more paranoid than before.

"Well, we're camping," offered Kira, "there's bound to be some ani...."

Woosh-shink!

A spear flew out of nowhere, its source invisible to the group, and pierced a wild Thornback directly in the heart. Thornjaws are deer-sized creatures with razor sharp teeth and a spine covered in thorns, hence their namesake. The beast let out a horrendous shriek, and slumped to the ground with a loud THUMP. Felling such a creature with a single spear was no easy feat.

Startled that the beast had been approaching the camp so closely, the group jumped to their feet - some reaching for their weapons, others diving for cover. While the Thornback had definitely posed a danger to the camp, the concern quickly shifted to the mystery of the source of the spear.

"Stand down!" an unknown and unseen voice called out. "We've been tracking this Thornback all day before it arrived at your camp. You seem to be in the wrong forest, and we will protect our land if it comes to it. Lay down your arms and move towards the fire where we can see you. All of you. Any funny business and our spearman will do quick work of you."

Though he was uneasy himself, Sir Snorkfin did his best to reassure the group. "Stay calm everyone, I think we've stumbled upon the Obsidian Clan a bit earlier than we had originally planned."

Calling out to the unseen voice as he moved towards the fire, "We mean no harm. We seek an audience with Arwen". Reaching into his cloak and pulling out the scroll, he continued, "We have an invitation, signed by Arwen herself."

All was eerily still a few moments. Gradually, several elves emerged from the darkness. These were not just any elves, but clearly a patchwork group of many races and backgrounds. The factor which united them was their hunting robes. The letters "O.C." were clearly embossed on the robes in a silver thread that shimmered in the light of the fire.

One of the elves, presumedly the leader, broke the silence. "If what you say is true, and judging by that", gesturing to the scroll in Snorfkin's hand, "it is, then you'll be welcome at our settlement. It's much too dangerous to journey there now in the dark, we'll stay with you tonight and travel together in the morning. I am Esmond Schwarz, leader of this patrol. Welcome to the Obsidian Coast, travelers."

Walking towards the bushes, two of the Obsidian patrol began to bind the dead Thornback and preserve it for the journey in the morning. The rest of the patrol returned the group's weapons after inspecting the scroll and the rest of the camp.

Bee, who had been stunned by the entire affair until this point, began to return to her natural state. As her curiosity got the best of her, she turned to Esmond. "Excuse me sir. I know we will see her tomorrow in the flesh, but I am dying to know, what does Lady Arwen the Red look like?"

Esmond indulged Bee's curiosity, and opened a small locket. Inside was a faded picture, showing a hooded, yet graceful figure. Burgundy red hair peaked out from the figure's robes. There was Arwen the Red, the (in)famous elven outcast. Her poise was elegantly captured by the image.

The excitement of the events began to subside, and the group slowly headed to their tents and sleeping canvases. A question loomed over the heads of all: What would tomorrow's audience with Arwen bring?