DnD 5e: They took my little girl!

[The Fonz]

There were times when Jodove Osteroth felt like the worst person in the world. Right now was one of them.

The poor Dwarf was clearly out of his mind with worry. A terrible tragedy had befallen him and his family. And yet, at this moment, Jodove found himself wishing he had chosen any other inn in the damn province tonight. He'd been walking all day, and would be walking a good few more before he would catch a glimpse of city walls again. His feet hurt, and all he really wanted to do was to sit here on his stool, finish the last of this mead, and drag his weary body into bed - with a good book, of course.

Even as he thought this, though, Jodove knew he wouldn't be able to stay silent. Annoying as his conscience was in this moment, it wasn't about to go away. He

could

help. His mind, formidable many respects, couldn't come up with a reason not to help, let alone a

good

one. So he was going to help. One last resigned glug of his drink later, the Auburn-haired elf pulled himself to his feet, and turned toward the commotion. As he approached the bloodied Dwarf, though, he was preempted by another voice...

[The Fonz]

Jodove was relieved to see a handful of sturdy-looking folk surrounding the distressed father. He leant in towards the farm hands sat alongside him.

Smart

, he thought,

sure. But worldly? He'd never been accused of that before.

Enough

[/b], he said with a smile.

But I won't bore you with the whole tale of Blyq the Bonestealer right now. What I will tell you is they are...

highly

flammable.

Jodove winked at the men, and strode languidly across the room to stand behind the beardless dwarf.

[The Fonz]

"

You hold on to this, elf. You look like you're more likely to need it than me.

"

As the Half-Orc questions the injured blacksmith, Jodove gratefully accepts the Dwarf's potion, deliberately overlooking the potential slight. "Thank you, mountain-friend," he says quietly to Bori, in the Dwarven language.

[The Fonz]

Jodove crept forward, cautiously stepping in behind trees every few steps. As he neared, he looked out for a spot that allowed him a clear shot from cover.

[The Fonz]

The moment he heard the scraping noise ahead of him, Jodove cursed internally. He'd hoped to create an illusory distraction, and draw the goblins into a trap. Now, that seemed about as likely as the good night's rest he'd been hoping for two hours earlier. The Elf smirked, reflecting on how foolish he'd been to expect a bloody Dwarf to be able to creep up on

anything

. Still, no use in crying over spilled mead.

The wizard leant to his left, and launched a flaming projectile from his left hand at the torso of the leftmost goblin.

[The Fonz]

The Elf mage whistled as the arrow, headed straight for his throat, clattered against the barrier he had hastily thrown up. "Die you little green shit!" he exclaimed, in Elvish. It was always more satisfying to curse in a manner where one's companions couldn't be quite sure just how foul one was being. A pity there weren't more pejoratives in the Sylvan language...

Jodove lobbed another burning speck at the surviving goblin, then ducked behind the tree, hoping to hear the exclamation of pain that would tell him he'd connected.

[The Fonz]

As they descend, Jodove peered at the artwork on the wall, trying to place whether he'd seen it before. As the party edged forward, he spotted the broken chain, and wondered if it were of any import.

[The Fonz]

Right,

said Jodove, softly. I have a plan.

You two,

he tapped the two adventurers in front on their outside shoulders,

keep your crossbows readied. And you,

he looked at Elloria - and started whispering in her ear.

I need you to pretend you're...er... applying some robust interrogation techniques to one of our Goblin friends. The Orc language tends to be quite useful for this purpose.

Jodove took a deep breath, and reached into his mind for a spell.

[The Fonz]

Jodove was briefly confused.

I'm not sure how you make it Look like anything, but that's what we want it to sound like.

He clutched his staff in his left hand and began weaving his right in a simple, repetitive pattern.

[The Fonz]

Patience,

says the robed Elf, as the goblinoid screams fade away into nothing.

We hold position.

Jodove's view was obscured by the corner of the wall, and he had no desire to play the hero by trying to leap the Kobold and fire off a desperate firebolt. Instead, his left hand moving in a familiar pattern, a fallen pillar began shimmering into... well, not exactly existence, but the appearance of existence, between the two crossbowmen in front and the taller party members behind. Jodove Osteroth ducked behind the illusory barrier, and kept his eyes focused ahead of him, waiting for a small, greenskinned form to come into his vision.

[The Fonz]

Bhreh, temporarily clear-minded from the confusing magic, puts his crossbow back into the bag at his side before calling out:

"

Not a longshank! Not running away!

"

The kobold then charges at the goblins closest to him, delivering a hard punch to the head of the closest goblin; and sweeping the legs out from under the other goblin before slamming it to the ground. Bhreh then ducks behind the southwestern pillar and readies himself for the goblin's next action, before calling out:
"

You knock out one, I knock out two!

"

Jodove allowed himself a smile as he heard the reassuring sound of Bhreh handing out a kicking to a couple of goblins.

He darted out from behind the wall, and deadpanned

Looks like it's heating up in here, folks.

[/i] He readied a firebolt, and cocked his elbow back to fling it toward the goblin that, for some reason, had decided to jump into a large stone bowl in the middle of the corridor. As he brought his arm forward to throw, though, he somehow found himself waving energetically at the goblin instead, as the firebolt flickered out harmlessly in his hand.

Damn, honey! You are looking GOOD! That hat really accentuates those beady red eyes of yours! And that leather armor... MIAOW!

[The Fonz]

The hell?

Thought Jodove. He wasn't ready to stand there feeling embarrassed, though. Not with the goblins readying their weapons. He ducked back out of sight of the goblins, cursing whatever it was that had thrown him off.

[The Fonz]

Jodove briefly marvelled at the artwork. He felt himself briefly becoming somewhat hot under the collar at the thought of secret lore, before bringing himself to his senses. He took in the sight of the Half-Orc, brooding menacingly but clearly badly hurt from the flurry of arrows. Frankly, he was incredibly impressed that Elloria was still drawing breath. Grudgingly, given how intensely vulnerable the wizard still felt, he handed the healing potion to his companion.

Take this. I suspect you'll be trading a fair few more injuries with these creatures before we're done.

[The Fonz]

Jodove set off apace, following his Dwarven companion into the room. He came up behind Bhreh, and whispered in the diminutive Monk's ear

Hey, I saw another goblin trying to sneak in behind us back there. Keep your eyes peeled.

Then he raised himself to his full height, and surveyed the room. The sight of the repulsive ritual alarmed Jodove, and he hastily tossed a firebolt in the direction of the solitary goblin. Again the wizard ground his teeth, as the flaming missile appeared to be heftily off target. But as it neared the chanting creature, the bolt began to curve back towards its target.

C'mon,

prayed the High Elf, silently...

[The Fonz]

Jodove heard something moving behind him and turned to spot a goblin standing at the top of the stairs. Stikl, his comrade was enthralled by the nilbog, and that was the priority.

Behind you,

he whispered to Elloria, at least as much of a whisper as is possible when speaking Orcish, then ran to the right to get a clean shot at the creature. Putting some distance between himself and the bugbear was a bonus. He felt a strange magic washing over him, and gritted his teeth to resist. Soon, though, he felt a strange chant rising in his throat:

N-I-L! B-O-G!
Nilbog much smarter than me!

G-O-B-L-I-N-S
Elves worship you, you're the best!

[/i]

[The Fonz]

Jodove saw the Half-Orc fall to the floor again and grimaced. At the same time, a string of fairly lame insults about his ear shape, mother's profession and spellcasting prowess rang out, seeming to emanate from inside his head, but in a very familiar goblinoid voice.

Dammit, Jodove, if the Gods had meant you to be bested by a damn goblin, they wouldn't have made you an Elf!

he thought. At that moment, another greenskinned halfwit rushed into the room, taking a moment to look around. A moment too long. With another flick of the wrist, the Wizard sent a firebolt hurtling toward the newly-arrived goblin. It landed at the creature's feet, and as if frozen in time, first its boots set alight, then within a second the whole goblin was consumed in a column of flame.

Jodove smiled and turned back to the spellcaster.

Guess you're not the only one looking... hot.

. The smirk was wiped off his face almost immediately, though, as the red-hatted creature rushed the High Elf, swinging his sceptre and connecting with the left side of Jodove's chest. Osteroth was sure he felt at least one rib crack.

Gritting his teeth, he met the creature's gaze...

[The Fonz]

Smarting from the pain, Jodove just about managed to reach into his ingredient pouch and grab a pinch of sand between his fingertips. With a snarl, he mouthed an incantation and flung the sand on the floor at his feet.

[The Fonz]

As the last firebolt's trail faded in front of him, Jodove turned his attention to the spellcasting goblinoid snoring away at his feet. Jodove tossed the greenskin's sceptre across the floor, just far enough to reassure himself that the blasted thing wouldn't be able to reach it. Then he grabbed the chain he had procured earlier, and, with as much care as the limited time available allowed, wrapped his enemy in the chain, tying it off as sturdily as he could manage. Hopefully, it would hold, but even if it didn't, he had an idea..

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his Kobold ally rushing toward the fallen Dwarf, and hoped that Bhreh would not be too late. The thought was interrupted by a thump from the Northeast corner of the room.

[The Fonz]

Jodove finished off tying up the Nilbog, the chain completely restraining the diminutive figure as he slumbered.

I Guess you could say I had a spark of inspiration

, thought Jodove, and as he did so he thought he felt some kind of inner voice exclaim

Yeeeeeeeah!

Jodove touched his hand to a chainlink, and whispered a single-word incantation. Electricity coursed through the goblin's body, which shuddered for a second then stopped. Osteroth noticed a small plume of black smoke rise from the now-lifeless body, and exhaled. Was it finally over?

He walked slowly over to the corner where his comrades stood, a slight grimace on his face as the adrenaline of the fight wore off, and the pain from his cracked rib resurfaced.

Think she'll wake up soon? I don't think any of us are in much of a state to carry her back.

In spite of the ache from his flank, Jodove chuckled.