Spoiled Dinner Plans

It's a beautiful day in the Goblin District! The merchants are selling,, the artificers are sploding and the civilians are scurrying. Mostly because of the sploding.

In any case, it's an ordinary day in Goblintown and it's about this time that Skribbles, being a known quantity in the community, has a young (and small) child rushing up to her with big old tears in her eyes. Clearly, something is wrong!

"Help," she squeaks.

Skribbles looks at the small girl and says, "Aww, what's the matter? The explosions are nothing to be..." BOOOM! "be..." BOOOOOM "...be worried.." BOOOOOOM. "I'M TRYING TO CALM SOME NERVES HERE!"

Nizzi isn't too used to quite this many explosions, but grins and doesn't seem to mind as she meanders her way through Goblintown. Mainly because 1) the scaling is suitable for her, and 2) goblins do have some good brewing recipes, and she's always eager to get new ideas. But when the small child rushes over to Skribbles, the kilt-clad gnome pauses and glances curiously over in that direction.

Rhyn almost stumbles into the group of Skribbles and the child, but manages to stop herself just shy. "What in the blood-I mean..." She stares at the child and swallows the rest of her words. "Don't worry little one, I'll go find out who's setting off all these explosions alright?" The archer flashes a half-way friendly expression briefly before continuing on her way toward the nearest explosion.

"...my mom fell," says the tiny goblin child to Skribbles. She points behind her back to the rows of homes all jam packed together, as they are in goblin town.

Faranmidahn has arrived.

Skribbles places a gentle hand on the girls shoulder and says, "Alright, show me where she fell and I can help her out." She stands up to her full 3-feet height...yes...be impressed. "I'm Skribbles, Forge of Reos, and I can help her out."

Nizzi blinks, "Well, if there's a problem, I'll be glad to help!" She grins, the gnome standing about 3'3"... or maybe 3'6" considering how her purple hair is currently spiked up.

Leading a spider through the city to help acclimate him in steps was such a great idea. Faran, clad in her Funday best is walking her shiny black arachnid around by the reins of the necessarily oddly design saddle he bears. She ends up having to gently pat his side with every BOOM, though she looks about with an affected look of indifference belying the mix of curiosity and wariness she actually feels.

As good as her word Rhyn is headed right into the fray. Uncertain of what she's looking for she looks for someone or something that could be causing the explosions. As she does so she draws her bow and nocks an arrow, ostentatiously protecting the group with the girl.

And thus, the motley crew of individuals who are eager to help one young gobber girl are on their way to the collection of homes. She runs to the door and opens it. Her nose wrinkles immediately. "Ewww," she says.

GAME: Faranmidahn rolls perception: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Skribbles rolls perception: (12)+7: 19
GAME: Rhyn rolls perception: (9)+8: 17
GAME: Nizzi rolls perception: (20)+7: 27

Skribbles winces as she smells the air coming out of the door, covering her nose with the sleeve of her arm and grabbing the girl to move her back. "Uh-uh, sweetness. Let the big people go in first." She blinks as she realizes people are with her and says, "What in Reos' left testicle is that smell?

Nizzi grits her teeth, "Something not good, that's for sure." A blackness flickers over her eyes for a second, as she reaches for the door to open it, her muscles tensing as she looks ready for... something. Even though she's a gnome, she doesn't seem to hesitate in charging ahead! Or maybe that's /because/ she's a gnome...

Faranmidahn does take note of the small gaggle of people moving hastily through the district, particularly the one with the nocked arrow. She frowns and draws her own bow from her saddle and quickens the pace to see what game is afoot.

For just a brief instant Rhyn flickers her bow toward Faranmidahn, but she sees the spider and... well only adventurers walk around with pets like that. So she let the arrow slide to the side and kept her gaze out for anything /more/ unusual. More unusual than the oder as well. "Be careful in there, it smells like something unpleasant happened inside."

In the interior is...

...there's /no/ monsters?!

Well, okay. That was probably unlikely in he heart of the city... sometimes... okay it happens more frequently than anyone would like to admit but not THIS time.

Instead, there's a collapsed goblin woman in front of the stove. Looks like she was cooking something, but it's /not/ the source of the odour. Indeed, there are a couple other goblins here as well, also collapsed.

Skribbles turns her head back towards Rhyn for a moment and then looks back into the house. She asks the kid, "What does your mom do? What do these other people do? Are they, like, alchemists or something?"

GAME: Nizzi rolls perception: (2)+7: 9

While adorable to some, Faran's bow starts to rise as the woman's flicks her way, her hand halfway to nocking an arrow, herself, which, she probably should have done, already. As the weapon turns to other venues, the Lucht finishes nocking but keeps her point of aim low for the moment. Her spider, meanwhile, is familiar enough with the drill to move with her as they close the distance, then, "What's going on, here?" she wonders as she gets close enough.

Nizzi wrinkles her nose, "Well, that stench is just everywhere. Bleh." She frowns, "Smells like what elves would consider 'beer'. Feh." Her eyes glance around, as she moves towards the stove, seeing what exactly was cooking.

"I don't know." Rhyn looks over the bodies. "Fumes maybe?" The bow and arrow are tucked away and she goes to the nearest person, pulling them up into her arms and dragging them out toward the street.

The stench is, in fact, just kind of hanging around. It's hard to pinpoint exactly where it's coming from, but it isn't emanating from anywhere inside this home.

The goblin girl looks up at Skribbles and her question with big watery eyes. "She's my mom," she answers, as if that answers everything.

A quick perusal of the room doesn't show anything untoward. In the pot on the stove is a leg of lamb.

GAME: Skribbles rolls heal: (7)+3: 10

Skribbles walks into the house, heading over to one of the bodies that isn't the mom. She looks at the others and points, "Her first, it's the girl's mom." She keeps her arm over her nose, looking around a moment as she kneels down next to one of the other passed out Gobbies.

GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 1d100: (56): 56
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls perception: (13)+4: 17
GAME: Rhyn rolls perception: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Skribbles rolls perception: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Nizzi rolls perception: (5)+7: 12

All of you not ice that the street is eerily quiet. Isn't it dinner time? There's explosions and scurrying, but none of that is coming from *any* of the residences on the row.

Uh oh...

One at a time Rhyn carries the bodies to safety, spending as little time inside with the smell as possible. She keeps a sharp eye out for anything. But so far... there's just the echoing silence.

Skribbles shakes her head and can't figure out what is going on, but as someone who lives in Goblintown, she notices the eerie quiet and stands up, looking towards the door. "Something....it's quiet. A bit too quiet..."

Faranmidahn denocks and hangs her bow over the crook of her elbow and begins to weave a series of intricate gestures and looks into the building... and her eyes widen, "Get back, the air is poisonous!" She drops the arrow in her other hand and hastily snatches the reins of her spider, "Torrent! Back! Back now!"

"That doesn't mean we can just leave them in there." Rhyn states quietly, standing on the street now with her latest acquisition. "If its poison then leaving them in there means they'll die."

"mMngg..."

Now that they're out of the immediate poison, some of the goblins on the ground that you've already dragged out are starting to come to, groaning softly and looking very uncomfortable.

Skribbles turns towards Rhyn and holds up her hand, closing her eyes and murmuring some words quietly to herself as she casts Delay Poison, hoping they will rescue others.

Faranmidahn is brought up short by that. She indicates her mount should stay where she finally managed to drag him, dropping her bow at his feet, "Agreed, but quickly!" and with that, she jogs toward the building, "Can anyone do anything about the air?" She smiles to the Goblin with a, "Thank you!" as she notes the casting, but ventures a quick jog inside, as she expects her previous exposure to be slightly less. Therein, she tries to find a soul in need of rescue.

There's no question of going back in. Just a quick few breaths of clean fresh air before she held her breath and ducked back inside. There Rhyn darted toward the nearest person and grabbed them. Dragging them back outside to the streets. One, after the other.

People are starting to notice.

It's not the quiet they notice but rather the growing collection of unconscious goblins being pulled from the various homes. After the first one, there is a second along the row, and then a third. Goblins are starting to assemble, volunteering to help, covering their mouths and noses with scarfs and rags as they join in. Following Rhys' and Skribbles lead, they bring them outside to set them down, giving Rhyn needed relief. Poison or no poison being delayed, there is a lot of fatigue involved in pulling people from the building, and it shows. Skribbles is called on to treat them, as best she can, as well while others fetch the guard and other healers. All told, roughly two dozen goblins have been sickened by the fumes.

It isn't until close to the last homes are evacuated that the source is found: humming machinery in the back room, having been activated by a now deceased goblin. Skribbles would know him as Sharnokdo, a small time artificer who was quite elderly.

Apparently, he suffered a fatal episode while working on the device and, well.. the fumes spread too far.

The device in question, however, looks quite old. An arrangement of blackened metal and spinning blades of some kind.

It looks really, really old. Possibly even Kulthian.

In any case, the guards are thanking you for your work, and more importantly, nobody but the old man passed away.

-End