The ranch house was actually very nice to walk through, Thora considered, especially now that there wasn’t an immediate need to confront an entire band of thugs, ruffians, and bandits. The library upstairs was particularly intriguing! There didn’t seem to be any sort of organization, or method, to the collection, just shelves and shelves of books across all genres, languages, and quality. Thumbing through the pages of one such oddity, Thora found a paragraph about the Enkerian empire to the south:

Kael’s deeds were as boundless as the skies, as he journeyed through realms unknown to mortals, vanquishing ancient evils that dared to defy the sanctity of Enker. Amidst the crescendo of epic battles, Kael’s heart found an ethereal melody in the form of the enchanting warrior Laneia. With cascading ebony locks and eyes like pools of celestial waters, Laneia was the epitome of beauty that graced Enker’s grandeur. Their love blossomed under the moonlit forests, an ode to passion that echoed through the gardens and whispered on the wind.

Kael’s Fall, Tales of Enker

This seemed like a good read for those long nights when Thora didn’t feel like knitting. Stowing it away, Thora moved along the books, thumbing through the titles. A few dictionaries seemed to be here, but languages were never Thora’s strong suit. Duanne seemed more than happy to tuck an elven and halfling dictionary into his pack, but for the most part the books would be better served back in the school at Wilted Gulch. It took at least an hour for the group of them to bring all the tomes down and pile it into their wagon under the approving eye of Sheriff Deen. Hopefully the children of Wilted Gulch might benefit from the collection.

While some of the others searched the house, Thora found one of the least filthy beds and settled in with the Tales of Enker to rest a little and treat the nasty wound left by that bandit’s blade. A shout from down the hall let Thora know that one of the others had found something of interest. The main office featured a wanted poster of the Cavendish fellow whose body currently lay in the back hall. Apparently the subject of interest had been using it as a dart board. In the desk, the others had found a ledger that seemed to indicate specific amounts that had been taken from various businesses around the area. While the records seemed detailed, there didn’t seem to be any sort of sustainable plan to their enterprise. There also didn’t seem to be any sign of where Cavendish had stowed his hoard, until Duanne started searching the nearby bookcases and found that one particular bookshelf held its tomes captive, refusing to surrender them to the tortle.

It’s probably not the one labelled ‘Treasure’

The wizard seemed intent on closely examining all of the books on the shelf, intrigued that they wouldn’t come loose. Each one seemed to click into place, as if triggering a mechanism. An interesting contraption, but why would somebody do this? The tortle kept pulling on them, in different orders, until a poison trap fired off in the wizard’s face, causing him to recoil.

The presence of the trap indicated something valuable may have been located there. Examining the dust for traces of use, there seemed to be about six books that had been moved more than the others, with a variety of titles including Ardent’s Axe, Erotic Elemental, Failsafe, Signs and Sigils, Treasure, and the dubiously named Not a Trap. While there were many other books on the shelf, Thora’s attention was focused on these six, and particularly the three that seemed likely to be a problem.

After restraining Duanne long enough to make sure the tortle wouldn’t keep pulling on trapped books, Thora went to work. It took time, but the dwarf was able to gently pry open a board to reveal the trap behind the Treasure tome. Disabling it was trivial at that point. Unsurprisingly, Thora’s efforts found another mechanism linked to the Not a Trap volume which had also managed to explode in Duanne’s face. The dwarf eyed the remaining four and decided to check the one labelled Failsafe, just to be sure. Finding nothing, the dwarf was about to move for another when the wizard asked again what the titles were.

“Ardent’s Axe, Erotic Elemental, Failsafe, and Signs and Sigils”, Thora replied, unsure of why the wizard was asking.

“That spells SAFE, if ordered correctly!” shouted the wizard.

He was right, it did! Activating the books in that order clicked them into place, followed by the sound of metallic gears sliding as a panel of the bookcase slid out of the way to reveal a combination safe. The Cavendish fellow had certainly taken steps to protect his interests, but this was not exactly unexpected given the thug’s short-sighted plan for a quick score. Cavendish likely expected somebody like him might come for his goods.

The dwarf’s knuckles cracked as Thora’s hands stretched out with interlocked fingers. It had been a long while since the rogue had tried to break into a safe of some kind. It was mandatory training as part of the special unit Thora had been recruited into, but that had been quite a while ago. Thora suggested to the others to look for any sign of a combination or numerical clue while the dwarf leaned into the safe.

With eyes closed, Thora focused attention on the sound of the tumblers in the safe. Some of these old safes were noisier than others and with the right amount of care you could make out the clicks. Rotating the dial slowly, Thora listened for the telltale noise, not hearing anything until the dial was almost all the way around. A faint, but definitely audible sound, brought Thora’s dial spin to a complete stop. Locking in the first part of the combination, Thora dialed again and again.

Zearach reported that there was no indication of any numerical clues, but Thora held up one finger to indicate silence. Almost there…

*CLICK*

The last tumbler fell into place and the safe door easily swung open. Inside was a mound of coins that had been taken from businesses and villagers all over the area. Sliding them into a pack for later examination, Thora also caused a few bottles to spill out as well. Quite the haul!

Establishing the Kobold Ko-op

It was the middle of the night at this point and the dwarf’s eyes ached for a little sleep as the adrenaline wore off. There was still quite a lot of work to do, though, so rest was going to have to wait. Combing through the ranch house uncovered a collection of weaponry and other mundane, but useful, items. The tortle and elf had even managed to find a secret tunnel at the bottom of the well which yielded some fine elven wine as a reward. As the others brought things out to to the wagon, Thora helped Alandal load all of the items up onto the cart, packing the back tightly as they filled every space available. As the two of them were about to place down two sets of very nice armour, the bard and rogue glanced sidelong at each other, before sharing a nod and a wink and proceeding to swap them out for their own. Decent luck that both of them found sets that could fit a dragonborn and a dwarf! The sheriff shook her head at the two of them before turning to speak with a small figure who was excitedly pointing at something in the dark.

The kobold leader, Munch, had been having quite the discussion with the other members of the kobold servant force here on the ranch. Deen and Munch seemed to have come to some sort of understanding about keeping the ranch running under the kobold’s leadership. The kobolds already knew how to work the place and were already living here. At least this way they would have some say in how the business ran, and Munch had already shown he had been looking for a bigger challenge than just being someone’s indentured labourer. That seemed right to Thora, a just reward for Munch who had risked quite a lot to lead them here this night.

Stepping away from the wagon to look around, Thora wandered over to the stables to see what the brigands had kept in there. Other than the usual ranching equipment, the rogue was pleased to find three fine riding horses. They wouldn’t be winning any prizes at the fair, but they looked strong and had been treated fairly well. Thora hadn’t ridden much, dwarves didn’t tend to ride horses under the mountain, but the others would certainly be glad to have a break from the back end of the wagon, especially now that they had filled it with so much equipment.

Just to be sure, Thora checked with Munch to make sure he wouldn’t mind letting the horses come with them. The dwarf was fairly certain the kobolds were far too small to make use of them, but this ranch was theirs now, along with everything on it, and it seemed the polite thing to ask. As Thora expected, the new ranch owner had no issue with letting go of the riding horses and graciously offered them to the travelling group of would-be heroes.

With dawn fast approaching and a long ride ahead of them, the group retired to the ranch house to rest. Wilted Gulch could wait a few hours more.

Returning to Wilted Gulch

The next day, while holding the reins, Thora’s mind began to wander, imagining the looks on the people’s faces in town as they rode in with a wagon full of equipment to hand out. This was what Thora had wanted: the chance to take the risk and help those in need. The forge never had the same fulfillment, at least not once Thora had tasted the feel of battle for a cause.

A bump in the road brought Thora back to the moment at hand and caused the dwarf to scan quickly to make sure the wagon wasn’t heading off the road. The sheriff sat in the other seat while on either side of the wagon rode the rest of the party with the horses they had commandeered from the stable. On the dark deserted roadway, the cool wind ruffled their hair, while the warm smell of the desert rose up in the air to meet them. Up ahead, in the distance, Thora saw a shimmering light. Then it was gone? Perhaps it would be better to pay closer attention to where they were going, Thora thought with a shake of the head. Can’t be going about seeing things that aren’t there.

When the town of Wilted Gulch finally came into view, a bit of the weariness of the road fell away, replaced with the excitement that always rose up in Thora upon arrival at a destination. This small desert town wasn’t home, but it also wasn’t a trail kicking dust up in your eyes with nothing much to see as far as the eye could see. It was a welcome sight.

There was no parade set out to welcome the heroes, no cheering from the windows, just the furtive glances from behind curtained windows. Arriving at the sheriff’s station, the group dismounted and unlocked the prisoner’s cage on the wagon. The lone surviving captive they had been carting around was to become a guest at Sheriff Deen’s station, indefinitely perhaps, so long as the locals didn’t have other plans for him.

Placing Cavendish’s poster on her desk, Deen dropped a sack of gold on top of the dead man’s face.

“Your reward, folks: three hundred gold coin, alive or dead” the Sheriff offered. The group hadn’t talked about the reward, and honestly Thora had forgotten all about it, having been focused on the job and getting it done. In the end, the others agreed to let the town keep the reward to help rebuild the local businesses that had been hurt by Cavendish and his thugs. Sheriff Deen shrugged and offered instead a letter of record that they could use to show proof of the help they had given to Wilted Gulch. Thora had been drawn at first to the town because of a similar promise and this would certainly help with building a reputation in the region.

Outside, Duanne and Alandal were setting up a booth to hand out to those who were in need. Between the gold being handed out and the goods from the ranch house, a bit of commotion was beginning in the town streets. A little too much commotion. Folks had been keeping themselves shut in because of the Cavendish gang, but this seemed like far too many people spilling out from the nearby buildings. These small homes were filled with eight to ten people, multiple families under a single small roof. They were practically packed in like hearthbread in a basket.

The Sheriff explained that the population of the town had been growing rather rapidly recently, despite the Cavendish gang coming around. A band of goblins had been making the rounds outside of town, pillaging, harassing, and sometimes killing those in the outlying farms and homesteads. It had driven a lot of people into Wilted Gulch over the past few weeks and was definitely the most pressing issue facing the town now that Cavendish and his bullies had been dealt with. Thora looked at the others with an eyebrow raised. They had only just met a few days ago but it seemed like fate was dealing them an opportunity to do some good together, and the soldier knew that a squad that trusted each other would always work better than a lone operative. It didn’t take much to get the others on board. It was time to hunt some goblins.

Well, perhaps a little celebration first!

Back at the tavern where it all began, Thora waved a hearty hello to the Tabaxi behind the bar and settled in with the group at a table. Alandal, hoping to raise the spirits of the town, pulled out his drums and began playing a rhythm for the crowd. At the table, the elf and dwarf sat down to share the found elven wine and enjoy the rhythms of their new companion. Perhaps it was the long night, the long road, or a particularly strong strain of the ale, but Thora did not face the liquor well. The dwarf’s speech got more than a little slurred, and as usual, this brought out the stories.

The ranger at the table with Thora brought to mind an old friend: Thrain Ironwoodshot. There was a happiness in the soldier’s voice as the tale of Thrain began, memories of good times together. Thrain was the best archer the dwarf had ever worked with until, unfortunately, Thrain’s face had been ripped off during a mission in the deeper mines. As it turned out, bows weren’t entirely effectively against the claws of those dark creatures. Thora shuddered a little, holding the glass with both rough hands as the memory came back in full. Across from the dwarf, the elf had fallen asleep face down on the table between them. Perhaps Thora needed to work on the storytelling a little!

The bard, meanwhile, was having a rough go of it. His beats did not seem to be capturing the hearts of the locals quite right. Perhaps they weren’t used to the old songs of the dragonborn’s people? In a drunken haze, Thora was sure that some help would be welcomed! The wizard, Duanne, had been buying up instruments around town, whatever folks happened to have, and there was quite the collection now. Grabbing a flute, the dwarf managed to get a few notes out, miraculously. Rather than help Alandal, though, it seemed to throw the bard off. It didn’t stop the drunk dwarf from playing along, though. The music was rough, but it made Thora’s heart feel light.

That night, the soldier’s sleep was deep and free of the nightmares.

Hunting goblins

When morning came, Thora’s head ached and the blinding sun of the desert town caused searing pain. It was fortunate that they had at least a half day of travel to work off the hangover. Zearach, who had not fared much better with the wine the evening before, did not let the effects stop him from finding the trail they needed. Following the elf’s guide, Thora kept the wagon steady and followed slowly along, more mindful of the road than the day before.

By afternoon, they had reached the caves that Sheriff Deen had told them about. She had not had many details, other than rumours of the goblins being in these hills, but with any luck they would find those beasts that had been terrorizing the locals. Hopping down from the cart and tying up the horses, Thora joined the others as they made the climb to the caves.

The air inside the cavern was humid, a welcome, if stark, change from the dry desert air outside. The elf scouted ahead into the dark, Thora close behind. Clearly the goblins had no need for torches as the entrance was pitch black. Thora’s vision suddenly filled with colour as a light sprang into existence from behind the soldier, revealing to Duanne and Alandal their immediate surroundings. A dark cave, quite large, with rising walls on either side.

In the chamber before them, a few rats scurried about. The bard stepped forward, shining light upon the cave, and attracted the attention of the small rodents. They swarmed upon him, obviously hungry for anything, even large dragonkin. The first one met its demise quickly as Alandal knocked it out. Thora surged forward, blades slashing silently at the rodents. The largest rat fell to the first swing, allowing the dwarf to side-step up to the bard’s side and finish off the last of them. Glancing quickly around, Thora did not spy any other motion and moved slowly forward.

The others fanned out, exploring the cavern before them. To their left stood a ladder, leading to an upper ledge. Ahead of them, Alandal’s light illuminated a pile of rocks. Some sort of cave-in had happened, perhaps. Duanne examined the blocked entrance, finding the outreached arm of a goblin sticking out from the rubble. The tortle began lifting rocks off, hoping to find a way through, while Zearach climbed the ladder to explore the ledge.

Standing near the center of the room, Thora suddenly spied something off in the dark. To the dwarf’s right there was another raised ledge. Initially when entering the room Thora had not been able to see much but from this angle the soldier’s eyes picked up a form lying in a corridor. It looked like a wolf, sleeping. Raising a hand to signal for silence, Thora hid behind a large stone, hoping not to attract attention. Alandal took the cue to slide to cover, taking the light further into the cavern where Duanne was still digging at the rock slide.

By some stroke of luck, neither the light nor the sound of digging woke the sleeping sentry. As Zearach returned, Thora slid quietly over to the opposite ledge and grabbed the ladder. The dwarf moved awkwardly, attempting not to make noise, while trying to carry the ladder to the opposite ledge. Somehow, the wolf stayed asleep. One by one, they crept slowly up the ladder, taking position to attack. It seemed there was at least one more sentry down the corridor, possibly a goblin. Duanne, his large tortle form and peg leg posing an obvious issue for stealth, somehow managed to move as silently as a mouse. When the wizard wanted to, he could practically disappear! Taking slow breaths, the group prepared to strike quickly.

Let sleeping dogs lie. Or not.

Sliding through the darkness of the tunnel was a familiar sensation for Thora. Ahead, the sound of the snoring goblin and its lupine companion were the only sounds the dwarf was focused on. One wrong step would raise the alarm and this was definitely a moment for subtlety. Closing quickly on the sleeping wolf, the rogue’s blade sliced deeply into its throat, cutting it off before it had the chance to make a noise. The goblin lying next to it suddenly jolted awake, almost as if it had been bonded in some way to the animal. The goblins’ surprised eyes registered alarm and seemed to question what demons were coming for him, but glazed over as the elven ranger’s blades cut through him and sent him to a final sleep.

With the sentries dealt with, the rest of the group slid forward into the next cavern. Following from behind, Thora heard the battle before seeing anything. The sounds of lightning blasts, arrows, and falling rocks echoed through the corridor as Thora crept forward. Before the dwarf was a large bonfire, a few tents, and scrambling combatants. Rocks catapulted through the air, missing their targets as Duanne caused a lot of chaos. Through the havoc Thora saw a single figure starting to move for the exit to raise the alarm.

Making a dash for it, Thora rushed past the hobgoblin, blocking the only escape from the room. A smile upon the dwarf’s face dared the hobgoblin to make a move. The hobgoblin and the soldier shifted back and forth, looking for weaknesses in the other. The dance of feinting blades and parried thrusts ended quickly as Thora’s short sword found purchase and sent the bandit to an early grave.

Unfortunately, the loud noises meant an end to any element of surprise. Behind the dwarf could be heard the sounds of voices and scuffling. Their arrival was now known and they would have to move fast!

Rushing forward, they encountered a pool of water filling most of the corridor making the way forward difficult. Thora and Duanne were caught in the water when suddenly electricity surged through it, causing both of them to leap out of the water to safety. Before them was some sort of sorcerer, its hands in the water, lightning coursing from its arm into the liquid as it grinned maniacally at them. Another figure stood in the cavernous room before them, screaming something in a language none of them knew. Laying into the most obvious threat, Thora danced forward around the water and twisted, bringing the sword down on the sorcerer’s hand with full force, cutting it clean off. The others surrounded the remaining goblin, who must have been some sort of leader, and Alandal demanded its surrender. A guttural scream came from the creature, possibly words, perhaps a question? But none of them understood the sounds of the outraged goblin. With a shrug, the bard drove its dagger deep into the goblin’s face, ending their tyranny of the region.

It wasn’t pretty work, but somebody had to do it. With any luck, the folks who had retreated to Wilted Gulch could return to their homes and live safely, at least for now. It was time to find out where else they could help!

Credits

• Cover image: “Dwarven soldier with two swords”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
• Farm image: “Fantasy Kobold Farm”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe