By Feather and Fur
18th of Abadius 4708 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
The keep of Baron Seat, so named by iruxi custom for all it has no seat for the baron in question to take, has no doors according to Cob, hidden or otherwise. Unlike the logs half-sunk into the black mud of the swamp, the doors had long since rotten away and what hinges have not been claimed by the keep's former inhabitants and opportunist visitors had long since rusted into uselessness, now only adding the odd creak to the buzz of caddisflies and marsh treaders and the whistles and squeaks of black feathered birds that the Taldans call 'rails,' and rail they do indeed at the interlopers in their domain. That's not to say they do not answer that most common of common tongues, bribery: stew stock and bread from the evening cook-pot.
Alas while that might make them more friendly, it does not make them less noisy just because Gorok can now understand their words. Your friend tilts his head in askance and calls back something in the same bird-ish tongue before listening to the reply with ever more intent looks in the direction of the library tower. The birds are very insistent that you do not go in there, though for what reason they cannot say, only that if you enter you will not return.
"There's no doors, swear that on my nose and ears," Cob proclaims, a goblin's oath more serious than if he'd said his eyes you know from the lessons in that tongue. He continues: "Maybe they came out veiled-like, not seen by bird eyes. Where there's one spell there's maybe more. Any idea how many got lost?"
You bite back a snort of laughter at the words, as though the strangers had been misplaced by the raucous birds.
"More than three." Gorok sounds frustrated in spite of himself. Most beasts or birds you know cannot count much that.
Meanwhile your eyes drift to the southern gate, to the firing platform and the remains of what seemed to be fire arrows.
What manner of beast would need to be hunted with fire? A moment later you ask aloud and Gorok passes the question on. The birds know not for none of them recall when the platform was built anymore than the walls of stone. For those used to roosting among reeds, wood, and stone are of much the same permanence, but when Cob spends more time looking around there at your behest he finds a patch of strange fur wedged between two half rotten planks, sniffing it before dropping it with a sneeze.
"Bugbear, big!"
How he could smell the size of the creature on weeks old fur you're not sure, but he seems convinced that that's what he was smelling so you ask what manner of foes they are.
Cob looks at you almost bewildered before replying. "Everything smaller than them, bigger than them too if they can kill it."
What do you do about your new discoveries?
[] Cob should stay close to the heart of the camp tonight, if there's something out there with a grudge against goblin-kind he should stay clear
[] Seal the library as best you can with magic until Mina and Sirim arrive
[] Write in
OOC: Sorry this took so long guys, internet troubles.