Periheed's fur recedes and his stature shrinks while he returns to a more similar halfling appearance. He walks over to Farryn places his hands just a foot or so above his fallen compatriot and speaks once again in a surprisingly low baritone. "Baelthonnn...." as his voice trails off a warmth radiates off of his hands and yet to Farryn the sensation is a swelling and cooling as life begins to re-enter him, and his eyes begin to focus.

For the next 30 or so seconds, Dopp, eyes wide, does not break eye contact with the dead creature at his feet. He continues to breathe heavily and twitch erratically. He strikes the dead once or twice with a limp handed swing. 

After this his demeanor shifts slightly and he becomes more relaxed. He looks over to Periheed, "I... need a bath... Do you have any more of that jerky? I'm hungry." He searches for the tossed piece, dusts it off and shoves the whole bit in his mouth.

He finds a spot near the caravan but dares not touch it, determined not to sully anything. He breaks out a waterskin and starts to clean off hands, arms, and face. He drinks a healing potion, and with a gesture offers one to the rest of the part. Finally, he says ,"Well that was interesting. I wonder if the rest are ok?"

He brandishes his viol and starts to piece back together the melody he was playing from before, humming the tune while he finds the fingering. 

After taking a moment to rest and calm himself, Dopp inspects carefully the caravan to make sure everything is still in order to continue on. He then kicks the corpse of the cleric, and starts to look for anything that may indicate why this ambush occurred. 

Dario breathes deeply, taking in the newfound silence of the scene.

"We shouldn't have gotten so comfortable. I'll search the perimeter to ensure there aren't any additional surprises."

He begins to walk the perimeter of the battleground, making note of footprints & potential traps in the area, recovering arrows from his downed foes & checking them for valuables on the way.

Periheed walks over to one of the wagons in the caravan and begins to wash his face of the remaining theatre makeup and blood. He is clearly quite heavily wounded and is moving slowly. After a couple of quick refreshing splashes of water to his face, Periheed begins to hold his hands out in front of him as if expecting someone to hand him something. 

Suddenly the illuminated outline of a bunch of some sort of fruit appear in his hand. The silver outline continues to shimmer for a second before disappearing as inside the outline turns into a pile of berries. Periheed eats twenty of them and places ten more in a small pouch on his hip.

“I didn’t think our play had been THAT offensive. Perhaps if we think this spot deserted we might rest a while? How far are we from our next destination?”

The party takes a moment to recover, Farryn stirring from unconsciousness, a nasty welt on his head from where he had fallen. Periheed's healing spell helps to close the wounds, and the goodberries serve to balm his own injuries. Still, the party seems battered by the encounter, jolted out of their complacency by the sudden attack. The rest of the caravan, when they rejoin the group, is sullen and silent, though grateful that the warriors have triumphed.

Dopp searches the cleric, finding little on his person beyond a chain shirt and his mace. However, there is a strange piece of semi-reflective volcanic glass on a cord around his neck, looking like a strange smoking mirror. The edges are sharp, and Dopp swears he can make out a pair of eyes when held at a certain angle. He has no idea what the object might convey.

Dario carefully searches the area, recovering half a dozen of his arrows in the process, the others splintered from their crashes with the terrain or hobgoblin flesh. He finds no traps as he cautiously approaches the farmhouse. Inside, he sees five bodies neatly stacked against a wall of the entry hall. One appears to be a simple farmer, presumably the owner of the farmstead. The others appear to be a traveling merchant and three bodyguards. Further within, it appears that the marauders have set up a crude campsite. A banked cookfire is surrounded by dirty bedrolls and mess kits, riddled with crumbs and half-eaten meals. Dario's sharp eyes notice a small bulge beneath the merchant's robe, no doubt indicating a pouch with some coin therein.

As Dario searches the area, recovering his arrows, he also takes the remaining 20 from the Hobgoblins.

Glimpsing the grisly scene inside the farmhouse, Dario covers his nose and mouth with his cloak. He looks at the farmer, shaking his head "Poor bastard..." before approaching the merchant's remains & grabbing the purse "but this one knew the risks."

He hands 30gp to each of his 3 companions. "Found a little something in the farmhouse. I suggest we rest before continuing on to Mistmarch."

Periheed gathers his horse and brings it toward the homestead and ties it to a post outside of the building.

"I shall start us a fire when the dark begins to settle. In the meantime, we should give these farmers a proper burial, and the hobgoblins we can finish burning in the morning before we depart." 

Periheed moves through the homestead and surrounding areas looking for a digging implement. He aims to dig graves for the farmer and his family, and a shallow ditch to burn the hobgoblins in. As he searches for a shovel of some kind, Periheed looks for dry firewood for the evening camp and forages any edibles he can spot along the way.

The party solemnly prepares humble roadside graves for the slain farmer, merchant, and soldiers. The self-appointed chaplain of The Nomadic Theatre Troupe says a few words, hoping to commend the souls of the dead to Dolurrh with the honor the accorded in life. His eulogy invokes a variety of deities: The Sovereign Host, the Dark Six, and The Silver Flame, as he tries to cover as many ecclesiastical bases as he can for the unknown dead. The hobgoblins are burned with far less ceremony, and their agnosticism requires no special words. The smell of burning flesh rises again in the noses of the party, the nausea from the heat metal ruined body of the bladebearer having barely left their sinuses.

As Periheed goes through small farmhouse, he finds the spade he seeks, but also a small worn map, indicating the location of a small castle, called Vraath Keep. The map hints at a vault hidden within, containing great treasures. Farryn recalls that the location looks to be an old outpost of the ancient Dhakaani goblinoid empire that fell into ruin ages ago, though it was occasionally used as an encampment more recently during The Last War, trading hands between Breland, Cyre, and Darguun over the years. It has since been largely abandoned, given its inhospitable position within the marshy confines of the Faded Forest.

Farryn also notices Dopp eyeing the strange piece of obsidian, and recognizes it as a possible symbol of an unusual religious sect, The Cult of the Dragon Below. Less an organized religion and more a loose confederation of power mad cultists, these secretive groups tend to consort with dark forces deep within Khyber and beings of the underground realm. They are, often, utterly insane. Perhaps more troubling still - they rarely count hobgoblins among their worshippers.

The night passes uneventfully, a pleasant respite from the day's battles. The caravan is largely quiet, though a few songs are sung to honor the dead.

You awake to birdsong and welcome morning coolness, which will no doubt burn off and be replaced by a miserable heat as the sun climbs into the sky. The group travels a few miles in, and the road begins to descend toward a small town near the swamp, one side bordering a broad, sluggish river. Six stone piers jut from the water, marking the spot where a bridge once stood, though span itself is gone. Instead, long thick ropes cross the river, each secured to simple flat bottomed ferryboat. Brown fields and green orchards surround the town, its arable land affording the locals a reasonably good standard of living.

A group of armed townsfolk - three clad in leathers, one in mail - stands guard, observing your passage warily. "Halt, and state your business, strangers," one of the guards shouts.

As the nightfall comes Periheed brings the map to the attention of his smaller group of companions around the campfire, taking care to let them know in their minds just how secret he thinks it ought be kept. He reaches into his bag so as to draw little attention and nonchalantly passes a rolled up and loosely tied piece of leather that contains the map to Dario. "Look inside here. We may have plans we hadn't planned on." He says to Dario without speaking a word out loud and never breaking eye contact with this friend. "Pass it around, but be discrete."

"Farryn, Dario, Dopp, and me are the only eyes this map will see,"  he states silently inside each of their heads one at a time as they pass it amongst themselves discretely.