Seeing Sir Rowan in trouble, Zefla turns to Burr, "Get those goblins stealing the oxen!" and feeling a strange sense of advantage she runs at the goblins attacking Sir Rowan.  

Pulling out her shortsword in her dominant hand and a dagger in her other, she attacks the first goblin.

Attack: 18 Damage: 7

Attack: 17 Damage: 1

Sneak attack damage: 3

If the first goblin goes down with her first attack, she'll throw the dagger at the second goblin.

Giles feels a piercing pain and then drops to the ground, unconscious.  Everything fades to black, he hears a roaring sound in his ears.  The din of battle fades away and he sees his Lady in front of him, shaking her head.  She reaches for him, and then with a glow of light, he comes awake again, sitting up.  All of it roars back, sounds, screams and the foreign sounds and language from the Goblins.  Goblins, wolves.  It all rushes back to him.  

Giles stands up and moves 15 feet due west, making for the cover that Soren used.  He loads his crossbow again and takes a shot at one of the goblins due south, then tries another tactic, falling on the ground, flattening himself out, trying to make himself a harder target for the goblins.  

Crossbow : Attack: 18 Damage: 9 

Zefla finally gets a chance to draw blood... the first goblin archer, focused on the charging knight, never sees her coming.  Before he hits the ground, she flings a dagger at the other archer adjacent to Sir Rowan.  It connects, though it isn't enough to kill the goblin.

Giles, freshly back on his feet, drops a headshot on the third goblin archer.  

Burr races to the front of the wagon and tries to duplicate his goblin-skull-watermelon trick, but the slightly taller goblin manages to duck in the nick of time.

Regardless, the goblins can see the tide has turned against them.  "Mak Mak!  Makak!  Bak Mag Mag!" the goblin near Burr cries out.  The two at the wagon use their nimble escape to disengage as a bonus action and then dash away across the creek.  The two arches trapped by the stinking cloud flee to the east.

The last surviving archer to the west also disengages and dashes away, pausing just long enough to pull out Zefla's dagger and wave it at her in a taunting gesture of pyrrhic victory before disappearing into the woods.

[Combat over, but her is a map of dead goblins, preserved here for posterity.]

Tourmaline slows Sir Rowan's horse to a trot.  "Ah.  Much better.  Come along, Jhon.  Keep up with us."  Further back down the road, the squire pants and jogs as fast has he can, the heavy pack jangling and bouncing on his broad shoulders.

Sir Rowan is breathing heavily as well, several goblin arrows still protruding from his back.  He sheathes his long sword.  Looking over the field, he nods.  "Well done," he announces loudly.  "Perhaps not our finest hour, but we still breathe and the goblins flee the field with no spoils.  A good first test of our mettle."

Back at the wagon, several of the peasants have climbed out to aid the one who was pulled out and beaten.  He lives, though he looks badly hurt.  An older woman, sturdy of frame and with blond hair, faded by age and sun to near white, climbs down from the back.  "Hail, friends.  I daresay you fished our behinds right out of the creek today.  My nephew owes you his life, and the rest of us too, perhaps.  Please, won't you sit with us a while and rest before pressing on?  Those goblins did a real number on the the hitch ropes and it will be an hour at least before we can get back on the road to Gillian's Hill.  I doubt those goblins will be back, but I know the youngin's would feel better if you folk were with us.  We have cider, if any are thirsty."

Giles chest is heaving, he is breathing heavily as he walks over to the wagon, standing with his hands on his knees as he tries to regain his breath.  “I could..   use a little … of that cider … if you please..  Does it have ..  anything in it… to give it … a little kick… ?  I need a … serious drink….”  He turns and claps a hand on Soren’s back, careful to avoid the itchy spot.  “I had a vision… a dream?  I think you … saved my ass … back there.   Praise to you … and my Lady.”   

Soren watches and listens to ensure the goblins are truly gone.  Pack predators and scavengers in the wild can be relentless, returning in waves.

Reaching for Silvanus' wisdom to sense for any persisting threat, Perception plus Guidance:  19 + 1 = 20

Once satisfied there is no danger, he moves south to the corpse of the wolf and kneels quietly, touching the beast's bloody fur and closing his eyes.  May your flesh return to the flow of Silvanus' wild circle of life, brother, and may you find joy in the wild hunt in lives to come.

When he continues to the group, he hears Giles.  As the man claps him on the back in what appears to be a friendly gesture, Soren nods absently as if the man is observing that moss grows on the north side of a tree.

"Yes not-father, praise Tymora.  And Silvanus.  Their grace healed you through me so they may heal us through you in turn one day.  We are now pack.  This is the way.  We work together and hunt together and eat and drink together.  And one day, our bodies will nourish the soil, perhaps together."

Soren's fingers itch to accept the cider but he resists, recalling the Deimbiyr Brown Ale and his headache, drinking from his waterskin instead.

Burr slumps against the side of the wagon, bleeding profusely....

Sir Rowan takes stock of the group and then nods to the older woman.  "Yes... its for the best that we all stick together for now.  The goblins have bled, but there is no sense in presenting them with another tempting target."  He hollers for Jhon to catch up.  He scolds the young man a little for allowing Madame Bauer to ride into combat without his escort, but the lesson comes with a smile and it seems to be in good nature.  Then he instructs Jhon to find an able peasant and set a watch along either woodline.

The peasants on the wagon hand Giles some cider in a wooden mug.  It isn't that strong, hardly fermented at all.  One of the girls on the wagon explains the barrels of cider they brought is for mulling.  There is an engagement party this evening in Gillian's Hill for one of their cousins and they have brought the refreshments.

Tourmaline seems inclined at first to accept a cider, but then turns it down.  She pulls her cloak up high over her shoulders and goes to stand on the bridge, looking down the length of the creek into the wilderness.

Soren, you watch and listen, your senses heightened by the grace of Silvanus.  The natural sounds of wood and field have returned, and the only goblin stink you detect is from those already dead on the ground.  For now, at least, they seem to have fully retreated.

Once they have brought the wounded peasant up into the wagon, a few of the older boys move to see if Burr needs any aid.  A younger boy pokes the goblin Burr smashed with a stick.

[You have one hour to rest.  You can take a short rest in this time.  That will take the full hour, to rest your sore bodies, bind your wounds and have a spot of food.  If you are not short resting, please advise how you spend your time instead.  Please roll any hit dice spent either here in the thead or in the game log.]

Burr pulls up a pew and takes his ease for a bit.

HD: 8

As he sees his companions rest, Soren is still a little puzzled that he himself had not been wounded in the fight with the goblins.  There had been so many arrows and one had been streaking right towards his shoulder like a hawk in full dive towards a mouse.  Then he had reached out somehow to his elven fey ancestry and used strange magic not from this world (Silvery Barbs) to distract the enemy and somehow also give Zefla an opening.

He shakes his head and cautiously ventures towards the eastern tree-line area, never fully leaving eyeshot of the group.  He centers himself for several minutes, recalling his ability to speak with beasts (casting Speak with Animals as a ritual in case any are nearby).  Soren then reaches out to Silvanus' wild, all-encompassing wisdom and Guidance to help him search for clues about what creatures may have passed through or live in this wooded area.  Partly out of a sense of duty to look for traces of werewolves, but partly just to find evidence of ordinary forest creatures... because he is lonely.

I wish I had not shot that wolf... I hope it may run away and heal, and return to its original pack, free of the goblins.

Soren Survival with Guidance:  23 + 4 = 27

Zefla heads over with Giles and Burr, then looks the two of them over.  "You two alright?  Man, that was a lot of goblins, good to see you both up and kicking again.  Whew."  She groans as she removes the arrow from her shoulder and sits down next to the two of them.  "Well, I doubt it, but I hope we have better luck against the werewolves!  Though," she looks over to where Soren ran off, "doesn't look like he was injured at all, so that's a plus."

She silently watches Tourmaline standing on the bridge.  Finally she shrugs, then leans back on the wagon and tips back a cider.

Short rest roll:  5

Giles sits down and takes a rest, pulling the arrows out of his side and gaining 2 h.p. with the short rest (see campaign log).  He is still hurting, but a little less so.  He looks up as Zefla comes over, "That was a close one.  Luck.  Werewolves.  Heh.  Right.  Only one way this can go from here.  Up!"  He stands and stretches, finishing his cider.  "Those buggers were so damn accurate!  Nice little ambush they set.  Hate 'em, but have to admire the trap.  My luck almost ran out with that escapade."  He looks upward and says a few words silently.

The rest of the time Giles rests with his back against the big wagon wheel, legs crossed criss cross apple sauce, meditating and humming a soft tune.  

Burr ignored Zeflas questions...poking at the dirt with his boots....he was definitely going to die...

Soren, there is no sign of the surviving wolf.  Whether he returned to the goblins or fled to freedom is and may forever remain an unanswered question.  That is not to say your attempt to commune with nature goes in vain.  It is not long before a mixed flock of white-breasted nuthatches and black-capped chickadees moves into the small trees along the Trade Way, their passage marked by the rhythmic whirring of little wings and the pops and cracks as they open pinecones or snack on seeds.

Soren:

 The peasants are able re-tie the harness on the second oxen.  Once their work meets the old woman's satisfaction and everyone has had a bit of lunch and a chance to rest, they climb back aboard the wagon and carry on south.  Sir Rowan and Jhon continue to walk alongside Tourmaline, who mounts back onto Sir Rowan's horse, but there is room for two of you on the wagon if any of you are tired of walking.  It doesn't make much difference, as Gillian's Hill is less than an hour more down the road.  

Hardly worthy of being called a village, Gillian's Hill is a cluster of farms and homesteads around a low hill of dirt and grass... the eponymous 'Hill'.  Atop the hill is a stone structure.  It could no more be called a 'tower' than Gillian's Hill could be called a 'town.'  It looks like little more than an elevated signal cairn with a ladder going up the side.  Cart tracks lead off in multiple directions; while the settlement itself is humble, it is a local hub for all the farms and homes for 10 miles in all directions.  So unassuming is the place, that there is no inn or tavern, and the only thing resembling a shop is closed and boarded up, the old sign for 'Torleth's Treasures' faded such as to be nearly illegible.

The peasant's in the wagon invite you to stay as their special guests for the enagement party tonight.  It is to be held in a barn on the other side of the hill in the hours before sundown.  Sir Rowan politely declines, citing security duties that will take you back on the road.  The peasants part ways with thanks.  A young boy from the wagon approaches Burr.  He is oblivious to Burr's condition or existential despair.  "The way that goblin blew up when you clobbered him," the boy says breathlessly, "... that was awesome."

Sir Rowan sets out to question locals about any werewolf sightings and Madame Bauer takes a quiet walk up the hill, keeping counsel to herself.  Jhon takes off his heavy pack, leans it on a bench, and sits down.  It looks like you have at least a few minutes before you will be departing south toward Liam's Hold, the next settlement on the Trade Way and where you will - presumably - be spending the night.

As they get moving, Zefla eyes the seats on the wagon, but decides against it since they are close and she wants to be able to keep a look out along the edge of the road as they go.  She keeps to herself as she doesn't want to be distracted and come upon by more goblins.

As the peasants invite them to the engagement party, Zefla is visibly disappointed by Sir Rowan's response.  She leans over to Giles and loudly whispers, "I mean, couldn't we just stay the night here instead of at the Trade Way?  Just seems impolite to refuse after we helped them out and all..."

As they wait around for a bit, the halfling decides to check out the so called tower and if there is a way inside on ground level she checks it out.  Ignoring the ladder completely.

GIles rides in the wagon, at times lying on his back and looking up at the clouds, sorting out what images he can see in the clouds.  He seems to be looking for signs, portents, and images that would indicate their potential for success.  And sometimes he just likes to look for silly shapes.  

After they arrive in Gillian’s hill, Giles gives well wishes to bride and groom to be, urging them to follow their dreams and shoot for the stars.  He turns his head when Sir Rowan indicates their need to continue to travel, and he wraps up his celebrations with the soon to be newlyweds.  Then he follows Zefla and finds out about this tower, and the secrets held within.  “You need someone watching your ass if you are going to sneak in there.  Yeah, I would have liked a stop here for the night.  Oh well, duty calls… hey, did you find a way in?”

Soren spends a pleasant few minutes chatting with the little birds, learning little.  He sympathizes regarding the kestrel, but such is the cycle of life (he does not express this later part aloud), and he cannot perceive any connection to their mission.  Werewolves would likely not bother with such small prey.

When the group sets off again, Soren also walks rather than riding on the cart.  Upon arriving at the medium-sized town (or so he thinks) of Gillian's Hill, he recalls from the map that there had been a werewolf attack to the east-northeast, but supposes that Lord Rowan Caskbow is already asking about that.  Instead, before the peasants in the wagon depart, he asks them about Torleth's Treasures, and and what had been on offer there before it closed.

Burr watches the kid walk off then levers himself up and heads over to the others looking at the tower...

Zefla, Burr and Giles amble up the low hill to the signal tower.  It is old... maybe one of the oldest stone structures any of you have ever stood next to.  The heavy stone blocks are lined and cracked with wear, and it seems like moss and vines make up a significant portion of the building now.  The exterior ladder is much newer, and climbs the two stories to the top.  Ignoring the ladder, the three circle the tower instead until they come to a wide, open doorway on the other side.  Inside, there are boxes and sacks of seed, and a few old farm implements like plows and tills hang from hooks mounted in the walls.  A single wide post stands upright in the middle of the room and supports a beam-reinforced ceiling two stories up. The beams and ceiling, like the ladder, are much newer than the rest of the structure.  The original ceiling/roof, if it had one, must have collapsed long ago.  Now, it looks like a resident, or perhaps the whole settlement, uses this building for storage.

Soren has trouble finding anyone who can tell him more about Torleth's Treasures than 'It was some old shop that closed.'  With persistence, however, he does meet an elderly woman who is old enough to remember when the shop was open.  She tells Soren about Torleth Mindulspeer, an old merchant who opened this curio shop long ago.  He was something of an eccentric figure and there was nothing that he would not consider buying or selling, for the right price.  His shop had been filled with all manner of unusual items, from dwarven furniture to Maztika weapons, from Calimshan carpets to playing cards with strange foreign suits.  He also bought treasures and oddities from passing adventures, and his shelves were always full of trinkets like troll teeth or unusual magic potions.  She remembers a great white lion pelt that hung behind the counter for many years... until he sold it.  She looks sad as she recalls this... clearly she has fond memories of visiting the shop and looking at the wondrous pelt as a child.  Eventually, Torleth grew too old to maintain the shop and it closed.  That must have been 50 years ago, now.  The wares were all auctioned off and the building has sat empty... without old Torleth's reputation for unusual items to bring in business, no other shops are able to make it work here in a little hamlet like Gillian's Hill.

"Huh" Zefla proclaims as nothing in the storage room of this tower interests her.  Seed and farmer's tools?  This stuff isn't any fun.  She looks to Burr and Giles, "Either of you want to climb the ladder and see if anyone has maybe been hiding up there?  I'll uh, keep a look out."

Burr nods and heads up the ladder, though regrets it about halfway up as his bruised muscles complain.....