Rusty moves around the carriage, coming up behind the Goblin fighting Felmar he grabs and lifts the tiny thing from its feet. The Goblin snared can not run away now, but that doesnt hamper it from turning its wicked scimitar against the wood and metal man.

Scimitar attack against Rusty: Attack: 15 Damage: 6

Scimitar attack against Rusty (Disadvantage): Attack: 7 Damage: 3

Krikas charges forward, the crossbow held out and low, searching the shrubs for the little sneak. It has melted into the greenery and mounds of snow, tracks disappear into the thick growth. The creature doesn't make its presence known until a vial comes winging out of the branches from the tree further South of his position. The glass sails in and smashes against the ground splashing the Half-elf.

Vial of poison, splashes against the half elf: DC12 Dex save or 4 poison damage and Krikas is poisoned. Half damage on a save and no poison condition.

Initiative

1. Your group<---Your turn, Any order
2. Goblin boss is behind the wagon, grappled by Rusty. The thin alchemist is within the southern light colored tree (or he was)

Perception check DC 18 to spot the little sneak

(OOC: So the boss that I hit is currently grappled by Rusty, is that correct? If it is grappled, does that give me advantage if I go for another hit?)

OOC correct, Rusty is grappling the Goblin Boss. grappled, no advantage stated

Krikas

Bottom of the round. 

Vial DEX save 21

Perception check 17

Actions to follow after roll results

(Nightbird - the Prone condition is what offers advantage in a grappled situation. No sign of Prone in the posts)

Krikas 

Putrid liquid drips off Krikas' sleave as he nimbly dodges majority of the vials contents. With the green fluid staining his clothes he curses the alchemist who threw it. "Darn goblin! You'll pay for a brand new shirt for that." 

(Using the spoiler after a successful Perception check)

Krikas spots the creature a mere stone throw from where he stands. He steps back 5ft and slings a string of slurs and incoherent arcane words at the goblin.

Move - steps back 5ft to get a better look at the goblin

Action - casts VM with WIS12 save or take 1 psychic damage and suffer disadvantage on next attack roll.

Seeing the Goblin Boss being held by Rusty, Felmar goes in for another strike on the vile creature.  "Thanks fer the assist Rusty!"

Attack: 10

Damage: 8

Unfortunately, Felmar was so concerned with not accidentally striking Rusty, he misjudged his strike and ended up missing the boss

Aelinn

She had moved fast to catch the adventurers up only taking a quick 4 hour trance as rest. It had been the Guild masters fault he wanted a piece of the action. He'd inquired if the Temple of Mask wanted to send along a priest instead, their answer was no, but they tapped Aelinn one of the faithful as a good choice. She'd been a smuggler in fine wine and spirits working with the dwarves. Now she was free to choose her own future, after all she was 104, an adult now. One of the priests had given her a vial of drows poison to aid her in her new training. She'd moved where she lived for the cloisters of Mask marking a change in her life. Technically she was a lay sister without any of the powers of a cleric yet. 

She'd moved easily, negotiating the mud and snow with light footed precision spending the least amount of time to rest. She hadn't eaten either, though she had a rabbit to roast.

She heard the noise of Goblin jeers ahead, and faded into the shadow of the wall, a dwarf screamed his battle cry and a Goblin went down, he was swiftly surrounded by two more. Then the monstrosity took hold of the chief, just held onto him. Aelinn dashed across the road unnoticed by the battle going on. She made for the trees, dropping her cloak in the bushes. Up she went, an old skill and it had been too long since she'd felt this familiarity. She looked around for a target. Perception check 17.

There he was, nasty little bugger. How many more elemental bombs did he have? No matter he wasn't going anywhere. She settled in to hide then lifted her Elven shortbow

Attack 19 damage 7, sneak attack damage 3

Briar Oakthorn had heard of a company already heading towards Phandalin and had been trudging at a fast past to catch up himself. Hearing the sounds of battle nearby as he headed down the road. Seeking the high ground he headed off the Triboar Trail and up the hillside to get a better vantage point, arming himself with a javelin.

[[ For location, say to the right of that tree/rock up the hillside. ]]

Seeing the ongoing battle he snarls, "Goblins. Wretched things." He looses his javelin towards the grappled goblin boss. "Torm guide my strike." he says, drawing another one.

Action: Attack
Item Interaction: Draw javelin
Bonus Action: not used
Movement: (to the square 3 squares up from the red dot in the hillside from the latest map)

Javelin
To-Hit: 10+4 = 14
Damage: 5+2 = 7 piercing

Krikas spies the little sneak and throws a tangle of the weave, carried aloft by a biting insult. The goblin yelps from with in the shrubbery. The presence of another, felt at the last minute has Krikas turning quickly, an Elf glides up the hill, disappears into the tree. Seconds later the twang of a bow, a grunt of pain and a thump as the body hits the needles and detritus on the floor.

Rusty holds the Goblin boss a foot from the ground, its legs flailing to get purchase. Felmar swipes but his hesitation causes his swing to fall short. Never the less a javelin sprouts between the goblins shoulders, thrusting a point out the front and the poor thing goes limp.

As if in satisfaction the oxen on the hill lets out a low rumbling bellow.

Out of Initiative

The goblins were not a challenge, but the longer it took te more painful the encounter could become. Even goblins can be a deadly handful in the wrong circumstances. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome, as a pair of newcomers came upon the road at a fortuitous time.

The cart remains tipped, but probably serviceable. Goods, crates and barrels lie smashed and scattered about. Trade goods, such as roll of cloth, a tumble of candles, and a few metal implements along with, by the smell, liquor and salt cured items. A living Oxen is trapped at the top of the hill, pulling against its bridle and harness. The wood and leather strapping is tangled in its branches. Another Oxen, not far from the tussle. It didn't run away, in fact it didn't move when the short skirmish erupted. Chewing a wad of cud.

The wagon wasn't an accident, it didn't just tip over. A previous skirmish had occurred. An ambush most likely by the placement, the hill, the blind turn. Several arrows sprout from the underside and blood has spilled on the tipped over top side. Someone had taken cover here. Krikas notes it was not just the little sneaky alchemist within the woods. A humanoid body, probably human or half elf was dragged into the stand of trees and dumped.

Felmar retrieves the javelin from the boss’s corps and approaches the newcomer. 

“I like yer aim. Well struck friend. Yer help was most welcome. There’ll be time fer introductions when we’re sure there ain’t any more.”

Felmar hands the javelin to the thrower and walks away without another word. He is going to the cart to examine the arrows in it. Do they look like they came from the goblins or something else. (Wants to try and figure out if these goblins attacked on they’re own, if there are more, or if this group is just scavenging someone else’s kill)

Investigation: 12

Briar looks towards the ox higher up and then down to the party below. "You guys alright?" he asks as he comes down to retrieve his javelin. "And you wouldn't happen to be the others hired by Captain Harbin would you?"

He looks around for any other signs of goblins and then introduces himself, "My name is Briar Oakthorn. How about yourselves?"

Perception: 19+3(guidance)+3 = 25

Turning his eyes up the hill the tied ox he asks, "Would any of you want to help free that ox?"

[[ Mentioned this to Ssymith, but will be busy this weekend. So not sure how I'll much I'll post. But after the weekend will be able to be fairly regular. ]]

Krikas 

Both shocked and relieved by the appearance of the unknown elf, Krikas carefully slings his crossbow over his back. Holding hands up high and looking in the direction of his unseen saviour he speaks slowly but loudly. "I mean no harm. We can all be friends here." He slowly backs towards the shrubbery that holds the dead goblin and when it's clear he isn't about to be peppered with elven arrows he turns and pushes through the leafy bushes. As he's searching the goblins corpse he catches a glimpse of longer legs, then a torso. Perhaps the owner of the cart. He squirms through the foliage and inspects the already deceased.

Satisfied with his search, Krikas heads back to the wagon only to see Felmar handing a javelin back to another newcomer. "Making friends already Felmar?" he jibes. "Might want to use this wagon and the ox to make our journey a little less tiring. Plus" he looks at the casks of liquor "we might find an unbroken keg with which to celebrate our victory".

Investigation - Goblin 20

Investigation - other body 4

Aelinn

She'd watched the finely dressed adventurer. He had seemed peaceful enough. The group had cooled down from the fight so it was safe to reveal herself. She swung down and went to retrieve her black arrow. It was still intact so she cut the head free adding it back into her quiver making the total 20 once again. The brush didn't give away her movement. She stepped out of the small copse holding her hands out after picking up her grey green cloak

Well met. I'm Aelinn , I was sent after you by the thieves guild and Harbin. She pulled down her hood and facemask. Her tribal tattoos fernlike against her richly copper skin, and midnight black hair worn braided around her head with a thieves guild golden token hanging. Wood Elf. Her armour was a dark grey suede and made no sound as she walked catlike towards them. I'll help with the wagon, we can turn a profit on some of the trade goods, the rest we can use. The trader is dead.

Investigation 16

"I'm guessin' we can use all the help we can get.  They'll be more goblins than just this small group don't ye doubt.  And we may still have orcs followin' us."

She pointed at Rusty. Is he your war golem? I've never seen one before. Can you get him to turn the cart upright?

Not waiting for an answer she began to sort out the trade goods into two piles, spoilt and good. She found a small barrel of Waterdavian brandy and a just about opened barrel of salt pork which she put to one side for party consumption, Several rolls of cloth and ready made intricate shirts caught her eye and she called out to the well dressed man and gestured at his ruined shirt, offering him an intricately embroidered mans silk shirt. It wouldn't take long to pile the goods back into the wagon. Several barrels of ale still survived, along with some absinthe. He'd been a seasoned trader going from his goods. Pity he didn't have an escort.

Rusty's forge-like head swivels this way and that, taking in the newcomers and the conversations, all the while still holding the lifeless body of the goblin in one of his big bands. When Aelinn finally references him, he speaks in his monotone, "I a-a-a-am currently no one's. My la-la-la-last master is no more." He adjusts his footing, his usual whirr-clunk being muffled a bit by the snow on top of mud. Bending a little lower, he puts his free hand under the edge of the wagon. There is a sound like flapping leather as Rusty attempts to right the cart.

Strength: 6 (+2 more if athletics)

As the wagon's orientation shifts under Rusty's strength, it returns to all four wheels with a mighty groan. The few crates in the back shift and tumble.

"Bef-f-f-fore we claim these supplies as bounty, it may b-b-b-be advisable to make sure they are not nee-nee-nee-needed elsewhere. Perha-ha-ha-haps in Phandalin."

Oh sorry to hear about your last master. So you are a wonder, warforge? We can see if there is anyone waiting for these wares, but I'd be surprised. It is normal to take what is useful after a goblin attack. Aelinn started to refill the wagon, so much was spoilt. It reminded her of her smuggling days.

Felmar inspects the arrows jutting from the cart, plucking a few from the wood. These are no goblin arrows. Crafted by a skilled hand. A half dozen in the cart, a few more shot over it, standing as pins in the snow, all told over a dozen were shot. How many hit their target. Looking up the hill, their was more than one archer, or someone faster than he had ever seen.

The cart flips over, the mechanisms in Rusty whirring, a faint bubbling noise as he exerts himself. The barrel of brandy is nearly spent, a crack in the side draining most upon the ground. A waterskins worth remains, but a fine aroma it has. The tracks about the wagon describe a desperate battle. Four travelers were beset by a handful of booted prints. Again the quality of the boot, this was an experienced group that attacked. The goblin tracks came after, fresh they poked around before moving in, scavengers.

Krikas crawls under the boughs into a snowless realm of deep green. The pines above creating a canopy of dense dark. The goblin had a small pouch, and a stiff wood and leather bag strapped to his side. Within three glass containers are nestled into lined compartments, keeping them from smashing. Residue and crust tells you it wasn't always successful. A small dagger look to be rarely used, the edge rough and chipped, useless for cutting pudding. The dead body is human, he died. His lower face is covered with a red cloth over his mouth and nose.

 The cart would take all of you working together to pull it into town. Even leaving the broken crates behind the load is quite large. On the side of each crate and barrel, a brand of a spread eagle has been burnt. It doesn't look like anything was taken. Except the travelers. Splatters and drops of blood leave the sight, heading up the slope of the rise.

Krikas 

He grabs the pouch and the odd bag before briefly glancing at the dead human.

Aelinn's offer of a fine shirt takes Krikas' attention. "Well met lady elf" he says with a courtly bow. "Fine shooting might I say, but I had the situation in hand" he says full of bravado. He takes the offer of the shirt with grace. "Fine taste indeed. This trader was no snakeoil salesman that's for sure" he chitchats whilst removing his hardened leather tunic and begins unbuttoning his ruined shirt. "Damn goblin scum" he grunts as he discards the old in favour of the new. Taking a moment to admire the stitching and cut of his new attire he concludes with "Thank you. A most fitting reward for a fight well fought".

"Great work Rusty!" Krikas exclaims as Rusty rights the cart. "Remind me never to get on your bad side big fella" he winks at the warforged, unsure if the gesture would even be understood. 

Looking at what's left if the torn tack and harness Krikas soon realises there'd be no running this wagon. "Take what you can carry. The wagon has to stay. I'm certainly not pushing it to town." He suddenly remembers the orc band on their heels and wonders if they're watching now. "We should move on. Orcs presumably still trail us." Anyone close enough to him would hear "Such a shame" as he wipes a finger across the broken brandy keg.