With Montar's deadly blow, the only enemy left is Goblin 3 who has added an extra 30 feet distance between herself and the party as she tries to flee. Are you going to chase after her or continue towards Greenest? 

Amadeus' voice squeaks from behind the cusp of small trees. 

"Forget her! We need to be as quick as we can and get to the village in time. Our deception is apparently discovered, so we should as hares and make haste before more come in earnest!" He flinches, the spike of pain clenching his waist as the young gnome at last realizes there's an arrow in his thigh. Through gritted teeth, he adds, "Lest we provide our services, there will be no immediate place to recuperate and regroup. We need not waste time we do not have chasing one goblin about. Surely." 

Draylin

"Agreed, but we are in no condition to outrun more drakes either.  She may escape, but it should not be without cost." 

Draylin breaks into a sprint, dipping low to pull his dagger from Erv's neck, not even noticing the grotesque crimson geyser that erupted from the gaping hole it left.  Momentum carries his wiry frame a few more feet before he sends the dagger spinning at the fleeing form. 

He aims at the goblin's lower back, hoping the blade drops into a hamstring.  He can tell that the target is just past his preferred range, but slowing her down is worth the risk.

***dagger DIS ADV 9 piercing damage 6**

Montar grimly draws his new crossbow. "Aye, we need ta make haste, Amadeus, but Draylin is right." He fires, but, perhaps owing to his lack of familiarity with the weapon, misses badly (Attack: 6). He shakes his head and advances 25 feet toward the goblin.

[can we take another shot at the fleeing goblin? What’s the total range from Tam if she moved 30’ towards it?]

The fleeting goblin is 30 feet away from Tam (provided Tam has moved the 30 feet towards her).

Tam aims and fires her crossbow for one parting shot. 
Attack: 10 Damage: Unable to parse dice roll.

"(By the Spirits, we do not have time for this.)" The young Lord mumbles, impatient and perhaps a tad testy over his wound. Wincing slightly as he draws a deep breath, he cups his hand and shouts at the fleeing raider.

"IF YOU WOULD MAKE US CHASE YOU, THE FATE OF YOUR FRIENDS WOULD SEEM A MERCY! KEEP RUNNING AND MY NEXT ATTEMPT IS A BOLT OF FIRE! STOP RUNNING AND YOU MERELY FACE CAPTURE! STOP, NOW!"

[Intimidation: 18]

A lie, of course. Amadeus detests the use of such things. He would rather fight civilly than use the barbarism of. But, he muses, sometimes a silver tongue cuts deeper than a blade. He only hopes it cut deep enough this time. 

The goblin keeps running as the three attacks miss. At the first opportunity, she slips between some bushes and disappears, Amadeus' words not enough to convince her to stay and find herself captured. 

End of combat

Draylin 

The young monk swore softly under his breath, a habit from another life, a habit "frowned on" by the Brotherhood.  As the goblin slipped out of sight, so too escaped the last of his frustration in a final spew of mumbled obscenity.

Adrenaline subsided, replaced by pain and exhaustion.  He spent a few moments tending his wound, and then checked to make sure everyone was pieced together enough to get on the move.  When all arrows had been removed and wounds tended enough to stop the blood loss Draylin retrieved his daggers.  He also scooped up a quiver and shortbow from the fallen goblins.   

"The leader may have something useful," he mutters, talking to himself as much as anyone in particular.  He then checks in with Leosin.  "How do you fare brother?  We need to move, are you ready?"  He then checks in with the others, "Does anyone know the area?  Is there a farm nearby?  If we could aquire a few horses and maybe even a wagon..." he let's the thought hang in the air as the group makes ready to depart. 

Montar shakes his head. "Sorry, lad; this is far from home." His eyes darken with remembered pain. "I can't heal any of ye, but if someone can't walk, I can carry ye, if ye be willing."

"I'm from Waterdeep," Tam shrugs. "I'm not even sure I know which way we need to go to get to Greenest."

"Time.  What we need and do not have,"  Thistlewick grumbled as he dabbed at his wound.  "WIth a long rest I could heal everyone.  With a day or two I could mix up a potion of healing."

He frowned as he pointed along the trail, "With time to spare we might get ahead of the war party and warn Greenest."

"Time is precious.  We need to move, now."

Draylin 

As the others prepares to move out, the young monk moved to a small tree, severed a long, forked branch, and hastily made a crude crutch for Leosin.  "We all need a rest, but as the others have stated, time is not our ally.  We must go," he said, as he tlreached down to help pull the battered monk to his feet.

***OoC: perception as they travel to search for some sort of homestead or place to procure a few horses (or at least one).  Perception:  18   ***

As he searches Erv's body, Draylin finds three javelins and 4 copper pieces. None of the other goblins carry any coin but they all have short bows and scimitars pitted with rust.

Soon the path that leads to the Raider's camp melts into the Greenfields as Leosin, clutching the improvised crutch, leads the group through the high, swaying grasses. He glances frequently at the horizon, his brow furrowed as he navigates by memory rather than trail.

Around noon, Draylin notices something. Nestled in a dip in the rolling hills to the east, a thin curl of smoke rises from the chimney of a small farmstead. A few sheep graze in a fenced pasture. The midday sun shimmers, creating a hazy heat that makes the distant smoke curl look almost like a mirage. The only sound is the gentle bleating of the sheep and the rustle of the party's boots through the tall grass.

It looks peaceful from a distance, but in these lands... who knows?

Draylin 

"Brother, can you point towards the town?  I need a reference point towards Greenest to help me rejoin you," he says with a nod towards the smoke.

He then points out the smoke to the group.  "I've felt better, but I can run for a while.  If we can get a horse we double our pace, more than double with a few.  I need to check on that farm.  Even if they cant help us, they need to be warned of the incoming raid."  Draylin looks at the team, the interesting group of mismatched talents and motives that have so far worked incredibly well together.  "I shall not tarry.  Has anyone the desire to join me?"

Amadeus lets off a slight huff of exhaustion at the offer. "May just as well, sure." His wound aches, and the gnome winces slightly with every few steps. But he's been busy regardless. His recently procured coat, jingling with coppers, gathers trail dust and soaks his blood with every step. His silk vest underneath however, previously dirtied in the muck of their captors' base, now shines near pristine, save for a small hole and a slight stain of red where the goblins' arrow had pierced. Fine woven spider silk, thrice refined and worth a fair cost. He smirks slightly as his magic plies every crumb of filth from his garments.

[Prestidigitation to clean his clothes, as what Nobility walks about caked in filth?]

T'would simply not do to have such fineries lost in rags because of this. The young Lord's eyes dart to his pinstripe trousers, dried mud creasing the cuffs of each leg. And dear Mother would tan me raw if she saw the state I've let these pantaloons degrade. His eyes darken for a moment before his usual sharp gaze peers upon the horizon, eyeing the smoke in the distance beyond the elfs' gesture. But even she would agree that family takes precedence. 

With that, he diverges his gait to line up next to Draylin's. "If nothing else," he piques, "they may have the means for us to heal ourselves."

Montar replies, "Ye lads go ahead. I'll stand with Leosin if need be. I'm not usually very convincin' anyway."

Draylin 

The monk looked from Montar to his pride and joy, the maul he crafted with his own hands, still splattered with drake blood and goblin brains (what little of those there were).  "You look pretty convincing to me," he says  with an exaggerated look of fear then a smile.

 "Should we all go to the farm?" Tam asks, biting on her lip, quite unsure of herself. She's young, and the stress of the situation is catching up with her. First captured, then the escape, then an actual battle. She'd never dreamed when her mentor had put the crossbow into her hand that she'd actually need to use it.

"I think it is probably better if we stay together."