(The tail is gone in the morning. However, as you are leaving Yulash, FinFin notices they are now a mile behind you again....they must have been at Yulash hoping you'd yet to pass through...)

One of the unnamed one grins, his face growing red at Fiannas question, "Well...no, i mean, yes, I mean.."  One of the others smiles sweetly at her, "We'd LOVE to have a meal with you...oh..and your friends.."  A third, "Ya, we didn't mean nothin by it."  Garkin, "Please...have some, right now....the Harl Farmstead welcome for sure!"  Another, "We just thought maybe see you were coming to look into the attack!"  Garkin, "Yes, an attack.  We were attacked by goblins!!"  Another, "Ya, they killed poor Nikol..."  Another, "When it EXPLODED!!" All of the other three stop to nod, and in unison say, "It EXPLODED". Garkin, "I mean, we wouldn't complain if only two goblins attacked usually..." Another, "They wasn't normal!"  Another, "They attacked during the day!!"  Another, "and there were only two of them!"  Garkin, "And one EXPLODED!"  The all stop to nod. Another of them, "We told a passerby to ask the Red Plumes fer help...and that was four days ago!"  Another, "Without Nikol, and Grennil and his son hurt....we probably can't fight 'em off if anymore come! We heard other farms been attacked."  Another, "They came from the forest!  Six miles south of here!"  Another, "So....are you just...passin through?"

"We are helping," assured them Mirica (her initial impression proved to be true after all). She looked at others:  "We came for goblins, right? Here they are. And they just became more interesting."

The priest unmounted and asked Garkin now: "So, where exactly did they come from any what did they attack? Did they try to rob you or simply wanted destroy something?"

The halflings are all quite pleased to meet everyone, appreciating Jahren's shaking hands and compliments about their food.  Garkin looks to Mirica as she speaks, lowering his eyes and bowing, "Oh....holy priestess...they came to rob...steal food, valuables....that sorta thing!  We caught them stealing from the barn!" Another tentatively raises his hand, "Uh...ooh...I priestess...um...I don't suppose..."  Another interrupts him, "Grennil is dying!  And his son!  Can you help him!?!" Garkin slaps him in the head, "We have no way to pay fool."  He turns apologetically to Mirica, "I'm so sorry about that, we don't have money to pay for magical healing."  Another, "They came from the forest!"  Another, "Yes, the forest for sure. South of here, six miles!"  Another, "They came from the south, through the wheat fields!"  Garkin, "It's true, they didn't use the road..."  Another, "Darrel from the PeachTree farm said that they were attacked too. Also came from the south, from the forest!"  Another, "Maybe you can track em, we can show you." Another, "We uh...we kept the goblin bodies...if you wanna see....they were weird." 

Bemused, the group follows the Halflings as they lead the group, still talking away, down the road to the pathway that leads to the farmstead, and then down to the cluster of buildings. You pick up their names as they go. Garkin, Zaldon, Merrin, and Arhace. The four seem to be peers, and hired hands by the farm. You pickup that Grennil Harl is the owner of the farm. He has three sons, one of whom, Reidle is badly injured along with Grennil and both are inside one of the houses. Another of Grennil's sons, a bit of an herbalist, has them sedated with tea to ease their suffering. There are four other halflings that work here in addition to these four. Three women and a teen. The goblin bodies they've stored in the root cellar under the barn. 

While Mirica heads into one of the houses to look in on the injured halflings, Garkin leads you to the root cellar...."This is the one that didn't explode."  As you glance down at the disfigured body, It's readily apparent that this is no ordinary goblin— it’s nearly 4 feet tall, and its disfigured features are green and grotesque. The second body is just a bunch of goblin bits. Toc looks down at it, "It has no lingering magical auras, but it seems to bear signs of exposure to alchemical agents of some sort." 

"Oh, you did not say there were injured survivals. Of course - please, show me the way." Others would know what to do with the goblins in the village - dead or alive - but injured had to be helped right away.

"Sweetroot? Good call." approved Mirica little herbalist's choice, "But lets get of these nasty wounds all together." She checked the injuries and begun quiet chant of prayers.

(Whatever spell Mirica feels will be needed is used to restore halflings to full health. Can she tell anything specific about the weapons judging by the look of the wounds?)

     “When did this happen?  How long ago?” Fianna asks eagerly and forcefully, wanting to cut through all the delightful but drawn out chatter and get to the heart of the matter.  If there was a question of catching them, if it was just an hour or two, Fianna would suggest we leave the halflings potions for their maimed and give chase.  If more than a couple hours, then there’s no point in not delaying a bit.

     Fianna would also give the halflings a quick look over with her Eldritch Sight (( Detect Magic )) and use it for an even closer examination of the attackers.

     FinFin is off on an advanced scouting mission.  Whatever direction the halflings seem to agree the attacks came from, the familiar is headed off in that direction to try to track down any encampments or such.

Jahren tends to believe these frantic halflings are very much telling the truth, but his social insight is always active for deception or other inconsistencies none the less.

Insight: 19

The half-elf follows along with the others to see the injured townsfolk and the disfigured goblin bodies.

Mirica is able to cure some of the wounds...which...is a good thing because by her assessment they were on the path to death in a day or two. Even with a cure spell upon each, and some of their caustic burns healed, they are both still unconscious. They appear to be poisoned by whatever alchemical ichor was sprayed on them, and they remain unconscious. She can't say how long for, though a lesser restoration she figures would purge the poisonous influence from their system. 

Jahren's instinct to trust feels right, as he thinks these Halflings are a trustworthy folk, at least when it matters. Maybe he figures they might be the mischievous type, but are clearly in no mood for games at the moment, and much too stressed.

As Toc mentioned, there's only the faint haze of some magical influence left on the remains of the goblins when Fianna focus' on them with her eldritch sight. Otherwise, she's never seen anything like this. There seems to be a mixture of alchemical and magical influence on their bodies, having transformed them into some twisted version of a goblin. The one that exploded, based on the bits left over, was as twisted inside as outside. She figures it's more than a simple spell. There is evidence of some physical alchemical reagent having melded into their skin and organs. Strike that last thought. She has seen something like this before. During the war against the Shadovar....and the floating city of Shade, there were demons that had been 'enhanced' through the Shadovar's dark arts. These goblins alterations remind her of those. Though....where the demon's changes were crafted into making it into a killing machine and enhancing it...these ones seem sloppy, partially harmful, and obviously poorly administered.

The halflings re-iterate that the attack was four days ago.  FinFin goes flying around on a scouting mission. The path the goblins cut through the wheat is surprisingly easy to see from the air, even after 4 days, and does indeed head parallel to the road and straight south towards the forest, which FinFin can see on the distant horizon, 6 miles south of here. 

And Lesser restoration was used, of course. There is no point in closing the wounds if the body still dying of poison. Mirica intended to cure those halflings with the power bestowed upon her, and she did not have a habit to leave patients before they were healed.

"Disgusting!" commented she to the group later, "and very disturbing. Now that monster experiments with the living. Even goblins did not deserve it. Not to mention they are trying to spread that horrific poison to others. We probably have to prepare to fight the poison as well if we are after that twisted goblins".

The two halflings, Grennil and Reidle slowly awaken from their slumber as the poison is purged from their bodies. The Sweetroot is still in their system and keeps them a bit groggy, but they do awaken.  The halflings around them quietly give them hugs.  One of them even goes so far as to hug Mirica out of the blue.  Then another.  Then another.  But they soon let go and back away.  Grennil sits up on his bed, and glances around, "Nikol?"  The halflings sadly respond, "Dead sir.."  

Grennil looks up, "You've saved my life, and my sons. I can't repay you....but thank you so much...and...Harl farm is in your debt. I can offer you a quiet, usually safe place to stay...and....our beds are small, but the food is warm and the house dry.  And of course....we have plenty of wheat, if that is of any interest to you....perhaps in the late summer when we harvest and go to market, I may be in a position to pay you.  For now.....Margol...get the petty coin purse.....I think there is 25 gold in there. It's yours. I would pay you to track down the source of the goblins, but this is really all I have." 

Mirica did not mind the hugs but smiled sadly to Grennil: "I am glad to see you alive and I share your loss and your grief - it saddens me that I was not here to help your wife. You do not owe me anything but I promise you the goblins that attacked you will pay for what they did, as well as the monster that sent them. Now you and your son need some rest. I will join my companions and we will see what can be done about your attackers."

     Fianna cannot help but release a small snort.  She considers so many taunts and teases and amusing threats she could make but the dear people are so earnest and well meaning that she just cannot bring herself to do it.  Instead she shakes her head and heads outside for a bit of peace and quiet.  FinFin is still tracking the goblins as best it can, heading into the forest to try and do so.  They keep to the tree tops when they can, resting often and looking about for clues, and for scouts and lookouts.  And, perhaps, the occasional squirrel or other small meal...

((To be clear, Fianna snorted at the Halfling's offer to pay 25 gold, not Mirica's response... Was posting at same time!))

Roll survival for FinFin for tracking.

FinFin survival: 6

((+2 more if this would apply - Keen Senses. The pseudodragon has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight, hearing, or smell.  If not, oh well.))

((Yeah, not thinking another 2 matters much...))

Jezun places his hand on Mirica's shoulder in thanks after the halflings were healed. "You're quite good at this. And yes, there is a wrongness, Grennil. What else could we do but seek it out to erase it?"

During a quiet moment afterward, he says to the others, "I've found that poison and disease do not bother me as much as they once did, thanks to my practice. I keep well hydrated, that might be it? Anyhow, I'm happy to get in the thick of things when we find them. Should we try to leave now? Hard for me to understand if the goblins are a four day journey from here or they're nearby and have been back at their place for a few days. I'd be happy to scout ahead to find out, save you all some steps."

What time of day is it by now?

It's around noon.  The attack occurred 4 days ago. The halflings do not know where in the forest they come from.  

The group gets ready to depart the homestead, the halflings, all looking very happy, wave energetically as the party turns and starts marching south along the wheat field.  When the wheat fields end at a narrow creek however, FinFin has lost the trail. Whoever wants to track for the group, please roll 4 survival check (with help). 

Mirica nodded respectfully  to Jezun's words but answered with the caution: "I probably mentioned that in my travels did come across people like yourself, Master Jezun, even being in some of the monasteries. I saw firsthand the miracles your dedication can perform - it is remarkable indeed. And yet, I ask you to be careful here - the disease or poison we see here is unnatural. There is a fowl magic at play, and I am not sure if our skills are in par with it."

Speaking of skills - she was not exactly a ranger, but one learns some tracking when one spends so much time on the road. She checked both sides of the creek.

Survival: 14

((Prods Mirica to continue leading the way and roll 3 more times...))

     Having lost the trail, FinFin is dismissed and then immediately resummoned back to where Fianna is - The trip home always faster since it is instantaneous like this.  FinFin takes a well deserved rest for an hour or so before once more taking to the skies, this time staying close to the party and playing the role of lookout and scout.

((Um... Can we count it as a "roll for all attempts"?))

Mirica picks up the trail on the far side of the stream, just a ways down. Fianna seems to revel in her ability to simply walk across the surface of the running water as the rest of the group picks their way across the stream and into the bushes and grass beyond.  Once in the grass, the group mounts up, and the horses proceed slowly. 

Mirica leads the group along the trail for the six miles until the wall of trees that is the northern edge of Cormanthor rises before you. Trees more than twelve feet across fill the space with that wonderous and dark alien landscape of elven forest beyond. The group presses on, the forest nothing new to them. 

You follow the tracks for the better part of the afternoon. You smell it before you see it.  Ahead you start to see the remains of an elven village sprinkled amidst the trees.  The path you've followed has generally been parallel to the small southern path, though varying from 100 feet to a mile in distance.  Still, you are now at the village and it looks destroyed.  Toc presses his horse forward, "Two goblins did not do this...." 

The charred remains of tree houses and standard houses on the ground—all of them burnt to the ground are laid out before you. The buildings don’t seem to be the only victims—nearly two dozen dead elves lay scattered about the area. While most bear wounds synonymous of weapons, others look like they’ve been torn apart. 

As you get closer to the ruined village...it appears to have been destroyed many days before.  Just then you hear the sound of a baby crying....and in elven it mumbles "Moommmy..."  weakly, from somewhere in the ruins. 

The group pauses though. The sound...has...malevolence behind it......it is not the real cry of a baby.... 

     FinFin is immediately high in the air amidst the tree branches and looking down on everything as best he can, relaying anything relevant to Fianna.

     Fianna called up her Eldritch Sight as they entered this village looking for any magical traps or hints of what happened, upon hearing the child call out she immediately started to move in that direction, but then pulled herself up short. Her eyes turn to the direction she believes the sound came from and she readies herself...  For anything.