Sunlight streams through the numerous cracks in the cabin walls, painting stripes of light across the dusty floor. You awaken not gradually, but with a clear snap back to consciousness, the lingering fog of sleep dissolving instantly. The sounds of the village drift in – the crowing of a rooster, the distant bleating of sheep or goats, the rhythmic clang of a hammer on metal (Borin already hard at work, it seems), muffled voices, and the general low hum of a community starting its day.
As you sit up on the cot, stretching muscles that feel surprisingly limber and strong despite yesterday's exertion, Oracle's calm voice resonates in your mind.
<< Host consciousness detected. Post-rest cycle initiated. Accumulated experience points automatically allocated to optimize survival parameters and recently utilized skill sets based on combat performance analysis. >>
<< Stat enhancements applied: Strength +1, Dexterity +1, Constitution +1. Skill proficiency improved: Dagger Combat +1 rank, Stealth +1 rank. Current statistics updated. >>
You don't feel a dramatic surge of power, but rather a subtle deepening of capability – a sense that you're slightly quicker, stronger, tougher than you were when you fell asleep. The memory of the goblin fight feels even clearer now, the successful maneuvers more deeply ingrained.
Looking down at yourself, the reality of your situation hits again. Your black athletic clothes are filthy – smeared with dirt, grime, dried goblin bloodstains near your hand where you muffled the shaman, and the general muck of traveling through the forest. They scream 'outsider' even more loudly in the clear light of day than they did in the twilight gloom. First priority: cleaning up. You need to wash these clothes somehow. Second priority: find something less conspicuous to wear. Walking around looking like a shadow ninja from another dimension isn't conducive to blending in or earning trust. Third priority: talk to Elder Rowan. He mentioned speaking further today, about the goblins and your 'future path'. You need information, guidance, and potentially, a way to start earning your keep or moving on.
Gathering the wool blanket and waterskin provided last night, you slide the heavy wooden bar securing the door and push it open, stepping out into the bright morning.
The village of Oakhaven is alive with quiet industry. The air smells of damp earth, woodsmoke from rekindled hearths, livestock, and faintly, baking bread from somewhere nearby. Chickens peck and scratch in the dirt near the cabin. Further down the path, a woman vigorously sweeps her doorstep, while two men carry yokes with buckets, likely heading to the well or the stream. The morning sun casts long shadows, warming the air pleasantly.
Your appearance immediately draws attention. A pair of children who were playing near a woodpile stop dead, eyes wide, pointing silently before one tugs the other back behind the stack. The woman sweeping pauses, her eyes flicking over your strange attire before she quickly looks away, resuming her work with perhaps a bit more vigor than necessary. The men with the yokes glance at you, murmur something to each other, and continue on their way, casting wary looks over their shoulders.
As you walk back towards the village center, the reactions continue. People stop what they're doing to stare. Whispers follow you down the narrow paths. It's not overtly hostile – you did save them last night, after all – but it's thick with curiosity, suspicion, and the natural human reaction to something profoundly 'other'. You see some villagers nod stiffly as you pass, a grudging acknowledgement perhaps, while others pointedly ignore you or duck into doorways. The guards you saw patrolling yesterday are near the main gate; they watch you approach, their expressions neutral, offering curt nods which you return before continuing towards the Elder's house. It seems your actions bought you passage, but not necessarily acceptance. Yet.
You reach Elder Rowan's home. Smoke curls invitingly from its chimney. You take a breath, steeling yourself for the conversation to come, and knock firmly on the wooden door.
The door opens promptly, revealing Meredith, who greets you with a warm, genuine smile that contrasts sharply with the wary glances you received outside. Her initial curiosity seems to have settled into a kind acceptance, likely influenced by her father's stance and your actions.
"Keelan! Good morning," she says cheerfully. "Father said you might call around this time. Please, come in, come in! I've just made some oat porridge, and the water's fresh from the well."
"Good morning, Meredith," you reply, returning her smile and feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you, that sounds wonderful."
You step inside, bringing the blanket and waterskin with you and setting them down near the door. The house smells invitingly of woodsmoke and cooking oats this morning. The fire in the hearth is burning brightly, chasing away the last of the night's chill. Meredith bustles over to the hearth, ladling thick, steaming porridge into a wooden bowl and fetching a cup of water. She gestures for you to sit at the sturdy wooden table where several stools are placed, rather than the armchair near the fire where Rowan sat last night.
You take a seat just as Elder Rowan emerges from the back room, looking perhaps a bit more frail in the daylight but his eyes just as sharp. He nods a greeting. (Slept well enough... Stranger looks rested too... Good. Time to talk.)
"Ah, Keelan. Good morning," he says, his voice still thin but clear. "I trust the old Fletcher cabin provided adequate shelter?"
"It did, thank you, Elder Rowan," you reply as Meredith places the bowl of porridge and the cup of water before you. "More than adequate. And thank you for breakfast, Meredith."
Stolen story; please report.
The porridge is simple but filling – coarse oats boiled with water, perhaps a pinch of salt, maybe sweetened slightly with a drizzle of honey or berry juice, judging by the faint sweetness. It warms you from the inside out. You eat gratefully but not ravenously like last night, mindful that a conversation is pending.
Rowan takes his usual seat in the armchair by the fire, Meredith pouring him a cup of something that looks like herbal tea. He waits until you've eaten a few spoonfuls before speaking again, his gaze steady.
"Torvin reported the details last night," Rowan begins, steepling his gnarled fingers. "Nine goblins accounted for. A significant number for a raiding party in this part of the Greenvale. Usually, we see smaller scout groups, or they stick closer to the Greyfangs." (Concern: Why so many? Why so bold? Shaman involved... Sign of something worse? Need information.)
He pauses, letting his words sink in. "Your arrival, while fortunate for us, coincides with this unusual aggression. You mentioned tracking them from an ambushed cart down the path." He leans forward slightly. "Tell me more about that. What did you see at the cart? Were there any signs of who or what attacked it before the goblins arrived? And did the goblins seem... organized? Led?"
He awaits your answers patiently, his sharp eyes watching your every reaction, while you continue to eat the simple, warming porridge.
You finish another spoonful of porridge, setting the spoon down deliberately. You meet Elder Rowan's gaze, deciding that honesty about the cart scene is the best policy – it corroborates your tracking story and avoids potential contradictions later.
"The cart..." you begin, picturing the scene clearly. "It was maybe an hour or two's walk further back up the trail. Tipped onto its side, one wheel snapped clean off the axle. Looked like it happened quickly." You pause, recalling the details. "There were burlap sacks scattered. One was ripped open, spilling dried beans. Another held rough cloth. The third..." You reach into your inner jacket pocket and pull out the handful of dirty, fist-sized tubers you took, placing them carefully on the table between you and Rowan. "...held these. Common roots, I think you called them?"
You gesture to the roots. "Forgive me, Elder. I was starving and hadn't found water yet. I took these, thinking I might find a way to cook them later. I saw no coin, no valuables, just those basic goods. There were signs of a struggle in the dirt – scuff marks, churned earth – but no bodies, no blood that I could see. It seemed... abandoned after being quickly looted."
Meredith glances at the roots on the table, then at you, her expression softening with understanding. Rowan looks at the roots, then back at you, his eyes unreadable for a moment. (Common roots... worthless to bandits... took them for food... Honesty is valuable.)
"Keep them, Keelan," Rowan says quietly, dismissing the roots with a small wave of his hand. "Food taken in true need requires no apology here. Your description matches what little we know of such incidents. Opportunistic attacks, quick grabs, then vanish." He leans back slightly, his gaze turning distant.
You seize the opening. "Which brings me to the goblins, Elder. Were they responsible for the cart, do you think? And... this attack last night. Torvin mentioned you don't usually see raids this large, this... aggressive. Why now? Why risk attacking a defended village directly? It seemed unusually bold, especially with a Hob leading them and a Shaman for support."
Rowan sighs, a heavy sound from his frail chest. He runs a hand over his wrinkled forehead. (The core question... why now?)
Time: Early Morning
Date: 02/05/1042
Character: Keelan
Stats:
- Strength (STR): 22 (Increased from 21)
- Dexterity (DEX): 23 (Increased from 22)
- Intelligence (INT): 20
- Constitution (CON): 22 (Increased from 21)
- (Current Rank Estimate: B) (Rank improved due to stat increase crossing threshold)
Skills:
- Stealth: C (Improved from D)
- Dagger Combat: C (Improved from D)
- Combat Initiative: E
- Threat Assessment: E
- Basic First Aid (Modern): E
- Survival (Untrained): E
Status:
- Health: Healthy
- Hunger: Peckish (Woke up)
- Thirst: Hydrated
- Stamina: Full
- Injuries: None
Inventory:
- Currency: 0 Copper, 0 Silver, 0 Gold
- Clothing: Black shirt, black sweatpants, black weatherproof sports jacket, athletic sneakers. (All currently dirty)
- Worn Accessories: Silver watch, Silver ring (sports club logo).
- Bum Bag: Smartphone (Approx 48% charge), Small foldable solar charger, Lighter, Small pocket knife, Basic modern medication (Painkillers x10 doses, Multivitamins x30 doses), Full sports water bottle.
- Weapons: Rusty Goblin Dagger (wrapped in rag, stored in jacket pocket).
- Other: Common Roots x6 (Stored in jacket pocket), Wool Blanket, Leather Waterskin (Full).