Chapter IV: The Goblin
She spotted him from a distance. A stocky warrior, standing maybe fifty feet away. The warrior was distracted by something on the ground. He hadn't caught her scent.
Though well-versed in many goblin affairs, Jayne Goodfall (at that moment) was glad to have seen him first, not the other way around. She crouched behind a bush for some time, studying the warrior's movements. She could see that he was relaxed, not agitated. Which was good, of course. After studying the symbols upon his breastplate, she could also see he was from the Cracked Wood tribe, meaning that she'd made decent progress through the forest. She had to be on the western edge of the Niben. Hopefully, she was somewhere near to Cropsford.
Cropsford, that small village which had been decimated, then slowly rebuilt, at the end of the Third Era (and into the Fourth, she hoped). Though her memory was foggy, there had been some sort of trouble with goblins in the area, The Black Horse Courier had published a story about this. Two tribes at war, if she recalled correctly. One of Cyrodiil's numerous Third Era adventurers had managed to resolve the dilemma, as she recalled, and the tale then ended happily.
Jayne gripped the small wooden stick from her belt, looking at it doubtfully. She had fashioned this stick two days before, but was now unsure whether the warrior would even acknowledge her efforts. This stick was actually a bundle of several vines and twines, bent and tarred carefully around a central stake of oak, then secured in place with several small iron tacks. Jayne had found all the wooden parts herself around Drakelowe, while Melisande had provided the metal. It had taken several hours for Jayne to construct.
To most folk, her stick might appear to be a rather elegant accomplishment, perhaps an art piece of some sort, for it was too short to be a walking cane, too flimsy to be a weapon. But to Jayne, this 'art piece' could literally become the difference between her life, or her death.
It's a totem Jayne had explained to Melisande several days before, after she'd carefully begun dipping the newly-shaped item into a small pot of hot, black, gooish substance.
A ... totem! Melisande had squeaked.
How very lovely! And whatever is this totem for? And thus began the conversation, which caused the actual rift, which soon developed into the full-blown argument between host and guest back at Drakelowe Farm. ...
GET OUT! Melisande had eventually screamed.
Get OUT of here, before I CALL THE GUARDS! Jayne shuddered at the memory. Drakelowe's owner had quickly gone from being mild and friendly to quite menacing, throwing spells at Jayne, even summoning an atronach of fire! Jayne hadn't foreseen how things could have gone so wrong! She definitely shouldn't have tried elucidating the woman about her past.
But of course, Jayne Goodfall now had more pressing concerns. Her totem, for instance. Had she done it right?
Unarmed and unarmored (but hopefully not too unprepared), the next few moments would make all the difference. Brimming with anticipation, Jayne began to sweat. She looked down to her clothes, the same
coarse linens she'd been wearing for days, and was suddenly glad they were a bit scuffed. No longer freshly-laundered. She'd smell of the forest around her, meaning that the warrior would be just a little more open to her presence.
She thought it all through one more time, then stood fully. The warrior saw her.
"Yargh!" he called, throwing his arms to the sky, readying his mace. He began to stomp quickly toward her. Before she knew it, Jayne was fumbling her totem, hoping it would make all the difference.
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Paper Doll'dSwimming -- (Mel was chasing her by now. Wish I had gotten pics of her going batty. She really went overboard)
Jayne's got a totem! -- (An SI mace actually. We'll have to use our imagination because I couldn't find something equivalent)
City in the distanceThis post has been edited by Renee: Aug 11 2019, 11:51 PM