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Eona’s hands stilled and she looked up in surprise. When she raised her head the profusion of freckles across her cheeks and nose made it obvious that she was not a full blooded elf.

“Good noon to you,” she said. Then she broke into a friendly smile. “I see that Goodman Tarle decided to give you a ride as well. I’m Eona.”

As she spoke she heard a sound off in the trees. She might not only be a half elf, but she still had good hearing and eyesight. She tucked her needle into the fabric of the tunic and laid them down beside her. “I think there’s something in the trees,” she said quietly.

Checking first that her staff was still within easy reach, she pulled out her sling with one hand while reaching into her bag of shot with the other. Just then she saw a flash of light glinting off something metal as a small figure appeared from behind a tree.

Eona stood, already swinging her sling. “Goblins in the woods!” she shouted, hoping she could be heard by everyone in the caravan or at least far enough that the message could be spread.

((I can get Jhanandra out of her cart easy enough

The blonde elven dancing girl sat poised on the suspended bench, the mouthpiece of her shisha pipe in hand and held before her black painted lips. Exhaling smoke she turned her blonde head towards the rallying cry.

"What is that moon's-cloth headed wench going on about?" Assallya asked herself aloud as she watched the half-elven druidess standing atop the other wagon and begin twirling her sling.

"By Sharess' tits," she murmured as her blue eyes scanned the treeline where Eona's attention was being drawn.

When he met her eyes, the girl’s features startled Jack a moment, though not enough to show it. He double checked her ears before he returned her smile.
“I guess he did!” Jack told her with a shrug. “Nice to meet you, Eona. I'm Jack.”
He wondered if she knew the man, Tarle, and would have asked as much if it wasn’t for her sobering expression. Instead he held his breath and listened, looking at her with the same concerned face.

She about whispered then and already Jack’s hand was on his sword. He didn't hear a thing which further relieved him about the girl's non-human distinction. He looked where she was looking then back after he didn't see anything. As soon as she yelled about goblins, however, they showed themselves to him, as if summoned by the word.

“You’re kidding,” Jack groaned, standing up in the cart and working to keep his balance. “Can’t catch a bloody break.”
He unsheathed his sword and waited, his eyes quickly scanning, counting, and plotting the best move.

The cry of enemies upon the horizen awoke Jhanandra like the dead rising on command, but she did not leap into action. Instead she claimed her blade and sunk into the pile of hay, moving withing the golden mass to where she could peek upon the treeline without giving away her position... there was hunting to do.

Tonaf was still stroking the haft of his lumberaxe when the warning shout stung his ears. His grip upon the wooden shaft of his weapon was sudden and intense, as he stood up to observe the commotion from open window his coach, the little caravan barely a few feet above his already short frame. Peering over the simple window of his coach, the lumberaxe was girded tight across Ton's leather bound chest as he spotted the shadows of little figures wading behind the forest trees, their green complexions half concealing them beneath the canopy. Life in the forest had given Ton a keen sight for danger.

"Goblins, nasty little creatures." Tonaf murmured aloud. The little beasts were no strangers to Dukewood, and he had no fear of them in their small parties - he had taught a few of the little bullies why an axe-bearing lumberjack should not be provoked. To chase a caravan trail was something entirely different, however. These goblins must be raving mad, or worse, numerous enough to brave the coaches.

The thought made his stomach gurgle as he continued to peer indecisively through the little window. If fate was good today, these little buggers would run off once enough of their mates caught a face full of slung stone.

Or so he would hope.

At the first cry of danger, the three horsemen spurred their mounts and charged with an earsplitting, “GO”. Each leaping from the road to the field in massive bounds leaving nothing more than tumbling stones and a cloud of dirt.

The awkward fellow instantly took lead as the Knabstupper’s hooves shook the earth below it with such force it could be heard by those still within the wooden carts. The beast beneath him breathed heavily, spraying saliva and extruding hot air from its nostrils nearly imitating a hunting mutt ravaged towards it’s masters recent kill. It’s pupils dilating with focus in a way that seemed almost personal yet purposeful and upon closing the gap between the wagon and these rat-riding raiders, the leader ordered, “Sabres ready?”

With that, all three warriors unsheathed their blades and poised their bodies low against their steed’s necks, ready to cut each of these sudden intruders from their mounts, dispatching of them instantly.

Among the dry vegetation of the south forest, scattered and hidden among the towering trees, were their newfound enemies peeking through with yellow eyes. Goblins. Nasty monsters known everywhere for their vicious nature and dirty appearance, but remembered by all for their despicable fighting tactics. Although their surprise element was lost, not a single one of those creatures hesitated another moment and charged against their targets: Anything that moved.

The three horsemen's swift actions downed but a few before the greenish creatures scattered, short height and great agility facilitating most to bypass and get closer to what is now a spectacle of growing panic.

At the forefront of the line, Tarle fought his own battle to keep the pulling horse from running in its fright. Less he is separated and loses the small protection granted from staying with the rest. The man could only watch as three goblins sprinted toward his direction, rusted blades being raised to target either him or the animal that could manage to escape. It all came down to Eona or Jack to intercept them before those things reached him.

Another two of those smelly creatures set their aim on the vardo wagon behind Tarle, eyes shining at the sight of the elf seated there as if she was some sort of trophy highly sought after. Their wicked smile seemed to grow together with their eagerness to climb and slash. Perhaps capture. Somehow, Assallya had gained that duo's absolute attention and it would be quite difficult to make them turn tail now.

But it is the middle of the line where most of the creatures ran towards. The two coaches filled with people seemed to be the most profitable target, especially the fancier one where the caravan master was situated. Stevan was the one responsible to bring this myriad of people and goods to the next town per the feudal lord's request. Without him, anyone's entrance into the city will be, in all likelihood, denied. On the other carriage, Tonaf could easily count six of them getting closer with every passing second, blades at the ready to first kill the animals and their respective coachmen.

For the hidden Jhanandra, only one goblin managed to evade Ruslan and rush towards the mule pulling the hay wagon. Oblivious to the threat lurking so close, the monster shouted what sounded like curses to all who couldn't understand the goblin language. But for those who could, it would become clear that this sturdy-looking green creature was the leader of the group. A golden necklace soiled beyond recognition and an unusual short staff made of wood and resin are the only characteristics to distinguish him from all the others.

Eona loosed the shot from her sling, striking the goblin she had first seen in the head and knocking it down and hoped it would stay that way. Picking up her staff she lept to the ground and ran to meet the first of the three little creatures heading for Goodman Tarle's cart. The staff would increase her already greater reach and hopefully keep the little bugger far away.

It met Eona's strike with it's club and unfortunately was just fast and short enough to duck down and get under her most effective area and hit her in the thigh. Dropping her staff, Eona unsheathed her daggers crouching down a bit to try to make the thing easier to reach at this close range.

The little monster was wily and quick, but Eona had better training and more of it so thought it was able to dodge and parry her attacks of a little bit, she eventually won out with a stab to its chest. It fell as she pulled out her blade and she turned to see if there were any other enemies to fight.

The head goblin would falsely believe itself to be alone as it rushed the hay wagon- why that for a target was a discussion for the scholars, perhaps it wanted to be the first to reach any wagon as a means of showing superiority to its subordinates. However instead of golden hay or a mule to feast on a muscular she-elf leapt from under the hay with a startling battlecry.

Lunging clear of the wagon she tackled the goblin leader to the ground, stunned it was trapped in an iron grip as an arm came around its throat, a hand gripoing the head and twisting it unto the nexk made a sickening crack. The leader dropped lifeless, but the barbarian was not done yet...

At someone’s yell (”GO!"), Jack turned to really take in the surrounding caravans for the first time. Everyone in them seemed to rise to attention at the ensuing danger. One of them, a blonde, elven woman, caught Jack’s eye, if only for the scanty way she dressed and the set of gifts she was so bountifully bestowed. The sounds of spooked horses and shouts became drowned out by the sounds of angry goblins and Jack tore his eyes away in time to see Eona cast her stone.

Jack hopped down from the cart and ran after Eona, quickly deducing that she was vastly outnumbered. He slashed through the two goblins that had their sights set on her, able to get them from behind while they obsessed over her. His sword hacked through with relative ease, like a knife through cold butter.

“Hey!” He shouted at the three goblins encroaching on Eona. Two looked his way, but one was too keen on fighting with the girl.
Jack kept the two goblins at bay with aggressive strikes and equally aggressive footwork. The creatures nicked him in the calves and thighs a few times, but the cuts were easily ignored. They weren’t so easy to deal with from the front. Wickedly fast and deadly sharp, goblins were never Jack’s favorite.

Eventually they both fell, after Jack used a fake-out move on both, and he checked on Eona before checking on the rest of the caravan trail. Mostly, he checked on the blonde elven woman. The crack of the leader’s neck would go unheard in all the commotion.

“There will be more,” Jack told Eona through his pants. He was speaking from experience and a little from fear. Sweat ran down his jawline and his bruised face glistened in the sun, his body trying to rid itself of the foul toxins he swam in the night before.

"By Myrkul's shriveled black balls," the dancing girl cursed as she watched the goblins rush in a staggered, chaotic line, with little thought or planning.

Two goblins weren't a bother, not from her vantage. The problem was that she didn't like people knowing she was capable of casting magic and that made the goblins a real problem.

She drew out the crossbow from behind the bench, aimed, and squeezed the latch. Little did she know that you weren't supposed to leave a crossbow forever drawn and the weakened limbs of the crossbow hurled the bolt with all the force of a limp wristed child. The bolt blossomed into a flower of feathers and wood six strides short of it's target.

Normally she'd just cast a simple illusion of herself being a demon or a form powerful mystic queen. Alternatively she could cast a slumber spell, a spell of holding or even summon a creature but all of those would reveal her magical ability.

Oh well...

The blonde elven girl began to cast, trying to keep her action subtle. Maybe they'd assume that half-elf druid did it. She began murmuring, fingers twitching, feeling the magical flows and redirecting them I to the pattern she desired of them. She was almost done when the white haired barbarian woman exploded out of the hay like a fireball, with a volume to match.

Startled, Assallya lost the flows of magic she'd been assembling to deal with the approaching goblins.

((We have at least two blonde elves lol ))