It was the hour just before dawn when the goblin leader called for a halt. “We have almost reached the hiding place of the Hated One!” he shouted from the back of his trusty goblin dog steed. “He hides in a walled place where many dogs and horses wait to stomp and bite us! But we must press on, to take back what was stolen and avenge the honor of the kween!”
“For da kween!” shouted the other goblins in response.
Yarek was pleased as he surveyed his goblin followers, a dozen in all. They were each painted red, the fierce color most loved by Kween Ekkie, as befitting her most elite troop, Da Kween’s Knuckles. “Now, are there any questions before we continue?” One goblin raised his hand. “Yes, Moug?”
“Who farted?” the goblin asked.
Yarek scowled at the question. He had been expecting a more serious question, sure folly when dealing with other goblins. Before he could answer, another of the Knuckles sniffed the air. “Smells like Iboula.”
Iboula looked offended. “It wasn’t me!” she shouted before trying to bite the one who had disrespected her.
“Calm yourselves!” Yarek shouted. “Save it for when we find the Hated One!” The others hissed at the mention of their foe, forgetting their quarrel. “Good, now we continue onward! That…” he looked around, trying to remember which direction they had been headed moments before.
As he tried to get his bearings, he heard Moug whisper to the goblin next to him. “He does not know the way!”
“Shut up!” Yarek yelled. “I know where we’re going!”
“I do not believe him,” Moug whispered to the other. “He does not know the way. Do you know the way?”
Yarek swung his stick, striking Moug upside his head. “Shut up!” he yelled again. “We go that way!” he pointed, only missing the direction they had been heading by about thirty degrees.
Back in Trunau, Qumeel arrived at the wall at dawn, as had been agreed. “Ragathiel bless the rising sun, that purges away the darkness,” he prayed solemnly as he climbed to the top of the tower. The guardsman who he would stand with was already there, as was the one he was relieving. “Joyous morning, Douglas and Brollerth!” Qumeel said with a smile on his face. These men were perhaps not the best guards, but they stood their watch nonetheless and thus had Qumeel’s respect.
“Well, ah, ah, good morning, Qumeel,” Douglas said, looking up from the reflection in his Kukri.
Brollerth Wildfire was covered in dirt but he greeted Qumeel warmly. “Like, good morning or something.” – No one knew actual last name, but everyone was pretty sure he had been kicked out of his old community for his fascination with fire, hence the name. But he had not done anything mischievous with his pyromania, instead contenting himself to think of new and inventive ways to burn orcs, which the town’s leadership approved of.
“You appear to have been busy,” Qumeel noted.
“Like, I, um, set up a minefield or something?”
“A what?” Qumeel asked.
“Well, you, ah, know,” Douglas answered. He pointed to two rocks. “If any orcs walk into that area there, they’ll step on one of the places where Brollerth buried the traps. Then they’ll ah um explode?” He sighed. “Gods my face is beautiful.”
“Right,” Qumeel said, sorry he had asked. Still, someone might want to warn the watch captain so he could warn the others not to walk over there. He would do so immediately after his turn at watch. He was sure it could wait, since it was certain that the watch captain would have his hands full after the fighting that had occurred at the halfling’s inn the previous night.
He wondered if he would be called upon to escort the strange wizard from town for starting the fight. If so, he would have to be on his guard. There was something foul in the air about that one. The taint of demons lingered on the man, as though he had been long consorting with them.
“Well, like, I’m gonna get some breakfast or something?” Brollerth said. “Have a nice life- wait, what’s that?” he asked, pointing.
Qumeel looked where he was pointing, though Douglas just continued carefully cleaning his teeth by the reflection of the blade. In the distance, Qumeel spotted a group of goblins marching towards the town. There was one – clearly the leader – riding on the back of a starved goblin dog as well as another walking next to him carrying a crudely drawn banner depicting what appeared to be a female goblin wearing a crown. Eleven others marched next to them, with no formation nor disciplined cadence to their movement. Only goblins could be so truly and utterly disorganized. And the weirdest part was that they were all painted red.
The goblins came to a halt in a jerking fashion. The banner carrier fumbled to pull out a horn which he blew. It produced a stuttering, squeaking sound. If it hadn’t been for the sharpened dogslicers and horsechoppers the goblins carried, Qumeel would have found the scene entirely comical. Even their mismatched armor crafted of various pieces of refuse added to the ridiculousness of the scene.
The goblin on the mount waited until the other finished blowing the horn, then shouted his demands at the wall. “In the name of Kween Ekkie, you will immediately turn over to us the Hated One! Any who stand in our way will face our wrath!”
Douglas and Brollerth were whispering to each other, the latter giggling as they spoke, but Qumeel did not ask the content of their conversation. Instead, he focused on the threat. “We are unaware of whom you speak,” he called back. “We will need to contact the town’s leadership so they may discuss it with you.”
“You may have one hour to bring the Hated One to us, or we will burn your town!” the goblin boasted.
“Okay, while ah ah Qumeel looks ah into it,” Douglas said. “You guys should move over there. The light is ah better and you’ll ah look more intimidating.” Brollerth did his best to suppress his giggles as his friend spoke.
Several guileless goblins immediately began doing what Douglas suggested. “What are you doing?!” Yarek howled. “Come back here!”
“But the light is better there,” said one of the goblins.
“We are going over there,” another answered. “Over here smells like Iboula.”
“I DO NOT SMELL!” Iboula screeched as she chased after the four that were leaving.
Qumeel could only watch in horror as the four goblins marched headfirst into the minefield. And then the first one stepped on a mine. After a loud explosion, Moug – or what was left of him – came falling from the sky and struck Iboula. The impact knocked her down onto a mine, causing her to explode as well. Then other two immediately began panicking, shrieking and running through the minefield. It was only a matter of seconds before they both met an explosive end as well.
Qumeel disapproved of the entire thing, but he still had to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Yarek wiped the goblin entrails from his face and shouted. “REVENGE!” he roared. “CHARGE!”
“FOR DA KWEEN!” the other goblins shouted. Several of them began firing with crude short bows while the rest charged the town’s wooden palisade, ready to begin scaling. Behind him, Qumeel heard the sound of the alarm horn blowing, likely in response to the sound of the explosions.
“They’re, ah ah, on fire!” Douglas shouted as an arrow grazed him.
“Shut up, Douglas,” Brollerth said. Qumeel deftly turned aside an arrow with his shield.
“You’ve allied yourself with Rodd Rigez!” Yarek roared. “DIE!”
“They’re, like, shooting at us or something?” Brollerth said, pulling out a flask of alchemist’s fire and debating whether to use it to cauterize his new arrow wound or throw it at the goblins.
“That almost hit my face!” Douglas wailed, nursing his own wound.
“Shut up, Douglas, gawd! Do the thing!”
Douglas immediately knew what to do, pulling out a bottle of oil and dumping it over the goblins climbing the wall below his position. He took another arrow in his shoulder for his trouble and dropped behind the wall. Qumeel cast a spell to grant his companions the blessings of Ragathiel that their attacks would strike true.
Then Brollerth chucked his flask down on the closest goblin. The oil caught fire and the goblin – now a corpse – dropped from the wall and onto the goblin below it, knocking her down. The goblin kicked the corpse and began climbing just as Brollerth and Qumeel each took a dangerous hit from an arrow and had to crouch behind the wall.
“I have to get Uncle’s skull back!” the goblin yelled as she scrambled up the wall.
“Yes, Tipi! Keep fighting!” Yarek shouted, gently nudging his goblin dog away from the wall a bit, preparing to run. No matter how he rationalized it, they weren’t going to win this fight. But he could not return to Da Kween unless they had given it their all.
On the wall, Douglas readied his Kukri. “Just try to come over that wall!” he shouted. “We’ll ah fuck you up!” He smiled at the reflection in his blade. “Man I’m pretty today.”
“Shut up Douglas,” Brollerth said, readying his spear.
“Don’t hate whatchu don’t got!” Douglas retorted.
“KEEP FIGHTING!” Yarek shouted, kicking his goblin dog into a full retreat.
On the other side of the wall, Clancy, Omast and Hubert arrived to assist, just in time, allowing Qumeel to focus on using his magic to heal himself and the others. It had been pretty touch and go for a moment there, but thanks to a healing potion Brollerth had, the samsarran would make it out of this alive.
From a nearby alley, a passing civilian spotted the scene. “Well, now, what have we here?” he asked. He walked up the steps, his hands still in his pockets, and approached the unconscious form of Tipi. He crouched down and inspected an object in Tipi’s belt, a crude doll constructed from a discarded wooden spoon. He considered taking it, but it wasn’t his kind of thing.
The others had finished fighting, so the man asked, “What happened here?”
“They, like, had a vendetta or something?” Brollerth said.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes,” Qumeel answered. “They seek to find one they called Rodd Rigez. From what I can gather, they’re very angry with him.”
The man let out a low whistle, then his lips parted in a wolfish grin. “You don’t say? Well, now that is interesting. Allow me to introduce myself. Rodd Rigez, at your service.”
The guards immediately pointed their weapons at the newcomer, though Qumeel did not raise his bastard sword. On the ground next to him, the unconscious Tipi growled angrily at the introduction.
“My, my. It seems I’ve gotten myself into another sticky situation,” Rodd Rigez said with a chuckle.
“Hey guys!” Douglas shouted. “My face is okay!” Qumeel alone turned and shook his head at the man.