Adventure Log, Session 15, The Cult of Cannibal Goblins, Part 1
General Summary
Almë lived in the Elven village of Nendo Lantasírë (Lake of Falling Waters) not too far from Pelloth, in the Altasirya river valley. It was a settlement of perhaps 500 or so people, situated on the shore of a lake, and built in a typical Elven style, with flets, platforms, and structures suspended or attached to the trees. Growing up, he’d always been asked to help with tending the various plants that made up an Elven settlement. But he was young, and restless, and when he became a young man, he joined the Tondene Imperial Army. However, he found that this wasn’t the life he wanted, so after his contract was over he went back home. He wanted to go back to tending plants. He became the Elven equivalent of a farmer, although their system of farming was more like an intensive style of gathering. He also tended to the defensive plants that formed the primary barrier that kept enemies and animals out of the settlement. On occasion, he helped his wife, Viryalassë, build and repair the buildings of the settlement, which were mostly grown out of living, shaped branches.
Viryalassë was a much better mage than he, showing a much higher aptitude and having a larger repertoire of spells. She was the smarter and better mage of the pair of them, and Almë loved her deeply. She discovered a new trick using a combination of spells from the Plant and Earth Colleges. Almë didn’t understand fully what she was doing, despite her trying to explain it. His thaumatology expertise wasn’t sufficient for him to understand how she could take the essence of earth and infuse it into woody plants, strengthening them beyond even Essential Wood’s capabilities, and making them resistant to fire as well. Being a kind soul, without greed or jealousy, she shared it with a mage’s guild, thinking that if this technique was widely adopted, settlements in forests wouldn’t be as susceptible to wildfires. This proved to be a mistake. The mages’ guild attacked, in order to steal the idea and gain a monopoly, and while he tried to fight them off, he didn’t succeed. They killed his wife, and thought they had killed him, but he managed to survive. With vengeance on his mind. He doesn’t know which mage guild it is, or where they are located. But he is determined to find out.
Armed with his wife’s staff, he set off to search for this wife’s killers. He’s not the best mage, or the most powerful. And for the moment, his melee skills that he learned while in the army are his main go-to skill set. But that will change. He’ll have to learn how to be a better mage if he is going to prevail. Being good with a weapon is one thing, but in order to survive against the guild he has decided is his enemy, he will need more than that.
Almë
Heatdaze 38, 879 AFE, early morning
It was barely past dawn, and despite the early hour, the heat of summer beat down upon Almë as he trudged along, tilled fields full of crops on either side. He was thankful of the trees planted along both sides of the dirt path he walked on, as they provided much needed shade. He glanced up, and the sky was a pure cerulean blue without a single cloud. Yesterday it had rained, a summer squall that had barely had enough water to wet the ground before evaporating in the heat. At least it calmed the dust, he thought, as he walked. A little.
He was heading towards Port Karn, a large city on the eastern coast, at the mouth of the Altasirya River, and a center of trade and industry. It was one of the larger cities in the Tondene Empire, and was much larger than Nendo Lantasirë could ever hope to be. It was so large that in order to have enough food to feed the population, there were hundreds of square miles of agriculture. Some of it was on either side of him, and he estimated that he still had at least an hour of walking to get there. Maybe more. He could see a smoky smudge in the distance, mixing with the haze, which he assumed was the city. He wasn’t close enough to smell it yet, but he suspected that it would be all too soon when the stench hit his nostrils.
He sniffed in disdain. Elven towns didn’t smell like a combination of dust, body odor, and sewage. People weren’t so crowded together that their smell became unbearable. He couldn’t say he was truly looking forward to being there, but it was where he needed to go. He wanted something there, in that vast, sprawling city of stone, tile, wood, and people.
He had heard that one of the largest mage guilds in the city was part of the Port Karn Agricultural Council, an organization that he thought would be perfectly situated to have use of his wife’s discovery. So far, in the few months since her death, he hadn’t heard anything about any new magical discoveries that might have been based on her ideas. Maybe they haven’t figured out how to get it to work yet, he thought, with a wistful smile, liking the idea that maybe they were too stupid to get it to work. It was possible that they had had nothing to do with the attack on his wife and him, but even if that was true, they might be able to point him in the right direction. Being part of the local bureaucracy, it was likely that they had connections with guilds in other cities, or at least might know who did. In any case, it was his best shot at finding a clue to his wife’s killers.
He wiped sweat from his brow with a kerchief, folding it up and putting it back into his pocket. He wished he had a wide brimmed hat, like the Orcs wore during daylight hours. He really should have bought one back in…what was the name of that place? Donnington, that was it. It was a large farming town, built primarily to house farmhands, although it had grown since then and included most of the amenities that a large city of 15,000 residents would need. There were lots of these kinds of settlements scattered about the vast tracts of farmland that had been carved out of the jungle. It would be too troublesome to have the workers have to walk ten miles just to get to work, and have to walk all that way back.
Almë heard footsteps, running up behind him. Turning, he saw a panting, sweating Goblin, running towards him. The expression on the greenish face was fearful, and close to panic. As he ran, he occasionally looked back over his shoulder, as if he was being pursued, and he stumbled over a mostly buried rock in the path, catching himself before he fell. He recovered, and walked quickly toward the Elven traveler.
“You gotta help me!” the Goblin said. “They’re after me!”
Bokirr Zaagi
The Elf looked past the Goblin, down the road and fields from whence the Goblin had come. “No one seems to be after you now,” he said.
“They will be! They won’t let me escape with what I know!”
“And what, exactly, do you know?” The Elf considered the trembling Goblin. “I think you had better start from the beginning.”
The Goblin took a few moments to gather himself. A deep breath, and then he began.
“My name is Bokirr. Bokirr Zaagi. I joined a devotional group worshipping Kalshebba, goddess of feasts, food, and drink. The priest, Jakkora Tongue-Biter, seemed like a nice guy, warm, welcoming, and charismatic. It sounded great, y’know?”
Almë nodded. The sense of belonging was very powerful. He could sympathize; he hadn’t really felt that feeling since his wife died.
“So, they said they meet in the jungle, in a cave inhabited by Kalshebba herself!”
Almë was taken aback. “The goddess was there? In person?” It was rare for a deity to manifest, although, according to the tales, not unheard of. And the investiture of powers in priests and their champions was direct proof of their existence.
“In person. Or in goddess. Whatever. Just like the pictures of her on the walls! It was…magnificent…being in her presence for the feast. Until they brought out the main course.”
“Oh, what were they having?”
“People! They were eating people! That wasn’t something I signed up for! I don’t want to eat any people! The first chance I got, I left. Ran out of the cave, through the jungle, trying to get away. They were chasing me, for a while, I think.”
Almë looked back over the area that the Goblin had come from. He still couldn’t see anyone. Given that it was the goddess of food and drink, Bokirr was likely in more danger from choking on his lunch or drowning in his wine. If this Kalshebba wanted him dead, he had until his next meal, Almë considered, tilting his head, his eyes focused past the little greenish man. Or, he thought, he might be a meal for something else….
Bokirr looked up at the Elf, tears in his eyes, hands together in supplication. “You’ve got to protect me! Get me to the city. I have a cousin, who can protect me. But I need to get there! He’s in Port Karn, in the southern part of town. Can you please help me?”
Almë looked at the Goblin, then said, “Yes, I will help you. How many of these cannibals are there?”
“I saw a dozen or so, but there might be more.”
“Ah!” the Elf exclaimed. “Let’s go back to that cave. The two of us can take care of this!” He turned, and started walking towards where this cave supposedly was.
“Are you crazy? They will kill us! We need to get some help! And I’m not going back there! No way!”
Almë was disappointed. Here he was, helping this little man, and the guy was too afraid. He was certain that killing the enemies wouldn’t be that much of a chore, an afternoon’s exertion only. No sweat.
He thought a moment, then placed his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Look, Bokirr. I don’t like the idea of cannibals eating people. So let’s go and take care of it.” His grip tightened, and he started propelling Bokirr in the apparent direction of the cannibals.
Bokirr shrieked in fear, his eyes wide, the whites showing around the brown pupils. “No no no no! They’ll kill me! And I’m no warrior! I make saddles for a living!” He dug his heels in the dirt, trying to fight Almë’s grip.
“You won’t have to fight. I just need you to lead me to the place, and I will take it from there. Come on.” He continued to drag Bokirr along the path.
“NO!” the Goblin shrieked, his high pitched voice cracking, tears starting to flow from his eyes. He thought fast; he had to get this stupid Elf to let go. His hopes of protection on the way to his cousin were in jeopardy. “I’ll pay you to take me to my cousin! There might even be a reward in it for you!” It was a desperate plea; Bokirr wasn’t rich by any means, and he lived penny to penny like most of the underclasses. But maybe Dabid might be able to help there….
Almë paused, but didn’t let go of the Goblin’s shoulder, considering. He did need money to support his travels as he searched for those murderous mages. And he still thought that taking out those cannibals would be a piece of cake.
But he relented, and listened to Bokirr. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll do it your way. We will go to this cousin of yours. But I’ll be expecting a fat reward!”
An hour later, they were in Port Karn, in the New Town area where the New Town Skulls had their territory. Bokirr’s cousin, Dabid Akkiiko, was an enforcer for the guild. He was also an expert in Pakelik Gabaat, a martial art form developed by the Goblins that made use of their quickness and small size. It was also the likely reason that Bokirr thought that he could be protected. Dabid was a dangerous foe.
“Rabid” Dabid Akkiiko
Taid, Eykit, and Elitheris were in the Pig’s In His Cups tavern, having had a simple breakfast of ale, cheese, sausages, and bread. They liked the Pig, or, more precisely, they liked that more often than not, Eykit was able to wheedle the bartender into giving them a free round of drinks. It’s not that they couldn’t afford the few coins for the drinks; Eykit did it just because he was Eykit. It was expected of him, and he didn’t want to disappoint.
The Pig was dim, lit by oil lamps hanging from the soot-stained ceiling beams. The benches were wood, smoothed by a century of rear ends using them, the wooden tables carved with initials, pictograms, and lewd sayings. It was crowded, with the second wave of breakfast eaters filling the benches. The first wave had been the farming types, that had to get out into the fields early, nearly at first light. Not all of the farmhands lived in the surrounding farming towns…some lived in Port Karn proper.
The night before, they had spent their time at Bardem’s Crystal Palace, trying out the Game of Shards and seeing what it was all about. There had even been a pair of connections, resulting in some entertaining if not earth-shattering magic effects. They had met Bardem himself, a colorful character with a wide, welcoming toothy grin and a sparkle in his eyes. He truly seemed to be loving what he was doing. They had also met Lord Herbert Vesten, who had wanted to buy their Shards. He had gone away empty handed, as they didn’t want to sell any of them.
Eykit was telling a story about hapless merchant who Eykit had engaged in conversation while his partner lifted a few goods out from under his nose. And by a few goods, he meant pocketfuls, a pouch, and a satchel. Just as he got close to the end of the story, Dabid Akkiiko, one of the New Town Skulls’ enforcers, walked into the crowded room. He came over to the trio.
“Hey, Eykit!” he called out. “Grab your friends and come with me.” He turned, walking out of the tavern.
Elitheris and Taid looked at each other, questions in their eyes. Eykit was up before Dabid had finished turning around. “Come on,” he said to his friends. He followed Dabid. Taid and Elitheris shrugged, then rose and followed Eykit out the door.
Dabid had gone next door to the inn, up the stairs, and into a room that Jakkit the Iceman was currently using as an office. He didn’t use the same place more than a few days at a time. He cited “security reasons” when asked, when he gave an answer at all. Jakkit was the second in command of the New Town Skulls, and he could do just about anything he wanted to. If he was here, it was important, whatever it was. Important as the task was, nothing ever seemed to faze him. He was always as cold as ice. If he ever showed emotion, it was the apocalypse, and the world was ending.
Jakkit the Iceman
This morning, the only emotion he showed was an almost subliminal sense of concern, nothing more. Only Eykit would have noticed it, had he even bothered to look for it, but no one else there knew Jakkit well enough to read him. He just seemed calm, cool, and collected.
In the room with Jakkit were two other people, besides Dabid, Eykit, Elitheris, and Taid. There was another Goblin, and a male Elf, who looked barely past adulthood. Jakkit turned to the Goblin. “Bokirr, tell these people what you told me.”
Bokirr nodded, then began. “I had joined a new devotional group, one worshipping Kalshebba. It sounded great, Kalshebba’s rituals usually involve feasts and strong drink. The priest was nice, and really sold it. So I went to their cave in the jungle, south of Donnington. Seeing the goddess…it was…magnificent. Just like the stories! She looked just like the pictures of her on the walls. She towered above us mortals, wreathed in the light of her divinity!” The look on Bokirr’s face was reverential and full of awe. It didn’t last long, though, and it fell into dismay. “And then the feast started. It had been hours since I had eaten, and I had been looking forward to a great feast in the goddess’ presence. And then they brought out the main course: a female human, bound and gagged. They cut her throat, then spitted her, and placed her body over the fire to cook.”
He looked down at his worn, dusty shoes. “I wanted nothing to do with any of this! So I snuck out while everyone was enjoying their…dinners.” He swallowed. “Some of them saw me run out the cave entrance, into the jungle. They followed me. Panic must have made me run faster than them, because after a while, I couldn’t hear them following me. But they were there, I know it! They will come and get me, to keep me quiet about what they are doing!”
Jakkit spoke. “Dabid, Eykit, I know you two know what this could mean. We Goblins have spent hundreds of years trying to bury that cannibalistic reputation, with only minor luck. We are accepted in the Empire, although there are still enough Tondene citizens that look at us funny. If this gets out, it could set us back centuries. There would be lynchings, discrimination, and definitely a lack of trust.”
His elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers. “Eykit, you seem to be getting a knack for this sort of thing. I would like you to take out these cannibals.”
“You mean, kill them, sir?” Eykit replied.
Jakkit sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them and said, “At least the leaders. I don’t really care what you do with the rest. They are bad for business. Extremely bad.”
The male Elf spoke up. “So, what’s in it for us?”
The Iceman’s face stilled, the eyes burning like coals. He had anticipated this question, but it still annoyed him. “You will be well rewarded.” “Well rewarded?” the Elf asked. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll be paid $500 each for doing this service. Shouldn’t take you too long. With Eykit and his friends along, it should be an easy task.”
Almë considered. This Jakkit guy, and the Goblins, are desperate. I might be able to get more out of them. He said aloud, “We want more than that. We have to take on a goddess.” He wasn’t sure if that was actually the case, but Bokirr did mention that this Kalshebba deity was actually there. Surely that was worth something.
Jakkit’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Fine. $1000 each. Like I said, ‘well-rewarded’. If you succeed in taking out the leaders.”
Eykit looked over at the Elf. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I am Almë,” the male Elf replied. “I helped Bokirr get here safely. I was going to go take care of these cannibals myself, but Bokirr said that if I got him to his cousin Dabid, I would get paid.”
“So you are coming with us?”
“Well of course. How else will you beat them?”
Taid spoke up. “What can you do to help?” To Taid, Almë was a skinny Elf with a stick. Although he could tell by the man’s demeanor and bearing that he had been in the military. So he likely wouldn’t be completely useless. He would have at least some basic training.
“Well, I’m pretty good with a staff,” and he bopped Taid lightly on the head with the end of his quarterstaff. Taid barely felt it, despite the quick swing. It was precise, practiced, and executed with a minimum of movement. Efficient.
Jakkit spoke again. “Take him with you. He might be useful. Especially if there are a lot of them. Bokirr, your name was? How many did you see?”
“About a dozen, but I think I heard more in other tunnels. But I don’t know how many more.”
An hour later, they were on the road south. Taid had gotten Wilbur, and everyone had tied their packs to his saddlebags, or draped them across the saddle. Unencumbered, they were making good time. The road was hard packed earth, pounded more or less flat by thousands of feet both humanoid and animal. Weeds and wildflowers grew at the margins, and the whirring of flies and the buzzing of bees could be heard above the soughing of the wind in the trees.
The group consisted of Eykit, Taid, Elitheris, and the newcomer Almë. Wilbur, led by Taid, who held the reins, followed sedately, seemingly enjoying the exercise. Mr. Wiggles ranged ahead, sniffing anything within range of his nose, which was seemingly anything he could see and get to. Most of the time he stayed within view, but occasionally would run off into the bushes chasing after a rabbit, rat, or grouse.
The day had started out clear, but rain clouds had drifted over the area. A summer storm, complete with lightning and thunder, began dumping warm, fat drops of rain over the area.
Almë plucked a heart shaped leaf from a nearby vine, growing up on a tree by the road. Muttering a few words, he cast a spell on it that made it grow in size so that it was about three feet long by two wide. He rested the stem of his makeshift umbrella on his shoulder as he walked, the rain draining down the center and cascading off of the point. He whistled contentedly.
The rain lasted for less than a half hour. The cloud shadow and rain giving some relief from the day’s heat. The heat, very warm even at dawn, had increased past “hot” to “sweltering”, and made moving in their bulky, wet, but protective layered cloth armor nearly unbearable. Elitheris and Almë had theirs unbuckled, which let the air at least circulate a little, but Eykit also wore his mail shirt over his, and Taid had his encased in a steel breastplate, both of which precluded letting them unbuckle and open theirs. Both were beginning to pant already as the sun beat down upon them. The humidity, higher because of the recent rain, made the air feel thick and hard to breathe. Almë still had his makeshift umbrella, but now it was acting as a makeshift parasol, keeping his body in shade.
“So,” Eykit said, peering at Almë, “what’s your story? Who are you, really?”
“I’m a gardener.”
“And? A gardener wouldn’t be anxiously trying to attack a bunch of cannibals.”
Almë shrugged. “I like helping people. Bokirr needed help, so here I am. Trying to attack a bunch of cannibals, as you put it.”
“Surely that can’t be all of it.” Eykit knew no one was that altruistic. There had to be a catch, or at least an angle. And he wanted to know what it was before he trusted his safety to a flighty Elf.
“Well, the money doesn’t hurt. I have some expenses.”
And there it is, thought Eykit. Things made more sense now. Greed he understood. He had a nice, close relationship with Lady Greed. He knew her well.
Taid spoke up. “So it’s all about the money, then?”
Almë looked back over his shoulder at Taid. “No, not really. Like I said, I like helping people. The money helps, though, I must admit.” He saw a pair of iridescent blue butterflies hovering over some flowering weeds, and he went over to get a closer look at them. They were beautiful, with black and white markings along the periphery of their wings. They circled each other, then flew off in different directions, looking for more flowers. Almë had to hurry to catch up to the rest of the group, who had kept up their quick pace while he gallivanted off looking at the local insect life.
Around midday, they approached the edge of the jungle. The farmland stretched behind them like a patchwork quilt: wheat, heavy with seed, nearing harvest; lumpy green fields of cabbages and squash; orchards of apples, mangos, and avocado; weedy fields left fallow.
The jungle rose up ahead of them like a green wall of vegetation, looking impenetrable. The margin of the jungle was always a tangle of vibrant growth, since it got the most sunlight, and all of the plants strove for it. If the local farmhands didn’t keep it in check on a weekly basis, it would rapidly overcome the nearby fields. Looking over his shoulder, Almë could see a crew of Humans and Hobbits, armed with pruning hooks, shovels, and machetes, making their slow way along the margin, taming the wild growth. A part of him ached to join them, although whether to help their efforts, or to help the jungle overtake the fields, he couldn’t be certain.
They hacked their way into the jungle, their pace slow, as they needed to make a path large enough for the horse to get through. Despite the strenuous exertion, the shade and dimness was welcome. Within a few yards, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. The humidity was higher, though, which didn’t help, but they were all used to that.
Bokirr had given Almë directions, and he took the lead once the jungle opened up a bit. Farther in, there wasn’t as much light, and the growth wasn’t as dense. He took the lead confidently, with a good idea about where he could find the cave the fleeing Goblin had mentioned.
“Should be about two miles,” Almë started, then pointed off to the south south east, “that way.” He strode off in that direction without a backward glance, certain that he would be followed.
Eykit and Elitheris glanced at each other. “Maybe there are some tracks?” Eykit asked. Taid nodded, agreeing that simply following the Elf was not likely to be the best idea.
Elitheris quirked a smile, nodded, and began searching for evidence besides the word of an Elven stranger. Moving perpendicularly to their direction of travel, she searched for a trail. Surely, a large group of Goblins would leave some kind of trail. Crisscrossing their own trail, she and Mr. Wiggles sought for signs of recent travel.
It didn’t take them long. Whether through blind luck, or Almë’s knowing sense of direction, Mr. Wiggles seemed to hit on some interesting scent, and Elitheris quickly discovered a trail that seemed to be going in the right direction. Whomever... or whatever...had made the trail, they hadn’t been stealthy woodsmen. No care had been taken to hide their passage: broken branches, footprints in the wet soil, bark scraped off of a tree at about waist height. All were signs that several people...small footed people...had been through this area in the recent past. She whistled, and the rest of the group made their way over to where she waited.
She explained what she had found.
“Excellent!” Almë exclaimed, excited. “I knew we would find them!” He looked over at Elitheris. “Good job! Lead on, wise woodswoman!”
Elitheris did so, rolling her eyes. But at least they had something more than a vague direction and distance to follow.
The terrain wasn’t flat; it was an area of rolling hills, ravines, and escarpments, all densely covered in tropical vegetation. The ground was moist, which made footing treacherous, especially on slopes, and also made climbing slow and tedious. Several times, falls occurred, and mud stained their clothing and armor pretty much from the waist down. Their boots were a uniform mud brown color, regardless of the original colors.
Birdsong rang continuously through the canopies, along with the calls of other, less avian types of animals. The rich, organic smell of vegetation, with an underlying tang of rot, wafted throughout the jungle. Elitheris was used to it, she had lived in it for the last 80 years or so. Almë probably liked it, being a gardener. Eykit scrunched his nose, not liking the unfamiliar odors but appreciating that it didn’t stink as much as the city did. Taid stoically accepted it as just another set of smells. He’d smelled worse. At least it wasn’t raining again, although occasional drops from the morning’s rain fell from the upper canopies, through the lower canopy, and onto the underbrush or ground.
“Well,” Elitheris stated, after picking herself up off of the ground after her feet slipped out from under her, “at least the lower half of my body is camouflaged.”
Almë chuckled. “Ha! You’re right! All the better to sneak up on those cannibals!”
Taid muttered, “Yeah, they won’t see the lower halves of us coming. We’ll just be disembodied torsos.” He tried to wipe the mud off of his pants, failing despite his hands collecting globs of it from his pants. He flicked his hands in a quick motion to get the clumps of mud off his fingers. “We never have to deal with mud in the Undercities. Just good, clean stone.”
An hour later, a crossbow bolt thunked into a tree inches from Taid. A second followed, hitting him in the arm, but the enchanted armor he wore prevented it from piercing it. It would likely leave a bruise. He let out a yelp in surprise, followed by a bout of cursing as he scanned to area. He couldn’t see them, but he brought up the crossbow anyway.
Eykit’s ears swiveled about like a cat’s, trying to pinpoint noises the attackers might be making. He heard a ratcheting noise...no, two ratcheting, clanking noises. Almë whispered a few words, contorting his fingers into the appropriate mana-channeling forms. The forest opened up to him, the leaves and branches and tree trunks becoming transparent, exposing everything within about ten paces. He pointed with both hands, off to the sides of the trail and about fifteen feet up. “They’re in the trees!” he shouted.
Now knowing where to look, the rest of them could see the pair of Goblins, crouched up in the trees, mostly hidden by branches and leaves.
Eykit tossed a knife at the one on the left, the blade tumbling end over end, and it hit the Goblin in the family jewels. While it didn’t pierce the gambeson armor the ambushing Goblin wore it was enough to give him a thump in the nutsack powerful enough to make him drop the crossbow he had been recocking. It sent uncomfortable tingles up into his belly and down his legs as he crouched on the tree branch.
Elitheris followed that up with an arrow to the chest, adding injury to insult. His breath exploded out of him with a doglike wuff. Mr. Wiggles ran up to the tree, trying to jump up into it, barking madly.
Taid sighted down the crossbow’s stock, and fired at the second Goblin. The bolt missed as the Goblin flattened himself against the tree trunk, and it flew off into the jungle. Swearing in guttural Northern Khuzdûl, he started the process of cocking his crossbow. It would take several seconds to ready the powerful crossbow for another shot, and he ducked around a tree trunk for cover before sticking his foot in the stirrup.
Almë ran toward the tree that the Goblin on the right was in. He didn’t really have a ranged weapon; he would have to climb up the tree to get to his foe. Like Taid, it was taking the small Goblins a while to ready their missile weapons for another shot. The Elf was determined not to give them the opportunity.
Elitheris pulled an arrow out of her quiver, and in one smooth action she nocked it and drew the string back, loosing the arrow at full draw. The broadhead sailed upward, punching through the second Goblin’s chest and emerging from his back. He tumbled out of the tree and hit the ground with a sodden thump.
Almë was there in a moment, staff upraised, and he swung the sturdy wood down onto the fallen Goblin’s head. The strike took the Goblin on the temple, just under the rim of his helmet, and Almë heard a wet cracking sound when he hit. The arrow had likely killed him before he hit the ground, but the staff blow guaranteed his death.
Eykit had his knives out, because he had noticed that the first Goblin, the one on the left with the sore jewels and doing an impressive imitation of a street vendor’s meat kabob, was still alive, and had his knife out. He wasn’t breathing easily, not with the arrow cradled in his ribs, and maybe he could be convinced to give up. Eykit was good at talking.
“Hey,” he said. “We’ve killed your buddy, and you don’t look like you are in good shape either. Why don’t you come down, and we can talk this out?”
Clenching his teeth, the Goblin didn’t answer. Perhaps he was in too much pain. Eykit tried again. “Come now, you’ve got to know you’re beat?”
“Fuck off!” The wounded Goblin answered.
“Seriously? We can give you medical attention. Patch you up, ask a few questions....?”
“May Kalshebba gnaw on your bones!”
“Well, I tried. Elitheris, would you like to do the honors?”
The Elven woman nodded, then loosed the arrow she had drawn. It flew true, hitting an inch away from the first. The dead Goblin fell out of the tree like an overripe fruit. It was followed by the snikt of Taid’s crossbow string latching into place. He put a bolt in place, then slid the trigger block in place. It wouldn’t do to have it go off when he wasn’t ready for it to hit an enemy.
They examined the two bodies. They wore a lighter gambeson, slightly cooler in the heat, maybe, but not as protective. They were armed with crossbows and long knives, the crossbows not quite as strong as Taid’s, but strong enough to require winches for the Goblins to re-arm. Good for a single shot, then nearly useless during a fight unless they had someone else to keep enemies away from them while they reloaded. They hadn’t had that; perhaps they had hoped that their position in the trees would serve that function. It hadn’t. Each of the two ambushing Goblins had some pocket change, but nothing more. Taid looked from tree to tree. They would have been smarter to shoot at Elitheris. She was the primary threat. Stupid of them, since she was really the only one who could hurt them.
Elitheris made a sweep around the area. She found signs of a third Goblin, who had also been hiding in a tree, but had jumped down and ran off before or during the excitement. His boot prints had been found at the base of a tree, with deep imprints, indicating that he had come down hard. His prints, spaced to show that he was running, went in the direction they suspected the cave was situated.
“We must be getting close,” Taid stated, “if they have sentries posted.”
“Makes sense,” Almë agreed. The Plant Vision spell still allowing him to see through the vegetation, he strode off in an arc around the area of the fight. Something caught his eye, about nine feet high on a tree trunk. “Taid, I’ve found your quarrel.” He hopped up, grabbing onto the crossbow bolt, and tried to pull it out of the tree. It didn’t come out easily, but with a bit of perseverance, Almë managed to extract it.
They continued on, Elitheris easily following the trail left by what must have been the third sentry, now running off to warn the others. Surprise was no longer on their side. They were expected. She shook her head in dismay.
The trail ended at a small space in the jungle on a slope, slightly more open than the rest of the area. The ground was more rocky here, and Elitheris figured that the fleeing Goblin had hopped from rock to rock to throw off pursuit. “Trail’s stopped,” she stated, disappointed. “I’ll see if I can pick it up again.” She started spiraling out, looking for signs of flight.
Almë cast the Forest Vision spell again, and again the vegetation turned into faint, hazy outlines. The landscape was made visible to him. And so was the “hidden and camouflaged” cavern opening that rent the side of the slope. “Hey guys!” Almë said. “I know where that cave is!” He pointed.
The rest of the group looked, but saw only a mass of brush and trees. Taid moved around, looking at the area. Once he knew where to look, the cavern opening was visible, nestled in the bushes and undergrowth. It led to a tunnel, sloping downward, with turns and twists such that they couldn’t see much deeper than about two dozen feet. It was unlit.
“Okay, people,” Taid said, “grab what you want out of your packs. I’m tethering Wilbur somewhere safe and out of the way.” I hope, he thought grimly, as he led the horse away.
They entered the cave, Taid and Almë in front, Eykit and Elitheris at the rear. Mr. Wiggles stayed close to Elitheris. He didn’t like this place, it smelled bad, and his hackles were up. He growled softly. The others couldn’t tell what had Mr. Wiggles upset. They could smell a sweet woodsmoke, but not much more. The air was cool, and felt even more so given the heat of the jungle. The coolness was a welcome relief.
The tunnel, about fifteen feet wide and eight high, sloped downward, with a couple of slight bends. Then it opened up into a larger cavern.
The floor of the space was rough and uneven and the ceiling ranged from 8-10 feet high. There had been stalactites and stalagmites here, but they had been broken off and removed, leaving ragged, rough stumps of limestone. A couple of those stumps hanging from the ceiling were glowing with a white light, giving off about as much light as a torch. But for Goblins, Dwarves, and Elves, it might as well as been daylight, given their natural night vision. A Human, had they been here, would have perceived the cavern as dimly lit, with lots of shadowy areas.
There were three openings besides the one the group came in from. One sloped up, and one sloped down, curling around like a spiral staircase. The third also sloped downward, but it at least started out relatively straight. The room apparently acted as an entryway/guard room. On the far side of the room was a pair of chairs and a low table, situated such that whomever was in the chairs could see the main opening and pretty much the entire room. There was a tapestry hung on the west wall: it showed a figure on a rocky promontory, with a dead tree nearby. There was something odd about the landscape, but there were other, more immediately pressing concerns.
Facing them were four Goblins, armed with spears and shields, clad in gambeson armor and pot helms. They were in formation, the two in front with their spears and shields ready, the two in back using their spears in a two-handed grip, their shields on guiges hanging about their necks. They had been waiting for the intruders, and moved to attack as a group. One of the Goblins in the rear whistled a few times, in what must have been a code of some kind. A different pattern of whistles responded, coming from elsewhere in the cavern complex, the tones echoing oddly.
They attacked Almë, since he looked less armored, and thus the easier target. Four spear points came at the Elf, but he swept his staff across his body, deflecting two and dodging to the side to avoid the other two.
Taid chopped down with his halberd, aiming at the Goblin spearman on the right. But the spearman was well trained, angling his shield to shed the blow off to the side harmlessly. The spearman grunted with the effort, but smiled as Taid cursed. He had been hoping for a quick kill, and the Goblin denied him that. The halberd was a heavy piece of steel on a long pole, so getting it ready to strike again would take some effort and time. Swinging, the halberd was a relatively slow weapon. The thrusting, jabbing spears were much more nimble weapons.
Almë stepped forward, swinging his staff low, against the grinning Goblin’s ankles, sweeping the spearman’s feet out from under him. He fell prone, the three trained spearmen in formation with him shifting to avoid tripping on him. “May Kalshebba eat your face!” he yelled as he scrambled back, trying to get to his feet.
Eykit pulled his knives from their sheaths, and started making his way around Taid and Almë. There was something about these Goblins that really unsettled him. He wasn’t sure if it was their propensity to cannibalism, or their military discipline and prowess. His fight or flight response was really starting to kick in, and he wasn’t sure which one it was going to be.
Elitheris pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it in a single, smooth motion. She began drawing the string back as Mr. Wiggles charged out between Taid’s and Almë’s legs, barking loudly, going for the downed Goblin’s leg.
The spearmen were quick to react. Seeing their comrade on the ground trying to get up, and being attacked by a vicious dog wearing battle armor, they thrust their spears at the canine. One missed, one failed to pierce the mail and gambeson combination that draped over the dog’s back, but one slid under Mr. Wiggles’ belly, bypassing the armor completely, and into the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He yelped in pain, jumping back in reflex, his leg wobbly and unable to support weight, blood drizzling onto the rough stone of the floor.
Eykit’s flight or fight dilemma resolved itself into a compromise: he hid. Sliding quietly behind the tapestry, his fear of danger getting the best of him, he cowered, hating himself as he heard his friends in deadly combat. Each blow of a weapon on weapon or shield was a reminder of his own cowardice, a part of himself that he had been working on his entire life, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t fully excise. Using his hands to plug his ears didn’t help much, but it was all he could do.
Almë’s skill at quarter staff was exceptional. But it didn’t do a lot of damage. But he could make it easier for the Dwarf to do damage, and possibly deny the enemy the ability to deflect that nasty halberd his companion used. He attempted to disarm the Goblin on the left, trying to make the spearman drop his shield. It didn’t work; the Goblin seemed ready for the maneuver, and jerked his shield out of the way, keeping a tight grip on the handle. “Oh, you’re good,” the Elf exclaimed, disappointed.
But it had an effect, despite Almë not being able to make the Goblin drop his shield. An arrow flew over Almë’s shoulder and into the Goblin’s chest, the shield being out of line and unable to defend. The arrow punched through the layers of linen fabric that made up the gambeson, the needle bodkin point piercing through the armor almost as if it wasn’t even there and going in a full hand’s breadth into the Goblin’s chest cavity. He fell back, propelled by the force of the impact, stumbling a couple of steps before falling onto his back, the shaft of the arrow wavering with each of his labored, pained breaths.
The spearman behind the struck man sidestepped out of his companion’s way, swearing in Mekiitagi, swinging his shield around on his guige so he could grab the handle and use it. He could see that damned dog, bleeding, but attacking his prone friend’s leg again. He could see the heavily armored Dwarf adjusting the position of his polearm, readying it for another attack. He couldn’t let that happen!
He called to his companion beside him, who had also gotten their shield ready. “Attack the Dwarf!” He ordered. Both Goblins struck at the Dwarf, trying to get past his defenses. Taid was able to avoid getting hit by either of them, much to their dismay. His defenses were just too good.
On the way to the cave, Eykit had told Almë about their adventures in the old Orc temple, and how they informally called themselves the “ball busters” because they always seem to hit the enemies in the family jewels. He took it to heart. Seeing an opportunity, Almë struck at the Goblin who was trying to rise to his feet, slamming the end of his staff into the Goblin’s groin. The Goblin, who had managed to get up onto his knees, fell back down, moaning, as his vision blurred and went white with pain. He curled up into the fetal position involuntarily, even as his brain tried to get him to ignore the pain and get the hell up.
Elitheris loosed another arrow, this time at the Goblin on the left who had sidestepped the previous Goblin’s stumbling fall. He was ready for it, however, and dodged, the arrow glancing off of the shield. His arm was pushed back by the force of the arrow, propelled by the Elf’s war bow.
Meanwhile, Taid had readied himself for another attack with his halberd, and, seeing what Almë had done, thrust the top spike of the halberd into the spearman on the right’s groin. It slid through the minimal protection of the spearman’s gambeson, and deep into his pelvic girdle. He went down, screaming, as blood welled up from between his legs. Taid quirked a smile. That was one Goblin that wouldn’t be making any kids.
Eykit could hear all of this clamor from behind the tapestry. He just couldn’t do anything about it, as the panic still controlled his actions. He wept, powerless, his friends in danger and him being unable to help.
The one standing Goblin attacked Taid’s leg, knowing that he likely wouldn’t be able to get through the breastplate. Taid, however, dodged out of the way, retracting his leg to avoid the thrust.
Almë gracefully spun, building momentum for a strong attack, but unfortunately, the attack was obvious, and the prone victim was able to get his shield in line without difficulty, blocking the strong blow. The shock of it made the Goblin’s arm ache.
Elitheris grabbed a pair of arrows out of her quiver, but the arrowheads caught on the lip, pulling them out of her hands and they tumbled to the ground. “Húnengwer!” she swore, angry at herself. She was a graceful Elf, for the gods’ sake! She was better than this! But, she supposed, it could have been worse…I could have dumped the whole quiver!
Out of the corner of her eye, as she was getting another arrow, she saw Mr. Wiggles finally get through the foe’s gambeson, and she could see blood staining the Goblin’s leg as the dog shook his head, jaws clamped on the man’s shin. The Goblin spearman, his manhood abused and still causing pain, fell unconscious. Mr. Wiggles shook his head violently a few times more for good measure, ripping the Goblin’s flesh.
Taid thrust the top spike of his polearm in an attack against the only standing Goblin, but missed as the enemy determinedly blocked it with his shield. In response, the Goblin quickly and agilely maneuvered his spear point past Taid’s halberd and struck at the Dwarf’s leg, but Taid danced back, avoiding the strike.
Almë, recovered from his spin attack, dropped into a half crouch and swept the Goblin’s legs out from under him. The spearman grunted as he hit the hard stone floor, the wind knocked out of him.
Elitheris again tried to pull two arrows out of the quiver at once, this time succeeding. One she nocked, the other she held in her left hand along with the bow. Mr. Wiggles, his foe not moving, went after one who was. He had to protect his pack, so he charged at the Goblin behind the one he had been chewing on, latching onto his leg as the spearman finally managed to stand. It was a powerful bite, ripping through the gambeson and into the fleshy thigh of the Goblin. The leg, damaged and with a fifty pound canine attached to it, collapsed, unable to support the damage or the weight, and the spearman fell over again. This time, the wound was too much, and he ceased moving.
Taid tried again to attack his foe. This time, likely due to the fact that the poor Goblin was on his back and unable to properly move, he was able to thrust the top spike into the Goblin’s leg, emerging out the other side. The Goblin screamed in pain, shouting something about Kalshebba and how she eats enemies for breakfast.
Angered and in pain, and leaking blood from a pair of holes in his leg, he stabbed his spear at Almë. The Elf casually parried the thrust, easily knocking the spear out of line. He smiled, confident in his skill with the staff. He made it look easy. He smoothly continued the motion of the staff, rotating it around and striking the prone Goblin in the face, smashing his nose and likely knocking several teeth loose. The Goblin’s eyes, narrowed in pain, stared daggers at the staff-wielding Elf.
The eyes go blank following an arrow strike to the heart. The fight over, the foes were either dead or unconscious.
Elitheris whistled, the call for Mr. Wiggles to return to her side. Obediently, he let go of the Goblin’s leg, and bounds up to her, still bleeding from the wound to his groin. Taid, meanwhile, had pulled out his knife and was slitting the throats of the unconscious Goblins before they could wake up and cause any more problems for them.
Elitheris examined her pet, had him lay down, and began casting a Minor Healing spell. One of these days, she thought, I have to spend some time reading that Major Healing book! As she cast, saying the words of power and making the proper gestures, the mana flowed from her and into the dog, knitting the flesh back together. The spell was too weak to fully heal her dog, but Taid also knelt by her injured pet, and cast a Healing spell, finishing the job.
They found Eykit behind the tapestry, huddling, tear-streaked and fearful. They gave what comfort they could, and after a few moments Eykit was able to recover enough to continue on. “Thanks, guys,” he said, “sorry about that.” He wiped the tears from his face and eyes.
They quickly looted the bodies, and they could hear movement...lots of movement...in all of the three tunnels that led from the cavern they were in. Almë peeked into the three tunnels, keeping close to the walls for cover, while the rest of the group dragged the bodies outside, stashing them in the undergrowth. He didn’t see much except curving stone tunnels, but he could hear the tramp of footsteps and the clanking and creaking of weapons and armor. Taid picked up a shield, holding it out in front of him. He wouldn’t be able to use his halberd until he dropped it, but it would serve to help protect him until then. Especially if they had missile weapons.
They glanced at the tapestry, noticing some animals hidden in it. They found several. But although they threw out several reasons for it, none of them were sure of its purpose. It wasn’t magical, as far as they knew, and it seemed an odd place to put a piece of rather complicated artwork. There was no real way for them to figure out it was there simply to keep the guards alert and awake by giving them a puzzle to solve.
They turned away from the minor mystery of the tapestry, and started down the straighter of the two downward sloping passageways. It opened up into a small barracks area. Five Goblins were waiting for them: four spearmen, in a tight formation like the previous group, plus a fifth, who seemed to be a leader.
The cavern opened up to either side of the passageway. To the left, there was a storage area with some crates and barrels in it, with a ceiling low enough to touch without jumping up. There was a chair against the far wall, facing the passageway. It could have been a chair for a guard, or simply a place to sit while putting on boots. To the right, with a nine foot ceiling, was a space with three sets of bunk beds. There were six chests in the room, three up against the back wall, three at the foot of the bunk beds. It was evident that they were for whomever was assigned to the beds. There were a few stumps of stalactites left on the ceiling, although most had been removed. Two of those stumps, like in the previous cavern, were glowing with white light, shedding dim, but serviceable light.
The squad leader yelled, “Attack!” And the five Goblins pressed the attack, moving as a unit. They had trained for this, and their maneuvers would have impressed anyone in the military. They were armed with spears, shields, and short swords. Gambeson covered their bodies, and they each had a steel helmet. Their squad leader was similarly armed, but he also had a mail shirt and coif. The two in front attacked Almë, who danced back to avoid their attacks.
Taid used his halberd in an attempt to disarm the front Goblin on the right. He failed; the spearman quickly moving the spear shaft out of the way. Almë, seeing this, takes the idea, and not only manages to disarm the Goblin on the left, but flung the spear back and over his shoulder, where it landed behind Eykit, clattering on the hard stone.
Elitheris drew back and loosed an arrow which buried itself in the leftmost rear Goblin’s chest. The struck spearman staggered back a step, but recovered his balance. The back of his gambeson tented out, the arrowhead sticking out of his back. The olive green skin paled in shock, but he kept to his feet, although he wavered as if his balance was off. His gambeson reddened both in front and in back as blood pumped out of the two holes. She whistled, and Mr. Wiggles leapt to the attack, trying to bite the rightmost Goblin’s leg. Unfortunately, the Goblin interposed his shield, and Mr. Wiggles’ teeth scraped along the metal edge.
Eykit, determined to not run away this time, threw one of his throwing knives past Taid, aimed at the Goblin on the right. It flew past the target as he ducked down to block the growling dog, who was trying to take a bite out of him.
The disarmed Goblin started pulling out his short sword. He was angry that the pesky Elf had disarmed him, and he wanted vengeance for making him look bad in front of his friends. His partner, to his left, was being attacked by a damned dog, but the dog was too close for proper spear work. Instead, the spearman used the butt of his spear to whack the growling beast, but the annoying canine dodged out of the way enough so that the armor on his back absorbed the blow. The two Goblins in the rear attacked the relatively unarmored Almë. One, severely wounded with an arrow all the way through him, seemed to barely be able to wield his spear. His attack was easily parried, but Almë was forced to dodge out of the way as the other spearman thrust in with a strike aimed at his face.
The fifth Goblin thrust his spear at the dog, but the point skidded off of the mail on Mr. Wiggles’ back. “You’ll be dog meat when we get through with you!” He said in Mekiitagi. “And you will all end up in the pot when we kill you!” He added, in Imperial, a sneer on his face.
Almë did something complicated with his staff and the spearman’s shield. The shield flipped over Almë’s head as it left the grasp of the surprised Goblin, his hand clutching only air where the handle of his shield had been. The shield clanked on the stony floor, rolling past Elitheris and spiraling to a stop with a “wub-wub-wub-wubbly-wubbly- clongity-clong”.
Elitheris drew an arrow and nocked it.
Eykit jumped between Almë and Taid, stabbing the Goblin on the left with two quick strikes. The spearman dodged the first, but Eykit, living up to his ball-buster name, sank the rondel dagger into the foe’s groin. The major wound made the Goblin screech in pain and fear, and he staggered back a step, but somehow remained upright, his legs wobbly. His squadmate, behind him, helped him keep standing as a red stain cascaded down both the wounded Goblin’s legs.
Mr. Wiggles, undeterred by his recent failure to lock his jaws on an enemy, tried again, this time biting into the meaty calf of the right hand Goblin’s leg. He drew blood, and it soaked into the many layers of fabric of the gambeson armor.
Taid, noticing that the Goblin in front of him was, for all intents and purposes, carrying a dog with his leg, chose to stab the Goblin in the other leg, the halberd spike biting deep into the thigh of the spearman. The leg crumpled under him, dashing him to the floor, and he squealed in agony, his cries goading the dog into more furious biting.
“Come on, boys,” the Goblin squad leader cried, “we can take these guys! We only need to hold out for a little while before reinforcements come!”
The Squad Leader rallying his troops
The left rear spearman got smart, and tried to attack Taid’s arm, in an attempt to make him drop his deadly halberd. It failed, as Taid sidestepped the attack. The right rear spearman, seeing how hard it was to even touch the well- armored Dwarf, tried to hit the Elf instead. Almë parried the spear thrust with ease. The squad leader, seeing an opening, stabbed at Mr. Wiggles’ in an attempt to save one of his men. The dog, preoccupied with chewing on a leg, was hit, again in the groin, where no armor was present. The spear point stabbed deeply, and the dog yelped and whined in pain, then ran off to cower behind Elitheris. He left a trail of blood. Too much blood.
Seeing the dog get damaged, Almë was furious. He was starting to like that determined pup. He struck the Goblin in front of him twice, his weapon a blur, although the first attack was parried. The second one was a thrust to the instep, which, while painful, didn’t really affect the adrenaline-charged Goblin, besides make him cry out in pain and surprise.
Not satisfied with the reaction his crotch shot resulted in, Eykit went for the neck, stabbing his rondel dagger into the side of the Goblin’s neck, biting deep enough to drop his opponent. The Goblin lay motionless, bleeding from both of his major wounds.
Elitheris drew and loosed; the arrow flew true and sunk itself into the chest of the same Goblin that Almë had hurt in the foot. The Goblin, reeled back by the force of the shaft, stared in surprise and disbelief at the finger-thick cylinder of wood protruding from his chest. He let out a plaintive whine as he fell backwards.
Taid thrust with his halberd, spearing the last of the spearmen through the arm and with a twisting motion that wrenched the enemy’s arm, pulled it out again. With a cry of pain, the Goblin dropped his spear, his arm no longer working properly due to major tissue damage.
Seeing all four of his men out of the fight, the squad leader bolted, running toward a passage at the far end of the room, whistling a code that echoed in the caverns.
Brave Sir Squad Leader runs away!
Almë wasn’t having any of that. No one was going to get away on his watch. He leapt over the two fallen Goblins on the floor between he and his foe, and ran after the fleeing Goblin.
Seeing the fleeing Goblin leader, Eykit flung a knife at him, hoping to slow him down. Unfortunately, it was a hasty throw, without enough force to do more than bounce off the squad leader’s leg.
Drawing a pair of arrows, Elitheris nocked one and grabbed the other with her bow hand, readying a shot.
Being an altruistic soul, Taid noticed that the Goblin with the crippled arm was suffering, so he ended it by stabbing him again. His body overwhelmed by trauma, the cannibal Goblin fell back and breathed his last, expiring as he hit the ground.
The Goblin that had been knocked down by the arrow to the chest was starting to get back up. Eykit didn’t think that was a good idea, so he stabbed at him, hitting him in the leg as he tried, unsuccessfully, to evade, eliciting a scream of pain. The Goblin’s gambeson was showing multiple reddish stains.
With a “thwack” of her bow, Elitheris sent an arrow streaking towards the fleeing Goblin, the needle bodkin arrowhead breaking the rivet of the link of mail and piercing deep into his chest cavity. His breath exploded out of him in a pained wuff! The blow staggered him, and his steps faltered.
Seeing Eykit’s foe still moving and trying to fight, Taid shoves the pointy bit of his halberd through the Goblin’s hand, breaking bones and tearing tendons. The Goblin screams, and he slumps to the ground, unmoving, succumbing to the severe beating he took.
The Goblin with the crippled leg had pulled out his sword while everyone was busy. He had been ignored, which was good for him, because it had taken a while to be able to think clearly again after his leg had been crippled. But now his mind was clear again, and he stabbed at the Elven archer’s legs. Her arrows were devastating. It would be good to knock her down a peg.
“From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee!”
Elitheris saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was a Goblin she thought had been out of the fight, and not a serious threat. She leapt backwards, out of range of his short sword, her acrobatic grace turning the dodge into a backflip.
“Hey!” Eykit yelled, as the Goblin struck at Elitheris. “Stop that!” He said, as he shoved his dagger into the Goblin’s face, killing him.
Almë’s staff was again a blur, as he hit the squad leader in the back, then pivoted the wooden shaft one-handed around the Goblin’s neck, catching it on the other side with his free hand, then pulling up on the trapped Goblin’s head.
Elitheris, seeing a wounded, but unconscious Goblin, pulled out Piercing Might, her ancient Elven rondel dagger, and plunged it through the Goblin’s chest. It slid in easily, like a hot knife through butter, the gambeson, normally a fairly resilient material, parting like cobwebs. She pulled it out, dripping with blood, a surprised expression on her face. She wiped the blood off on an unbloodied portion of his gambeson armor. She had never used the dagger before, and she hadn’t expected it to be so...effective.
“Uh, guys?” Almë said, struggling with the Goblin he held by the neck with his staff. “A little help?” He lifted the shorter Goblin up off of the ground, the little guy’s feet kicking at Almë’s shins. The squad leader dropped his spear, and went for his knife.
Eykit and Elitheris, seeing Taid already moving to help Almë, followed in his footsteps. Almë, still struggling with the writhing Goblin, who was also awkwardly trying to stick his dagger into the Elf’s guts. So far, Almë had been successful in shifting out of the way, but it was only a matter of time before the Goblin made a good, solid hit.
Taid didn’t give him that chance. He swung his halberd in an arc, slamming the blade into the Goblin’s thigh as the little green man kicked wildly. It bit deep, only stopping when it hit bone, and the Goblin went limp before he could utter a scream of pain.
Almë dropped the unconscious Goblin to the ground unceremoniously. Then he stomped on his face a few times, mashing his nose and tearing the flesh of the hapless Goblin’s face. His chest stopped moving, and the squad leader was dead.
Taid, admiring the leader’s shield, with its painted, concentric rings, took it.
The whole fight had lasted only seconds. It felt much longer, but adrenaline does odd things to time sense. They looted the bodies while Elitheris saw to her dog. They could still hear movement in the other passages. They knew that more of the cannibal Goblins were getting ready for them.
Viryalassë was a much better mage than he, showing a much higher aptitude and having a larger repertoire of spells. She was the smarter and better mage of the pair of them, and Almë loved her deeply. She discovered a new trick using a combination of spells from the Plant and Earth Colleges. Almë didn’t understand fully what she was doing, despite her trying to explain it. His thaumatology expertise wasn’t sufficient for him to understand how she could take the essence of earth and infuse it into woody plants, strengthening them beyond even Essential Wood’s capabilities, and making them resistant to fire as well. Being a kind soul, without greed or jealousy, she shared it with a mage’s guild, thinking that if this technique was widely adopted, settlements in forests wouldn’t be as susceptible to wildfires. This proved to be a mistake. The mages’ guild attacked, in order to steal the idea and gain a monopoly, and while he tried to fight them off, he didn’t succeed. They killed his wife, and thought they had killed him, but he managed to survive. With vengeance on his mind. He doesn’t know which mage guild it is, or where they are located. But he is determined to find out.
Armed with his wife’s staff, he set off to search for this wife’s killers. He’s not the best mage, or the most powerful. And for the moment, his melee skills that he learned while in the army are his main go-to skill set. But that will change. He’ll have to learn how to be a better mage if he is going to prevail. Being good with a weapon is one thing, but in order to survive against the guild he has decided is his enemy, he will need more than that.
Heatdaze 38, 879 AFE, early morning
It was barely past dawn, and despite the early hour, the heat of summer beat down upon Almë as he trudged along, tilled fields full of crops on either side. He was thankful of the trees planted along both sides of the dirt path he walked on, as they provided much needed shade. He glanced up, and the sky was a pure cerulean blue without a single cloud. Yesterday it had rained, a summer squall that had barely had enough water to wet the ground before evaporating in the heat. At least it calmed the dust, he thought, as he walked. A little.
He was heading towards Port Karn, a large city on the eastern coast, at the mouth of the Altasirya River, and a center of trade and industry. It was one of the larger cities in the Tondene Empire, and was much larger than Nendo Lantasirë could ever hope to be. It was so large that in order to have enough food to feed the population, there were hundreds of square miles of agriculture. Some of it was on either side of him, and he estimated that he still had at least an hour of walking to get there. Maybe more. He could see a smoky smudge in the distance, mixing with the haze, which he assumed was the city. He wasn’t close enough to smell it yet, but he suspected that it would be all too soon when the stench hit his nostrils.
He sniffed in disdain. Elven towns didn’t smell like a combination of dust, body odor, and sewage. People weren’t so crowded together that their smell became unbearable. He couldn’t say he was truly looking forward to being there, but it was where he needed to go. He wanted something there, in that vast, sprawling city of stone, tile, wood, and people.
He had heard that one of the largest mage guilds in the city was part of the Port Karn Agricultural Council, an organization that he thought would be perfectly situated to have use of his wife’s discovery. So far, in the few months since her death, he hadn’t heard anything about any new magical discoveries that might have been based on her ideas. Maybe they haven’t figured out how to get it to work yet, he thought, with a wistful smile, liking the idea that maybe they were too stupid to get it to work. It was possible that they had had nothing to do with the attack on his wife and him, but even if that was true, they might be able to point him in the right direction. Being part of the local bureaucracy, it was likely that they had connections with guilds in other cities, or at least might know who did. In any case, it was his best shot at finding a clue to his wife’s killers.
He wiped sweat from his brow with a kerchief, folding it up and putting it back into his pocket. He wished he had a wide brimmed hat, like the Orcs wore during daylight hours. He really should have bought one back in…what was the name of that place? Donnington, that was it. It was a large farming town, built primarily to house farmhands, although it had grown since then and included most of the amenities that a large city of 15,000 residents would need. There were lots of these kinds of settlements scattered about the vast tracts of farmland that had been carved out of the jungle. It would be too troublesome to have the workers have to walk ten miles just to get to work, and have to walk all that way back.
Almë heard footsteps, running up behind him. Turning, he saw a panting, sweating Goblin, running towards him. The expression on the greenish face was fearful, and close to panic. As he ran, he occasionally looked back over his shoulder, as if he was being pursued, and he stumbled over a mostly buried rock in the path, catching himself before he fell. He recovered, and walked quickly toward the Elven traveler.
“You gotta help me!” the Goblin said. “They’re after me!”
The Elf looked past the Goblin, down the road and fields from whence the Goblin had come. “No one seems to be after you now,” he said.
“They will be! They won’t let me escape with what I know!”
“And what, exactly, do you know?” The Elf considered the trembling Goblin. “I think you had better start from the beginning.”
The Goblin took a few moments to gather himself. A deep breath, and then he began.
“My name is Bokirr. Bokirr Zaagi. I joined a devotional group worshipping Kalshebba, goddess of feasts, food, and drink. The priest, Jakkora Tongue-Biter, seemed like a nice guy, warm, welcoming, and charismatic. It sounded great, y’know?”
Almë nodded. The sense of belonging was very powerful. He could sympathize; he hadn’t really felt that feeling since his wife died.
“So, they said they meet in the jungle, in a cave inhabited by Kalshebba herself!”
Almë was taken aback. “The goddess was there? In person?” It was rare for a deity to manifest, although, according to the tales, not unheard of. And the investiture of powers in priests and their champions was direct proof of their existence.
“In person. Or in goddess. Whatever. Just like the pictures of her on the walls! It was…magnificent…being in her presence for the feast. Until they brought out the main course.”
“Oh, what were they having?”
“People! They were eating people! That wasn’t something I signed up for! I don’t want to eat any people! The first chance I got, I left. Ran out of the cave, through the jungle, trying to get away. They were chasing me, for a while, I think.”
Almë looked back over the area that the Goblin had come from. He still couldn’t see anyone. Given that it was the goddess of food and drink, Bokirr was likely in more danger from choking on his lunch or drowning in his wine. If this Kalshebba wanted him dead, he had until his next meal, Almë considered, tilting his head, his eyes focused past the little greenish man. Or, he thought, he might be a meal for something else….
Bokirr looked up at the Elf, tears in his eyes, hands together in supplication. “You’ve got to protect me! Get me to the city. I have a cousin, who can protect me. But I need to get there! He’s in Port Karn, in the southern part of town. Can you please help me?”
Almë looked at the Goblin, then said, “Yes, I will help you. How many of these cannibals are there?”
“I saw a dozen or so, but there might be more.”
“Ah!” the Elf exclaimed. “Let’s go back to that cave. The two of us can take care of this!” He turned, and started walking towards where this cave supposedly was.
“Are you crazy? They will kill us! We need to get some help! And I’m not going back there! No way!”
Almë was disappointed. Here he was, helping this little man, and the guy was too afraid. He was certain that killing the enemies wouldn’t be that much of a chore, an afternoon’s exertion only. No sweat.
He thought a moment, then placed his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Look, Bokirr. I don’t like the idea of cannibals eating people. So let’s go and take care of it.” His grip tightened, and he started propelling Bokirr in the apparent direction of the cannibals.
Bokirr shrieked in fear, his eyes wide, the whites showing around the brown pupils. “No no no no! They’ll kill me! And I’m no warrior! I make saddles for a living!” He dug his heels in the dirt, trying to fight Almë’s grip.
“You won’t have to fight. I just need you to lead me to the place, and I will take it from there. Come on.” He continued to drag Bokirr along the path.
“NO!” the Goblin shrieked, his high pitched voice cracking, tears starting to flow from his eyes. He thought fast; he had to get this stupid Elf to let go. His hopes of protection on the way to his cousin were in jeopardy. “I’ll pay you to take me to my cousin! There might even be a reward in it for you!” It was a desperate plea; Bokirr wasn’t rich by any means, and he lived penny to penny like most of the underclasses. But maybe Dabid might be able to help there….
Almë paused, but didn’t let go of the Goblin’s shoulder, considering. He did need money to support his travels as he searched for those murderous mages. And he still thought that taking out those cannibals would be a piece of cake.
But he relented, and listened to Bokirr. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll do it your way. We will go to this cousin of yours. But I’ll be expecting a fat reward!”
An hour later, they were in Port Karn, in the New Town area where the New Town Skulls had their territory. Bokirr’s cousin, Dabid Akkiiko, was an enforcer for the guild. He was also an expert in Pakelik Gabaat, a martial art form developed by the Goblins that made use of their quickness and small size. It was also the likely reason that Bokirr thought that he could be protected. Dabid was a dangerous foe.
Taid, Eykit, and Elitheris were in the Pig’s In His Cups tavern, having had a simple breakfast of ale, cheese, sausages, and bread. They liked the Pig, or, more precisely, they liked that more often than not, Eykit was able to wheedle the bartender into giving them a free round of drinks. It’s not that they couldn’t afford the few coins for the drinks; Eykit did it just because he was Eykit. It was expected of him, and he didn’t want to disappoint.
The Pig was dim, lit by oil lamps hanging from the soot-stained ceiling beams. The benches were wood, smoothed by a century of rear ends using them, the wooden tables carved with initials, pictograms, and lewd sayings. It was crowded, with the second wave of breakfast eaters filling the benches. The first wave had been the farming types, that had to get out into the fields early, nearly at first light. Not all of the farmhands lived in the surrounding farming towns…some lived in Port Karn proper.
The night before, they had spent their time at Bardem’s Crystal Palace, trying out the Game of Shards and seeing what it was all about. There had even been a pair of connections, resulting in some entertaining if not earth-shattering magic effects. They had met Bardem himself, a colorful character with a wide, welcoming toothy grin and a sparkle in his eyes. He truly seemed to be loving what he was doing. They had also met Lord Herbert Vesten, who had wanted to buy their Shards. He had gone away empty handed, as they didn’t want to sell any of them.
Eykit was telling a story about hapless merchant who Eykit had engaged in conversation while his partner lifted a few goods out from under his nose. And by a few goods, he meant pocketfuls, a pouch, and a satchel. Just as he got close to the end of the story, Dabid Akkiiko, one of the New Town Skulls’ enforcers, walked into the crowded room. He came over to the trio.
“Hey, Eykit!” he called out. “Grab your friends and come with me.” He turned, walking out of the tavern.
Elitheris and Taid looked at each other, questions in their eyes. Eykit was up before Dabid had finished turning around. “Come on,” he said to his friends. He followed Dabid. Taid and Elitheris shrugged, then rose and followed Eykit out the door.
Dabid had gone next door to the inn, up the stairs, and into a room that Jakkit the Iceman was currently using as an office. He didn’t use the same place more than a few days at a time. He cited “security reasons” when asked, when he gave an answer at all. Jakkit was the second in command of the New Town Skulls, and he could do just about anything he wanted to. If he was here, it was important, whatever it was. Important as the task was, nothing ever seemed to faze him. He was always as cold as ice. If he ever showed emotion, it was the apocalypse, and the world was ending.
This morning, the only emotion he showed was an almost subliminal sense of concern, nothing more. Only Eykit would have noticed it, had he even bothered to look for it, but no one else there knew Jakkit well enough to read him. He just seemed calm, cool, and collected.
In the room with Jakkit were two other people, besides Dabid, Eykit, Elitheris, and Taid. There was another Goblin, and a male Elf, who looked barely past adulthood. Jakkit turned to the Goblin. “Bokirr, tell these people what you told me.”
Bokirr nodded, then began. “I had joined a new devotional group, one worshipping Kalshebba. It sounded great, Kalshebba’s rituals usually involve feasts and strong drink. The priest was nice, and really sold it. So I went to their cave in the jungle, south of Donnington. Seeing the goddess…it was…magnificent. Just like the stories! She looked just like the pictures of her on the walls. She towered above us mortals, wreathed in the light of her divinity!” The look on Bokirr’s face was reverential and full of awe. It didn’t last long, though, and it fell into dismay. “And then the feast started. It had been hours since I had eaten, and I had been looking forward to a great feast in the goddess’ presence. And then they brought out the main course: a female human, bound and gagged. They cut her throat, then spitted her, and placed her body over the fire to cook.”
He looked down at his worn, dusty shoes. “I wanted nothing to do with any of this! So I snuck out while everyone was enjoying their…dinners.” He swallowed. “Some of them saw me run out the cave entrance, into the jungle. They followed me. Panic must have made me run faster than them, because after a while, I couldn’t hear them following me. But they were there, I know it! They will come and get me, to keep me quiet about what they are doing!”
Jakkit spoke. “Dabid, Eykit, I know you two know what this could mean. We Goblins have spent hundreds of years trying to bury that cannibalistic reputation, with only minor luck. We are accepted in the Empire, although there are still enough Tondene citizens that look at us funny. If this gets out, it could set us back centuries. There would be lynchings, discrimination, and definitely a lack of trust.”
His elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers. “Eykit, you seem to be getting a knack for this sort of thing. I would like you to take out these cannibals.”
“You mean, kill them, sir?” Eykit replied.
Jakkit sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them and said, “At least the leaders. I don’t really care what you do with the rest. They are bad for business. Extremely bad.”
The male Elf spoke up. “So, what’s in it for us?”
The Iceman’s face stilled, the eyes burning like coals. He had anticipated this question, but it still annoyed him. “You will be well rewarded.” “Well rewarded?” the Elf asked. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll be paid $500 each for doing this service. Shouldn’t take you too long. With Eykit and his friends along, it should be an easy task.”
Almë considered. This Jakkit guy, and the Goblins, are desperate. I might be able to get more out of them. He said aloud, “We want more than that. We have to take on a goddess.” He wasn’t sure if that was actually the case, but Bokirr did mention that this Kalshebba deity was actually there. Surely that was worth something.
Jakkit’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Fine. $1000 each. Like I said, ‘well-rewarded’. If you succeed in taking out the leaders.”
Eykit looked over at the Elf. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I am Almë,” the male Elf replied. “I helped Bokirr get here safely. I was going to go take care of these cannibals myself, but Bokirr said that if I got him to his cousin Dabid, I would get paid.”
“So you are coming with us?”
“Well of course. How else will you beat them?”
Taid spoke up. “What can you do to help?” To Taid, Almë was a skinny Elf with a stick. Although he could tell by the man’s demeanor and bearing that he had been in the military. So he likely wouldn’t be completely useless. He would have at least some basic training.
“Well, I’m pretty good with a staff,” and he bopped Taid lightly on the head with the end of his quarterstaff. Taid barely felt it, despite the quick swing. It was precise, practiced, and executed with a minimum of movement. Efficient.
Jakkit spoke again. “Take him with you. He might be useful. Especially if there are a lot of them. Bokirr, your name was? How many did you see?”
“About a dozen, but I think I heard more in other tunnels. But I don’t know how many more.”
An hour later, they were on the road south. Taid had gotten Wilbur, and everyone had tied their packs to his saddlebags, or draped them across the saddle. Unencumbered, they were making good time. The road was hard packed earth, pounded more or less flat by thousands of feet both humanoid and animal. Weeds and wildflowers grew at the margins, and the whirring of flies and the buzzing of bees could be heard above the soughing of the wind in the trees.
The group consisted of Eykit, Taid, Elitheris, and the newcomer Almë. Wilbur, led by Taid, who held the reins, followed sedately, seemingly enjoying the exercise. Mr. Wiggles ranged ahead, sniffing anything within range of his nose, which was seemingly anything he could see and get to. Most of the time he stayed within view, but occasionally would run off into the bushes chasing after a rabbit, rat, or grouse.
The day had started out clear, but rain clouds had drifted over the area. A summer storm, complete with lightning and thunder, began dumping warm, fat drops of rain over the area.
Almë plucked a heart shaped leaf from a nearby vine, growing up on a tree by the road. Muttering a few words, he cast a spell on it that made it grow in size so that it was about three feet long by two wide. He rested the stem of his makeshift umbrella on his shoulder as he walked, the rain draining down the center and cascading off of the point. He whistled contentedly.
The rain lasted for less than a half hour. The cloud shadow and rain giving some relief from the day’s heat. The heat, very warm even at dawn, had increased past “hot” to “sweltering”, and made moving in their bulky, wet, but protective layered cloth armor nearly unbearable. Elitheris and Almë had theirs unbuckled, which let the air at least circulate a little, but Eykit also wore his mail shirt over his, and Taid had his encased in a steel breastplate, both of which precluded letting them unbuckle and open theirs. Both were beginning to pant already as the sun beat down upon them. The humidity, higher because of the recent rain, made the air feel thick and hard to breathe. Almë still had his makeshift umbrella, but now it was acting as a makeshift parasol, keeping his body in shade.
“So,” Eykit said, peering at Almë, “what’s your story? Who are you, really?”
“I’m a gardener.”
“And? A gardener wouldn’t be anxiously trying to attack a bunch of cannibals.”
Almë shrugged. “I like helping people. Bokirr needed help, so here I am. Trying to attack a bunch of cannibals, as you put it.”
“Surely that can’t be all of it.” Eykit knew no one was that altruistic. There had to be a catch, or at least an angle. And he wanted to know what it was before he trusted his safety to a flighty Elf.
“Well, the money doesn’t hurt. I have some expenses.”
And there it is, thought Eykit. Things made more sense now. Greed he understood. He had a nice, close relationship with Lady Greed. He knew her well.
Taid spoke up. “So it’s all about the money, then?”
Almë looked back over his shoulder at Taid. “No, not really. Like I said, I like helping people. The money helps, though, I must admit.” He saw a pair of iridescent blue butterflies hovering over some flowering weeds, and he went over to get a closer look at them. They were beautiful, with black and white markings along the periphery of their wings. They circled each other, then flew off in different directions, looking for more flowers. Almë had to hurry to catch up to the rest of the group, who had kept up their quick pace while he gallivanted off looking at the local insect life.
Around midday, they approached the edge of the jungle. The farmland stretched behind them like a patchwork quilt: wheat, heavy with seed, nearing harvest; lumpy green fields of cabbages and squash; orchards of apples, mangos, and avocado; weedy fields left fallow.
The jungle rose up ahead of them like a green wall of vegetation, looking impenetrable. The margin of the jungle was always a tangle of vibrant growth, since it got the most sunlight, and all of the plants strove for it. If the local farmhands didn’t keep it in check on a weekly basis, it would rapidly overcome the nearby fields. Looking over his shoulder, Almë could see a crew of Humans and Hobbits, armed with pruning hooks, shovels, and machetes, making their slow way along the margin, taming the wild growth. A part of him ached to join them, although whether to help their efforts, or to help the jungle overtake the fields, he couldn’t be certain.
They hacked their way into the jungle, their pace slow, as they needed to make a path large enough for the horse to get through. Despite the strenuous exertion, the shade and dimness was welcome. Within a few yards, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. The humidity was higher, though, which didn’t help, but they were all used to that.
Bokirr had given Almë directions, and he took the lead once the jungle opened up a bit. Farther in, there wasn’t as much light, and the growth wasn’t as dense. He took the lead confidently, with a good idea about where he could find the cave the fleeing Goblin had mentioned.
“Should be about two miles,” Almë started, then pointed off to the south south east, “that way.” He strode off in that direction without a backward glance, certain that he would be followed.
Eykit and Elitheris glanced at each other. “Maybe there are some tracks?” Eykit asked. Taid nodded, agreeing that simply following the Elf was not likely to be the best idea.
Elitheris quirked a smile, nodded, and began searching for evidence besides the word of an Elven stranger. Moving perpendicularly to their direction of travel, she searched for a trail. Surely, a large group of Goblins would leave some kind of trail. Crisscrossing their own trail, she and Mr. Wiggles sought for signs of recent travel.
It didn’t take them long. Whether through blind luck, or Almë’s knowing sense of direction, Mr. Wiggles seemed to hit on some interesting scent, and Elitheris quickly discovered a trail that seemed to be going in the right direction. Whomever... or whatever...had made the trail, they hadn’t been stealthy woodsmen. No care had been taken to hide their passage: broken branches, footprints in the wet soil, bark scraped off of a tree at about waist height. All were signs that several people...small footed people...had been through this area in the recent past. She whistled, and the rest of the group made their way over to where she waited.
She explained what she had found.
“Excellent!” Almë exclaimed, excited. “I knew we would find them!” He looked over at Elitheris. “Good job! Lead on, wise woodswoman!”
Elitheris did so, rolling her eyes. But at least they had something more than a vague direction and distance to follow.
The terrain wasn’t flat; it was an area of rolling hills, ravines, and escarpments, all densely covered in tropical vegetation. The ground was moist, which made footing treacherous, especially on slopes, and also made climbing slow and tedious. Several times, falls occurred, and mud stained their clothing and armor pretty much from the waist down. Their boots were a uniform mud brown color, regardless of the original colors.
Birdsong rang continuously through the canopies, along with the calls of other, less avian types of animals. The rich, organic smell of vegetation, with an underlying tang of rot, wafted throughout the jungle. Elitheris was used to it, she had lived in it for the last 80 years or so. Almë probably liked it, being a gardener. Eykit scrunched his nose, not liking the unfamiliar odors but appreciating that it didn’t stink as much as the city did. Taid stoically accepted it as just another set of smells. He’d smelled worse. At least it wasn’t raining again, although occasional drops from the morning’s rain fell from the upper canopies, through the lower canopy, and onto the underbrush or ground.
“Well,” Elitheris stated, after picking herself up off of the ground after her feet slipped out from under her, “at least the lower half of my body is camouflaged.”
Almë chuckled. “Ha! You’re right! All the better to sneak up on those cannibals!”
Taid muttered, “Yeah, they won’t see the lower halves of us coming. We’ll just be disembodied torsos.” He tried to wipe the mud off of his pants, failing despite his hands collecting globs of it from his pants. He flicked his hands in a quick motion to get the clumps of mud off his fingers. “We never have to deal with mud in the Undercities. Just good, clean stone.”
Eykit’s ears swiveled about like a cat’s, trying to pinpoint noises the attackers might be making. He heard a ratcheting noise...no, two ratcheting, clanking noises. Almë whispered a few words, contorting his fingers into the appropriate mana-channeling forms. The forest opened up to him, the leaves and branches and tree trunks becoming transparent, exposing everything within about ten paces. He pointed with both hands, off to the sides of the trail and about fifteen feet up. “They’re in the trees!” he shouted.
Now knowing where to look, the rest of them could see the pair of Goblins, crouched up in the trees, mostly hidden by branches and leaves.
Eykit tossed a knife at the one on the left, the blade tumbling end over end, and it hit the Goblin in the family jewels. While it didn’t pierce the gambeson armor the ambushing Goblin wore it was enough to give him a thump in the nutsack powerful enough to make him drop the crossbow he had been recocking. It sent uncomfortable tingles up into his belly and down his legs as he crouched on the tree branch.
Elitheris followed that up with an arrow to the chest, adding injury to insult. His breath exploded out of him with a doglike wuff. Mr. Wiggles ran up to the tree, trying to jump up into it, barking madly.
Taid sighted down the crossbow’s stock, and fired at the second Goblin. The bolt missed as the Goblin flattened himself against the tree trunk, and it flew off into the jungle. Swearing in guttural Northern Khuzdûl, he started the process of cocking his crossbow. It would take several seconds to ready the powerful crossbow for another shot, and he ducked around a tree trunk for cover before sticking his foot in the stirrup.
Almë ran toward the tree that the Goblin on the right was in. He didn’t really have a ranged weapon; he would have to climb up the tree to get to his foe. Like Taid, it was taking the small Goblins a while to ready their missile weapons for another shot. The Elf was determined not to give them the opportunity.
Elitheris pulled an arrow out of her quiver, and in one smooth action she nocked it and drew the string back, loosing the arrow at full draw. The broadhead sailed upward, punching through the second Goblin’s chest and emerging from his back. He tumbled out of the tree and hit the ground with a sodden thump.
Almë was there in a moment, staff upraised, and he swung the sturdy wood down onto the fallen Goblin’s head. The strike took the Goblin on the temple, just under the rim of his helmet, and Almë heard a wet cracking sound when he hit. The arrow had likely killed him before he hit the ground, but the staff blow guaranteed his death.
Eykit had his knives out, because he had noticed that the first Goblin, the one on the left with the sore jewels and doing an impressive imitation of a street vendor’s meat kabob, was still alive, and had his knife out. He wasn’t breathing easily, not with the arrow cradled in his ribs, and maybe he could be convinced to give up. Eykit was good at talking.
“Hey,” he said. “We’ve killed your buddy, and you don’t look like you are in good shape either. Why don’t you come down, and we can talk this out?”
Clenching his teeth, the Goblin didn’t answer. Perhaps he was in too much pain. Eykit tried again. “Come now, you’ve got to know you’re beat?”
“Fuck off!” The wounded Goblin answered.
“Seriously? We can give you medical attention. Patch you up, ask a few questions....?”
“May Kalshebba gnaw on your bones!”
“Well, I tried. Elitheris, would you like to do the honors?”
The Elven woman nodded, then loosed the arrow she had drawn. It flew true, hitting an inch away from the first. The dead Goblin fell out of the tree like an overripe fruit. It was followed by the snikt of Taid’s crossbow string latching into place. He put a bolt in place, then slid the trigger block in place. It wouldn’t do to have it go off when he wasn’t ready for it to hit an enemy.
They examined the two bodies. They wore a lighter gambeson, slightly cooler in the heat, maybe, but not as protective. They were armed with crossbows and long knives, the crossbows not quite as strong as Taid’s, but strong enough to require winches for the Goblins to re-arm. Good for a single shot, then nearly useless during a fight unless they had someone else to keep enemies away from them while they reloaded. They hadn’t had that; perhaps they had hoped that their position in the trees would serve that function. It hadn’t. Each of the two ambushing Goblins had some pocket change, but nothing more. Taid looked from tree to tree. They would have been smarter to shoot at Elitheris. She was the primary threat. Stupid of them, since she was really the only one who could hurt them.
Elitheris made a sweep around the area. She found signs of a third Goblin, who had also been hiding in a tree, but had jumped down and ran off before or during the excitement. His boot prints had been found at the base of a tree, with deep imprints, indicating that he had come down hard. His prints, spaced to show that he was running, went in the direction they suspected the cave was situated.
“We must be getting close,” Taid stated, “if they have sentries posted.”
“Makes sense,” Almë agreed. The Plant Vision spell still allowing him to see through the vegetation, he strode off in an arc around the area of the fight. Something caught his eye, about nine feet high on a tree trunk. “Taid, I’ve found your quarrel.” He hopped up, grabbing onto the crossbow bolt, and tried to pull it out of the tree. It didn’t come out easily, but with a bit of perseverance, Almë managed to extract it.
They continued on, Elitheris easily following the trail left by what must have been the third sentry, now running off to warn the others. Surprise was no longer on their side. They were expected. She shook her head in dismay.
The trail ended at a small space in the jungle on a slope, slightly more open than the rest of the area. The ground was more rocky here, and Elitheris figured that the fleeing Goblin had hopped from rock to rock to throw off pursuit. “Trail’s stopped,” she stated, disappointed. “I’ll see if I can pick it up again.” She started spiraling out, looking for signs of flight.
Almë cast the Forest Vision spell again, and again the vegetation turned into faint, hazy outlines. The landscape was made visible to him. And so was the “hidden and camouflaged” cavern opening that rent the side of the slope. “Hey guys!” Almë said. “I know where that cave is!” He pointed.
The rest of the group looked, but saw only a mass of brush and trees. Taid moved around, looking at the area. Once he knew where to look, the cavern opening was visible, nestled in the bushes and undergrowth. It led to a tunnel, sloping downward, with turns and twists such that they couldn’t see much deeper than about two dozen feet. It was unlit.
They entered the cave, Taid and Almë in front, Eykit and Elitheris at the rear. Mr. Wiggles stayed close to Elitheris. He didn’t like this place, it smelled bad, and his hackles were up. He growled softly. The others couldn’t tell what had Mr. Wiggles upset. They could smell a sweet woodsmoke, but not much more. The air was cool, and felt even more so given the heat of the jungle. The coolness was a welcome relief.
The tunnel, about fifteen feet wide and eight high, sloped downward, with a couple of slight bends. Then it opened up into a larger cavern.
The floor of the space was rough and uneven and the ceiling ranged from 8-10 feet high. There had been stalactites and stalagmites here, but they had been broken off and removed, leaving ragged, rough stumps of limestone. A couple of those stumps hanging from the ceiling were glowing with a white light, giving off about as much light as a torch. But for Goblins, Dwarves, and Elves, it might as well as been daylight, given their natural night vision. A Human, had they been here, would have perceived the cavern as dimly lit, with lots of shadowy areas.
Facing them were four Goblins, armed with spears and shields, clad in gambeson armor and pot helms. They were in formation, the two in front with their spears and shields ready, the two in back using their spears in a two-handed grip, their shields on guiges hanging about their necks. They had been waiting for the intruders, and moved to attack as a group. One of the Goblins in the rear whistled a few times, in what must have been a code of some kind. A different pattern of whistles responded, coming from elsewhere in the cavern complex, the tones echoing oddly.
Taid chopped down with his halberd, aiming at the Goblin spearman on the right. But the spearman was well trained, angling his shield to shed the blow off to the side harmlessly. The spearman grunted with the effort, but smiled as Taid cursed. He had been hoping for a quick kill, and the Goblin denied him that. The halberd was a heavy piece of steel on a long pole, so getting it ready to strike again would take some effort and time. Swinging, the halberd was a relatively slow weapon. The thrusting, jabbing spears were much more nimble weapons.
Almë stepped forward, swinging his staff low, against the grinning Goblin’s ankles, sweeping the spearman’s feet out from under him. He fell prone, the three trained spearmen in formation with him shifting to avoid tripping on him. “May Kalshebba eat your face!” he yelled as he scrambled back, trying to get to his feet.
Eykit pulled his knives from their sheaths, and started making his way around Taid and Almë. There was something about these Goblins that really unsettled him. He wasn’t sure if it was their propensity to cannibalism, or their military discipline and prowess. His fight or flight response was really starting to kick in, and he wasn’t sure which one it was going to be.
Elitheris pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it in a single, smooth motion. She began drawing the string back as Mr. Wiggles charged out between Taid’s and Almë’s legs, barking loudly, going for the downed Goblin’s leg.
The spearmen were quick to react. Seeing their comrade on the ground trying to get up, and being attacked by a vicious dog wearing battle armor, they thrust their spears at the canine. One missed, one failed to pierce the mail and gambeson combination that draped over the dog’s back, but one slid under Mr. Wiggles’ belly, bypassing the armor completely, and into the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He yelped in pain, jumping back in reflex, his leg wobbly and unable to support weight, blood drizzling onto the rough stone of the floor.
Eykit’s flight or fight dilemma resolved itself into a compromise: he hid. Sliding quietly behind the tapestry, his fear of danger getting the best of him, he cowered, hating himself as he heard his friends in deadly combat. Each blow of a weapon on weapon or shield was a reminder of his own cowardice, a part of himself that he had been working on his entire life, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t fully excise. Using his hands to plug his ears didn’t help much, but it was all he could do.
Almë’s skill at quarter staff was exceptional. But it didn’t do a lot of damage. But he could make it easier for the Dwarf to do damage, and possibly deny the enemy the ability to deflect that nasty halberd his companion used. He attempted to disarm the Goblin on the left, trying to make the spearman drop his shield. It didn’t work; the Goblin seemed ready for the maneuver, and jerked his shield out of the way, keeping a tight grip on the handle. “Oh, you’re good,” the Elf exclaimed, disappointed.
But it had an effect, despite Almë not being able to make the Goblin drop his shield. An arrow flew over Almë’s shoulder and into the Goblin’s chest, the shield being out of line and unable to defend. The arrow punched through the layers of linen fabric that made up the gambeson, the needle bodkin point piercing through the armor almost as if it wasn’t even there and going in a full hand’s breadth into the Goblin’s chest cavity. He fell back, propelled by the force of the impact, stumbling a couple of steps before falling onto his back, the shaft of the arrow wavering with each of his labored, pained breaths.
The spearman behind the struck man sidestepped out of his companion’s way, swearing in Mekiitagi, swinging his shield around on his guige so he could grab the handle and use it. He could see that damned dog, bleeding, but attacking his prone friend’s leg again. He could see the heavily armored Dwarf adjusting the position of his polearm, readying it for another attack. He couldn’t let that happen!
He called to his companion beside him, who had also gotten their shield ready. “Attack the Dwarf!” He ordered. Both Goblins struck at the Dwarf, trying to get past his defenses. Taid was able to avoid getting hit by either of them, much to their dismay. His defenses were just too good.
On the way to the cave, Eykit had told Almë about their adventures in the old Orc temple, and how they informally called themselves the “ball busters” because they always seem to hit the enemies in the family jewels. He took it to heart. Seeing an opportunity, Almë struck at the Goblin who was trying to rise to his feet, slamming the end of his staff into the Goblin’s groin. The Goblin, who had managed to get up onto his knees, fell back down, moaning, as his vision blurred and went white with pain. He curled up into the fetal position involuntarily, even as his brain tried to get him to ignore the pain and get the hell up.
Elitheris loosed another arrow, this time at the Goblin on the left who had sidestepped the previous Goblin’s stumbling fall. He was ready for it, however, and dodged, the arrow glancing off of the shield. His arm was pushed back by the force of the arrow, propelled by the Elf’s war bow.
Meanwhile, Taid had readied himself for another attack with his halberd, and, seeing what Almë had done, thrust the top spike of the halberd into the spearman on the right’s groin. It slid through the minimal protection of the spearman’s gambeson, and deep into his pelvic girdle. He went down, screaming, as blood welled up from between his legs. Taid quirked a smile. That was one Goblin that wouldn’t be making any kids.
The one standing Goblin attacked Taid’s leg, knowing that he likely wouldn’t be able to get through the breastplate. Taid, however, dodged out of the way, retracting his leg to avoid the thrust.
Almë gracefully spun, building momentum for a strong attack, but unfortunately, the attack was obvious, and the prone victim was able to get his shield in line without difficulty, blocking the strong blow. The shock of it made the Goblin’s arm ache.
Out of the corner of her eye, as she was getting another arrow, she saw Mr. Wiggles finally get through the foe’s gambeson, and she could see blood staining the Goblin’s leg as the dog shook his head, jaws clamped on the man’s shin. The Goblin spearman, his manhood abused and still causing pain, fell unconscious. Mr. Wiggles shook his head violently a few times more for good measure, ripping the Goblin’s flesh.
Taid thrust the top spike of his polearm in an attack against the only standing Goblin, but missed as the enemy determinedly blocked it with his shield. In response, the Goblin quickly and agilely maneuvered his spear point past Taid’s halberd and struck at the Dwarf’s leg, but Taid danced back, avoiding the strike.
Almë, recovered from his spin attack, dropped into a half crouch and swept the Goblin’s legs out from under him. The spearman grunted as he hit the hard stone floor, the wind knocked out of him.
Taid tried again to attack his foe. This time, likely due to the fact that the poor Goblin was on his back and unable to properly move, he was able to thrust the top spike into the Goblin’s leg, emerging out the other side. The Goblin screamed in pain, shouting something about Kalshebba and how she eats enemies for breakfast.
Angered and in pain, and leaking blood from a pair of holes in his leg, he stabbed his spear at Almë. The Elf casually parried the thrust, easily knocking the spear out of line. He smiled, confident in his skill with the staff. He made it look easy. He smoothly continued the motion of the staff, rotating it around and striking the prone Goblin in the face, smashing his nose and likely knocking several teeth loose. The Goblin’s eyes, narrowed in pain, stared daggers at the staff-wielding Elf.
The eyes go blank following an arrow strike to the heart. The fight over, the foes were either dead or unconscious.
Elitheris whistled, the call for Mr. Wiggles to return to her side. Obediently, he let go of the Goblin’s leg, and bounds up to her, still bleeding from the wound to his groin. Taid, meanwhile, had pulled out his knife and was slitting the throats of the unconscious Goblins before they could wake up and cause any more problems for them.
Elitheris examined her pet, had him lay down, and began casting a Minor Healing spell. One of these days, she thought, I have to spend some time reading that Major Healing book! As she cast, saying the words of power and making the proper gestures, the mana flowed from her and into the dog, knitting the flesh back together. The spell was too weak to fully heal her dog, but Taid also knelt by her injured pet, and cast a Healing spell, finishing the job.
They found Eykit behind the tapestry, huddling, tear-streaked and fearful. They gave what comfort they could, and after a few moments Eykit was able to recover enough to continue on. “Thanks, guys,” he said, “sorry about that.” He wiped the tears from his face and eyes.
They quickly looted the bodies, and they could hear movement...lots of movement...in all of the three tunnels that led from the cavern they were in. Almë peeked into the three tunnels, keeping close to the walls for cover, while the rest of the group dragged the bodies outside, stashing them in the undergrowth. He didn’t see much except curving stone tunnels, but he could hear the tramp of footsteps and the clanking and creaking of weapons and armor. Taid picked up a shield, holding it out in front of him. He wouldn’t be able to use his halberd until he dropped it, but it would serve to help protect him until then. Especially if they had missile weapons.
The cavern opened up to either side of the passageway. To the left, there was a storage area with some crates and barrels in it, with a ceiling low enough to touch without jumping up. There was a chair against the far wall, facing the passageway. It could have been a chair for a guard, or simply a place to sit while putting on boots. To the right, with a nine foot ceiling, was a space with three sets of bunk beds. There were six chests in the room, three up against the back wall, three at the foot of the bunk beds. It was evident that they were for whomever was assigned to the beds. There were a few stumps of stalactites left on the ceiling, although most had been removed. Two of those stumps, like in the previous cavern, were glowing with white light, shedding dim, but serviceable light.
Elitheris drew back and loosed an arrow which buried itself in the leftmost rear Goblin’s chest. The struck spearman staggered back a step, but recovered his balance. The back of his gambeson tented out, the arrowhead sticking out of his back. The olive green skin paled in shock, but he kept to his feet, although he wavered as if his balance was off. His gambeson reddened both in front and in back as blood pumped out of the two holes. She whistled, and Mr. Wiggles leapt to the attack, trying to bite the rightmost Goblin’s leg. Unfortunately, the Goblin interposed his shield, and Mr. Wiggles’ teeth scraped along the metal edge.
The disarmed Goblin started pulling out his short sword. He was angry that the pesky Elf had disarmed him, and he wanted vengeance for making him look bad in front of his friends. His partner, to his left, was being attacked by a damned dog, but the dog was too close for proper spear work. Instead, the spearman used the butt of his spear to whack the growling beast, but the annoying canine dodged out of the way enough so that the armor on his back absorbed the blow. The two Goblins in the rear attacked the relatively unarmored Almë. One, severely wounded with an arrow all the way through him, seemed to barely be able to wield his spear. His attack was easily parried, but Almë was forced to dodge out of the way as the other spearman thrust in with a strike aimed at his face.
The fifth Goblin thrust his spear at the dog, but the point skidded off of the mail on Mr. Wiggles’ back. “You’ll be dog meat when we get through with you!” He said in Mekiitagi. “And you will all end up in the pot when we kill you!” He added, in Imperial, a sneer on his face.
Almë did something complicated with his staff and the spearman’s shield. The shield flipped over Almë’s head as it left the grasp of the surprised Goblin, his hand clutching only air where the handle of his shield had been. The shield clanked on the stony floor, rolling past Elitheris and spiraling to a stop with a “wub-wub-wub-wubbly-wubbly- clongity-clong”.
Elitheris drew an arrow and nocked it.
Eykit jumped between Almë and Taid, stabbing the Goblin on the left with two quick strikes. The spearman dodged the first, but Eykit, living up to his ball-buster name, sank the rondel dagger into the foe’s groin. The major wound made the Goblin screech in pain and fear, and he staggered back a step, but somehow remained upright, his legs wobbly. His squadmate, behind him, helped him keep standing as a red stain cascaded down both the wounded Goblin’s legs.
Mr. Wiggles, undeterred by his recent failure to lock his jaws on an enemy, tried again, this time biting into the meaty calf of the right hand Goblin’s leg. He drew blood, and it soaked into the many layers of fabric of the gambeson armor.
Taid, noticing that the Goblin in front of him was, for all intents and purposes, carrying a dog with his leg, chose to stab the Goblin in the other leg, the halberd spike biting deep into the thigh of the spearman. The leg crumpled under him, dashing him to the floor, and he squealed in agony, his cries goading the dog into more furious biting.
“Come on, boys,” the Goblin squad leader cried, “we can take these guys! We only need to hold out for a little while before reinforcements come!”
The left rear spearman got smart, and tried to attack Taid’s arm, in an attempt to make him drop his deadly halberd. It failed, as Taid sidestepped the attack. The right rear spearman, seeing how hard it was to even touch the well- armored Dwarf, tried to hit the Elf instead. Almë parried the spear thrust with ease. The squad leader, seeing an opening, stabbed at Mr. Wiggles’ in an attempt to save one of his men. The dog, preoccupied with chewing on a leg, was hit, again in the groin, where no armor was present. The spear point stabbed deeply, and the dog yelped and whined in pain, then ran off to cower behind Elitheris. He left a trail of blood. Too much blood.
Seeing the dog get damaged, Almë was furious. He was starting to like that determined pup. He struck the Goblin in front of him twice, his weapon a blur, although the first attack was parried. The second one was a thrust to the instep, which, while painful, didn’t really affect the adrenaline-charged Goblin, besides make him cry out in pain and surprise.
Not satisfied with the reaction his crotch shot resulted in, Eykit went for the neck, stabbing his rondel dagger into the side of the Goblin’s neck, biting deep enough to drop his opponent. The Goblin lay motionless, bleeding from both of his major wounds.
Elitheris drew and loosed; the arrow flew true and sunk itself into the chest of the same Goblin that Almë had hurt in the foot. The Goblin, reeled back by the force of the shaft, stared in surprise and disbelief at the finger-thick cylinder of wood protruding from his chest. He let out a plaintive whine as he fell backwards.
Taid thrust with his halberd, spearing the last of the spearmen through the arm and with a twisting motion that wrenched the enemy’s arm, pulled it out again. With a cry of pain, the Goblin dropped his spear, his arm no longer working properly due to major tissue damage.
Seeing all four of his men out of the fight, the squad leader bolted, running toward a passage at the far end of the room, whistling a code that echoed in the caverns.
Almë wasn’t having any of that. No one was going to get away on his watch. He leapt over the two fallen Goblins on the floor between he and his foe, and ran after the fleeing Goblin.
Seeing the fleeing Goblin leader, Eykit flung a knife at him, hoping to slow him down. Unfortunately, it was a hasty throw, without enough force to do more than bounce off the squad leader’s leg.
Drawing a pair of arrows, Elitheris nocked one and grabbed the other with her bow hand, readying a shot.
Being an altruistic soul, Taid noticed that the Goblin with the crippled arm was suffering, so he ended it by stabbing him again. His body overwhelmed by trauma, the cannibal Goblin fell back and breathed his last, expiring as he hit the ground.
The Goblin that had been knocked down by the arrow to the chest was starting to get back up. Eykit didn’t think that was a good idea, so he stabbed at him, hitting him in the leg as he tried, unsuccessfully, to evade, eliciting a scream of pain. The Goblin’s gambeson was showing multiple reddish stains.
Seeing Eykit’s foe still moving and trying to fight, Taid shoves the pointy bit of his halberd through the Goblin’s hand, breaking bones and tearing tendons. The Goblin screams, and he slumps to the ground, unmoving, succumbing to the severe beating he took.
The Goblin with the crippled leg had pulled out his sword while everyone was busy. He had been ignored, which was good for him, because it had taken a while to be able to think clearly again after his leg had been crippled. But now his mind was clear again, and he stabbed at the Elven archer’s legs. Her arrows were devastating. It would be good to knock her down a peg.
Elitheris saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was a Goblin she thought had been out of the fight, and not a serious threat. She leapt backwards, out of range of his short sword, her acrobatic grace turning the dodge into a backflip.
“Hey!” Eykit yelled, as the Goblin struck at Elitheris. “Stop that!” He said, as he shoved his dagger into the Goblin’s face, killing him.
Almë’s staff was again a blur, as he hit the squad leader in the back, then pivoted the wooden shaft one-handed around the Goblin’s neck, catching it on the other side with his free hand, then pulling up on the trapped Goblin’s head.
Elitheris, seeing a wounded, but unconscious Goblin, pulled out Piercing Might, her ancient Elven rondel dagger, and plunged it through the Goblin’s chest. It slid in easily, like a hot knife through butter, the gambeson, normally a fairly resilient material, parting like cobwebs. She pulled it out, dripping with blood, a surprised expression on her face. She wiped the blood off on an unbloodied portion of his gambeson armor. She had never used the dagger before, and she hadn’t expected it to be so...effective.
“Uh, guys?” Almë said, struggling with the Goblin he held by the neck with his staff. “A little help?” He lifted the shorter Goblin up off of the ground, the little guy’s feet kicking at Almë’s shins. The squad leader dropped his spear, and went for his knife.
Eykit and Elitheris, seeing Taid already moving to help Almë, followed in his footsteps. Almë, still struggling with the writhing Goblin, who was also awkwardly trying to stick his dagger into the Elf’s guts. So far, Almë had been successful in shifting out of the way, but it was only a matter of time before the Goblin made a good, solid hit.
Taid didn’t give him that chance. He swung his halberd in an arc, slamming the blade into the Goblin’s thigh as the little green man kicked wildly. It bit deep, only stopping when it hit bone, and the Goblin went limp before he could utter a scream of pain.
Almë dropped the unconscious Goblin to the ground unceremoniously. Then he stomped on his face a few times, mashing his nose and tearing the flesh of the hapless Goblin’s face. His chest stopped moving, and the squad leader was dead.
Taid, admiring the leader’s shield, with its painted, concentric rings, took it.
The whole fight had lasted only seconds. It felt much longer, but adrenaline does odd things to time sense. They looted the bodies while Elitheris saw to her dog. They could still hear movement in the other passages. They knew that more of the cannibal Goblins were getting ready for them.
Rewards Granted
Some pocket change, equal to around $100. Some Goblin sized medium gambeson, a suit of Goblin sized heavy gambeson, mail shirt and coif, also sized for a Goblin. Several spears, short swords, and knives.
3 CP
Character(s) interacted with
Bokirr Zaagi, Dabid Akkiiko, Jakkit the Iceman
Report Date
26 Jun 2022
Primary Location
Secondary Location
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