Chapter 08

Roll Call:

Gherota, Human Fighter, Level 1. First and foremost a front-line swordswoman, and quite skilled. Irritated by Fisk's violent, exploitative worldview.

Gurnlocke Fisk, Dwarf Warlock, Level 1. A bitter spell-slinger with powers touched by brimstone. An advocate for Machiavellian methods and strategies.

Mairrethid, Human Wizard, Level 1. Student of mechanical magic and military theory, a war mage. Both moderate rationalist and mediator.

Mez Gobbo, Goblin Rogue, Level 1. Lockpick and shadow-skulking cut-throat. Motivated by enlightened self-interest, a mercenary.

Schlobrock, Ork Cleric, Level 1. Nature-worshipping shaman and medicine woman, with a huge axe. Has trouble pronouncing the letters F, S, T and V.

 

First Ch 01: Poot's Angels
Previous Chapter 07

Pursuing stolen loot, five adventurers penetrated the underground hide-out of a gang of goblins and hobgoblins. With sentries overcome, the five crept undetected into the thieves’ lair, quickly overcoming a pair of villains to recover the stolen statue. The noise of the fight, however, betrayed their presence, and now they are cornered in the small armory of an ancient fortress, with nothing but a heavy wooden door between themselves and a force that outnumbers them by more than three-to-one.

Gherota and Schlobrock took up positions, side-by-side, to block the double-door and Gherota lifted the bar. Fisk, Mairrethid, and Mez stood behind them, preparing spells (in Mez’s case, loading a small crossbow).

As Gherota pushed the doors open, they discovered their enemies, assembled in a battle formation in the bailey hall of the underground fortress.

Close-combat was being offered by two groups of hobgoblins, a larger, more-militant cousin of the smaller goblin. Hobgoblins are human-sized and well-respected as professional soldiers and mercenaries. Each group of hobgoblins had four members, wearing chain mail with a few mixed pieces of plate and carrying shields and longswords, led by a fifth who looked like a sergeant--the closer of the two carried a flail, while the further one carried a spear.

Another group of three goblin archers had taken up positions on a balcony across the bailey hall, roughly fifty feet away and ten feet above the party. The three-foot tall, furry creatures were carrying bows almost as tall as themselves, but clearly new how to use them. A nearby flight of stairs would provide easy access, however, to anyone seeking to charge this group.

Two more goblins with shortbows were on the floor of the bailey hall, scattered between the hobgoblins and standing back a bit. Two more had short swords, and were similarly arrayed between and behind the hobgoblins.

Finally, a goblin leader, stood slightly behind his forces, carrying a cruelly-shaped, shining black cudgel and matching armor that all appeared to have come from some sort of giant insect. This goblin began chanting and waving his hands around to cast a spell as soon as Gherota’s head appeared.

Mez would get the first shot, however, conspicuously aiming for the nearest hobgoblin sergeant’s groin. The hobgoblin responded defensively, acting on instinct, while Mez casually shifted the focus of his attack at the last moment. A crossbow bolt was launched, pegging the hobgoblin cleanly in the eye and eliciting a horrendous shriek.

One of the goblin shortswords slipped in closer, near the massed hobgoblins, but against a wall so that none of the five adventurers had line-of-site for detection or attack.

Mairrethid followed up on Mez’s crossbow shot with his own, less effective spell--a hurled incendiary orb which exploded, harmlessly, on the sergeant’s shield. The resulting fireball did, however, manage to kill one of the other, lesser hobgoblin warriors who were standing too close.

Without missing a beat, Mairrethid completed the spell he was working with his other hand, conjuring another, much larger orb of fire directly behind the hobgoblin sergeant. This orb lunged at the sergeant, missing widely, but remained active, bathing those closest to it in waves of blistering heat.

“Drat,” Mairrethid cursed to himself, “that will teach me to try to do two things at once.”

Across the hall, the goblin leader finished his own spell, pointing at Gherota and invoking a dull, purple glow which radiated out of her faintly in a five-yard radius. Insects and worse started to flood the glowing area, with spiders materializing from the ceiling and dropping on strands of webbing, centipedes crawling up from between the flagstones underfoot, and a wave of moths and locusts flying in from nowhere. The vermin cloud aggressively dogged the five adventurers, impeding their attacks and concealing the goblins, while completely ignoring the goblin leaders’ own men.

“I hate bugs,” Gherota snarled. “I am vexed!”

“Dhey are nod much poizonouz,” Schlobrock informed her allies, “bud dhey will probably be here undil dhad goblin zpellcazder iz daken care ob.”

“I happen to like bugs,” Fisk announced, scratching uncomfortably as he tried to complete a spell, “but I don’t like this at all. I’m going to force-feed that goblin his own feces until he chokes on it and dies, and then I’m going pay to have him raised, so I can--.”

He was interrupted by a volley of arrows from the balcony, hitting him for minor damage. Of five incoming arrows, another hit Gherota, but the rest all missed.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Fisk growled, “you other stupid goblin...”

Meanwhile, the nearest group of hobgoblins was staying just out of sword range, forcing Gherota and Schlobrock to come out of the room in order to attack them.

Gherota did no such thing, drawing and throwing a handaxe at the sergeant, punching through his armor and causing additional damage. “Big hobgoblin, tiny sexual organs,” she taunted.

The hobgoblin growled back at her.

Schlobrock, meanwhile, took advantage of no one being close enough to interrupt a spell to cast one, calling upon a piercing blast from the ceiling to descend on the goblin leader. It missed by a wide margin, however.

“By all the ruinous powers,” Fisk intoned, pointing one finger at the hobgoblin sergeant, “most especially your mom, I curse you.” With those words, he completed his spell, throwing a conduit of energy out, around Gherota, and into the hobgoblin, stealing away a portion of his life force.

As Mairrethid’s own flaming sphere continued to burn behind the hobgoblin sergeant, the heat combined with weakness from Fisk’s vampiric embrace, finally dropping the hobgoblin after five or six seconds of near-total onslaught from the five adventurers.

Another hobgoblin, who had much less to complain about than his sergeant, collapsed from the heat of the flaming sphere as well. The sphere was close enough, too, to the second hobgoblin sergeant that he was burned a bit as well.

The other hobgoblins in the front rank pressed forward, however. With their sergeant dead, battlefield discipline collapsed and the two remaining hobgoblins in the forward group advanced. One stepped into Schlobrock, swinging his longsword to score a respectable hit, while the other moved into Gherota, who easily deflected with her shield.

The surviving sergeant, standing with the second group of hobgoblins, looked to the goblin leader for a cue. The goblin leader waived him forward, and so he advanced, taking his own hobgoblins into the melee. He recognized the superior warrior in the adventurer’s front line very early in the battle, and took the fight directly to her, advancing on Gherota and stabbing at her with his spear. He missed.

Another hobgoblin moved against Schlobrock, and managed to score another hit with his longsword. She stood strong, but the battle damage was quickly piling up on her.

These four hobgoblins--two from the forward group, the surviving sergeant, and one of his own hobgoblins--were all that could access the adventurer’s own front rank, as they used the doorway to shield themselves from flankers and from being overwhelmed.

The other hobgoblins bunched up behind the front line, waiting for their chance to do some damage, until the surviving sergeant countermanded them. “Spread out, you fools,” he barked, in the goblin language, “or their spellcaster will take you out with one shot.”

The hobgoblins moved to obey.

Mez contemplated a crossbow shot against the surviving sergeant, but couldn’t hit a vital area without some kind of advantage--by surprise, flanking, or magic. He waited to see what his allies would do, and if an opportunity might develop.

So far, the two goblin short swords appeared to be doing the same, though they were well positioned to get involved in the melee quickly.

Mairrethid renewed his flaming sphere with a subverbal chant and, with one hand outstretched, directed the newly-stoked ball of fire to roll across the floor toward the goblin leader. The sphere bounced towards the goblin, but missed completely. “Drat, drat, drat,” Mairrethid cursed. “At least it will scald him a bit, being that close.”

Scald the goblin leader it did, and made him quite angry as well. The goblin didn’t lose concentration on his own cloud of vexing vermin, sustaining the spell and moving it slightly to cover a maximum number of goblins. He showed himself to be much better at doing two things at once than Mairrethid, however, as he assembled and deployed a spell of his own.

Mairrethid was struck in the face by invisible magical forces, nearly knocking him over and leaving him reeling.

“Outch!” Fisk remarked with uncharacteristic empathy. “You okay?”

“I’m blind!” Mairrethid howled. “That motherless wolf-spawned maggot-sucker!”

“Let it out, man,” Fisk encouraged, “feed your vengeance with anger and hatred.”

“Saying things like that is why you’ve got to pay women to even notice you,” Gherota said, her grin suddenly cut short when she was the only one of the five to take incoming fire from another volley of arrows. “Gods above, that is starting to hurt!”

She finally drew her sword, dancing forward with a feint as she tagged the hobgoblin sergeant with the flat of her blade, right in the face. The hobgoblin took the bait, returning her insult with a strike, and Gherota effortlessly used the momentum to her advantage, trading places with the hobgoblin, and sending him toward Fisk and Mez.

“Lunch time, boys,” she said, pleased with herself, apparently unconcerned that she was now standing outside of the room, surrounded by hobgoblins.

Schlobrock quickly cast two spells of her own, passing a heal over Gherota while she charged her axe with magic, bringing it down on the now-surrounded hobgoblin sergeant. Despite the second spell, however, Schlobrock’s attack missed.

Meanwhile, Gherota’s benefit from the healing spell was a short one, as one of the goblin shortswords stepped forward and promptly reopened a series of wounds that Schlobrock’s spell had healed. Gherota was worse off than when she started, and the hobgoblins weren’t done yet.

“I’ve trapped your brother’s soul in a choir that forever sings my praises in the underworld, pig,” Fisk taunted the hobgoblin sergeant while stepping back just out of sword range. “I curse you like I cursed him, and soon you will join him.” He summoned hellfire that leapt up from the floor, engulfing the hobgoblin, though not quite hot enough or on-target enough to actually burn the warrior.

“You die last, dwarf,” the hobgoblin said, in dwarfish, “after I take from your body a considerable amount of pleasure.”

“You two are dumb,” Mez said, dropping his crossbow and drawing his new, magic sword. “There’s no sense making this personal.” He promptly passed his sword through the hobgoblin’s armor, into his back, and threw several internal organs. He twisted the blade, shifting his grip, and charismatically moved the weapon upwards into the hobgoblins lungs.

“It’ll take more than that,” the hobgoblin grunted, bloody saliva bubbles forming in and around his mouth, “to take me out.”

The remaining hobgoblins renewed their attacks with increased anger and aggression. One delivered a nearly-perfect longsword blow against Schlobrock, an attack that only her orkish constitution allowed her to survive.

Gherota, meanwhile, took hits from all sides. Three hobgoblins ganged up on her, overcoming her defenses and bashing her savagely. Every hobgoblins’ sword saw blood, and Gherota collapsed, helpless under the onslaught.

“Crap!” Mez yelped.

“What’s happening?” Mairrethid asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“First time yet,” Fisk growled, “I’m sorry that pathetic human female isn’t yapping away at me about goodness and puppies.”

“Crap,” Mairrethid intoned, taking Fisk’s meaning.

One of the goblin shortswords was quick enough to take advantage of the gap, too, leaping past his comrades and over Gherota’s body, into the room, to stab ineffectively at Fisk.

“You’re next to die, Toothpick,” Fisk hissed at his new opponent.

Whether it was adrenaline or will, Mairrethid managed to shake off the blinding hex just in time to conjure a force blast against the hobgoblin sergeant. The goblin shortsword was quick enough to wound Mairrethid when he dropped his defenses to cast the spell, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. The blast knocked the hobgoblin sergeant off his feet, dead before he hit the floor. Two more of the hobgoblins were knocked backwards and down from the concussive blast, though the goblin shortsword was nimble enough to roll away in time.

Mairrethid sustained and recalled his flaming sphere, moving it against the hobgoblins who continued to muster outside of the door, while taking care to ensure Gherota wouldn’t be burned too.

The goblin leader, meanwhile, attempted to renew the blinding hex on Mairrethid, but Mairrethid was able to shake it off. “Try another one, fool!” he shouted at the goblin.

Another volley of incoming arrows descended. Mez nimbly dodged, and Fisk was protected by the shield of life force he had constructed from the captured souls of his fallen enemies. A second arrow, however, managed to punch through, negating what remained of the shield and causing a nasty puncture.

Gherota continued to hover near death’s door, down and out, but still hanging on to a sliver of life.

Schlobrock laid into one of the remaining hobgoblins with her axe, howling an orkish battlecry in the process. Her energy was renewed, bolstered by adrenaline and success as her enemy fell dead in front of her. She popped off another healing spell on Gherota, allowing her to slip back to consciousness.

The goblin shortsword who hadn’t moved into the room yet now advanced, but in the process, Schlobrock and Mez were able to swing at him. Schlobrock’s axe came down with devastating effect, nearly knocking the goblin to the floor, while Mez was unable to score a hit. The goblin shortsword managed to recover, however, and attacked Mairrethid, hitting him severely.

Fisk took a step back from the newcomer and, sensing a soul about to  cross over, placed his curse on the goblin. Nearly simultaneously, Fisk fired a blast of eldritch energy at the goblin, nearly disintegrating portions of his chest, dropping him dead and allowing Fisk to feed on his life energy.

Mez followed up against the other goblin shortsword, relying on the power of his sword to guide his blade in the absence of other combat advantages. One feint, then a stab, and Mez was able to pass the blade deep into one of the goblin’s kidneys. And then Mez did the same to the other one, just for fun. The goblin slouched backwards, badly hurt.

Another hobgoblin collapsed, burned my Mairrethid’s flaming sphere.

The two remaining hobgoblins, plus the goblin shortsword, all turned their attention to Gherota, who was struggling to get back on her feet. All three missed with their attacks.

“Tactical retreat, I think. Let’s clear the door so we can close it and get a chance to heal up,” Mairrethid said, gasping while he waited for the others to provide him with better options for attack.

The goblin leader wasn’t waiting for anything, though, and dropped a new blinding hex on Gherota. Her eyes instantly flooded black with decay and magical energy, and the churning magical energies ripped her open in new, painful ways, dropping her back to the floor, unconscious and again slipping towards death.

Another volley of incoming arrows descended, two skewering Schlobrock and a third punching through Fisk’s energy shield and hitting him badly. They both slumped, severely wounded.

“Well,” Schlobrock yelled at his allies, “kill dheze jerkz zo I can grab Gheroda’z body and cloze dhis door!”

Fisk obliged, dropping his curse upon and conjuring hellfire from below the other goblin shortsword. The attack worked, and the goblin fell dead. Fisk gritted his teeth in pleasure and pain as the precious life energy flowed towards him.

Mez moved forward, quickly dispatching one hobgoblin with his magical short sword, and taking a second attack against the other. Unfortunately, his second attack wasn’t as accurate as the first.

Mairrethid raised one hand, chanted subvocally, and conjured a missile of magical force, sending it to the final remaining hobgoblin. He collapsed, dead.

Schlobrock made her move, quickly grabbing Gherota and sliding her back into the room, slamming the doors shut, and dropping the bar back into place.

“Crap.”

Next: Chapter 09