The Anti-Goblin Crusade

[The Big Pointy One]

*bump*

[The Big Pointy One]

In his dancing and mindless wandering, Dierden found himself heading not south and out of the mountains, but west, further into the goblin-infested passes and valleys. Still, he paid his the alarms of his warrior senses no heed. His only duty now was to himself; to his pursuit of knowledge and purpose. Dierden was now on his journey to find himself. In his mindless wandering, Dierden quickly found himself upon a collection of straw huts set within a long, narrow valley devoid of all but the simplest vegetation. It was a goblin village, surprisingly intact. Dierden supposed that the Alliance hadn't made it to this point yet. Shrugging it off, the tall wanderer was about to head off to the west, when a handful of goblins wielding shoddy spears and clubs jumped from behind a small barrier of rocks and crates.

 

"Gullak geh!" said one, probably some sort of commanding official.

 

Dierden frowned, as he couldn't understand the goblin's speech. He made a motion with his hands, one meaning that he meant no harm. "I don't want to cause you harm."

 

The goblins with spears jumped forward and the ones with clubs growled as they smacked their clubs into their hands. Although they seemed angry and aggressive, a look of fear was clearly planted behind their masks of determination. Dierden frowned again. He really didn't want to hurt them, but he did have no choice but to defend himself. Slowly he took his long spear from his back and set himself in a loose defensive position. He made no move to attack. The goblins, intimidated beyond fear moved in quickly, poorly-made weapons swinging wildly as they screamed in their native tongue. Dierden sighed and brought his spear up in a deflective arc, sending the goblin's spears clear of lethal range. The clubs batted harmlessly against open air. Dierden spun into his upward swing and brought the butt of his spear down on of the goblin's weapon-holding hand. Yelping in pain, the goblin dropped his spear and crouched, now more focused on his hand then the intruding Dierden. Angered, the other four goblins encircled Dierden, weapons poking in threatingly. With practiced caution, Dierden spun his spear deftly, batting away jab and thrust easily. Eventually, he grew tired of the game and started adding force to his blows, until all the goblins were disarmed.

 

A commotion had been raised, and now a crowd kept a safe distance from the combatants. Dierden grew increasingly more frustrated as the stubborn goblins still pressed their attack. The tall man slammed his spear downward, blade first and lodged it firmly in the soft ground. "Enough!" he yelled, to no avail. The five goblins, thinking they were now on even terms rushed Dierden and piled on top of him. Although individually, Dierden was stronger than each goblin, he could not keep all of them off of him. Each time he threw one off, two more replaced it; goblins from the crowd were now joining in. Dierden quickly found himself at the bottom of a goblin pileup, blood pouring slowly from scratch and bite wounds. Luckily, Dierden was saved.

 

"Kellaugh! Gishagisha gono. Velsta vok." confused, the goblins got off of Dierden, who slowly rose to his feet. Before him was a goblin that was obviously older than the rest. His green skin had paled to the point where it was almost grey. Warts and moles that ended in spurts of hair sprouted all over his body like mushrooms on some long-forgotten tree. His forehead was wrinkled and his eyes were squinted so much it seemed as if they were closed. Tattered rags hung loosely from his bony shoulders, barely providing his body protection from any of the elements. This was obviously the village elder. He spoke to Dierden in a broken common tongue. "Come. Hut. Speak."

 

Dierden blinked for a moment, then shrugged, picked up his spear and slowly followed the elder goblin to his meager straw hut. They both sat cross-legged across from each other at a low table in the center of the room. Dierden spoke first. "Why did you save me?" he spoke slowly, as he guessed the elder had trouble speaking common.

 

"You not want hurt people. Mine."

 

"No."

 

"Why?"

 

Dierden frowned. He looked at the elder, a sincere look in his eyes. "Why? It was the look in their eyes. Fear. This crusade of my race is not so noble as it seems. We are stronger than you. It isn't fair."

 

The elder nodded sagely, taking in as much as he could. After a moment of silence, he replied, "But some goblins, mean. Hurt people."

 

Dierden's frown deepened. The elder was right. But something was wrong. "Maybe, but they are usually dealt with accordingly, as is anyone who commits a crime. This, this slaughter, this is genocide. This is evil. All in the name of the light! Bah."

 

"Yes. Grak."

 

"You must run!"

 

The elder looked at Dierden with a confused look on his face.

 

"The armies, they are heading this way. Your village doesn't stand a chance! You MUST flee!"

 

"Home."

 

"You can always find a new home. For now, you must find others, safety."

 

The elder leaned back in contemplation. The whole situation was hard for him to understand, but he knew Dierden was right. "Come with us?"

 

This time, Dierden did the contemplating. Could he really join with the goblins against the army he was only recently a part of? The moral dilemma raged within his mind, and within his heart, and eventually his heart won him over. "I will. I will fight for you, and die if I must. It is the right thing to do."

 

 

So as fast as they could, Dierden and the elder goblin gathered the village, who was still somewhat unnerved by the tall human's presence. They gathered all their belongings and fled, a full day before the Alliance stormed into an empty village. This process repeated many times, making Legman's army more and more restless each day. The general was confused, because he had never come across such an odd occurence before. Somehow, he suspected that Dierden had something to do with it. He heaved a sigh of disappointment. He would hate having to bury the boy.

[Tamaranis]

Mesl traced his way slowly through the branching underground passageway Legman had directed him to, even the young mage wasn‘t foolish enough to rush into battle with an unknown opponent. He’d been at this for hours, but it might still be some distance to his quarry, and it wouldn’t do to arrive too exhausted to fight.

 

Cold but bright flames danced in Mesl’s left hand, illuminating his surroundings. The sides of the passage were far enough apart that if he were to hold his arms out to either side he wouldn’t be able to reach them as he walked down the centre. He listened and watched intently for any sign of the mysterious creatures he’d been sent to hunt. Occasionally he communed with the element of air to sweep the area ahead of him for anything in the passage but beyond his range of vision.

 

The passageway became more and more familiar as Mesl travelled it, and it occurred to him that this was very similar to the passageway he’d been running through in a very vivid dream he’d had a few nights before.

 

The unearthly and earthshaking howl of some unknown beast suddenly filled the passageway. It was the same sound the monster he’d never quite encountered in his dream had made.

 

“Odd,” Mesl mused aloud, “Talented as I am, I’m not precognitive.”

 

Mesl realized he’d quickened his pace, he was no longer unsure of which passageway to take when he came to intersections, he knew exactly where to go to find these creatures and Legman’s missing soldiers. Occasionally another unearthly, chittering howl would fill the passage, louder than the last, confirming that he was getting closer. At the same time that he felt he was approaching his goal, he became increasingly uneasy, the same uncharacteristic worry that had come over him after his dream. He did his best to shove it aside.

 

Human shouts and cries began to accompany the occasional roars, and Mesl found himself suddenly rounding the corner and catching sight of an large, unnatural shape.

 

Mesl tossed the cold flame at the creature, speaking to element of fire as he did so. As it sailed through the air, the flame went from cold to very, very hot. It struck the creature, and splashed over its body, both igniting and illuminating it.

 

The thing was enormous, larger than Mesl had initially thought. It had six segmented legs, like those of an insect. One of its two heads also had insect-like features. The other head was monstrous with dagger-like teeth and jaws that were obviously powerful, even from this distance. Both heads frantically whipped about on snake-like necks. The body was smooth, and covered in fur. The way muscle rippled beneath it, it gave the impression of resemblance to one of the great cats. Topping off the frightening appearance was a large scorpions tail and the fact that the monster was being illuminated by flames consuming its own body.

 

As legman had advised him, the creature did not appreciate the flames, and for good reason. Both its flesh and its chitonous exoskeleton were withered and burned by the fire, much more than would have been expected of a normal creature. When the flames eventually did die out, it began to advance on Mesl. A well adjusted individual might have been frightened to see the grievously wounded creature advancing towards them, clearly bent on vengeance. Mesl, however, could hardly be considered well adjusted, and convinced of his own god-like abilities as he was, he smiled and produced another ball of flame and calmly tossed it from one hand to the other.

 

The creature stopped in its tracks, fearing to be struck again by magefire. Mesl dropped the fireball. It splashed against the ground and went out. For an instant, the only thing Mesl was aware of was mind-numbing terror.

 

The creature roared and advanced, using the sudden advantage of the darkness. Mesl thrust both hands out, hardly noticing the pain the sudden movement caused his right arm. Twin jets of flame sprung from his palms to squarely strike the rather large target that was the advancing monster. Blinded and pained by the sudden light and heat the flame produced, the monster lost all track of Mesl’s actual location and, by nothing more than poor luck, the gnashing jaws of both its heads entirely missed their target.. Mesl was launched from his feet into the air when the creature simply ran into him. His landing was fortunately forgiving and neither broke bones nor rendered him unconscious. Shrieking in agony with both its voices, the creature died of the flames dancing about its body.

 

For several moments Mesl didn’t move, and simply reflected on how close he’d come to meeting his death on nasty, pointy teeth. Eventually the rancid smell of the creature’s burnt flesh brought him back to reality. Slightly shaken, he stood up and began to slowly continue his search for the missing soldiers.

 

Legman’s forces found Mesl, rather than the other way around. A dozen or so battered looking men and women coursed past Mesl, screaming at him to do as they were, and run. Immediately following them was a like number of monsters who were evidently of the same species as the one Mesl had just slain. Reflecting that he couldn’t burn them ALL before they reached him, Mesl did as the soldiers suggested and ran away.

 

The six legs each monster possessed, however, proved to be faster than the two possessed by each human. Mesl had not been running nearly as long, and so had the endurance left to reach the front of the panicked mob. He found, however, that he was in complete disagreement with the old saying, “I don’t have to run faster than the chimerae, I just have to run faster than the group of people I was sent to save.”

 

Mesl allowed himself to drop back somewhat, and his hands once again danced with the cold fire that was a prelude to an attack with that element. Once he was the last in the line of soldiers, Mesl communed with both fire and earth, and allowed a stream of flame to fall from each hand to the ground at his feet. He convinced the earth to allow the flames to feed on it to a small degree, and they lingered rather than going out. The monsters dropped back somewhat, but continued to follow as closely as they could without coming into contact with the fire.

 

It took Mesl only a moment to realize he couldn’t possibly keep this up until he reached the exit from the cave. The elemental energies coursing through his body in combination with the exertion involved in running away were already weakening him. He slowed his pace to a walk, and turned around to face the advancing monsters. He continued to let fire fall from his hand to the stone at his feet as he backed up, keeping the monsters at bay. Some degree of order remained with the soldiers, for rather than continuing to flee, they slowed down so as not to lose sight of the only mage among them, and thus the only person capable of an effective attack against the monsters.

 

Mesl stopped, and hurled the fire outward, creating a flimsy flaming barrier between himself and the creatures pursuing him. He gathered his thought as began communing with the element of air. Recently Mesl had discovered that while fire needed air in order to burn, it only needed a small fraction of air, or rather, only certain component of air was used by fire. Concentrating that component, feeding fire a purified form of air, made it burn all the hotter.

 

The creatures stopped as they reached the barrier Mesl had created. All their heads glared menacingly at him, their strange, clicking roars echoed through the cave with such volume that Mesl nearly abandoned his magic to cover his ears. The hatred of the beasts was evident, it was clear that hatred would overcome their fear of fire and eventually they would leap across the barrier. After several moments of a very nerve-wracking staring contest, one of them finally decided to attack.

 

Mesl was surprise at how much the air resisted him, he’d never tried to manipulate such a volume of it before, and he hadn’t anticipated this resistance. Still, he was aware of the fact that if he did not succeed, immediately, he would be torn to bloody pieces. With terror induced strength, he threw all his might into the spell he was casting. As the monsters crossed the burning line and the flame caught them, the vast majority of the oxygen in the passage rushed towards the flames.

 

The blast of hot air that struck Mesl as the monsters burned knocked him from his feet. The flames overtook them, destroying their highly flammable bodies as fast as they could advance. Finding the same aspect of the air he’d fed into the flames was necessary for breathing, and cracking his head against the cave floor, Mesl lost consciousness.

 

Mesl finally awoke back in Legman’s encampment. The dozen men he’d saved had been far enough away from him at the time he’d cast his spell to remain standing, and they’d carried their saviour back to the main encampment.

 

As Mesl came to, and was told what had happened, and how quickly his spell had destroyed the monsters, knowledge of the incredible feat he’d accomplished overtook the lesson he’d learned about his own mortality, leaving it to be forgotten.

[Katzaniel]

OOC: edited from brief description of my plans.

IC:

 

It hardly seemed that a minute had passed after deep slumber finally took hold of the hermit goblin before he was awake again, startled from sleep by a noise in the bushes. Gnash opened his eyes warily. It had been a long time since anything big enough to make that much noise had come by. Cocking an ear, Gnash decided that it was not one large creature, but rather many smaller ones. He tensed his muscles, scouting with his eyes the best direction in which to run. He knew that whatever it was, his best chance would be in remaining undetected, but nevertheless if that became an impossibility he did not want to meet the bearer of the noise face to face. He didn't want to meet anybody.

 

He managed to stay still until the racket was well away, diminishing into the night. Still, he did not sleep afterward, not more than fitfully. When the sun rose, he decided that it could not hurt, looking around a little. See if he could put his self-learned tracker's skills to use and find out anything useful.

 

The path wasn't hard to find, but there were so many feet that he wasn't sure what to make of it. Goblin feet? They could almost have been dragons, such was the level of cluster. Whatever they were, they were travelling close together, and in a hurry. He followed it a while longer, trying to find some clues. When it led directly toward a goblin city, he held back, but finally decided to continue. If it had hurt the goblins, he should help them, or so he supposed. Once, he had thought that he held no loyalty to the race that had scorned him. That was before he had been faced with the decision to betray them completely. He had declined, running off once more in solitude instead of joining the pack of humans on a crusade against gobinkind. He was not welcome among the goblins, but he was not sure he liked the humans much. He shuddered to think how bold he had walked among them, asking for help with his crazy conconctions. They hadn't killed him, and probably they would not have welcomed him into their group either, even with his little healing abilities. But he had almost asked them. Almost requested to go with them. He felt he owed a little debt for what might have happened.

 

He made his way toward the city, still following the tracks. With luck, there would be no strange occurrances, just a goblin family heading to the village... but he knew it would not be so. He was only partially surprised when he realized that the town had been abandoned. Gnash began scurrying around in the dirt, trying to figure out, with his limited experience hunting for food, what had taken place in the village. He soon realized that the goblins had gathered in the centre of the town and then left, with the same group that had entered the city. As the tracks spread out at points here, he was able to tell that it was mostly if not all goblins, and that there had been more than enough to populate a few villages the same size. But Gnash knew that if there been somebody else, forcing the goblins to move, they would not have been with the group but rather around it. So, he should be able to leave in good conscience. Nothing was forcing this odd march. Still, curiosity persisted and he looked around some more, starting with the gathering place. Somewhere in his mind he had not decided whether to continue on this journey, or to leave well enough alone. He found ammunition for the former case when he discovered, amid the goblin prints, what must have been a human. What could a human have been doing? Using magic perhaps, to beguile the goblins to follow him? If the humans were leading, their prints would be trodden over and invisible to his eyes. What if his entire race was being gathered and led to slaughter? If he was in a position to stop it, then doing nothing would be as bad as if he had joined the crusade.

 

Gnash spent only a little more time in the village after he made his decision. He entered a few of the houses and took some things, and when he left he had strapped to his back a handful of roughly-made spears, and in a pouch on his side the ingredients to make the few solutions he had ever discovered to be useful.

Edited May 2, 2003 by Katzaniel