Peering through the bushes revealed an odd scene. There were thirty goblins in various forms of rest and relaxation scattered about the clearing. Most of them had some form of implement nearby. Crude tools, and sharpened sticks were the most common items they could see. Located in the centre, a large cauldron spewed out a green mist that fell onto the ground. There was what could only be described as a shaman stirring the pot. The distinctive scent was overpowering in its abundance.

The four stared for a minute until Francis took the lead in reversing out of their hiding spot. Slowly they all crept back to their lunch spot and huddled up.

“Any ideas other than bum rush them?” Mark whispered.

Francis thought for a moment. “Do any of you know which direction is the town?”

Mark and Tim both pointed in an easterly direction.

“OK, then I got an idea.” Francis started drawing in the dirt. “They’ll hopefully send out a group to do another attack today. I didn’t see any food in that clearing. So we move to intercept that group here to the east.” He pointed to a dirt line in between two circles for goblins and town. “Hopefully they go down easy. If the noise we make draws others, it’ll probably only be a second group, not all of them. Deal with THAT group. Finally, we head in to finish off the rest of them.”

Mark and Tim were nodding, but Paul had a question. “What do you think is the ‘proof’ that Julia needs from them? Normally I’d say ears, but that’s just RPG’s talking there.”

“Probably that cauldron if I had to guess.” Francis scratched his neck. “They look pretty scrawny, so I bet it’s not as heavy as it looks. Especially if we empty it out.”

“Could we not just get that cauldron then?” Paul asked. “Seems like another way about this.”

“There’s still like thirty of them there.” Francis raised his eyebrows and motioned with his arms back towards the goblins. “I doubt they’ll take kindly to us stealing their fancy pot.”

Mark cleared his throat. “I agree with Francis on this one. Big task, break it up into smaller parts.”

Tim touched Paul’s elbow. “Maybe the next one will have an easy lateral thinking answer.”

Paul could only sigh as the huddle was broken up.

They moved as a group to the east. Eyeballing and smelling the general direction of the goblin camp. Once out of nose range. They decided to set their ambush. Tim pointed out a game trail that went between the town and the clearing, So along this path was where they were waiting. After fifteen minutes of tense silence, Francis started getting fidgety.

“I can’t take this much longer.” Francis whispered to Mark.

“It was your plan.” Mark tersely whispered back.

“Yes, and I hate it now that we’re doing it.” Francis peeked around the tree they were behind. “I don’t see anything coming. I’m going to do some scouting.” He stepped out. “If they haven’t moved at all. I’ll do some bait things and drag a group this way.”

Mark didn’t think this was the greatest of plans, but even he could stand still for only so long. “Scream if things go wrong.”

Francis gave him a wink, the others a wave, and slunk away into the forest.

Creeping along like the first time he snuck up on the goblin camp, Francis was delighted to be moving again. He soon reached the clearing for the second time. The new angle revealed no additional goblins, but what he did see was interesting.

The goblin shaman, dressed in various bits of strung together bone and colourful feathers, was currently adding some small animal carcass to the boiling mixture. The furred creature entered with a plop and hissing steam billowed from the top. Giving it a few quick stirs, the shaman removed the stick it was using to stir with and picked up what can only be described as an industrial sized strainer spoon.

The spoon barely fit into the cauldrons opening. dipping it in deep, the shaman then used the entire weight of its small body to leverage out a glowing green sack from the liquid.

“Come family!” The words grated on Francis’s ears. “We have new member to welcome.”

The ‘family’ of goblins all crowded around the spoon and carefully laid the sack onto the ground. A knife was produced to cut open the fleshy lump. The resulting squeal from the new body caused all of the goblins to dance with joy.

“Joy for later for some!” The shaman decreed. “More is needed for the sex. You, you, you, you, you, you, you, and you, go gather more from the humans.” Pointing at individual goblins on the eastern side of the group.

Francis took this as his queue to leave.

He made his way back to the ambush spot and found everyone slightly more relaxed and learning against their assigned trees.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Good news, great news.” Francis shout whispered. “We got a group of eight on their way here, and I’m a genius at prediction.”

Paul rolled his eyes at the wide smiling halfling, but quickly got back into position as the sound of movement through bushes came to his ear.

Moving without a care in the world. The Goblins marched their way through the forest. What could only charitably be called a song rose from their throats.

“one, two, eeEEee ,four.

On our way to get some more.

Five, nmememm, eight.

Gonna make some mates.”

Tensed, and with weapons held high, The four lay in wait. Closer and closer the throaty song wafted through the trees. Until the first of the goblin group came into view. It’s back was towards the group as it was walking backwards and conducting the song. The goblins were in a tight group and holding their implements and tools on their shoulders.

Mark swung first with a grunt.

The log came in with a horizontal swing that barrelled through the goblin gang like a bowling ball. Sending most of the goblins hurtling through the air to impact trees with a sickening crunch. Two remained standing in stunned silence.

Tim rushed forward and clobbered one standing in the back of the head. It dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Francis slid up to the remaining goblin and stabbed down with his stick into its neck. A gurgle came out of it’s throat before falling to its knees.

Paul stood stock still clutching his log in both hands. He was hyperventilating with short sharp breaths but noticed movement from one of the goblins Mark initial hit hadn’t finished off. Leaping over he brought his log down in an overhead swing that stilled the moving goblin permanently.

The four were breathing hard from the momentary exertion and adrenaline. For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the rustle of wind through the trees and their laboured breathing. Mark cocked his head and looked around.

“Do you think the rest heard any of that?” Mark lifted his log once more. A green ichor was stuck on the impact site.

Francis perked up. “I’ll go check. Be right back.” Then slipped away towards the goblin camp.

Tim started looking over the goblin corpses.

“looks like we got loin cloths, animal pelts, and sticks.” Tim poked the corpses. “Oh and one of them had a knife.” The blade looked like a hunting knife. Bare steel roughly four inches long with a curved point at the end.

“No sheathe though, but I bet Francis could use this.” Tim picked up the knife.

Francis returned. “We’re in the clear as far as I can tell.”

Tim passed Francis the knife. “So we continue with your plan? Draw out a second group?”

Francis took the tool. “Seems like that’s the thing to do. Get closer, make some noise, they send out a second group to investigate. Probably be a bit more alert than this lot though.”

Mark nodded. “Take the lead on this one. Set us up to knock them down again.”

Francis gave a cocky grin. “Follow me boys.” Waving his hand in a circle to follow, Francis lead the group closer to the goblins.

The route was familiar to Francis after traversing it three times now. He set the three others near each other with a couple of large trees as cover. Reaching down to the ground he picked up some rocks and other bits of debris then throwing them with as much force as he could towards the goblin camp.

All too soon there was an uproar from the goblin camp. Voices were indistinct but raised. The bushes started shaking and out burst six more goblins looking wary.

Francis let the first one pass by him on their way towards the other three.

Paul started shaking in nervousness.

Tim gripped his log in anticipation.

Mark stepped out in full view and hefted his log in a batting stance.

The goblins pointed and sent up a cry. “There it is!”

Time froze.

“Uh guys, what’s happening?” Francis called out.

Paul looked around in wonder. “I uh, think it’s your turn Francis?”

“My turn?” Francis looked stupefied. “I didn’t think they were being so nice.”

“No like... this is a battle, with rounds.” Paul looked panicked. “Just poke a goblin then hide again, quickly.”

Taking Paul’s advice. Francis jogged forward towards the back of the pack. As he got within arms reach he noticed a glowing spot on it’s right torso near the stomach. A tingle went up his knife arm and he reached out to push the blade into the glowing spot. The goblin clutched at the knife entering it’s body, but couldn’t do anything else other than fall to the ground.

Francis looked around perplexed before continuing to jog past and into another bush.

Paul felt different. He looked around the tree trunk and considered his options. Gauging the distance he stepped forward fifteen feet and then hurled his branch at the lead goblin. The branch soared forward to smack into the goblins face, but it raised its arm in partial defence, leaving a number of green bleeding scratches behind.

“Oh god this is really happening.” Paul looked at Tim and Mark. “Tim you go to the left side, Mark you go to the right and flank them.”

Tim gave a nod and jogged towards the goblin group. They settled into position and swung their branch at the injured goblin which was unable to bring anything in the way of defence. The branch smacked into it’s face and crumpled to the forest floor.

Mark felt the odd sensation and hustled at the goblin group, now down to four members. He posted up and swung his log which connected solidly against a goblin causing it to faceplant. Feeling the odd sensation a second time, Mark swung at a second goblin within reach, but this one ducked under his log.

Things happened quickly for six seconds. One goblin swung their pointed stick spear at Tim who barely bent to the side in time, avoiding the dangerous end. The other two rushed quickly to surround Mark on two sides and both swung at the large man.

The blunt sticks smacked into Marks unprotected legs causing him to grunt in pain as skin split and blood flowed.

Francis called out. “You OK Mark?”

“FUCK.” Mark did not sound OK. “Get these bastards off of me.”

“On it.” Francis left his bush and approached one of the pair that had attacked Mark. Spotting a similar bright spot on the goblins back, Francis sunk his knife deep into the ribcage of the goblin which seized up and fell to the ground.

Paul moved to threaten and flank the other goblin next to Mark. “I think this will help you hit it in a moment.”

Tim swung his log and hit his goblin, but not killing it outright. They looked with concern at Mark’s bleeding legs.

Mark turned towards the flanked goblin and swung his log with anger. The large branch came up, over, then down on the green things head causing a splatter.

The final goblin, injured and alone, turned to flee. Freezing in place with a running stance.

Tim felt the sensation, swung with their branch, and connected with the goblins side. The final goblin was dispatched.

Time unfroze.

“OK what the hell was all that?” Francis pointed at Paul.

“That, was an encounter.” Paul stated with a thousand yard stare.