When William set out towards the goblin tribe with Cluri in tow he didn’t expect what now stood before him. A wall of green and bark. Kena mentioned that the mine had been abandoned when the Goblin tribe had taken it by force. But that was only a year ago there were trees fifty feet tall here. Will knew there would be traps in there he could go in but Cluri couldn't. Cluri was a liability if he stayed on the ground. So William had Cluri fly above the trees for his own safety. William steeled himself as he would be braving the dark forest alone. His assumptions on first proved true. As walking for only thirty seconds he found the first trap the hard way. A sharpened stake on a springy branch went through Williams eye socket a wet thump a somewhat muffled yelp and William slumped against the stake dead. When Will woke up the stake trap had been ejected from his skull. The bones and tissue still a bit tender this was going to be a long week. A day became two, a week or two then an entire month. Cluri was the only reason the village knew William was still alive making step by step progress sometimes literally. After William passed trap number fifty in first few days he started to count each type and form opinions on which ones he liked better. The goblins were intricate in the design of their traps some chained together to form what Will called the Rube’ Goldberg traps elaborate nonsense to distract from the actually simple act of hoisting him in the air. Not to say William was enjoying one second of this in fact by trap two hundred and twelve the first goblin he saw would be getting a ranking of all their traps by holding them hostage with words. Of his rankings there were only five contenders, net and rope, spring, log, open pit, and finally the spiked pit. Every single one posed different pain and suffering. Some more elaborate then others. The rope traps dislocate appendages, the spring traps impale, Logs crush and mutilate, open pit break bone, and spike pit impale and lacerate. Seven hundred and twenty traps all overcome through shear determination. William was going to give someone an earful. The rankings were determined once he escaped the unnaturally thick forest and came upon the Goblin encampment.
Rank five went to the assortment of rope and net traps. Painful but easy to escape.
Rank four spiked pit stomach acid is not a fast way to go annoying and excruciatingly painful. Time consuming as one then has to climb out of the pit while being careful to not fall again. Open pits made rank three as they were challenging to get out of, the goblins dug really good holes.
Rank two were the log traps as they actually got him to see his [ Immortal ] pulverized self turns out he just turned into a walking talking skeleton.
Taking the gold was the humble spring trap. It seemed to be a staple of the goblins. The sizes varied widely. some were single stakes, some had mats that sprung up, or there were the swinging gates that went through the entire body.
Will bore through these pains and more so the psychological effects of constant mutilation. He was an uncaring glacier of determined will. He would succeed.
When he startled a goblin lookout and with a bow, he promptly died. Upon regenerating Will cried tears of joy for his grueling month long task was complete. Will stood up, then started waving the arrow that still had dried blood upon at the lookout that stood on his tower bored. Will started yelling at the now awed goblin to retrieve his leader chief or whatever big boss the goblin had. Will would have his pound of words waiting for whomever came back. After the goblin snapped out of his stupor he nervously nodded agreement to Will's yelled command. The male goblin then quickly slid down a ladder attached to his tower and disappeared behind the encampment wall.
Will waited patiently eventually yelling loud enough for Cluri to hear him and land near the encampment. Cluri had flown over the encampment many times over that month. When Will asked what layed behind the wall. Cluri just said "A hole and a single small tent that's all."
William thought it through and decided to just wait he could make a ladder but it just seemed a bit rude he was trying to talk to them.
As Will waited he thought over what he had done to prepare for this meeting. Will had designed, then made some basic formal clothing for both Cluri and himself. They wanted to look important but not ostentatious. However as William did his mental checklist he looked down over his clothing. While Cluri was able to go home and rest, Will had just continued trekking forward. Over the month, when waking up he just found the missing threads stuck to the traps then mended the holes. Now that Will was in full sunlight instead of the gloom of the forest he saw that his clothing looked polka dotted with patched holes or rips mended together. He looked like a vagabond with patched clothing in reverse. The non mended parts of his clothing was fraying and dirty.
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Unfortunately for Will before he could fix anything a horn blared. The shoddy palisade gates opened up of the encampment opened. Standing proudly a singular large goblin in crude metal armor with a reinforced shield and spear strode forth. In a low gravely voice as the gate closed the goblin spoke "I am Grok the Bone-chopper champion of the Iron Fingers Tribe. I hear from our lookout you were shot with an arrow and are now not dead. Who are you stranger and what is your purpose with my tribe?” His stance as if ready to fight at a moments notice.
Do I want to lean into the Dark Lord persona or just say the truth. Actually why not both or at least a white lie. Dark Lord sounds scary they seemed scared of something. Better to be an ally and neighbor for now until I can combine Runick and the Iron Fingers into one whole people. My whole people.
“I am Lord William Willow summoned being of great power from places unknowable to your people. I come with offers of becoming allies in these trying times. I ventured here for a month by myself through your traps. I am [ Immortal ] but seek not to demand retribution only the allowance to mine Iron and possibly offer safety in the future if you so wish. The village of Runick has fallen on hard times. I their benefactor wish to uplift them once more. I bring this weapon in order to demonstrate to your tribe my power.”
The goblin seemed speechless the fight in Grok drained and was replaced by relief?
Why is he relieved?
Then Will heard laughter and through it Grok spoke again. “Haha… I came out here by order of our chief. He has grown old and even paranoid after we were chased out of our homes. I wish that I could accept your offer but the chief will not have it. He is a brutish chief. If your weapon is as good as you say you must strike me down before you in combat. Only then would Chief snap out from his stupidity. Have at you!”
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Grok surged forward. He had to give this his all or the ones behind the gate would cower behind the chiefs words until they were all wiped out. This Lord Willow seemed fair in judgement. If he had indeed gone through the traps along the road grown over by the tribes druid he would not be stopped. So Grock ran as fast as he could.
He got five steps before something went straight through his armored shoulder the viscera spraying out of the wound to the grass below. Grock hardly flinched he was not the tribes champion for nothing. As Grock continued forward he started feeling a warm trickle of blood running down his side and back. Grok tried to raise his shield hand maybe the wound wasn’t debilitating but his arm hung useless awkwardly swaying as he ran the shield bouncing on his thigh. Grock used [ Increase the Tempo ] a skill to propel himself forward and make his strikes faster. Grock hoped to close the large gap to the outsiders. Grok didn’t know what would happen after he fell but he hoped good things. As Grock bounded forward he thought of the people who looked up to him who believed in his ability to defend their tribe. Ten more steps near enough to throw his weapon Grock thought.
His arm got halfway through its ark before another painful hole appeared in his other shoulder. As the feeling left his arm his weapon soared into the air then clattered useless to the ground. His arms useless Grock dropped to his knees he was defeated. Grock was proud he would not sully himself with begging. He closed his eyes waiting. One more hole and the Cloaked One would come to guide his soul onward. It never came. Instead a boot was pressed firmly to his chest. Grock opened his eyes as he was carefully knocked on his ass. Lord Willows voice boomed over his defeated body his boot squarely upon Grocks chest.
“Your champion is defeated. I demand to see your chief! Either you open that gate and we politely go to see him or I break your wall!”
Grock heard the opening of the gate. On the cusp of death he was for once thankful his race was prone to cowardice. Grock stared up and yelped as his mouth was wrenched open and a bottle with a foul tasting concoction similar to his druids poultices was shoved into it. A voice of a child on the cusp of his name day whispered “Sorry about winging you, this potion from our village witch should help with the bullet holes and the pain. Thankfully you were at point blank range for my air rifle so your armor didn’t do much. Unfortunately we gotta leave you here to preserve the charade. Mr Willow’s words not mine. Don’t move a muscle literally or you might have problems the potion evidently only helps so much.” Grock did nothing but stare into the sky as the two outsiders liberators moved on. Most likely to talk to the chief. As Grock lay still a few words clung to his mind.
Did that child say point blank? I was at least fifty feet away when the pain started. Goadard help Lord Willow’s enemies if more of those weapons exist.