“Maintain the march!” Cynythya says, passing the announcement to each delegate along the column. Some parties and loners have already abandoned formation to sprint past the vanguard.
“It’s getting dark!” Xenophone says, “You won’t make it alone!”
The notion of “not making it” seems to incite more panic, and soon the column looks like a lopsided jenga tower on the verge of collapse.
“Reform!” Cynythya shouts, and “Reform!” Adelaide and others echo. What were rows of seven fold into rows of five, tapering into the van and rearguard, where Cynythya leads, shield and mace in hand, and DimensionZ trails.
“Let’s get some more archers back here!” the latter yells.
Considering the newness of the game and the catastrophic pressure they’re under, it’s amazing how coolheaded and strategic these leaders have remained. Or maybe they're exercising such measured judgment precisely because of that pressure. As Ad and I shift into new positions nearer the front, she puts on a smile and encourages our neighbors, and I wonder if there’s any way at all I can contribute to the defense. Who am I kidding? I’m one of the defended.
BAawoooooooooo!
The goblins are still somewhat far away, but mudmen keep spawning along the road, and since it seems arrows are useless against their semisolid bodies, those on the flanks with melee weapons are working hard to deflect and destroy them. A group of deserters ahead of the vanguard stops, and a shrill scream seizes everyone’s attention.
Mud Golem - lvl 5
Alert! This mob is grouped with (7) Mudmen - lvl 2
“Bghhgghhghghghg,” the golem belches from a mouth like a sewer grate, spraying the deserters with caustic mud. It grabs one of the players with its bricklike fingers and holds him up to the spew; he’s burnt, steaming, melting; the visual is unspeakably detailed. Our column begins to crumble again as fighters from the flank run toward the golem.
“No—!” Cynythya bangs her mace against her shield. “Stay in formation! There’s no helping them!”
After melting its prey and leaving the other deserters for the mudmen to feed on, the golem gapes at its new challengers, its body of mud and bricks—and bones—churning with delight. It laughs, I think, as a skull shoots out of one of its big, hollow eye sockets with a spew of mud and gore. And then it stomps toward the challengers, whose confidence wanes with every stomp. Archers lob arrows at the golem, but these deal no damage. This must be the most heavily armored creature we’ve come across.
It’s messed up, but I’m actually relieved to see how shaken Ad looks—her mouth is ajar, and those cool eyes are quivering as she looks on the golem. It occurs to me she hasn’t seen much combat, however she’s been helping. But I curse this petty observation as soon as my concern for her comes back into focus. This is not a game, Phil! She has her sword and shield drawn, and her elbows are locked so these remain close to her chest and at the ready. I draw my hammer from my back and move closer to her.
“He’s ugly, alright, but I’ve fought worse,” I say in a low, reassuring voice. She looks unmoved. “And if I could survive worse than this, Cynythya’s battering ram here will hold out.”
She glances coldly at me, but smirks. “I have no doubt. But I wonder if they’re in pain . . .” Her downcast glance that follows this glimpses the real question we’re all asking ourselves.
Yelps and screams from around the golem and mudmen seem to indicate pain, and I’ve definitely felt some pain myself—but importantly, the fighters surrounding the golem have made progress; they’re learning to dodge its vomit, and while arrows and blades have proven ineffective, hammers and maces and even shields are working to smash the golem to dust, while swordsmen cut the mudmen down. The survivors reenter formation, their victory instilling their steps with confidence, and we shift to accommodate.
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I hear the familiar grumbling of goblins—but rather than the entire goblin host, a handful of them have ridden quickly up to us and may easily pass us, not on their own hooves or the backs of their comrades, but on furry brown creatures’ backs—they ride on rodents with long, skinny legs.
“Capybaras!” someone shouts.
Valetrat - lvl 1
Goblin Hooligans - lvl 1
Their nameplates and demeanor indicate that they’re peaceful mobs, taken by these monsters as their mounts. The goblins on their backs jeer at us and throw pitchforks and stones into our ranks. In seconds, they’re picked off by our archers, and the rats veer off into the fields.
“What’s the point?” Xenophone asks Cynythya. “A distraction?”
“I don’t think they’re very intelligent,” she replies. “Probably just programmed to taunt us.”
More of these taunting parties ride up from behind to disturb us, although DimensionZ’s group begins to cull them before they can get midway up the column. We continue uneasily like this for a time before it becomes apparent that their charges have obscured the progress of the goblin host, which, after a few more taunts, is revealed to be only about a football field away, maybe because they’ve tapered into a longer formation of their own. The deepening darkness hides the depth of their ranks, so only the hungry faces of the first few rows are visible. Their twisted horns and hard hooves make an incessant clatter as they shove each other aside in their pursuit.
“They’re close!” DimensionZ yells. “Torches—let’s light torches! We need visibility!”
“Bghghhghhgghhg.”
Mud Golem - lvl 5
Alert! This mob is grouped with (5) Mudmen - lvl 2
“Bgghghghgh!”
Mud Golem - lvl 5
Alert! This mob is grouped with (3) Mudmen - lvl 2
“Two more golems, from the north and south! Fighters, back to the front!” Xenophone yells, necessarily neglecting the rearguard’s own predicament.
“Fighters! Archers!” Cynythya yells,
“Watch along the left flank! We’ve got a-”
Centaur - lvl 7
Alert! This mob is grouped with (2) Gnolls - lvl 3
The entire column shouts the creature’s name, and as it reverberates in a wave from the van to the rear, our collective blood freezes, as revengeful galloping from a hill to our southeast reveals another
Centaur - lvl 7
Alert! This mob is grouped with (2) Gnolls - lvl 3
—and as the host of goblins drives closer to the rear, we see a column no smaller than our own but crammed with wooly bodies with their pitchforks and shanks and horns and staves aimed at us. Lightning starts to lick at the rearguard, and Adelaide reads the info window describing the goblin horde aloud—while our column disintegrates:
Goblin Captain - lvl 10
Alert! This mob is swarming with (10) Goblin Watchmen - lvl 3, (45) Goblin Patrolmen - lvl 2, (5) Goblin Shamans - lvl 3, and (10) Goblin Hooligans - lvl 1
A guttural growl parts the horde, and something huge bounds toward the front, bearing a flowing banner painted with a strange sigil. In the eastern sky beyond, a full moon sits in pearlescent splendor, safekept in the heavens to spectate the imminent battle.