In total, thirty-four goblin tribes had answered the god’s call. Despite all of them fitting the general goblin template of being small, green, noisy and not really good for much, they had a surprising amount of variation in their features. Gilbert figured that it was caused by the absurdly high turnover rate of the goblin population, so they would only have to spend a few years in different environments to specialize and adapt to it. One of the tribes had greyish-green skin, was noticeably larger than the other ones and received much respect from the other tribes for whatever reason. Another tribe had developed small horns on their foreheads and were eager to charge at each other whenever they could. The first goblin that had approached Gilbert and King, was from a tribe that had somehow developed a way to make fire and hadn’t yet burned themselves alive, which immediately earned them a high position within the horde. The chiefs from these three tribes had been placed in charge by the god they all now served.
Gilbert was still very suspicious about the ‘help’, but goblins themselves were not creatures that could follow a complicated plot to trick the adventurers and far from being able to make one. So he figured that one shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, nor a gift goblin for that matter - their dental hygiene was nonexistent at best. On top of that, a mass of goblins was a force to be reckoned with and could no doubt swarm the town if needed. That is, if the water and slime wasn’t there; right now they would presumably just melt like Gilbert’s shins had. Then there was the issue of whatever slimy horrors were waiting for them at the edge of the water. They followed King and the goblins along the shore but never took a step out of the murky water, so Gilbert figured it was safe to assume they weren’t going to suddenly do so.
“Do you think you’d be safe from the melting effect? It didn’t do anything to my clothes, so maybe it just does that to flesh? Now that I look at them more closely, the leather on my boots did get a bit worn though.” Gilbert asked from the simulacrum that had been playing with the goblins while keeping an eye on the slime creatures. “If so, the goblins could cause a distraction and you could slip into the town to get the girls, or at least get Anna and throw her at the folks inside the chapel… But then again, there’s probably someone watching the tavern, and you could get stuck in the slime even if it couldn’t melt you.”
The fire-maker goblins had started a few bonfires here and there. While the other tribes still suggested self-immolation for the glory of their goddess, the three leading ones kept them from acting on it. The noise caused by them screaming and screeching was just as deafening as it had been at the machine fortress, where the adventurers had run into another large group of goblins. And just like then, they had been motivated by what they considered to be a god. As far as Gilbert knew, goblins had always been keen on deities, real or otherwise, but were always ignored by them and left to fend for their own. Until now at least. Aside from a god organizing the gathering, there really weren’t that many other explanations for why they would to come looking for Gilbert and his party and knowing them by name. The whole event must have started around the same time as they left Valor as well, so the god would have also had to be able to predict that they’d run into trouble in Ebonywatch. Gilbert, who wasn’t too keen on deities, thought it was very concerning to say the least.
“Is there anything else you could tell me about this ‘god of not wanted’?” He started a conversation with the greyish tribe’s leader, who had been sharpening sticks next to the fire for a while now. “What does she want from us?”
The goblin chief stopped working, obviously due to only being able to concentrate on a single thing at once. “You remind goblin! She ask for tribute from Gill-bread, Emu and King. Give and goblin will take them to god!” It explained and put its hand out.
“A tribute… Like what? I don’t really have much on me right now.” Gilbert said and started to go through the pouches on his belt.
“Things no one want. No gold! No treasure!” The chief croaked.
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All Gilbert had on him was: two fishing lines, his pipe and tobacco, a spare pipe, some money, flint, knife and a comb. All of them quite useful. “I suppose this spare pipe will have to do. If I’m being honest, the design really isn’t great. The stem is made of these wooden tubes you’re supposed to link together, but it’s a lot of work and there’s way too many parts. No one needs a pipe this long.” He justified his choice and handed the parts to the goblin. “So does she show up to collect them or what?”
“No. Just need to throw away.” The goblin said and tossed them into the pyre. “She still want them.”
“That’s very reasonable for a god. Many of them are downright greedy or demand sacrifices, others ask for heroic deeds and what not. A god collecting everything unwanted is just absurd. Not sure if I like that or find it really terrifying.” Gilbert mumbled and scratched his beard.
King had been listening to them and started going through the items in his pouch. Most of them were round pebbles he had collected for reasons that were still unclear to Gilbert, but among them were a few gemstones, a tooth, a feather and a piece of paper. Aside from the gemstones, any of them would have probably sufficed, but the simulacrum didn’t seem to think so and put them back in the pouch. King stopped to think for a while before snapping off a piece of his still broken faceplate and handing it to the goblin.
“Two found. Where Emu?” It asked and tossed the piece over its shoulder.
“It’s Emilia, and she’s still in the town. We need to come up with a plan to get to her and Anna… Does the god not need anything from Anastacia? You didn’t mention her.” Gilbert asked and lit his pipe since he now had it out anyway.
The goblin chief shrugged. “She say the fourth one already threw away all she have, not need to give more.” It said, clearly struggling to put something far more complicated into words.
Gilbert smirked and made sure his pipe was lit. He had started working on a plan that the goblins could follow. Ideally, they’d work as a distraction or under his direct guidance; there’s no way he’d trust them to act on their own. They could use the sheer number of the goblins to hide their own movements and approach the town from another direction with a smaller group of them. The water presented a massive problem for the whole operation though, as they didn’t know how exactly it worked or how many more creatures were hidden under it. Suddenly his face lit up. “What if there was no water? They’ve flooded the town, so there has to be a dam somewhere! We just need to break that and give the water some time to drain out. Sure, there’s a chance that the slime will also flow downstream, but it shouldn’t cause any more problems if we destroy the glass orb.” He reasoned and stood up to gather the goblins he’d take along to break the dam.
As he walked around looking for the calmer members of the horde, Gilbert heard an unexpected noise among the goblin screeches: A crying baby. His first thought was that the goblins had stolen a baby on their way to Ebonywatch. After all, it wasn’t unheard of; of course, they didn’t mean any harm to the child, but simply felt some sort of weird comradery with the small, screaming human. But after listening to it more closely, Gilbert could tell that the sound came from the direction of the town. The idea of some poor parent trying to escape the town with their child was even worse than the goblins stealing a baby.
He grabbed a burning piece of firewood to use as a torch and headed towards the noise. Hoping he wouldn’t have to watch a baby melt, he even considered running back into the water to search for whoever the poor soul that had chosen the worst possible moment to try escaping. But as he reached the edge of the water, Gilbert stopped dead in his tracks. In the reflectionless water in front of him, crawled one of the creatures that had risen from the slime. Illuminated by the burning piece of wood in his hand, Gilbert was finally able to get a good look at one – though he wasn’t happy about it anymore.
Built upon a body of a dog, the creature had the typical canine features but had lost nearly all its skin, and where there was some left, white patches of wool grew. A twisted human arm grew from its side and grasped its lower jaw while the eyeless head was biting the arm, and both were trying to rip the other one off. Molded on to the back of this abomination was a lump of meat, and on this lump of meat was a mouth. Crying in a voice that sounded exactly like a baby, no doubt designed to do what it had done now – to lure people towards the water.
Gilbert had seen a lot on his travels, but something about the writhing creature made him feel very uneasy. Unable to look at it for any longer, he threw his torch at it and returned to the bonfire.