Goblins?

Goblins, with their small stature, earn a reputation for their temperamental and tribalistic nature. They attack caravans, unsuspecting wanderers, and, if they grow in numbers, even entire villages with brutal force. They don’t attack a walled town.

Reegar looked up and saw another flaming rock flew past him, hitting another building.

And they certainly can’t do that.

Those adventurers near the wall share the same perspective. They argue, some climb to verify.

“It’s true. Goblins are attacking.” One of them shouted, followed by another.

As the bickering worsened, the trio exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of how to intervene. Someone needs to do something. Before Reegar could react, a deafening roar reverberated through the air. A weathered orc emerged, donned in a tabard of vibrant yellow and green, adorned with the emblem of antlers atop his chain mail. He secures a battle axe to his belt, feeling its weight against his hips. Secured by a belt wrapped around the knee, a wooden peg served as the lower part of his left leg. The scent of burned hair lingered in the air as fire left its mark on his gray hair and beard. His eyes glanced at the adventurers’, and a heavy silence settled in the air.

“Glauk, you old one legged bastard. What took you?” Aveline waves gleefully at the orc.

The orc looked at her, surprised at seeing Aveline. His eyes turned to her leg, noticing it missing the ball and chain. “Where’s your chain?”

“Nice seeing you too.” she smirked and tapped Reegar by the shoulder. “My savior.”

Glauk glanced at the paladin before shifting his gaze to the watchtower. “Sergeant, report.”

“Goblins, captain. Scores of them. I believe they’re using catapults, but none in sight, sir. But it came from the forest—” before the guard could finish her report, a flaming rock hits the tower, destroying it. Another flaming rock hits the wall, and the wooden wall creaks.

Glauk’s eyes widened as he saw the tower crumble, followed by the scream of his men. His fist shakes and shivers as he looks at the wall. It creaked again as another flaming rock hit it. Ten years he served, and Nagannum rarely sent anything out. He got complacent. He sat on his hands and never checked the forest. His fault. His alone.

Reegar is unsure about the durability of the wall and whether it can withstand the attack. Despite being fortified by magic, the wooden wall is not indestructible and has its limits. Like the tower. The guard’s voice echoes, repeating the words in his mind. It came from the forest; she said. He saw glimpses of the forest. The canopy is thick. Hiding behind the canopies makes it impossible to shoot catapults with that range and power. And yet they face bombardment.

Reegar’s footsteps echoed as he approached the old orc, and with a hint of intrigue, “What is the plan, captain? The town couldn’t endure more of it.”

Before Glauk could answer, a voice shouted at them from above. “Those are not catapults.”

The sound of a feminine voice caught their attention, and their eyes followed the source, only to witness a hawk swiftly approaching them with its wings spread wide.

Mystical green energy surrounds the hawk, and it took a new form, a woman with long tapered ears, an elf. She is red-haired and wears clothing made of tree barks and leaves.

“Those aren’t catapults.” She repeated herself as she rushed towards Glauk and Reegar. “Those are goblins. Big ones.”

Glauk and Reegar looked at each other, confused by the girl’s wording. Big and goblin aren’t the words associated with each other.

Vig looked at the girl from top to bottom. “A druid? I never heard of a circle in Nagannum.”

“I’m not from Nagannum. My name is Mirsyl and you have to believe me. It was an enormous creature throwing those rocks. Around ten feet tall. And they look like goblins. Green skin and everything. But bigger.” She said in a panic voice. She keeps turning to the wall and back at the group.

“Could it be ogres?” Aveline asked, looking at the group. She is concerned that they are not equip to face the trial ahead, at the same time realized most legends are forged by heroes who beat the odds. Maybe ill prepared is one of them. Or luck. She can work with luck.

“Ogres will crush any goblins attempting to command them.” Vig shuts down the notion.

Reegar looked at Mirsyl. She shows no signs of lying. But her breath is heavy and fast. Sweat is running on her brows. She is in a panic.

He drew his sword and turned to Vig and Aveline. “We’re going to cut through the goblins and destroy whatever pummeling us. Then we can confirm Mirsyl’s words and hopefully stop the rock throwing nonsense.”

“We?” Vig asked. He looked at Reegar and the wall creaks again, this even louder. “Fuck it. Sure. If I can roast a few goblins before I go, I consider that a victory.”

“Playing the lute before the curtain calls. Why not.” Aveline chuckled. She plays a few strings and looks ready.

Glauk moves forward to announce a bounty. One temne for each goblin’s head.

The adventurers roar as they hear the bounty. Glauk gave the order to open the gate. Aveline stood behind the front liners, playing her lute. The soft blue light emanating from her strings added an otherworldly ambiance to her performance. Her fingers glide across the strings, each note resonating with the depth of her emotions. The music began with a tempo that resonated with fear, but as she played, it transformed into a more hopeful tune, as if she was using her music to empower those around her and fuel her own determination.

Reegar grins. His body is lighter and his mind is clearer, as the will to win pushed his fear aside. The same sentiment applies to everyone in his vicinity.

This girl knew how to inspire others. Bards gained power and inspiration either through learning new music, tales, or sometimes humor or tragedy. But that is a shallow explanation. Just as wizards gain power by studying mana and the formula of magic. Just like sorcerers tapped into the power of their bloodlines, bards gained power and magic from their heart and soul. She listens to her heart and expresses it using echoes of mana, transforming it into her music. Conveying her feelings into a tune or a phrase. Strengthening the hearts and valor to those she deem friendly.

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Reegar observed the adventurers and guards, their gaze filled with anticipation. He regulates his breath and as the gate opened; he rushes headlong into the goblin horde. Reegar swung his blade to the first goblin he saw, decapitating the green pest, and moved to the next.

Both adventurers and goblins clash at the entrance, clogging it. Reegar skewered a leaping goblin, and another appeared beneath it, plunging its weapon into his chest. His armor took the strike, but he can still feel the sharpness of its archaic weapon pressing against him. He slammed his pommel onto the goblin’s head, a bone cracking sound confirmed the kill. With a mix of fury and defiance, he keeps on wielding his sword, dispatching many goblins, their black blood showering over him. A smile appeared as he saw the mangle bodies of the goblins.

The goblin horde seemed to multiply with every goblin killed, an endless wave of foes. The goblins use their small stature to climb upon one another or to slip beneath to strike their opponents, trying to overwhelm them with numbers.

A few adventurers fell to the goblin swarm, but they still keep pressing on, swinging their weapons in the name of gold and survival.

Vig and a few mages climbed up the ramp and began battering the horde with their magic. The kobold’s hands glow red, and he clasps them and the glow turns fire. He uttered a single word as he pushed his palm forward.

“Fireball.”

A ball of fire shoots from his palms and races towards the horde. An explosion rocks the ground when the fire makes contact. The sounds of goblins screaming and writhing in pain created confusion among them and the fighters below pushed forward, cleaving through the gate.

Vig and the mages continue to shoot and hurled magical and elemental blasts at the goblins as the fighters pushed through. Mirsyl the druid vaults over the wall, a surge of power courses through her, causing her to shape-shift into a bear. With swift movements, she attacks the goblins, biting and slapping them with relentless force.

A roaring sound came from the forest and around three huge creatures emerged. Reegar can’t believe what he saw. Goblins, but large. Around ten feet tall. They carry clubs, no. Not clubs. More like wooden logs on their hand as they proceed towards the town.

Vig’s eyes widen at seeing the incoming goblin. “By Evelon glowing tits. She spoke the truth.” He lights his pipe and grin. “Must run out of rocks to throw.”

Reegar’s roar echoed through the air, urging his fellow adventurers to push through the horde. As he swung his blade, a dazzling display of fire, lightning, and arrows erupted, obliterating the horde and leaving only a few scattered survivors. The goblins, sensing their loss, scattered. Their larger cousins thundered towards the town, leaving a trail of crushed goblins in their wake.

One of them faces Reegar, their eyes filled with rage as it swings the wooden club at the paladin. Reegar blocks it, taking the full brunt of the attack, feeling the force push him back, but he stands his ground, planting his feet to the ground. He then noticed something different about the club. It has fangs embedded on its sides.

The clash between Reegar and the large goblin was a savage display of raw power and aggression as both unleashed a flurry of precise strikes, aiming for the vital spots. With a swift motion, the blade sliced through the skin, leaving a trail of sable in its wake. The goblin roared in pain and black blood exited the wound, splattered on Reegar’s armor and a few hit the ground. As the blood hits the ground, it releases a smell. A smell similar to decomposing meat. Reegar moves forward, feeling the weight of his blade in his hands as he aims it towards the goblin’s chest.

But the large goblin moves faster. It slammed its club into the paladin’s chest, and Reegar winces as his ribs crack under the force, feeling the club’s teeth piercing through his armor and snagging his flesh. With a swift and precise motion, the goblin pulled the club upward, a wicked grin spreading across its face. The teeth ripped through Reegar’s armor and flesh, lacerating and shredding the paladin.

Reegar’s voice failed him, leaving him with nothing but a whimper. He stumbled back, feeling the warm blood seeping through his fingers from his chest.

But he remembers his oath. The paladin stood firm, planting his feet on the ground with nothing more than a will or spite. He can’t fall. He mustn’t fall. He is a paladin of Hilvendur and he shall protect and defend those behind him by making sure those opposed to him fall. That is his oath.

Gritting his teeth, the paladin tightly gripped his weapon, preparing himself for the goblin’s next assault with its menacing club. A golden mist seeped out from between his teeth, while a pair of radiant golden orbs flickered to life behind his visor. His blade glows in golden light as a single word escapes his lips. “Radiant Smite.”

He traced the goblin’s swing and leaped back to avoid the attack and launched himself forward, plunging his blade into the goblin’s chest and pushing the blade down, cleaving the torso. With a loud thud, the goblin crashed to the ground.

The move sends him flying and tumbling to the ground. As he lies on the ground, he can feel the damp grass beneath him, making it difficult to get a grip and push himself up. Everything around him is spinning, leaving him disoriented and unable to discern up from down. The metallic scent of warm blood lingers in the air as it drips from his chest and mouth. The simple act of breathing becomes excruciating, as he suspects that the broken shards of his ribs are puncturing his lungs. His hand emits a radiant golden glow as the divine power courses through his veins, healing the wound.

Vig and the mages unleashed all their powers on the remaining large goblins, while one goblin hurled its wooden club at the wall, shattering it and sending the mages tumbling down. A few teleports to the ground safely. Others are not as fortunate, their bodies crashing onto the hard surface. Covered in fire, Vig descended gracefully, leaving behind a trail of flickering embers.

Vig noticed Aveline, the bard, swaying on her feet, her mana depleting as she poured it into her song. She continued to flick her lute until Vig placed his hand on her arm. “Rest now young missy. We’ll take care of the rest. Hopefully.” he said and rushed to battle.

Mirsyl, in her bear-form, swipes at the large goblin, her powerful claws tearing into its thick body. Focusing her attention, she honed in on the goblin’s jugular, jaws poised for a decisive attack. She sank her teeth into the goblin’s neck, feeling the flesh give way under her bite as she ended its life.

Glauk and the rest of the adventurers attacked the last large goblin, aiming at its legs, knocking it down to its knees. Vig throws three fire rays at the goblin’s face and the adventurers finish the goblin, swinging and plunging their weapons into it.

Reegar lay on the ground, with the terrible smell of rotten meat permeating around him. His battered body stiffened, and he could feel a burning sensation emanating from his muscles.

He looked up and saw Vig extending his hand, a friendly smile on his face. “You’re too short to pull me up.”

“It’s the gesture that counts, boy.”

Reegar pushed himself up. The victorious cheer echoed from the gate and soon followed by the survivors of the city. He waves at the clapping survivors who cheered at him.

The paladin grunted in dismay as he surveyed the gruesome scene at the gate. A few questions pop into his mind. Why do the goblins attack? And how do goblins the size of ogres exist? Where and how did they create those damnable flaming rocks? Does he get a free room and meals for his extended stay here?

He looks at one of the dead goblins. Green skin, bald, long pointy nose, with a wart on the right side. Their knife ears are floppy on the left side. He looks at the next goblin and it is the same face, the same wart, the same nose shape. He looks at the third one. The same face. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He still sees the same. All the goblins, including the larger ones, appear indistinguishable. He turns to Vig, who is standing next to him, continuously puffing his pipe. His gaze turns to the forest. He can feel something is calling him, urging him to enter.

It seems he has to postpone his Stormpoint vacation.