Duval Estate.
What horseshit, Morty thought as he left his line of soldiers and headed back to the mansion. An hour. A whole hour they were standing there waiting for those trolls to show up so his army could have a proper trial-by-fire! But no! They never showed up and at least half his troops went back to their tasks while the rest still kept their guns on the far end of the field.
It least they had the still moving and snapping head of one of the trolls as proof that it wasn't just made up. Morty wondered if given enough time would the troll regrow a head while this one grew a new body? Would that make them clones of the same troll?
Thoughts for someone else that cared, Morty thought as he passed through the camp. Passing by the drague quarters. A shantytown in all but name. A handful of small bunkhouses formed the central section of the ever growing slum while the rest was a hodgepodge of tents, lean-to's, scrap huts and shacks, and rickety bridges that crisscrossed over, under, and in-between.
Morty shivered as he spotted packs of rats that had moved into the section and had quickly become something of a pet/food source for the dragues. The pitiful labor-class goblins shuffled about muttering and cursing at their fellow menials as they went about their minimal free time to rest and snack before being called and dragged out.
His general infantry i.e. the regular goblin grunts were a little better off as they had actual solidly built dwellings to keep dry and warm in. Though they still amounted to little more than packed soldiery quarters that looked like a bordello. But at least it was a place to house them until needed. Most weren't dressed as nicely as his higher ranking goblins, especially the Red Cap hobgoblins. Most wore smatterings of cloth they found, or stole from one another, and had little rhyme or reason. Even their armaments were little better as they were shoddily made and shoddily maintained.
Muskets that had splintered stocks and cracked barrels. Dented and bent bayonets. He would feel embarrassed if they were all he had. But he didn't. He had the higher ranked goblins and the Red Caps who were relentlessly drilled and took to maintaining their equipment almost religiously! Thus they also got the better quarters to sleep in as well as actual decent food. Unlike the lower goblins that were the basic grunts and the dragues, these goblins didn't partake in cannibalism. It was also towards the mansion that these actual homes, built to goblin sizes to save supplies, were erected.
Morty looked off to the east-side of the mansion and watched as the goblins labored away at expanding the former armory. Since the Red Caps have claimed it, it has been more akin to officer quarters where they slept and studied books of warfare and combat. Morty had to do SOMETHING with all the lumber he was collecting and wasn't selling. Not like he could just leave it to rot!
Course progress would slow now that he had an actual buyer to supply. But that'll only last until they can deal with the trolls and resume progress.
Morty passed by a small procession of priestly goblins on their way to the front line to do blessings and entered the mansion where a nice meal of a half-decent filet mignon and a stiff drink was waiting for him. But of course he couldn't enjoy his meal for long though as a gaggle of noble leeches waddled their increasingly plump asses into his kitchen and proceeded to pester him about anything and everything.
Most of it he tuned out. It was all just useless gossip that he didn't care two wits about. The only things worth even keeping track of in all the blubbering was thoughts and plans for the fair they had planned. While he would LOVE the idea of leading them by the nose in planning. He had delegated that to his head butler, who wasn't really that anymore. Sure he still oversaw the daily running of the mansion as a head butler did. But he was more akin to an adviser, even the representative of the noble goblins.
Perhaps he should give him a name, Morty thought. He kinda gave the Colonel his, even if it was given a bit tongue-in-cheek. He did call him Jeeves once in the same way. But unlike the Colonel, the name didn't stick and wasn't really fitting for his status and position.
Later, Morty thought. He had other things to worry about at the moment. Like trolls and pestering nobles. As if said nobles could read his mind.
"Lord Mortimer? What was that awful cacophony not long ago?"
"That, my lord, was the sound of gunfire and artillery." Morty stated plainly. Not like they shouldn't be used to it by now. While the walls were quite thick and blocked some of the constant firing drills of muskets. It was a little harder to block out cannon fire.
"Oh? Are we under attack?!" One of them asked nervously, even as he smacked his lips on some breadsticks before wiping his greasy hands on his once fine coat that had seen better days, grease stains lingered and saturated the cloth despite thorough washing.
Morty was about to wave off their concerns in a fitting matter. But then a delightful thought occurred.
"We are! Trolls, my lords!"
The assemblage of nobles gasped and clutched their pearls, illusionary and or otherwise.
"Trolls! Good heavens!"
"Indeed! They assault us even now! My forces beat them back this time though!" Morty proclaimed while trying to hide a snicker behind his bourbon glass.
"B-b-b-but we are safe are we not?!"
"But of course! No harm will come to your esteemed self's while my forces still stand... but." Morty paused ominously.
"But what?!" One of the noble women fluttered nervously.
"But it would go a long way in beating back the tide of monstrous horrors if YOU were to graciously lend me some of your guards!"
"Our guards?!"
"Surely you could spare a few men couldn't you? After all, I am keeping you safe, warm, and fed aren't I?" Morty claimed as he cut into his food.
The nobles shuffled and chatted among themselves, leaving Morty to eat and drink just to keep from laughing. Even if they gave him their entire guard it wouldn't make any difference. His Red Caps alone outnumbered them and his army was meant to be disposable and easily replaced. But lessening a security force within his own home that wasn't utterly loyal to him was something he wasn't going to let pass him by. The less of them standing between his men and the nobles meant more pressure he could put on them. Which meant the closer to being actual puppet nobility they were!
Sure he could just kill the guards. But he was trying to avoid just offing annoyances like these. If they died during "glorious combat" then that was a black mark Morty DIDN'T have to get while making them rely on him more for protection. He still wasn't sure how long he wanted to keep them around for. But between now and then he could squeeze what he wanted from them.
The nobles broke away from their chatting.
"We will have to confer with the heads of our respective houses before we can make such promises. While we are of course in you're debt, it is a matter of procedure."
"Of course!" Morty said as the nobles fled away from him. The idea of him cashing in favors and debt causing them to sweat. Though that could be the increasing layers of grease and cholesterol in their veins.
Morty finished his meal in peace, and alone for once in some time! The sisters seemed to determine the trolls were a bigger threat and had remained back at the front line. He actually kinda felt naked without them around. Speaking of naked, Morty thought as he cast a glance at his soiled pants. He quickly made his way to his room to get changed into something that wasn't covered in God-only-knows what and to take a nice soak in the tub.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
After a couple of goblin maids took away, and hopefully burned, his old clothes. He relaxed into the nice warm bath with a contented sigh. Being ogre-handled through the woods, getting dirty from whatever infested a troll's flesh, stress. It was nice to relax and let others worry about stuff for a time.
The nice white doors that separated his bathroom from his room opened with a creak and a lovely, and curvy, maid walked in with her arms full of clean clothes for Morty to change into when he was done.
"Here you are, Master! Fresh clothes for you."
"Thank you." Morty replied as she sat them onto a table by the bath.
She turned to address him, and became a reddish shade of green as her now almost human-like eyes went wide as she stared at Morty's lean frame within the tub. She mumbled and stumbled as she tried to speak while her eyes darted every which way.
There was always something about maid uniforms, Morty thought as he rose from the tub and seemed to stalk towards the stammering goblin with a predatory smile as she stood rooted to the tile as she stared at the bare form of her master. While he loved the ogres, he wanted to have a bit of fun that WOULDN'T leave him nursing a ice pack on his pelvis, and abs, and neck, and pretty much most everywhere else. Plus the idea of them in maid outfits was more comical than sensual.
But the goblin maids seemed to fit the later, this one at the moment especially. He was initially worried about two vengeful ogres. But the idea of harems/multiple mates among tribe leaders wasn't foreign to the ogres or even seemed to produce a jealous thought at all! That was just how leaders were to them. The more mates the more potential heirs to lead the tribe when they died. Not like he was going to take every chance to fool around with the maids on the side, though the thought of soft, pillowy, green, flesh sent a excited thrill through him. Besides, he wanted to test a couple things.
"Cher? Would you care to do a little science experiment with me?" Morty asked as he closed in on the blushing maid.
"I-i-i-i-i s-s-s-suppose s-s-s-so?" The maid stammered and tried VERY hard to look anywhere else but at the spot on Morty's body that was eye-level with her and getting closer.
"Good! I think you'll REALLY like what the experiment is about!" Morty stated as he picked up the maid with a surprised yelp and dragged her back and into the tub with him.
-----
Meanwhile, back at the front line. Morty's army continued to watch the other side of the field for any signs of their enemy. While the line held, the sisters were talking with the bugbear scouts. More like chiding.
"How did you not let us know?!"
"Hey, don't put this on us! Believe us! We combed around for miles south and west of us!" The bugbear leader shouted back.
"Not good enough apparently, or they wouldn't have taken us by surprise like they did!" Orga shouted.
"We were told to only scout out so far into the woods! And we did! They weren't there before yesterday!"
They continued to argue over where, how's, and whys of the trolls for some time. The whole while the troll head continued to shift and snap nearby as it tried to reform. A bit hard to do being mounted on a spike.
"You will go back out there and you WILL find out where they're hiding!" Urga commanded.
"Relax! I already sent my boys out! If the trolls are on their way here we'll know! And in the meantime, they'll search out for where they're hidin'!" The bugbear snarled before snatching up the gruesome trophy.
The ogres snarled back.
"And burn that before it can form in the middle of camp!"
The bugbear hissed at them while clutching possessively at the head.
"It's MINE!!! I got it and it's mine to keep!"
"It's a threat that needs to be dealt with NOW!" Orga stated and grasped at the head.
As the three struggled to claim the macabre item, shouts rang out and the three looked towards the front line. The head was claimed by the bugbear as the ogres' attention turned to thoughts of battle.
But no battle would be had just yet though. The scouts returned, and were quite worse for wear though. They bolted right up to the formation panting hard.
"Trolls!"
"We know there are trolls! Where are they?!" The sisters shouted.
The bugbears pointed hairy fingers towards where the cleared land met trees, and where they saw several dozens of trolls emerge from the gloom of the forest and into the dreary, and cursedly gloomy, light that saturated Somewhere at seemingly all time of year.
The bugbear headhunters made ready for combat, head standard planted into the ground that provoked a silent howl from the still living thing as they joined the goblins.
The ogres looked about briefly for Morty, but he was still back at the mansion they remembered. With the thought that he was safe and away from battle they aided the goblins in getting the brass and now fixed goblin-made cannons into position.
Hundreds of goblins and Red Cap officers formed battle lines and took aim at the approaching trolls. There seemed to be just as many variety of troll as there were number.
Stone trolls hobbled forwards on stubby legs. Fat toad-like swamp trolls spat and cursed at the goblins while shaking fishbone fetishes as they shuffled on flat webbed feet as mucus and muck coated hair clung to their rubbery skin and they hauled a large basket on their backs that were full of bone and rotted limbs of former victims, and by the independent movement within, some fresh ones that still yet lived! Forest trolls shouted and sneered at them as they tried to direct the trolls into some semblance of order as they ran back and forth on long lean mossy hide legs that afforded them more agility than their slower kin.
The ogres snarled. That was alot of trolls, too many to be just hanging around by themselves. They must be here with someone, or something, else. Forest trolls couldn't wrangle this many to lead by themselves, they thought. But they couldn't think too hard about it before cries rang out, and were followed by the sounds of musket fire and cannons.
The field went from peaceful, almost serene, to all out hell within seconds.
Earth exploded as cannonballs cratered the land. Sometimes turning part of a troll to mist, sometimes missing entirely and plunging into trees or earth. Not like it did much good when they did hit as the trolls, even after getting hit by a cannonball, would get back up not long after and resume their charge against the goblins.
Muskets weren't much better. When they did hit there was a decent chance it would either bounce off stony callouses or slimy, thick, rubbery skin or the damage wouldn't last long as the regeneration of trolls earned its infamously.
"We need fire!" Orga roared as the trolls, and their fetid stink, got closer to the front.
She turned and ran into the camp looking for a decent source of flame to beat back the trolls with while her sister and the bugbears remained and waited for the trolls to get closer. Which they did, slowly but surely they did. They didn't have enough cannons to properly reduce them to mist, even if they did it was almost guaranteed that they would still reform.
As the trolls got closer, the Red Caps ordered charges. If musket balls weren't much good than maybe sticking them with hundreds of bayonets would. So as the order came out, battle cries rang out as a sea of green bodies rushed to meet the tide of trolls. The bugbears howling as they raced into the fray as Urga charged along side them.
Orga rushed through the camp looking for anything that might work. Then she saw it! Buckets of oil from when the goblins had scraped the trucks! That should kill some and scare them back into the woods! She rushed to grab the buckets, but fell down as something grabbed her leg!
She looked down and saw a rapidly reforming troll that looked oddly familiar. She growled and kicked at the former trophy that had somehow gotten free of its spikey throne. She could stomp and smash it all day but it wouldn't do any good if it couldn't be burnt! She cursed the area's lack of direct sun. A ray of sunshine would be more than enough to deal with them!
But she had to make do, she thought as she kicked the almost fully reformed troll off her and lunged for the viscous black fluid. She grabbed the bucket of thick liquid and slammed it down onto the bulbus head. The troll gargled on the black stuck and tried to wipe away the sticky substance. Using the distraction, Orga grabbed a nearby log from one of the many campfires and thrust it into the troll.
It went up like kindling.
The creature screamed and yelled as it tried desperately to put itself out. But the oil burned and wouldn't relinquish it's burning hold on the troll. Not even as the beast gave a whimpering whine as it fell to the ground as the flame continued to consume it until it was naught but ash.
Orga quickly grabbed several buckets and ran back to the front line. Which looked alot less like a line and more like a brawl. The goblin cannon was a smoldering ruin after its luck finally ran out, its operators dead and crispy at its side. The other cannon was being contested by Urga and a lean forest troll as they took swipes at one another, the cannon's crew scattered about as they either tried to aid her, run, or were cut down by the troll before they could do either. Her sister wielded a flaming torch and used it to keep the troll back. But the troll had a longer reach than her. The troll was leaner and faster than her but she was bulkier and stronger. Which left the two in a stalemate as neither wanted to commit for risk of death by either.
The goblins had picked up on the trolls' weakness as well. But they encountered the same problem. The trolls could outreach the goblins with ease and would gladly take several bayonets to the guts in order to dispose of the flame carrier before they could bring it to bear. Or would seem to go weak and feeble as they neared the swamp trolls and would be easy to dispatch with webbed slimy claws. Their only real counter was sticking them full of bayonets in the hopes of overwhelming their regeneration. But as Orga found out, that plan wouldn't last.
The bugbears were the only ones that seemed to be fairing somewhat better. Their agile forms let them duck around the slower stone and swamp trolls and try to set them alight with torches. But stony and slimy hides kept the flame from getting a firm hold long enough before they had to retreat out of reach of yellowed nails and muck-caked claws.
The forest trolls matched them in terms of speed and agility and several grapples were seen across the field as they kept one another from their tasks. The trolls from their leader-like roles, and the bugbears from targeting the slower trolls. It was up for debate who had the upper-hand in a 1v1 as both seemed similar in body, though the bugbears lacked the troll like regeneration so Orga would have to give it to the troll.
But that was where she and the oil came in. She rushed to her sister's aid and flung a bucket of the fluid onto the forest troll. It yelled and tried to get the liquid off like its former cousin. Her sister used the chance to stab at the troll with the torch and set it ablaze. Having it suffer the same fate as the other.
It cried, wailed, and fled from the sisters as it tried to snuff out the flame, setting a few goblins on fire along the way. The sisters handed buckets of the black liquid to nearby goblins and Red Caps who repeated the process on a few others who were either too slow or encumbered by too many muskets sticking out of them before the sight of their brethren being engulfed in sticky flame was enough to route the trolls back into the woods!
A victorious cheer rang out as the goblins watched their foe flee into the trees. What severed limbs of the trolls that remained were quickly set alight to keep anymore from popping. Dead Red Caps, of there were many, were carefully gathered and brought towards the mansion where a proper burial would be had. The rest of the goblin dead was left where they fell. Dozens if not hundreds of pools would form where new goblins would replace the fallen, and the dead and rotting would provide quick food.
But not troll flesh. Even the smallest of bits were put to the torch before they could be eaten by some foolish goblin wanting an exotic snack. The flesh would more than likely grow within the goblin and burst out a partially formed, and entirely mad, troll at a later date. Even on the off chance it didn't, they didn't want the risk anyway. So anything that looked vaguely like troll flesh was burned.
-----
Morty meanwhile was finished getting dressed and doing some little grooming in the bathroom mirror before leaving a slumbering goblin maid covered in a warm towel and a satisfied smile before taking his leave.
"A nice bath and a nicer time with a fine woman." Morty declared as he whistled a tune before making his way downstairs and towards the back of the mansion.
Alot of racket occurred while he was taking his bath. But at least the trolls should be dead, he thought as he refilled his glass before heading out. He was kinda sad he missed it. But after all, it was just a doze-
"GOOD GOD WHAT IS THAT STENCH?!?!"