The witch’s Dreadnought kicked up clouds of mud and dust as it raced towards the shifting sands, a baying host of wolves hot on its heels. Around flooded craters and shattered trees, it dodged and weaved, blood and ichor streaming down its ivory faces. The darksome rivers flowed around the etched scenes of the party’s triumphs and tribulations, giving them a new grim portent.

Howls of maddened glee rippled through the air as the pursuant wolf riders gained ground on the fleeing adventurers.

Breathing deeply, Autumn clambered up the ladder towards the hatch that opened out onto the roof. She lugged it open with a grunt, letting it slam against the dragonbone roof. Hauling herself up, she stuck her head out to get a better view of the chasing horde.

Instantly, the wind whipped her dark locks about her face, filling her mouth with the taste of hair. Autumn reached instinctively for her hat as the wind tugged at it, despite knowing no breeze could tear it from her.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes in annoyance and gazed upon her pursuing foes.

Atop wolves, they rode, gleefully flinging goblin insults at her, at each other, at anything really.

The beasts they rode upon weren’t the noble creatures Autumn knew from Earth. No, they were as wicked-looking as their riders. Spurs of bone sprouted painfully down their back where crusted fur and oozing wounds matted what little fur remained on their scarred bodies. Mad eyes rolled wildly in their sockets as they raced, snapping fearfully at one another with frothing, powerful jaws. The sounds of their sundering bites echoed like gunshots in Autumn’s ears.

She could practically taste their fury and fear.

The goblins riding them looked little better than their mounts. Clad in tattered furs and stolen regalia, they bore finer weapons than the crazed hordes of the fortress before, likely all stolen from the fey dead. Silvery spears and bows glittered brightly in their filthy hands.

While that sight was concerning enough, the fact the riders weren’t alone drove another nail into Autumn’s resolve. Racing alongside the goblin calvary came packed chariot-carts of their own goblin-style construction, pulled by teams of frenzied wolves.

“How is it looking up there?” Nelva called from below.

Autumn lowered herself down to reply. “Not good. I don’t think we can outrun them. They’ve got a dozen or so carts and fifty or more wolf riders, archers mostly. Maybe even a hundred odd,” she grimaced. “We’ll have to engage them — we can’t risk them cutting Ursa Ossa’s harness or getting in our way.”

Nelva nodded firmly. “So what’s the plan?”

“The same as before — we kill as many as we can,” Autumn shrugged. She gripped the ladder tightly as the war-wagon swayed around another crater. “Nethlia’ll get us to the desert. Hopefully, we’ll lose them in the sandstorms there. I’ll stay up top seeing as I’ve got the longest range and magical protection. You guys man the walls. If that’s ok?”

“Sound’s good enough to me, but, uh, could you do something about all this blood?” Nelva gestured to the pools of goblin blood swirling about their feet. “It’s making it hard to keep our footing.”

“Oh, sure thing,” Autumn said. Gesturing with her alabaster wand, she whispered a quick dirt dismay spell and gathered the blood off the floor into the air in great swirling streams. With another flick of her wand, she sent the gathered blood streaming out of the arrowslits along the walls, leaving the floor relatively clean.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Nelva shook her head. “No. I think we’re fine for now.”

The haunting sounds of tortured, maddened howls tore Autumn’s attention away from the crossbow-armed knight and whatever she was going to say died on her lips. She glanced towards the noise hidden behind the dragonbone bulkheads. Gulping, the witch gripped the rungs tighter. Jokingly, she spoke lightly to Nelva. “See you on the other side, then?”

Nelva saluted Autumn, striking a gauntleted fist to her bone-armored breast. “Through hells, we ride,” she said with a grim smile before turning back to check on the others.

“Sure thing,” Autumn muttered as she watched Nelva go. Turning around, she made her way slowly to the front of the wagon where Nethlia sat, minding the war-wagon’s swaying. As she stopped beside the focused demoness, Autumn looked her over. “You doing ok?” she asked.

Nethlia grunted, not taking her eyes off the blasted landscape. “My head’s a little fuzzy. Must’ve banged it pretty hard in the fall. Otherwise, I’m fine.”

“Need me to heal you? I don’t know if I can do concussions, but I can try,” Autumn said hurriedly, preparing to cast her magic. “Or I can get Pyre if you prefer. I’m sure she’s got something that’ll heal you.”

Nethlia waved Autumn off awkwardly, trying not to pull too hard on the reins. “Nah, I’m good. You lot focus on keeping the goblins off of us while I get us through this mire. Besides, your bear is doing most of the work, I’m just sitting here.”

Autumn bit her lip. “If you’re sure. Make sure you call me if you feel any worse, ok?”

“Go,” Nethlia chuckled. “I’ll be fine. Kill some goblins for me, will you?”

Awkwardly, Autumn wrapped her arms around Nethlia’s neck from behind in a hug. The smell of the demoness’ hair filled her nose. What was only seconds felt like an eternity. It was nice. Intimate. Something warm and pure amongst the blood-soaked carnage surrounding them. Nethlia leaned back into Autumn’s embrace with a soul-deep sigh.

Autumn wanted to stay like this forever, but reluctantly parted with her lover. “Don’t die,” she commanded.

“You too,” Nethlia smiled back.

Turning away from her lover lest she falter and stay, Autumn hoisted herself up the ladder to the rooftop. Tucking her hair away into her hat, she peered once more into the whipping wind at the wolf riders and carts chasing them. In the time she’d been talking to the others, they’d eaten up a fair amount of distance between them and the party, dipping and dodging around the craters of stagnant water far more easily than poor Ursa Ossa could.

As they spotted her, the wolf archers fired their stolen bows her way with crackling hollers. Thankfully, the distance was still too great, and they were poor shots besides — the elvish arrows sunk into the mud far behind the fleeing war-wagon.

Autumn hauled herself up and onto the lip of the hatch to gain a better vantage. Bracing her feet against the hatch’s frame, she leveled her wand towards the wolves and their riders. Unlike with arrows, gravity nor wind affected her spells — they flew true towards her targets, only dissipating beyond a certain distance if they didn’t strike their targets.

And strike true, they did.

Forceful blasts knocked riders clean from their tattered saddles. Heavy paws crushed them underfoot as they rolled beneath the wolven horde, while snapping jaws instinctively tore into them like a rabbit caught by a hunting hound. Goblin blood stained the dark mud further as the redcap riders screamed.

While she tried not to target the wolves, the unlucky few struck by Autumn’s force-imbued spells yelped as they tumbled head over heels, necks cracking against the ground as they sent their riders flying. The wolves following those that fell jumped over the crumpled bodies, the less nimble of them tripping as well, causing a small pileup to occur. Not enough to free the adventurers of pursuit, but it was something.

Autumn ducked as a silvery arrow skidded across the roof beside her.

Scowling, she shot screaming jinxes hurtling back in retaliation. Force and necrotic energies saw the goblin archers who’d fired upon her sent tumbling to their deaths with gurgled cries. Yet no matter how many lives her reaper’s blade caught, many more filled their place with wild abandon, drawing ever closer to the Dreadnought.

“Get ready!” Autumn cried out to the others below. “They’re almost in range!”

Confident cries of affirmation sounded off from below her. As soon as the goblins came into crossbow range, bolts whizzed rapidly out of the war-wagon, scything through the front ranks, sending them tumbling to their deaths in the mud. Those who fell into the waterlogged craters drowned as they clawed at the slipping mud.

Seeing those in front die horrible deaths, the subsequent wolf riders split off, seeking to flank the deadly rain of bolts. Unfortunately for them, that just put them into range of the arrowslits along the sides.

More goblin bodies fell into the mud like rain.

Still, there were more riders than they had bolts.

Autumn tried her best to cover the others as they reloaded. Panting, she sent jinx after jinx towards the horde encroaching upon the wagon. Even with her prodigious casting speed, she couldn’t keep the goblins at bay forever.

A rickety, goblin-made cart pulled by a team of wolves crashed into the Dreadnought, scraping along its side as they matched the war-wagon’s pace. Packed in the back of the cart, a gang of redcaps clad in cruel, scavenged armor flung crude spears and fired tainted arrows at Autumn along with jeers and insults she unfortunately could understand.

Scowling as a foul-mouthed goblin insulted her dearly-departed mother, Autumn targeted the lead wolf with an overpowered Necrotic Lance. It splashed across the side of the wolf’s face, boiling away its flesh in a flash of magic. The beast died in an instant.

So much for her sparing the wolves.

As the lupine body crumpled to the ground, it dragged the others down with it by the iron chains linking them together. Yelping, the pack disappeared beneath the wheels of the cart. The goblins riding it had only a moment of incomprehension before the entire thing flipped end over end, killing them all.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Autumn stared at the crash wide-eyed as the sounds of breaking glass and screaming horns echoed in her ears.

An arrow whistling past her face broke Autumn from her trance with a flinch. Whipping around towards the shooter, she caught sight of the redcap just as they slumped in their saddle with a crossbow bolt through their neck. Slowly, the dying body slid off the back of their mount to be dragged behind the oblivious wolf.

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, another cart full of shrieking goblins crashed into the side of the war-wagon, sending Autumn reeling. Dazed, she sent a barrage of wild jinxes soaring towards the goblins as they flung themselves headfirst at the top of the wagon.

Autumn’s furious blasts knocked many out of the air like she was skeet-shooting, but not all.

With wicked blades clutched in their teeth, the armored redcaps clung to the side of the Dreadnought, gibbering wildly in delight.

The dark-eyed witch of fear wasn’t having it. As the repulsive goblins scampered across the rooftop like spiders, Autumn flung deadly magics their way like a madwoman. Several buckled beneath the harmful rays, tumbling off the war-wagon like rag dolls.

Yet more still came.

Out of the corner of her eye, Autumn spotted a copse of blasted trees approaching rapidly and the moment Nethlia decided to ram the goblin cart into it.

A wicked grin stole over her features. The goblins crawling towards her hesitated upon seeing it.

Tugging harshly on the reins, Nethlia sent Ursa Ossa roaring into the wolven pack that’d been nipping at his undead heels. The pack yelped as they tried to dodge the armored bear, unknowingly putting them on a collision-course with the trees. Unable to stop, the goblin cart shattered into a shower of splinters as it slammed full-force into the copse.

The goblins riding atop the Dreadnought stared at the carnage in shock and confusion.

Autumn snarled, speaking in the savage goblin tongue. “Get the fuck off my ride, you pests! Begone!” she screamed, blasting the shocked goblins away with a wave of power.

Groaning, she rubbed her temples as a headache bloomed.

“Are you alright up there?” Pyre asked, peeking up at Autumn through the hatchway.

“Just peachy,” Autumn grumbled. “Anybody hurt?”

Pyre shook her head. “Not yet, but we had a few close calls with those carts. Can you keep them off us? They keep sticking knives through the arrowslits.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Autumn snapped, before taking a breath. “Sorry, there’s a lot going on— hold that thought,” she cut herself off hurriedly to send a blast of necromantic might screaming at a goblin leaping from the back of his mount towards the war-wagon. The goblin bounced off the side of the wagon as its flesh melted off and its bones charred.

“Eww! That got in here, Autumn!” Eme cried out from below.

“Sorry!” Autumn called below before turning her attention back to a mildly amused Pyre. “Could I get some help, please?!'“

“Sure thing,” Pyre said before gingerly handing Autumn a glass sphere full of a roiling orange liquid. “Alchemist Fire. You remember how to use one, right? Shake it hard till it spits, then throw. Far away from us, preferably.”

“I remember,” Autumn said as she took the spherical potion-bomb trepidatiously.

Glancing over at another goblin cart as it pulled up alongside them, Autumn grinned malevolently at the band of screeching goblins. Their own grins of sharp teeth faltered at the sight of the dark-clad witch standing atop the Dreadnought, robes flapping dramatically in the wind.

As Pyre had instructed her, Autumn shook the sphere until the potion inside the glass glowed and spat. She looked over at the goblins, meeting the eyes of the biggest and meanest-looking. Lobbing the potion underhand, she called out to them.

“Here, catch!”

Bewildered, the goblin did so. For a moment, nothing happened.

“Hah, my trinket now—” the goblin crowed, just before the potion exploded.

Liquid flames immolated the one holding the bomb. The smell of cooking meat filled the air alongside pained, terrified screams as alchemical flames engulfed the entire cart. Frightened by the flames, the rabid wolves tore at their harnesses and dragged the burning cart towards a flooded crater as their fur caught fire. However, this was no ordinary fire — water did not douse it.

Pale-faced, Autumn watched on in shock as the flames spread across the craterous lake, turning it into a scene from hell.

Crouching back down, she stared wryly at the cringing alchemist. “You know, I sometimes forget you’re the scariest one of the lot of us.”

Pyre laughed awkwardly, but there was a hint of pride burning in her flaming eyes.

Autumn looked over at another cart as it rushed towards them. “Got another bomb I could have?”

Silently, Pyre passed her another with a shaky grin.

The next group of cart-riding goblins that Autumn targeted was smarter than the last. Although, that was a low bar to clear. Having seen what happened to the other cart, they wanted nothing to do with the shiny trinket she tossed their way. However, their “intelligence” extended only so far as to not being the one holding the bomb when it exploded rather than tossing it out of their cart.

Like a lethal game of hot potato, they tossed the glass sphere back and forth between themselves until it exploded, consuming them all and their cart in a blooming fireball.

Around the flaming wreck, more wolf riders and carts raced, undeterred by the ultraviolence on display.

Overhead, the skies grew darker and darker as the cawing of crows grew louder and louder.

Autumn couldn’t help but flinch as a rain of arrows bounced off her rippling shield.

Relentless, the goblins kept charging the adventurers no matter how many of their brethren they felled with bolt, magic, or blade. They clambered up the Dreadnought’s walls like a skittering tide, weathering death, to throw themselves at the witch standing defiantly atop the dragonbone hold.

With a grunt, Autumn drove her grim blade into a stunned goblin’s chest and used it as an arrow shield. Dozens of arrows rained down on the goblin’s exposed back. Twisting around, she threw the pincushioned body at another goblin sneaking up behind her, sending both tumbling off the wagon.

More and more goblins rushed up the wagon’s sides to replace those she’d killed. Snarling, they came, stolen blades in hand.

Snarling herself, Autumn leveled her wand towards the greentide and poured an ungodly surge of magic into her wand, urging it to cast a half-remembered spell.

It did so gleefully.

The dragon roared, and a bolt of thunderous lighting ripped through the gathered horde.

Autumn fell back with a cry of pain, clutching her shaking hand as static backlash raced up her arm. She staggered back to the hatch as more goblins jumped aboard their swamped craft.

Hurriedly, she clambered down the ladder just as the goblins reached it. A barrage of bolts met the goblins as they peered down. They tumbled dead into the interior of the war-wagon, much to Autumn’s consternation.

“Let me take this dance!” Liddie cried out cheerfully as she carved her way up the ladder to emerge on the roof, white-gold blade flashing.

If the goblins thought she’d be an easier target then Autumn, they were in for a rude awakening.

Autumn panted as she lay amongst broken arrows and fumbled bolts on the once more blood-slick floor. Glancing up, she looked over at her friends and compatriots. Grimly, they kept up a barrage of crossbow fire scything through the greentide scrambling up the outside of the war-wagon with their dwindling supply of ammo.

As she caught her breath and staggered to her shaking feet, Autumn briefly glanced up the hatch where the chaotic sounds of fighting drifted down. She trusted Liddie to hold her own and retreat like she’d done when necessary.

“Anyone hurt?” she called out.

Pyre looked over at Autumn as she reloaded her repeating crossbow. “Nothing serious — just cuts and scrapes. The poison resistance potions we took should stop whatever nasty stuff the goblins smeared onto their arrowheads. Infections too, but we should check over our wounds later.”

“Good, good,” Autumn nodded, steading herself on a wall as the war-wagon drifted slightly. “How are we doing on ammo?”

Pyre grimaced. “Not good. Even with us being conservative with our shots, we’re down to less than half, maybe even a third of what we started with.”

“Shit,” Autumn swore.

“You’re telling me,” Pyre snorted. “Any chance we’re close enough to the sandstorms to lose these losers?” she asked, somewhat desperately.

“I’ll go check. Keep at it — the more you kill, the less Liddie has to deal with up top.”

Pyre saluted mockingly, slapping the last bolt into her crossbow’s internal magazine. “Right-o, boss-o!”

Autumn shook her head in amusement as she turned to make her way towards the front. However, just as she took her first step, something crashed into the side of the Dreadnought, knocking it and her off balance. The back of the wagon dipped as it slipped down the slope of the massive crater they’d been running alongside. Above, the open hatch slammed closed with a resounding boom.

Gravity took a hold of the party and they fell towards the back door.

“Shit!” Autumn cursed as she collided with Edwyn, falling atop them and driving the air from their lungs. Before she could apologize, Eme likewise slammed into Autumn, driving her dragonbone elbow into the witch’s gut. Autumn let out a pained wheeze at the impact.

Above them, Liddie let out a string of curses as she rolled off the back of the roof. Clutching to the outside of the door, she yelled to the party inside as she dangled above a waterlogged crater. “Let me in! They’re shooting at me out here!”

Scrambling over one another, they unlocked one door and hauled Liddie inside while the wolf archers racing along the crater’s edge fired upon them.

Just as Liddie was almost fully in, an arrow pierced her thigh.

“Argh!” Liddie screamed in pain. “Gods-fucking-damn-it! My pants! You know how hard it was to find ones like this in my size, you fuckers!” she cussed out the goblins safely hidden from her wrath by the relocked doors.

Autumn let out a laugh. “Don’t worry — I’ll fix them later. Just hold still and let me remove this arrow. On three. One. Two—” she pulled the arrow out on the second count. Hurriedly she stemmed the bleeding while Pyre poured a minor healing potion on the wound.

Liddie let out a growling laugh. “You fucker! You did that on purpose!”

“It works better if you’re not expecting it,” Autumn shrugged. “That way you’re not as tense.”

Outside, Ursa Ossa let out a deafening roar. With a mighty heave, he dug his vast paws into the muddy earth and hauled the dangling Dreadnought out of the flooded crater. Once back on solid ground, Nethlia urged the undead bear onwards, racing towards the desert that lay only a few dozen feet beyond.

By now, the party had killed a significant portion of the goblin forces chasing them. They lay crushed, skewered, broken, decapitated, drowned, and burned in a gruesome trail behind them.

Yet, still they came, undaunted.

Arrows splashed around or bounced ineffectively off the fleeing Dreadnought’s bony hide.

They were not Autumn’s concern any longer — the skies were. Light dimmed as the Grand Murder swooped. All Autumn could hear were their screaming caws and her own frightened breathing.

Dozens of feet became only a couple. Then only one. Then half and half again.

Suddenly, Ursa Ossa hit the shifting sands with a jolt, his paws failing to find traction for a moment before pulling them into the desert with great bounding strides.

But a moment was all murder needed.

The light died.

Pyre’s flames and lantern light let them see.

Millions of screaming crows blanketed the wagon, clawing at its dragonbone shell as they sought a way inside. The sound was like a thousand fingernails running down a thousand blackboards. Outside, Ursa Ossa roared and snapped in annoyance as they pecked and clawed at his fake eyes.

Autumn held her breath as the tension racketed up.

Through the narrow arrowslits, beady eyes peeked. Before Autumn’s horrified gaze, the dark crows pressed themselves through the gaps far too small for them. Yet somehow, they did. In a flurry of black feathers and sharp talons, they flew towards the party, seeking blinded eyes to pluck.

In the cramped confines of the war-wagon, Autumn fought like fury. Her hands lashed out at the snapping birds, stilling their little hearts with a pulse of fear.

However, when she did so, the birds spoke as one in a familiar, hateful voice. “IT’S YOU! LITTLE WITCH!” screamed the birds in Mildred’s cruel voice.

Autumn screamed and things died.