Sharp caws filled the air as a million carrion crows feasted on the festering dead. Corpses piled high throughout the desolate landscape of waterlogged trenches and ruined fortresses that stood like tombstones. Like ceaseless waves, the elvish host had crashed upon the defenses of crow and goblin, shattering walls and lines beneath a thousand bombardments and the sheer weight of their dead.

The faes’ beautiful corpses littered the battlefield like so many broken dolls.

All throughout this unholy danse macabre redcaps wetted their ruddy caps of sagging flesh. Terrible glee lighted their red bulging eyes as they surveyed the carnage, singing their discordant, cruel songs. The air soured with their hymns joining the chaotic rhythm of battle.

To the southernmost edge of the battlefield lay a ruined fortress like any other. Within, a lone goblin of wiry hair and broken teeth marched an uneven beat amongst torn bodies. Guts spilled out amongst the sucking mud. He strode before the broken gates, eyeing the shattered wood barely hanging within the frame with some trepidation.

Gut-stabber was his name. The third. He came from a long line of proud gut stabbers.

And boy, did he love stabbing guts. He loved watching them spill out into the damp mud. Watch them steam as his victims cried and begged for mercy he did not have.

What a charming fellow he was. A pinnacle of goblinkind.

He also wasn’t a half bad singer. At least, he thought so. Others, not so much, but what did they know?

Anyway, Gut-stabber was bored. Almost terminally so. Not an unusual occurrence for a red-cap goblin, but it was especially poignant with all the guts he could be stabbing right now if his boss had’ve placed him further north where the main bulk of the fighting was.

Here? Few of the blasted fairies were coming here.

He should’ve just stabbed his bosses’ guts, Gut-stabber mused. Nevermind that his boss was an ogre and more than eight times his height. It just meant there was more of the big bastard’s guts to stab. Gut-stabber imagined it reverently, of how his boss’ massive guts would steam in the mud. Imagine the look on the bastard’s face! Call him names, would he!

Gut-stabber cackled to himself.

Out the corner of his bulging eye, Gut-stabber spotted another goblin creeping towards his hoarded corpses. He was going for his guts!

Snarling, Gut-stabber whirled on the other redcap. “Oi!” he screamed, causing the other goblin to jump in fright. “Them’s mine! You can fuck right off, ya git, or I’ll stab your guts!”

Gut-stabber was a master of goblin diplomacy.

The other redcap goblin recoiled from Gut-stabber’s diatribe. “But Gutstab, there’s no good ones left! My cap’s drying out!” he whined. “How’s we supposed to live in these conditions!”

“Don’t’s complain ta me, ya git! I’s here too, ain't I!” Gut-stabber snarled, spittle flying in the other’s face. “And it’s Gut-stabber! Gut-stabBER! Not Gutstab or Guts! Get it right or I’ll stab ya!”

“Why’s we ‘ere anyway, Gutstab? No stinky fairies wanna bust through this here gob-fort! We’s too strong! They all be up north where all the weaky gobbos are. Only dumb-dumb fairies would attack us!”

Furious, Gut-stabber whirled on the goblin who’d butchered his name, driving his rusty blade into the other’s guts. “It’s GUT-STABBER!!!” he screamed. Slicing across the other goblin’s belly, he let other’s guts spill out into the mud where the goblin cried and pawed at them.

Around the broken fortress, the other redcaps cackled at the display.

Turning, Gut-stabber, the third, addressed the gathered crowd of foul goblins as he stood before the shattered gates. “We is ‘ere cause stupid fairies make stupid fairy plans! Stupid fairies alway make stupid fairy plans! They think they smarter than goblin! Smarter than Gut-stabber! But Gut-stabber smarter than fairies! When’s they come, Gut-stabber will stab ‘em all! In their guts! Gut-stabber best! Nothin’ kill Gut-stabbe—-”

Suddenly, the ruined gates behind Gut-stabber exploded inwards, sending the goblin sprawling down into the mud with a frightened squeal.

Thundering through the breach roared a bear made of bone and unbridled fury. Its massive paw came down upon the sprawled goblin’s head, splattering Gut-stabber’s brains across the muddy stones of the goblin fortress.

The other redcaps were stunned for a moment by the sudden violence. However, they quickly rallied and, with crazed cries to match the bear’s roar, surged forth, brandishing rusted blades and rotten bows.

Ursa Ossa let out a bellowing, haunting roar once more in the face of the greentide. With great pounding strides, the armored undead beast pushed forward into the broken fortress, crushing goblins too slow or dumb to flee underfoot. Betwixt its mighty jaws, small bodies snapped in twain before being tossed aside like torn rag dolls. Foul blood wetted the bear’s polished teeth.

Like a formidable fortress itself, the war-wagon Dreadnought followed in the bear’s wake, dragged behind by a leather harness as it floated domineeringly above the blood and mud. Bolts scythed out from narrow arrowslits lining the war-wagon’s side, cutting down any red-cap that drew too close to either it or the bear pulling them along.

Autumn peered through the viewport alongside Nethlia at the carnage. She grasped a leather strap dangling from the ceiling in a white-knuckled grip while her other clenched tightly around her wand. Her face turned green from the stench of death and the sway of movement.

In her rush to build the war-wagon, Autumn had forgotten to account for one important factor. Physics.

Every sharp turn the frictionless floating Dreadnought took sent the crew manning it sliding across the interior and slamming into the walls. Autumn had added hastily a few leather straps to the ceiling for herself and the others to hold on to as they took those sharp turns. Mentally, she added making seatbelts to her to-do list.

Autumn grunted as her shoulder collided with the wall beside her once more. Beside her, Nethlia flashed her an apologetic look as she guided Ursa Ossa through the ramshackled goblin fortress.

Calling it a fortress was an insult to other fortresses. This particular example of keen goblin construction was composed of a series of mismatched walls, defenses, and broken buildings set randomly between a pair of lopsided gates. While likely unintentional, the chaotic nature of the redcaps’ defenses added a layer of confusion that stymied any assaulters. Autumn herself couldn’t tell whether the ruined nature of the fort was because of attacks from the fey host or simply a facet of goblin architecture.

Either way, it was annoying.

“Look out!” Autumn cried out as they thundered around a narrow bend only to see another ramshackled hut blocking their way. A myriad of redcap goblins stood atop it, hollering and hooting as they brandished rusted weapons at the party.

Nethlia grunted in annoyance. “I see it! Hold onto something back there!” she called back to the others.

“Wait, you’re not going to—”

Autumn’s words cut off as Ursa Ossa ducked their armored head low and, with a guttural roar, plowed through the wooden hut, much to the redcaps’ surprise. Like rain, they fell about the wagon, only to be crushed underfoot. The sounds of their crunching bones made Autumn wince even as the impact jerked her backwards, leather biting into her palm. From behind drifted curses and cries of surprise as the others lost their footing as well.

Shattering through the hut’s other wall, the wagon reemerged onto the cluttered path and continued towards the other gate.

“Everyone alright back there?” Nethlia called over her shoulder.

“We’re fine!” A pale Eme grunted as she picked herself up off the floor. “A few bruises, but nothing broken. Could use less of that, though! I almost threw up.”

“Not much of a choice there — this place is a fucking maze!”

“And we couldn’t cross through anywhere else why?” Pyre complained as she staggered to her feet to fire out at the goblins flinging themselves recklessly towards the wagon thundering past them.

Autumn looked back at the alchemist as she replied. “Cause the trenches to either side of the fortress were too wide and full of deep mud. Ursa Ossa would sink if we tried to push through there and then we’d be stuck. At least here we’re crossing solid ground.”

“It still sucks— Fuck!” Pyre cursed as an goblin arrow skittered off the outside of the arrowslit she stood before. Firing back through it at the archer, she screamed. “Fuck you, you fuckers!”

“Eloquent as ever,” Nelva drawled.

“Stuff it!”

A series of rapid thuds on the roof cut off the burgeoning argument. Swiftly following the impacts came the sound of rabid screams as the assaulting redcaps ineffectually chipped their rusted blades against the dragonbone armor cladding the wagon.

Liddie snapped her head up and grinned. “We got boarders, captain! Permission to engage?” she asked as she skillfully made her way to the front of the wagon where the hatch to the roof sat.

Of the team, she and Edwyn took to the swaying motion of the wagon the fastest.

Nethlia shook her head as she turned back. “No, we’ll try to shake them off first. They can’t get through the—”

“Look out!” Autumn screamed suddenly, pointing ahead. “Ogre!”

A giant of heavy muscle and bulging fat clad in coarse hair and filthy furs came roaring in from the side of the road where Autumn was pointing. Nethlia cursed and tried desperately to guide Ursa Ossa away, but it was too late. The giant crashed into the armored bear, ramming it off course and into another building.

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Nethlia and Autumn’s eyes widened as the wagon, obeying the laws of physics, swung towards the ignorant ogre.

“Hold on!” Was all Nethlia could cry before they slammed into the ogre’s side like the head of a flail.

The thickset beast grunted in surprise as the heavy war-wagon crashed into it, sending it staggering back. Screams of fright ripped through the air as the impact sent the goblins clinging to the roof flying. Like fleshy darts, they splattered across the ogre’s hide and the muddy stones.

Before the ogre could retaliate, a line of crossbow bolts zippered up its thick skin along its face, forcing it to shield its eyes with one meaty palm.

“Go! Go!” Liddie cried out as she reloaded hurriedly, the bolts clattering to the ground from her shaky fingertips.

Pulling herself back into her seat, Nethlia urged the undead to move with a thwack of the leather reins. With an almighty jerk, the wagon roared through the shattered building and out the other side.

Autumn felt like her arm was being wrenched out of its socket with all the sudden changes of direction battering her about.

A sudden ursine cry of shock caught Autumn’s attention. Looking up quickly, her eyes widened as she saw her undead bear plunge off a ledge, dragging the war-wagon with it.

“Oh, fuck!” Autumn swore as the wagon took a nose-dive off a fifteen-foot drop.

For a brief moment, she and the party were in free-fall. Autumn’s stomach dropped away from her as she was lifted off her feet.

Ursa Ossa hit the ground first. The massive armored undead landed on its forepaws, letting out an instinctive grunt before bounding forwards to pull the falling war-wagon out of its nose-dive. With a resounding crash, Dreadnought slammed into the ground belly first before springing back up.

While the levitation runes took most of the impact, the sudden deceleration still sent the adventurers on a rapid collision-course with the floor. Hard.

Autumn cried out in pain as the impact dislocated her shoulder.

Slumping in her seat, Autumn cradled her arm. With tears glittering in her eyes, she carefully raised and rotated her arm until her shoulder relocated with a slight pop. Stifling her cries, the dark-eyed witch gently eased the strained muscles with a wash of magic.

Beside her, Nethlia shook the cobwebs from her mind. She’d slammed her head into the bulkhead at the sudden stop. Thankfully, her new helm protected her, tanking most of the blow. Her only wound was a tiny cut on her brow that trickled blood down the berserker’s cheek. Groggily, she glanced over Autumn first before turning to look at the others in the back. “Anyone hurt back there?”

It was Nelva that called back. “We’re fine! Mostly,” she grunted. “Pyre’s leg is broken. Could we get some help splinting it first before we give her a healing potion, Autumn?”

“Sure. Give me a second,” Autumn grunted staggered to her feet.

Supporting herself on the wall, she awkwardly limped her way into the back. Her tailbone felt broken, but a test with her healing spell told her it was just heavily bruised.

She was definitely adding seatbelts the next time they stopped.

An acrid, pungent smell assaulted Autumn’s nose as she entered the main section of the Dreadnought. Gagging, she covered her nose. “What the hell is that smell?!”

Nelva looked Autumn’s way with a grimace as she supported Pyre’s broken leg. “Eme threw up.”

The pale catgirl gave them an apologetic look, her ears flat to her skull. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, her voice snuffly. “I don’t do well with motion.”

“Um, that’s alright,” Autumn reassured her. “I can clean that up, no problem.”

Taking out her wand, the dark-haired witch gathered the vomit staining her war-wagon into a stream and sent it flying out a nearby arrowslit. The projective puke struck a goblin in the face as it scrambled over a nearby building. It squealed in fright and shock, tumbling off the poorly-built building to its death.

Autumn winced at the sound of the goblin’s neck cracking.

Seemingly, the sound was a signal. Over the broken walls and buildings in every direction streamed a tide of goblins. The gibbering horde was packed so tightly that before long Autumn couldn’t see the streets or rooftops any longer. Only an ocean of green skin, gleaming red eyes, and crimson caps met her eyes.

Paling, Autumn called back to Nethlia. “Uh, Nethlia? Get us out of here, please!”

Nethlia looked out groggily at the screaming waves washing towards them before grimacing. Shaking herself, she called back, before lashing Ursa Ossa to get moving again. “Hold on! It’s going to get bumpy!”

“Going to?” Eme muttered shakily. “It wasn’t before?”

The mighty bear reared up with a tremendous roar at Nethlia’s urging before tearing forward towards the horde blocking their way. Like an icebreaker ship, the armored undead tore through the mass of green, crushing skulls and bones underfoot. The smell of death and voided bowels had Autumn gagging once more as the wagon lurched.

Catching herself on the wall, she made her way over to where Pyre lay. Kneeling down, Autumn helped Nelva realign the other girl’s leg with magic so that it’d heal properly once she’d downed her healing potion. Pyre grasped Autumn’s arm in a tight grip as she whimpered in pain.

Carefully, Autumn fused the splinters of broken bone back together within Pyre’s leg, the alchemist downing a potion when she was done. Wiping the dregs from her lips, Pyre groaned. “Can we not do that again? That sucked.”

Autumn smiled faintly. “No promises. There might be more cliffs for us to fall off of.”

“It’s good that you can make jokes,” Nelva clapped Autumn and Pyre on their shoulders. “But let’s get through this in one piece, okay? Now get back on the walls — it’s a target rich environment out there.”

Autumn nodded as she staggered her way back to the front of the wagon.

This hadn’t been exactly what she’d envisioned when they’d planned to push through the fortress on their way to the hag’s abode. From a distance, it looked tiny. Deserted. Yet within, they found themselves swarmed by a horde of vicious creatures who only felt hate in their hearts.

A glance outside burned her eyes. Out there lingered a maelstrom of madness, of unmatched hatred for all things but themselves.

Autumn’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking, no matter how much fear she tore free from herself. She clenched them tight, not wanting the others to see.

Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath. In and out. In and out.

When she opened her eyes, steel lay within them.

Slowly, the party tore through the gibbering horde threatening to bog them down through sheer numbers. Hundreds upon hundreds of screaming, maddened redcaps tore at their war-wagon’s walls with knife or cracked fingernails, leaving streaks of blood flowing down its beautiful engravings. Each sought to be the one to carve their way inside the Dreadnought to murder the adventurers defiantly cowering inside.

Behind the wagon thundered the troublesome ogre, killing all that got in the way of his heavy steps.

Bolts of violet magic screamed desperately out from the war-wagon to halt the giant, splashing viscously across its blubberous body. The giant roared in pain as the magic melted his flesh. Maddened, he rushed towards the back of the wagon, seeking to tear it apart with his club-like fists. Each step rocked the ground, sending ripples through the tide of green.

“Fuck! Pour it on ‘em!” Autumn cried.

Edwyn grunted as they fired bolt after bolt at the rampaging giant. “Pour what on ‘em? I ain’t goin’ out there!”

“It’s a figure of speech! Just kill that fucking giant!”

At her barked words of encouragement, more and more bolts of both poison and magic tore into the giant’s body. Furious, the ogre tried to press on and grab at the fleeing wagon, but could not as waterfalls of crimson blood poured freely from his numerous wounds. Sluggishly, he staggered after the war-wagon swinging his mighty fists through scores of goblins as they too chased after the adventurers.

Crimson washed over the Dreadnought like rain.

Finally, after an age of bloodshed, the mighty beast was felled. Slowed by bloodloss and poison, the ogre wasn’t able to shield himself in time as a lucky bolt from Edwyn’s crossbow pierced through his eye right into his brain. Blinking slowly, the giant fell like a mighty oak, crashing with a resounding boom onto the ground. Its prominent bulk crushed a legion of red-eyed goblins.

“Ha!” Edwyn crowed. “That one’s mine!”

Autumn gave the Manus a glare, although a smile quirked at the corner of lips. Quietly, she whispered. “That still only counts as one.”

Edwyn snorted, hearing the humor in Autumn’s voice.

The goblins faltered at seeing their leader fall. But only for a moment. They rallied surprisingly fast and surged towards the wagon relentlessly once more.

The smarter of them rushed towards the walls of the wagon and tried to shoot their crappy bows directly into the wagon through the arrowslits. While some of them succeeded in sending their cobbled together arrows bouncing around the interior of the war-wagon, none survived the retributive fire.

Luckily, no one on their side was hurt. Even with the poison resistance potions coursing through their veins, they didn’t want to test whatever foul substance the goblins coated their arrowheads with.

Great streams of blood seeped in through the slits and gaps as more and more bodies crumpled against the side of the wagon. Ravenous mounds crushed their fellows to death as they clambered atop the wagon, sagging it under the weight of their broken bodies.

Some even smarter goblins sought to cut the leather coupling the Dreadnought to Ursa Ossa.

“Get the fuck off my ride!” Autumn snarled as she sent bolts of deathly magic roaring out the front of the war-wagon. Boiled and blasted bodies rolled under the wagon in the face of the witch’s fury.

Nethlia raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Are you a berserker too?” she joked.

Autumn blushed. “Focus on driving, you!”

Nethlia laughed as she obeyed.

Finally, with a final, triumphant roar, Ursa Ossa tore through the press of goblin bodies and sundered the shuttered gates at the rear of the fortress. With their path unimpeded, the Dreadnought exited the fortress and thundered out into a landscape of burnt trees and flooded craters. Goblin arrows fell upon the fleeing wagon from the walls like an everpouring rain.

The soft plinking was almost soothing after the hell they’d just survived.

Looking forward, Autumn saw the blasted landscape abruptly change in the far distance into a scorching desert. The air lay clouded with screaming sandstorms.

While she couldn’t see it now, Autumn knew the hag’s abode lay beyond that sprawling desert.

Autumn glanced away from the horizon, staring into the back of the wagon and grimaced. A pool of goblin and ogre blood sloshed about their feet. Broken arrows and bolts floated in the crimson ocean like driftwood.

The others looked as shell-shocked as Autumn felt. They gazed idly around the cramped bloodstained interior of the Dreadnought, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Autumn was wondering the same thing herself.

It felt like forever had passed in a moment.

Maybe it had, knowing the Feywild.

Turning to Nethlia, Autumn spoke. “Hey, you alright? You’re bleeding.”

Nethlia reached up and felt her cut brow with a frown. “I’m fine — it’s just a cut. How are you doing? That was…”

Autumn shuddered. “Yeah, hopefully that’s the worst of it,” she reassured Nethlia unconvincingly. She didn’t even believe it herself, after all.

“Yeah, maybe—”

“Uh guys?” Eme voice interrupted what Nethlia was going to say. “Is it just me, or is there a large pack of wolves chasing after us?”

Autumn shared a glance with Nethlia before rushing to the back. Stopping beside Eme, Autumn peeked out the window slits lining the back door.

Ice ran down her spine at what she saw.

True to Eme’s words, a massive pack of wolves came barreling out of the shattered gates they’d just left. On each of the beast’s backs rode a fur-clad goblin brandishing wicked spears and stolen bows. The worst part of it was they were gaining on them. Fast.

While tireless, Ursa Ossa wasn’t the fastest beast around. Evidently.

Watching as the wolves gained ground, Autumn noticed something odd gathering on the horizon behind them. Great dark clouds like thunderstorms rolled towards them, swallowing the light. Yet, there was something off about these clouds — they moved far too erratically to be natural. In fact, they reminded her of sparrow swarms.

Autumn paled.

Like rolling thunder, the caws of the grand murder cracked through the air as it flew unerringly towards the Dreadnought.

An omen of death took wing.

“A-alight. D-don’t panic, everyone! R-reload what you can — we’re about to have company.”

As everyone else grimly reloaded their repeating crossbows with fresh bolts, Autumn rushed back through the wagon towards the front. Stopping beside Nethlia, she gripped the seat tightly as she stared out towards the desert sands in the distance.

“We’ve got followers. Think we can lose them in those sandstorms?”

Nethlia grinned. “Sure thing. Never been in a desert before. This’ll be fun.”

With a snap of the reins, she urged Ursa Ossa into a dead — hah! — sprint, kicking up broken earth and mud behind them as the Dreadnought raced for the shifting sands.

Behind them, the wolf riders howled and bayed for blood beneath a darkening sky.