3rd Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj
"Lieutenant Kairn!"
The half-orc scowled and turned to the right to eye the approaching hobgoblin.
For some reason, Kairn had never liked the way his name rolled off the tongue in the goblin language. He'd just as soon the damn hobbies spoke Common, or even orcish. That wasn't an option, of course. All the hobgoblins stationed in the fort were from the same remote tribe, whose lair was a few days march southwards in the central Drachensgrabs. Their leader insisted that learning the tongue of man, or any foreign tongue for that matter, was a "waste of time," which could be put to better use, such as additional training in warfare.
Fat load of good that had done them tonight. Kairn had been told they'd lost at least a dozen hobgoblins already, not to mention the cloaker and presumably, everyone who had been in the kitchen.
Including Commander Icar. The lieutenant couldn't help but wonder about that. Although he had never said so, the half-orc had been in awe of the Kara-Turan's fighting skills, especially considering his handicap. Kairn, with his greatsword that he called "Winnower," was no mere novice as a warrior, and Captain Stalworth, with a sword that put Winnower to shame, was (Kairn admitted reluctantly) even better. Still, he wouldn't have bet that the two of them combined could have ever taken on Icar and emerged victorious.
Thus, it did make sense to Kairn when he heard that one of the invaders' six warriors was also a Kara-Turan and carried the same type of samurai sword as Icar. They must be extraordinary fighters in general, the half-orc reasoned.
Kairn kept his arms stretched out in front of him at just-above chest height, both hands grasping Winnower's pommel and the sword's tip resting on the floor, so as to be better show off the weapon's massive size. Although smaller than his hobgoblin troops in stature, Kairn knew how to cut an impressive figure. While he admired the military discipline and relative cleanliness of the hobbies as compared to the other humanoids employed by the slavers, he knew they placed an inordinate amount of emphasis on appearances. So, to keep morale high, he and Captain Stalworth gave their soldiers the impressive-looking leaders they wanted.
So, here he was, standing alone in the corridor intersection thirty feet north of the kitchen. No one ever got within five feet of the lieutenant if they could help it, in deference to his rank and his sword.
Not necessarily in that order.
Now the lieutenant could only hope that his troops would get the job done his time. He frowned as he looked at the shield held in the hand of the approaching hobgoblin. Like that of every other hobbie in the stockade, it bore a yellow sun atop a mountain peak. The tribe's name was supposed to be something fierce and terrifying, but in Common it came out as "Pus Drippers," or something revolting of that nature. Instead of fear, it inspired only nausea. Perhaps to a hobgoblin, those two were always related.
Kairn shook these thoughts off as his subordinate pulled up short in front of him, just outside the required distance.
"What is it, Sergeant Kezz?"
The humanoid's face held a fierce grin, which Kairn didn't feel was warranted under the circumstances.
"Gulyet is ready, lieutenant. Her spells are ready to cast but says they will not last long. She requests that we send her notice when the intruders are near. Captain Stalworth reports all forces are in final position." A bestial light seemed to shine in Kezz's yellow eyes. "These scum won't escape us now."
Kairn grunted. "They've done a fair job of it so far, sergeant." The half-orc returned his gaze to his front. Seven hobgoblins stood in the short corridor that ran south, ending in the door to the kitchen. Just in front of the door, two of their strongest, armed with battleaxes, were steadily chopping away at the door.
The introduction of external light disturbed his darkvision. Kairn spun around to his left, where another half-dozen hobgoblins were congregating on the stairs that led up to the guard tower's trapdoor. A flicker of torchlight came through the open door in the ceiling.
"Put that light out, you boggle-brains!" the lieutenant roared.
The light flickered wildly for a moment, and then went out.
"These humans have two glowing swords with them, and that's it!" Kairn shouted at the hobbies on the stairs. They knew they were only the proxies for the half-orc's anger, but they flinched nonetheless at his voice.
"I want them blinded by darkness as soon as possible," the half-orc continued, turning back to the south again. He wanted to make sure all of his troops present heard this.
"Listen up, you maggots!"
The hobgoblins to both south and east turned to him, the two axe wielders at the front stopping their labor as well.
The lieutenant leaned forward slightly, tightening his grip on his sword. "These accursed humans have already gotten a lot further than they should have!" Kairn's brown eyes raked over his troops. "Their continued existence carries not only our shame, but the wasted blood of your kin as well!"
Eyes narrowed, and guttural mutterings and outright growls erupted.
All too easy, Kairn thought. He narrowed his eyes and raised his voice. "Will you let this continue?"
A roaring chorus of "No!" erupted from numerous humanoid throats, followed by shouts, rattling of swords and general posturing. Kairn let it go on for about thirty seconds, and then gestured for silence again.
"Now, remember! Once the door is broken down, I want you all charging into that room! May Maglubiyet help anyone I see getting involved in a fight in the doorway! We outnumber them- I want our advantage used, not squandered! Surround them inside, and then hack them to pieces!"
The hobbies grunted their acknowledgement.
Kairn lowered his voice again. "At my command, break the door down." The lieutenant saw Kezz eyeing him questioningly. He sighed loudly enough to let the hobgoblin know he was irritated, then responded. "Yes, sergeant?"
Kezz indicated the kitchen door. " Do you really think Commander Icar is dead, sir?"
"No, Kezz. I'm sure he invited them in for one of those tea ceremonies of his." What a damn stupid question, he thought. Does he really think Icar would allow himself to be taken alive?
The sergeant was embarrassed, having evidently latched onto this train of thought. Trying to recover his bravado, he shrugged. "I'm sure he must have taken at least some of them down with him."
Kairn glared at Kezz coldly. "Well then, if that's the case you hobbies should be able to finish off the leftovers, right?"
Kezz bristled. He detested that nickname for his people, and he knew that his superior knew that. He also knew that complaining to Captain Stalworth about it would only make things much, much worse for himself, so he choked it down. Trying to keep calm, the hobgoblin again indicated the kitchen with a nod of his head.
"Do you think they've discovered either of the passages down to the dungeon?"
Now it was the half-orc's turn to shrug. "I doubt it, but it doesn't really matter. If they have, and they retreat down into the dungeon when we break in, Markessa and Blackthorn will make short work of them. However," and here Kairn again turned a cold eye to his subordinate, "you can be sure there will be reprisals afterwards, for allowing them to get down there in the first place. I'm sure you've heard about how Markessa doesn't like to be disturbed when she's- working."
Kezz swallowed hard. He had heard.
"But- that wouldn't be our fault! That would be Icar's! "
Kairn favored the hobgoblin with a bitter smile. "Dead men make poor choices for punishment, sergeant. Besides, Markessa is always in need of new test subjects."
The hobgoblin's face went pale as Kairn turned again to the soldiers on the stairs. Once the first wave has pushed into the kitchen, you will follow." He paused for a moment. "I trust that your brethren will not allow the humans to escape the kitchen, but if they do, you are to wait until they turn this corner and head for the outside," and here he pointed down the corridor towards the west, "and then attack them from the rear. Two of the humans are in plate mail- you should have no trouble keeping up with them. And if they're still alive by the time you reach the parade grounds, we'll have them trapped, between our forces and Captain Stalworth's. Our little goblin shaman will put the finishing touches on- to ensure that they'll never know what hit them."
The hobgoblins broke into a ragged cheer. With a flicker of his eyes, Kairn directed Kezz back into the fourth rank, awaiting their breakthrough. The sergeant was not happy at being denied a special place in the upcoming glory, but he obeyed. As Kairn knew he would.
An honest if ugly grin broke out on the lieutenant's face. Soon, this unpleasant business would be over. It was not lost on the half-orc that in all probability, Stalworth was going to be promoted to Commander after all this was over, leaving Kairn as the new Captain.
Very nice indeed. Kairn reminded himself to drink a toast to Icar when he got the chance.
He raised his right hand, directing his gaze at the two axe wielders. The door beyond looked like it was about ready to go down.
"All right, you slackers! Give it all you've got, on three!"
The hobgoblins grinned, spat on their hands and gripped their battleaxes with both hands.
"ONE!"
The humanoids hoisted their weapons, the second rank behind them taking a step backwards.
"TWO!"
The hobgoblins wound up. Every muscle on their bodies tensed.
"THREE!"
And the door exploded.
Outwards.
Amidst a shower of wood debris, the humans came charging through. There was some kind of thunk sound, and Kairn saw the two front hobbies go down. Caught us off-guard, he thought. He knew there was a chance that might have happened.
"Stop them!" he yelled at his troops. "Push them back!"
The second rank of hobgoblins went down.
Kairn's eyes went wide.
"What the-" he said to no one in particular.
The third rank went down.
Lieutenant Kairn was not easily frightened, but he was now taking a few steps back, bringing Winnower up into battle position. His eyes frantically scanned the scene in front of him, trying to ascertain what the situation was. It was hard to tell, between the fourth and last rank still in front of him, and the general chaos of battle.
There seemed to be only six of the enemy. Sergeant Kezz had apparently been correct in that Icar or his forces had slain some of the intruders. That was some comfort, but the remaining humans seemed to have somehow transformed themselves into an unstoppable juggernaut.
A male fighter in plate mail and a female in chainmail were in the front line, but it almost seemed as if- as if they weren't even armed. A faint red glow behind the male indicated that he had strapped his glowing sword behind his back.
There was no sign of the glowing white sword. That one must be dead, Kairn thought.
Their second line consisted of the Kara-Turan and the other female, also clad in chain. They were being brutally efficient, attacking the downed hobgoblins beneath them as they followed their leaders' overrun.
Behind them were the two wizards. Kairn blinked again. Each mage was also a light source, neither one of which the half-orc was expecting.
The taller one on the right was wielding his quarterstaff, but both ends had apparently been wrapped with rags, dipped in tallow wax from the kitchen's storeroom and set ablaze, turning it into a double torch. The human was handling this impromptu weapon with some aplomb, slamming the burning end onto the hobbies beneath him. Kairn was almost impressed. Humans usually didn't fight this fiercely, in his experience.
The magic-user was really swinging that staff around, the half-orc thought. He was amazed that his fellow wizard's face and hair didn't catch on fire from that twirling firestick.
The shorter mage on the left had no staff but was carrying something in the crook of his left arm. It looked like... it looked like...
Kairn squinted.
It was a kettle.
A small, black iron pot from the kitchen, with a mouth perhaps a foot wide.
Kairn continued to squint. There was a reddish glow coming from the kettle.
The half-orc's mouth dropped wide open in astonishment as the red-robed wizard stuck his bare hand into the pot and came out holding a big glob of red-hot grease. Flames flickered over the viscous liquid's surface.
The mage showed no discomfort at all from this.
Icar's ring!
This information came flying into Kairn's head at about the same time the burning glob of grease came flying at it. The half-orc twisted and ducked, and just barely managed to avoid the flaming missile.
This was getting out of hand.
The humans were coming closer, and now the lieutenant caught a momentary glimpse of something.
Something the two fighters in front were carrying.
He couldn't tell what it was, but there was only one thing it could be.
The final incredulity of all this was too much for the half-orc.
"By the gods!" he cried out. "Where in the Nine Hells did they get a BATTERING RAM?"
Carrying the petrified form of Elrohir horizontally between them at about chest height, Argo and Nesco charged ahead as fast as their heavy load would let them move. Acting together on an unspoken wavelength, they swung the statue around. First, a stone head crashed into one hobbie, and then the stone feet would smash into another's stomach, doubling it over.
Hobgoblins went down like tenpins.
Nesco could hear the dying screams of hobgoblins behind them that she knew the others were dispatching. Something about that disturbed the ranger, but she put it out of her mind as best she could.
It's us or them.
There was now only one rank of two hobbies in front of them, and a half-orc wearing banded mail and carrying a greatsword in back of them. He's got 'leader' written all over him, Lady Cynewine thought. If we can take him out, perhaps their morale will break.
Meanwhile, one of the remaining hobgoblins had apparently learned something watching his companions' demise. He took the statue swing on his shield, then snarled and stabbed high with his longsword at Argo's face.
The big ranger rotated Elrohir around fast, and a stone Gokasillion parried the attack. Argo pushed hard and upwards with a mighty shove, and the stone ranger's forehead smashed into the hobgoblin's fleshy one.
It wasn't much of a contest.
The big ranger laughed loudly. "Elrohir's an even better fighter today than usual! Too bad he's not here to see himself in action!"
"Damn you to Hades, Argo Bigfellow! If something happens to Elrohir, I swear I'll kill you myself!"
Talass, currently behind Argo, could barely control her rage at the ranger's seemingly cavalier attitude. She again took out her frustrations on the poor hobbie beneath her, caving the humanoid's skull in with a mighty swing of her warhammer. If the supply of humanoid craniums ran out, Talass didn't think she'd be able to stop herself from targeting the back of Bigfellow's head, so temptingly located right in front of her.
Tojo was back in form, silently stabbing every fallen form beneath him. For the moment at least, he seemed his old reliable self.
Zantac, like Argo, was having a ball.
"This ring is great, Argo!" the Willip wizard called out to the front. "When we get back to the Brass Dragon, I'll give up any other shares for it!"
Cygnus smirked as he jammed his flaming quarterstaff into the gaping hole in a hobgoblin's chest left by Tojo's katana.
"You think we have problems now; wait until it's time to divvy up the swag! Even a silence spell won't quell that screaming match!"
Zantac only grinned in return. "Trust me Cygnus, when it comes to people shouting and grasping for magic items, you people have nothing on my Guild!"
Nesco frowned. She had just seen the half-orc turn to the east and shout out something in the goblin tongue.
The guard tower hobgoblins, she thought. This could be bad.
Incredibly, in the next moment the half-orc yelled something else- Nesco could only make out Kezz- at the remaining hobbie right in front of her, and then took off running down the west corridor.
Both Lady Cynewine and the hobgoblin stared at the intersection that the half-orc had just vacated.
They then looked back at each other with identical expressions of astonishment.
Then Nesco dropped her half of Elrohir on his foot.
The humanoid screamed in agony, dropping his shield. Nesco swiftly drew her dagger and plunged it into the creature's throat. Vainly trying to remove the embedded blade, the hobbie staggered back into the intersection. As he dropped to the floor, Nesco picked up her end of the party's burden, and they moved on.
Cygnus, like the other members of his party before him, stared at the hobgoblins gathered on the staircase leading up to the guard tower. He wasn't sure why they weren't attacking. They were either waiting for some kind of signal, or just hesitating from sheer terror.
Perhaps a little of both.
The question seemed to be answered as the party finished its turn through the intersection and headed west.
The hobbies suddenly charged, weapons drawn and screaming battle cries.
"Take this," Cygnus muttered, tossing his fiery staff to Zantac. The shorter mage, caught off guard, fumbled for a moment before finally grabbing it just below its tip.
I wonder if this ring has a time limit per day, or something like that? the Willip wizard wondered idly as he watched the flames curl harmlessly around his right hand.
Suddenly, Zantac remembered that he was about to die.
He looked up.
The hobgoblins were almost upon them. The magic-user's mouth dropped open in shock.
"Uh, Cygnus? Spell?"
The lead hobgoblin thrust his sword at Zantac in a charging attack- only to be suddenly stopped by a white wall of sticky spider webs.
The milky filaments filled up the ten by ten intersection, as well as the stairway behind it. The party heard the cries and screams of the entrapped humanoids grow fainter as they continued on.
"Could you have cut that any closer?" Zantac grumbled as he thrust Cygnus' quarterstaff back into its owner's hand.
The tall mage grimaced. "I thought that was pretty close myself, Zantac, but if you really want, I'll try."
As they pushed open the door to the inner courtyard, Argo tensed up and then relaxed that there were no hobgoblins immediately about. The ranger took a big gulp of the cool night air.
Bigfellow was no longer laughing and joking. His arms were in absolute agony. The petrified Elrohir had to weigh over 800 pounds, and even sharing the load with a similarly strength-enhanced Nesco, the burden was getting to be too much. From the grunting of Lady Cynewine beside him, it was obvious the strain was getting to her as well.
It was also not lost on the ranger that their strength spells were probably due to expire in less than a minute.
Every head twisted and turned, scanning above and to the sides, alert for possible hobgoblin ambush. As they skirted the fountain, Argo could dimly see the archway that marked the location of the portcullis that separated the parade grounds from the outer courtyard. It was still a good hundred feet away, at least.
We won't even make it that far with him, he realized glumly
As the party reached the end of the inner courtyard, Bigfellow felt a tap on his shoulder.
"What now, Argo?" came the voice of Talass behind him.
The big ranger sighed while adjusting his grip on Elrohir. "I don't know, good lady," he said wearily.
He turned his head around to look at the cleric. On his face was that pained smile.
"To tell you the truth, I didn't think we'd make it this far."
"Look out!" yelled Nesco.
An arrow whizzed by just to the left of Argo's head. Bigfellow looked ahead. He could just barely make them out in the moonlight, but there were several hobgoblins standing directly behind the portcullis, firing at them through the gate with bows.
Argo looked up. The top of the gatehouse was lined with bow-wielding hobbies as well.
For some reason though, these ones weren't firing.
Argo looked around. "There!" he yelled, pointing towards the east gatehouse tower. "There's got to be a door on the far side of that! If we can get inside for a moment, we may have the chance to renew the strength spells!"
"The gatehouse? It's probably crawling with hobbies!"
"I wouldn't doubt it, my good lady, but our options are slim right now!"
The sextet started moving again. The tower was about forty feet away.
It seemed to be taking forever. At the halfway point, they had at least moved out of view of the hobgoblins behind the portcullis. The humanoids on the top of the gatehouse followed the party's progress with drawn bows, but still did not open fire.
"I don't like this," Cygnus offered, staring up at the creatures above them. "Why aren't they shooting at us?"
Zantac shrugged. "They're probably waiting for some sort of-"
Cygnus turned his head to look at his fellow magic-user.
Sort of what?
He spoke the words, but nothing came out.
Cygnus wildly looked around. The entire party was now sporting wild-eyed looks of surprise. The awful truth came crashing home to Cygnus in the next instant.
A silence spell. And this time, it wasn't theirs.
Everyone stopped, heads whirling around in every direction, looking for a hobgoblin ambush.
No one saw anything, however.
Until it was too late.
A muscular arm suddenly wrapped itself around Argo's neck and yanked him off to the left. The ranger caught a brief glimpse of Nesco being simultaneously pulled off to the right by a hobgoblin that hadn't been there a second ago.
The petrified Elrohir tumbled to the ground. Talass' mouth opened wide in a silent scream as she saw two fist-sized chunks of the statue break off on impact.
But there was no time for anything further. In an instant, she too was grappling with a hobgoblin that had just popped out of invisibility.
Cygnus saw Tojo and Zantac likewise grappling with opponents who had materialized out of thin air. He himself seemed to be attacker-free at the moment, so he looked around, trying to get a handle on the situation.
Around the corner of the very tower they were heading towards came more hobgoblins. Perhaps a dozen.
Cygnus looked behind him.
At least another six hobbies, many still sporting remnants of white webs clinging to them, were rushing out of the inner courtyard towards them.
And far off to the west, perhaps eighty feet away, by the stables in the western tower, Cygnus could see a large wolf with silvery-white fur slowly walking towards them.
Astride the wolf was a goblin. Six more goblins on foot stood nearby.
Cygnus' only regret was that he allowed himself that one moment of hope.
Goodbye, Thorin, he mouthed.
The hobgoblin grappling with Zantac was the closest enemy to Cygnus, so he swung his flaming quarterstaff at the humanoid.
An arm, this one encased in overlapping bands of metal rather than leather, grabbed the staff in the middle and tore it out of the wizard's hand.
Cygnus turned to find himself staring into the brown eyes and grinning face of the half-orc. The creature's thick lips moved soundlessly.
Surprise, Cygnus could make out, just before Kairn's fist filled his whole world.