Goblins!

The days blended into one nightmare. They were up in the saddle all day and rode until it was impossible to follow the road. Occasionally they ran across signs that the goblins had passed through a certain place or camped in a deserted town. There were approximately 50 hunters, hunting for the goblins. Dressed in tough travel clothes they looked quite fearsome. At night they would throw themselves to the ground pillowing their heads on saddles and sleep hard for a few hours. If the weather was favorable and there was a moon, they would travel hard through the night until the moon set. Finally after a week of hard traveling they ran into a goblin raiding party.

Jerlom was the first to see the goblins. He raised a horn to his lips and charged down upon the goblins brandishing a spear. We followed suite and ripped through the goblins. Nat raced through slashing to either side with his sword. He had never fought on horseback but it was not too much harder than fighting on foot. Reining his horse in after ripping through the goblins, Nat strung a bow and fitted an arrow to it. He aimed at a goblin and let fly the missile. It struck its mark and Nat went on taking down goblin after goblin. The goblins fled and were pursued by the villagers. The fighting died down as soon as it had started. They managed to capture a goblin and Nat noticed its features for the first time. It was shorter than a man but the thick legs and arms were obviously more powerful than most men’s. The eyes were slanted in and yellow wolf-like. His mouth was fixed in a perpetual sneer from a nasty scar on the creature’s face and the pale grey skin looked hard and calloused. The goblin wore leather armor with knife-like protrusions all over. Jerlom rode up and began to question him.

“Where are you from?”

“We came from the South. The High One promised us lots of slaves and loot in exchange for service!” The goblins voice grated on Nat’s ears.

“Who is this High One?”

“We are not permitted to speak of The High One’s name!” The goblin suddenly collapsed in a fit of wheezing coughs. “I cannot speak His name!”

“Can you write his name?” The goblin appeared puzzled by Jerlom’s question at first and then shook with fear.

“To speak The High One’s name is death! Instant death! He has cursed us and blessed us! We must serve him always!”

Jerlom glanced around uneasily. This was sorcerer’s business what with curses and all. He then tried to find out if the goblin could write but had no success in getting anything but babble about the High One’s curse and blessing and occasionally tid-bits about the goblin’s home village. They finally had to continue moving on. They bound the goblin and he jogged along in the middle of the group. The goblin was very strong and Nat realized that he was wounded in the shoulder yet he was able to keep up with the horses at a trot.

Nat nodded to Dyl saying he would be back shortly and rode over to the goblin. “Have you a name?” he queried the goblin.

“Aye, I am Gronth of the Stone Head tribe” was the reply. Nat started talking to the goblin and making normal conversation. Gradually he became to the Gronth’s gravelly gruff voice and learned that Gronth was accounted good with a scimitar or sword among his people. He learned that Gronth was really quite young for a goblin, being about 35 years of age.

“How old do you goblins live to be?”

“My father is 341” was the gravelly reply. Nat could not believe it. 341! Nat discovered that even these goblins were just making a living and surviving. That evening, finding some good sticks, Nat sparred with Gronth. Gronth seemed to enjoy the work out and he said that the wound slowed him but a little. Nat wondered what Gronth was capable of in perfect condition. He was already so good Nat had to defend himself most of the time. Gronth also proved quite honorable in the sparring. He said many among his people were honorable but to humans they only appeared to be savage. Nat fell asleep that night pondering all these new discoveries.