At the town hall in the center of Goodland, Sheriff Brim calls a meeting. "Everyone who can attend this should. It involves everyone here." Already the people are nervous and frightend with wild rumors of goblin warbands moving through the wilderness slaughtering isolated families. Some have seen the banner of these monsters, that of a savage hatchet dripping blood.
The people of Goodland are simple folk, but with the news of the king’s death it is as though a shroud has been cast over the land. They have begun preparing for a fight, bringing in their carts, making barricades between some buildings, fashioning crude spears. But it the fear of the unknown that is their greatest enemy now.
Outside is Captain Scrimm and his guards, watching over the glaring Kilmoorian prisoners. He wonders if they will be able to make it through the night, for it does seem that an attack of some sort is imminent. Also keeping an eye on them is the scruffy Dril, constantly running his hands over his fighting knives.
Tending the horses is the red haired girl called Jinx. The guards from Redshore just look at her and shake their heads, muttering to themselves about her being very bad luck.
Galith the pixie has gone off to scout the area. It is dark and his wings, as he flies, do become somewhat luminescent. They glow a soft yellow. He tries to flit from tree to tree, hoping to be unnoticed by the biggers who may be out here. Hoping to find something that might halp his comrades back in town.
In the large, wooden hall about fifty of the folk gather. Fathers and mothers hold their children, spears and pitchforks in hand. They are no warriors, but they do not plan on being an easy target to marauders, Kilmoorians, or even the goblins of the Bloody Hatchet Tribe. They will fight.
Brim calls the meeting to order. Right behind him is Maurice, Kazier, and Victor. "I have some people from Redshore with me. They would like to talk to you some about what’s happening."
Stepping to the side of Brim comes Maurice. He is a rather large orc with a bright red bandanna and what appears to be ill-fitting elven clothing. His eyes sweep the crowd, looking them over. "I was once one of the King’s Wardens up in Brudic and I have fought the goblin menace before. They are a dangerous and murderous breed. If what I think is true they will attack tonight. Should we be unprepared we will not live to see the dawn."
Hearing this some of the women and children begin to cry. Having a burly, fanged orc tell them of imminent doom is not something they need to hear. Victor steps alongside him and puts a hand on his muscular shoulder. Behind them stays Kazier, not wanting to be any part of this bantering at all.
Taking a deep breath Victor then begins to speak. "People of Goodland we need to make pits and fill them with spears on the off chance that we are attacked. We have seen a family not far from here who were indeed killed by these animals. You are making preparations right now, let us make more."
Victor’s strong voice reaches the crowd and they take heart at what he says. They nod their heads and raise their make-shift weapons. "Aye! If we’re gonna be battled let’s give them goblins the spear and the sword!"
Sheriff Brim leans in to Victor. "They like listening to you. I think you can get them to do what you want!"
Leading them outside Victor and Maurice help organize the town’s defenses. Scrimm will remain in the center of things, along with the prisoners to help keep them protected. It is also probably the safest place to be. He watches his new comrades move about quickly acting very decisively. "Both of them must have been in the military," he says to himself. "Let’s just hope it’s in vain. If we get attacked by goblins, a lot of people are going to die."
Near midnight Galith comes flying back. He lands on Captain Scrimm’s shoulder. "I saw the goblins, there’s a lot of them. They’re at a cave a long ways out in the forest. A couple of them are on watch, great, toothy biggers with gray skin and furs. I haven’t been alive for a long time but I think they are gonna come here and kill everybody they can."
"Not if I can help it," says Maurice, overhearing the pixie. "We’re setting up spear walls and digging trenches. When they come we’ll be ready."
The pixie buzzes up. "I hope you are. There are a lot of them Maurice."
Scrimm gives a heavy sigh. "If we are going to be attacked for sure then I need to do something about the Kilmoorians." He looks to Dril. "Can you watch them? Keep them in cages by the town hall and protect them? We’ll be needed to help in Goodland’s defense."
The sprig gives a smile and nods, spitting out some chew on the ground. "Don’t worry, I’ll guard them as best I can." He gives the prisoners a very unpleasant grin, narrowing his eyes. "I’ll make sure they stay alive to keep their date with the torturers up in Greyhelm."
"Uh, good," replies Scrimm, not really knowing what else to say.
Galith hovers in front of the Captain, looking over at a nearby tavern. The diminuitive pixie scratches his spikey hair on his head, thinking. "Why don’t we move some of the kegs of beer and stuff to one of the outer houses, ones not inside our defenses."
"Why?"
The pixie gives a big smile. "Well, they might find the booze and decide to drink it up instead of fighting. It’s a crazy idea but it could work, don’t ya think?"
Scrimm smiles at the thought. "You know Galith, you might just be right."
Both Victor Norelven and Maurice leChavilier move among the townsfolk doing what they can to help bolster their morale and confidence. Victor sends out four hunters that live in the town, setting them up as guards to help alert them to a goblin advance. "You gentlemen know the area, the enemy does not. Don’t let them have surprise on us."
Keeping to the sidelines in Kazier. He doesn’t assist in preparations and is very much lost in his own thoughts. Several times he draws out his sword and knives, looking them over. They are good weapons, but he knows that he’ll need better ones in the future if he lives past this night. Try as he might he pushes away the thoughts of his sister and home, concentrating on the conflict to come.
Maurice goes and helps set up some of the spear walls, being very cheerful and pleasant to the townsfolk. It is obvious they are nervous around the big orc, but he does all he can to be as nice as possible. His behaviour is so, so strange, so non-orcish. Maurice laughs, smiles, tells jokes, and seems quite merry.
Jinx notices this, and thinks that Maurice is indeed acting very different from how she would expect one of his race to be. He seems considereate, helpful, and not really looking towards the impending battle. She goes over to him. "You know if I didn’t know better I would think you were an elf."
With that he just gives a hearty laugh and bows to her. "My dear lady, I am an elf. It never ceases to amaze me how many have made that mistake so recently. True, I am beefy for one of my kind, not thin and willowy. However, the proof is in my ears."
"Your ears?" She says, a bit wide eyed.
"They’re pointed! Everyone knows elves have pointed ears you know!"
"But . . . ." However she just lets her voice trail off. Obviously he truly believes he is an elf, it isn’t just an act. It is one of the strangest things she has ever seen.
"If their leader is Rexxar, he’ll go for the Temple of Gweir," says Maurice. "You should go there it will probably be the safest part of the town. He’ll only get there if the rest of us are dead, and that isn’t going to happen! I don’t let my friends down!" He gives her a toothy smile, tips his head, then goes back to the rough barricades to continue helping.
She blinks a few times, not really knowing what to say or think. If battle is coming however, she knows she can be of help with the wounded. Going to the Temple of Gweir along with a few other of the townsfolk, they begin making bandages and setting up areas where their hurt will be tended.
Inside the temple she sees a golden statue of Gweir. "I guess that’s what he’s coming for," she says to herself, cutting white cloth into long, thin strips. "Rellian help us."
Food is brought out to the defenders at the walls, meats, cheeses and wine. The people from Redshore are quite grateful. "Thank you, dear ladies," says Victor. "Even in dire times such as these you are still very hospitable."
"We try to be good in Goodland," answers one with a smile. Before leaving the lady gives him a more serious look. "Thank you for helping us, you could have easily gone on by. This isn’t your fight."
He looks her in the eye. "How could it not be? Are we not all Corvellians? We must band together if we are to survive the coming storms of war."
The darkness of the night grows deeper still, and torches are flung outwards, to see what might be lurking in the shadows. Kazier, Victor, and surprisingly Maurice all have bows and bring them out. There are a few other archers in the town, but other than Sheriff Brim and those from Redshore, there seem to be no true warriors.
Victor looks to Maurice and sees that he does indeed have a very fine elven bow. He almosts asks a question, but does not. Obviously the big orc thinks he is elvish, he even talks several times in that language to Kazier. The two communicate quite easily, and the other elf doesn’t seem to think that anything is amiss at all.
From out of the surrounding forests comes Galith, a halo of gold around him as he flies. "They’re coming!" He yells in his tiny voice. The outer archers are right behind him, leaping past pit traps and getting behind the defenses along with the rest of everyone. From the forests comes bellowings, roars, the sounds of the approaching enemy.
They appear first as shadows, great, muscular beings charging through the night towards them. They are wild haired, with long, jagged fangs. Their eyes glint red in the scattering torchlight, crude weapons of iron and wood in their clawed hands. These creatures of chaos come rushing in from all directions, lusting for combat and blood. Some come riding in on great, furred wolves, brandishing spears.
As they come charging, they go right by the outer buildings and head right for the center of town. "So much for the drunk idea!" Says Galith, flying even higher now.
"Goblins," hisses Maurice through his teeth. Having drawn an arrow he lets it fly, the missle striking one warg-rider in the chest. Quickly he fires again, this time it hits in the throat and the goblin goes tumbling off his howling mount.
Victor, Kazier, and the other archers fire as well. These hulking humanoids take several hits each before falling. They are very powerful and death does not claim them easily. Some are killed but not nearly enough.
The warg-riders rush by, not attempting to leap over the spear walls and defenses, heading back to the relative safety of the forest. The goblins on foot come charging on, waving their crude weapons, swords, axes, and headcatchers amongst them. Leading them on is one larger than all the rest, carrying a jagged battle axe.
Rexxar.
Some of the townsfolk hurl forward bottles of flaming oil. Where they strike a great blast of fire flashes momentarily and then goes into a slow, fluttering burn. Some goblins are hit and shriek in agony as fire consumes them. Some burning goblins continue to charge, impaling themselves on the rows of spears instead of burning to death.
As they come close, Maurice, and Victor draw blades, and stand together. Behind them steps Kazier, continuing to fire away with his bow. Not too far away Captain Scrimm and his guards are doing the same, preparing to meet these monsters in hand to hand combat.
Getting close the goblins jump, landing on the carts, scrambling over the barricades. They are met by spears, pitchforks and swords. Most are impaled over and over before getting across. Some do make it, and create bloody havoc. One swings it’s long, curved headcatcher, slashing off the top of one man’s head. Those that get past the defenses are vicious, very difficult to kill and take down. The townsfolk swarm them and overwhelm them with sheer numbers.
Above the raging battle below, Galith casts a few pranksterish spells. Some of the goblins start to do spastic dancing, but all it really does is slow some down. His magics have little power over such fearsome creatures.
The first goblin at their barricade takes Maurice’s saber across his upper arm before having his skull split in half by Victor. Another leaps across, taking an arrow in the gut by Kazier. Landing the goblin roars, raising it’s spiked club with both hands into the air. Maurice stabs it through the back, blade going out it’s chest.
Over and over the goblins rush in, and each time they are butchered. In the intense combat many townsfolk fall, as do some of the guards from Redshore. Maurice takes a stab to his chest, Victor takes a wound to his leg, and Kazier gets slashed across an arm. The three of them working together hold their position.
Rexxar makes it to Captain Scrimm, and soon the two of them are locked in a life and death struggle. Sword meets axe as they hack and stab away with mad abandon. Around them their people battle and do the same. The halfbreed snarls as Scrimm’s sword cuts him across his forehead, dark red blood dripping down Rexxar’s monstrous face.
The warg-riders regroup and charge, coming at part of the town that is no longer actively defended. The people there are either dead or wounded so badly they are on their backs in agony. The riders are ten in number, and if they can get inside they can charge down and slaughter all those in their way.
"Over there!" Yells Victor, seeing what the goblins are trying to do. "We are being flanked!" The three race over, grabbing spears as they go. The charging war-riders strike that position as hard as they can, and find that a human, an orc, and a bow wielding elf are quite a deadly trio.
Victor’s longsword cuts through bone and flesh, as does Maurice’s saber. Kazier repeatedly fires his bow, killing the rider or weakening them for his comrade’s swords. It is an especially violent fight. The warg-riders can only come one at a time through that narrow opening and they are hacked to pieces as they do so.
Several goblin footsoldiers climb the barricades nearby, and attack them. Victor takes a wound to his chest and is struck in the groin, his armor taking the main impact of the attack. His longsword lops of a head and plunges into a goblin’s midsection and goes through his spine.
Two surround Maurice and he is stabbed in the side. The orc hacks his saber across a goblin’s throat and he falls back, lifeblood gushing from the gaping wound. The other buries it’s own blade deep into Maurice’s chest. Before it can draw the sword back out Kazier sends an arrow through it’s red eye and into it’s brain.
Victor and Kazier both watch Maurice fall, goblin blade still impaled in his chest. He goes to his knees, and then topples over to his side. They go to their friend and realize that he has fought valiantly, but has been killed, sword still in hand.
The battle ends when Scrimm finishes off Rexxar, gutting the monstrous halfbreed. The few goblins that are left turn and flee, running back to the woods and into the protection of the darkness. All around are the cries and pleas of the wounded and the dying.
Many have perished in the defense of Goodland, but the town endures. In the morning light fourteen defenders are found to have perished. The wounded and the dead are taken over to the Temple of Gweir. There their injuries are tended to and the dead lain out, covered with sheets by the grieving women.
Thirty goblins have been killed, their bodies laying all about, speared, hacked, burned, and chopped. Two of the attacker for every one defender. Even though they have won it doesn’t feel like a great victory. Too many have died.
Captain Scrimm goes over to Kazier and Victor, looking down at Maurice’s body as it is about to be carried off. "I lost four of my six guards. Those boys gave it all they had." He sighs some, looking over to Rexxar’s body, head now stuck up high on a spear. "Too bad about Maurice, I was just beginning to like that crazy orc."
He looks to the two standing there. "If we weren’t here Goodland would be in ruins now, all it’s people killed. It was by the grace of Rellian that we were here in the right place at the right time. Still, we lost a lot of lives, escorting those dammed Kilmoorians north!" Containing his temper Scrimm turns away, going back to the bodies of his fallen men.
Together Kazier and Victor carry Maurice to the temple and lay him down along with all the others. "Time to get drunk," says Kazier, heading out as fast as he can going to a nearby tavern. Victor looks around at all the wounded and the dead, and hears the sound weeping mothers, wives, and children. It had been a terrible victory.
Jinx is there, helping bandage the injuries of those who have survived. Victor watches her, seeing that she has some skill in medicine. She is calm, compassionate, and knows what she is doing. When she eventually sees the body of the orc he sees a look of deep sadness flash across her face, watching her fight back some emotion.
Going over to him with a sheet, she makes a quick prayer to Rellian. "You shouldn’t have been my friend Maurice," she says sadly. "I really am Jinx."
Chronicled by Ken Paynter aka...Maurice leChevalier