"Winking! Stop hitting Nod!" The Goblin King growled, one ring laden hand waving them off. His jewels shined in the light cast by the 34 hearths of his hall in the gesture. A hundred sets of beady eyes looked up at his raised voice from their seats. His brother Gorak the Flatulent only had 32 fireplaces and 50 men. Humph.
Sipping his mead, which stuck to his green lips with the stickiness of elderberry, mud mouth Goblin King made a declaration. "Our treasure has been stolen!" He begins, many an eye drifting to Winking, Blinking, and Nod, who had been in charge of guarding it.
Winking shoves Nod again, "Enough Winking!" the King hisses. "All three of you are to blame. Yes, it is so..." he trails off. "For ages, we have allied with the priests of Set to protect our passageways. They too are to blame for this theft!" Where the King's words end, a cascade of cheering begins. The walls shake in the uproar of agitated goblins, too much mead bringing too little peace.
Early this morning, a ridiculous parade of a group had swept through the Goblin King's vaults. Strangely, there were no black robed corpses left behind, an indication that the priests of Set had not held their ground as agreed upon.
Of course, neither had the silly trio, who the King mistakenly thought were a sufficient presence with the priests nearby. He couldn't truly fault them, they would've died, and the treasure would still be gone. Little Datura, lost. If word of this got out...
As the roar died out in the hall of the northern goblins, a sense of worry seemed to creep in. They were the strongest tribe left, after the bitter wars against the dwarves over the Ore Mountains almost a century ago. Without a steadfast ally, more than adventurers would be stealing treasure soon, a veritable army was likely to sweep in!
The King bangs his chalice against the rough wood of the head table, sending an arc of purple into the air. "I say, bugger it all!" He proclaims with wild eyes, "He who brings me the heads of these thieves, with little datura in tow, shall be honored beyond all others!"
Nearby...
The dagger absorbed all light; it was the absence of color, yet reflected them each in turn when it wished. The dwarf shifted it in his grip for the dozenth time, it had an uncomfortable aura to it.
"Those boys have been gone for awhile," he says, trailing off to squint down the passageway. "Don't suppose they'll be back with friends soon, do you?" his voice vibrates in harmony with the earth that surrounds them. At home in the subterranean depths of opportunity, he's still uneasy.
"Bah!" The barbarian wails, too loudly. His clumsy approach to everything had led to the party having quite the day. Hours earlier, he had started a series of events in motion that now seemed likely to be their last. Yet, he was unabashed, "Let the wee shits come to play!" he rebukes his companion's worries in a spray of spit. His painted face gave him the appearance of a foolish child to the dwarf, who had endured quite enough of this behavior.
"Aye Craig, and we're happy to have you ahead of us." the dwarf scoffs, half his height but equal in physical capabilities. The magic users wiggled about uneasily, the last thing they needed was for the tanks to have it out! "Please, we'd best decide which route we're taking, before we lose initiative..." The wizard Fabrice mumbles, ever the diplomat in trying times.
"Aye" The dwarf nods, "and I say, we're going this way." he says, gesturing back the way they came. There is a challenge in his eyes for the barbarian, but he does not rise to meet it. "Yes! Yes indeed, let us not delay." The mage agrees, relieved to hear his previous idea reciprocated. It was well past time that they fled this place.
The group had only walked 100 feet or so of the nondescript passageway, when the echo of armor appeared behind them. From the noise of it, quite a few sets were headed their way, carried by beings with thunderous steps. Not good.
The barbarian chuckles, but thankfully has the good sense to suppress his racket this time. He sprinkles caltrops behind them, muffling absurdly girlish giggles with his plate sized hand between scoops into his leather belt pouch. "That'll do 'em good" he wheezes from the effort of whispering, a gap tooth grin caging another bout of laughter.
Luckily, whatever was behind them seemed much slower, and the noise of their pursuit became more distant, as the party raced forward. The priests of Set were likely to come back with a vengeance, and they could only hope they didn't think to look for them where they had met last.
The entrance near the kingdom of the Northern Goblins had always been a reasonably safe place to come and go from, the priests having no issue with peaceful travel through their territory. A toll was paid, and that was that. But no, Craig didn't want to pay the meager toll earlier today...
He may have scared off the low-level fellas that collected fares, but their brethren wouldn't have any problem facing their lot. Then, he had to go and add insult to injury!
It was a damn ugly thing to do really, swinging his sword against those scrawny little goblins. The barbarian had been extra wily of late. They clearly weren't even from the warrior class! Empathy had swayed the Dwarf to stay his companion's blade, allowing the whelps to escape.
It feels like some kind of karma, when a mere half mile from the exit, they find themselves surrounded by the chartreuse skinned folk. "Well, nice knowing you boys." The wizard sighs, as he begins to summon a bright orb between his long fingertips.
In a cascade of metal, swords are drawn and met, the two warriors spinning in desperate maneuvers. The first ball of lightning is lobbed from the mage's hands, joined by a smaller one from his apprentice. The results are beyond encouraging!
Indeed, as the scuffle ensues, it appears to not be a dire as the numbers implied. Yes, there were many foes, but they lacked proper equipment, and didn't have a shred of skill behind them. As he gutted yet another, even Craig couldn't help but to feel guilty. No wonder there weren't many goblins left in these parts, they were wimpy!
When it became clear they would only wet the warrior's swords, most of the goblins began to scatter, escaping back towards their fortifications. As the last bulk of defenders was jolted by a fresh batch of electricity from the mages, morale completely crumbled. "Wait!" A pathetic voice cries, "We surrender!" agreement is hastily echoed out from his fellows. They hike their roughly spun trousers up, and don't wait for an answer outside of the cessation of the onslaught.
As the retreat fades, a returning sound reminds the party that they aren't out of the woods yet. The steady march that has pursued them all the way to the end of the tunnels draws near, and now it is less mysterious. The snorts of the minotaur's effort to catch them can be heard now.
"It's time to go!" the dwarf kicks the barbarian, who's busy pulling bits of rubbish out of the pockets of dead goblins. The action seems to jolt him, and fear finally crosses his vapid face. "Oh dear, yes, it is!" He grunts, running to catch the mages who are already hightailing it out of the cave system.
The sunlight catches them, the relieving sight of their horses nearby calming their hammering hearts. Today would not be the day they died!
