by Pirateaba
She caught up to her tribe a few miles past the city. They were still marching, headed towards a forest on the map. It looked like it had a lake nearby, which would be good for water and fish. There might be monsters, but it was a good place to set up for a few days.
And they had a few days! Rags rode her wolf through the ranks of Goblins. As she did, a huge cheer went up that made the wolf snort in surprise. But the Goblins understood.
Rags had done it! Without a single shot loosed, without a single Goblin dead, she’d managed to lose whatever force Tremborag had sent after them. Tremborag’s Goblins might be fierce, but even they’d hesitate to go right past a city. A battle would be inevitable, and even if they overcame the city’s walls and defenders—and they might—it would be costly and attract too much attention from the Humans.
For that matter, now that Rags had let the Human women go, there would be serious repercussion for Tremborag anyways. His mountain was exposed; the Humans had seen the inside, seen how many Goblins there were. And if they thought he was going to help the Goblin Lord—a Great Chieftain of the Goblins who’d fought with the Goblin King? What could be more dangerous? They’d send out a force to attack him right away.
He’d probably survive. But in the meantime Rags would be free. So she sat on her wolf’s back and laughed and laughed in the cold air. If there was anything Goblins liked to do, it was gloat since they seldom had a chance to try it.
“Time to make tribe better.”
That was what she said to Pyrite as she rode up beside him and hopped off to walk. Her crotch and butt hurt when she rode the wolf for too long. He nodded at her, smiling faintly as he crunched on something. Rags stared at him.
“Rocks?”
Pyrite spat the bits of stone out and shrugged.
“Tastes like rock.”
“Why?”
“Keeps teeth sharp.”
That was true enough. And it wasn’t like he was in danger of losing any; Goblin teeth fell out and regrew anyways. Rags shrugged.
“Forest. We organize properly.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
“And get healing potion. For you.”
He shrugged.
—-
There was a reason why Rags was a Chieftain so young. There was a reason why even Garen Redfang needed her. True, part of that reason was very confusing and involved a girl named Erin Solstice, but mostly it was due to Rags being smart.
Everyone knew this was true. Rags was a genius. If they knew the word for prodigy, the Goblins might have referred to her as one. But they didn’t, so she was just smart.
Very smart, as it turned out. As soon as the Flooded Waters tribe arrived at their destination, Rags began organizing the tribe, much to the surprise of Tremborag’s former Goblins.
Normally a tribe just let any Goblin do what needed doing. Hobs rounded up Goblins who were close to them for tasks, without any particular rhyme or reason unless the Goblin was known to be good at that particular task. But Rags disapproved of such inefficiencies. She craved order, so she created it.
Division of labor. Rags already had the practice of dividing Goblins by skills, but now she formed multiple groups that would work in the day and night. Like the warriors. They were by nature fairly lazy when not fighting in order to conserve strength, but Rags put them on rotating patrols, day and night shifts, and assigned them to groups she could call upon on demand.
It was very complicated, but only for the one in charge. The individual Goblins only had to look up to one particular leader and hang out with one group, so it was simple and easy for them. Rags immediately set about fortifying this location, spreading out her camp so that the warriors had places around the outside while the largest camp was in the inside. She ordered the Redfang warriors to scout the area while she had another group of Goblins check out the lake.
When the warriors reported that the most dangerous creature living nearby were a few Mothbears, quite able to kill any other intruders into their domain, Rags sent a group of warriors to hunt the bears while she sent foraging teams in every direction. While she did that, she pondered what to do with the mages.
There were four of them, including Noears. They weren’t really warriors in the sense that Rags wanted them on patrol, but they had useful abilities. Some could start fires. Noears was good at shooting lightning, but all the [Mages] wanted was to practice magic and eat. Rags eventually decided to attach them to warrior groups, which went pretty well with them.
The Redfang warriors were delighted to have something to fight. They came back with only a few wounds and six Mothbears ready to be skinned and eaten. Rags had already decided they were going to be a core of her fighting force…
If she could figure out what that fighting force would be.
Here was the problem. Rags sat in the middle of her camp where all her Goblins were busily cooking, eating, sleeping, or doing all the important tasks she’d set them to. The only issue was that there wasn’t actually that much to do. She hadn’t sent out raiding parties and cooking and scavenging only took a small part of the tribe.
The rest needed direction, and Rags needed better warriors. She knew it. She’d left Tremborag’s mountain with essentially her same tribe plus Garen’s warriors. Well, they were certainly stronger for the inclusion of all the Redfang warriors, but the rest of her forces were just…Goblins. That was to say, they could probably overwhelm a small village, but without the Redfang warriors they had all the fighting ability of a squishy sponge.
And that was bad, especially up north. Rags had already seen that Gold-rank adventurers were far more common here, and the Human forces were nasty and well-armed and trained. She needed to give her Goblins an edge.
Thus, her dilemma. What Rags had were a lot of resources, a lot of Goblins, and a lot of enemies. All of that theoretically translated into a strong tribe to fight said enemies, but Rags had to work out how to get to that point.
What could she give her warriors? Rags already had some warriors testing out the weapons they’d stolen from Tremborag, which mainly involved one Goblin hitting things while the other Goblins stood far away and ducked whenever something happened. But magical arms did not make instant warriors, Rags knew.
Something else. What did Rags have? Well…she had crossbows.
Rags stared around at her Goblins. Many of them still had the crossbows she’d constructed with the goods taken from the Human city. Yes, that was a good thing.
She’d come up with the stone crossbow to provide her Goblins with an easy weapons to use both for hunting and fighting. It was the perfect tool for a weak Goblin tribe with limited resources, and she still kept the crossbows around for her foragers.
But what Rags needed were good weapons now, something to add to the regular force of Goblins. She could…build more crossbows?
They certainly had the parts. Right now they had around a hundred crossbows, but Rags grew excited as she thought about what would happen if they had five hundred, or a thousand. She didn’t need to give them to her warriors either—the best idea would be to give them to all her Goblins who didn’t normally fight! Crossbows were easy to use and aim. Why, she could have a thousand bolts raining down on her enemies before the battle had even begun!
The idea burned bright in Rags’ mind. She immediately ordered Goblins to start chopping down the tall fir and pine trees of the forest so she could make more crossbows. They’d have to get a lot of metal parts and things like screws of course, but she had a lot of tools already. Rags went to Pyrite excitedly and told him her idea.
He was sitting with Redscar and the old Goblin, overseeing the work while they ate from a small pot. Rags stared into it. It looked like they’d found a few squirrels. She took a bowl and chattered to them, explaining what she wanted.
Redscar looked intrigued by the possibilities, but the old Goblin—Rags was going to call him Whitebeard since that was what he had—scratched his chin, looking amused. And Pyrite just fro
wned.
“Arrows.”
That was all he said. But it immediately shattered Rags’ grand plans.
Arrows. Or more accurately, bolts. Crossbows used a different sort of ammunition than regular bows, that was fair enough. But making said ammunition wasn’t exactly easy, especially since you needed a good fletcher and glue.
Rags knew her Goblins could make a lot of bolts, especially with all these trees around. But they’d be wooden ones, not as powerful and would probably break after the first shot. Plus, what about fletching? A couple of thousand of birds didn’t just sit around waiting for you to pluck them. And there was the issue of glue…
And the bigger issue, the one that made Rags grind her teeth as she bit into the hot meat in her stew, was carrying all the ammunition everywhere. It would be cumbersome, and they’d run out fast if they had to keep resupplying a thousand crossbows at once.
A few hundred? Very doable. Smart. But a thousand? It might work for a Human army, but Goblins didn’t have an industry capable of supporting them. Rags scowled at Pyrite, but knew he was right.
“Less crossbows.”
But enough to pound her enemy. Rags wanted at least a few hundred Goblins capable of firing into her enemies in every battle. Pyrite nodded, but Redscar looked up.
“Chieftain. Need better warriors.”
He was stating the obvious. Rags scowled at him. But Redscar just jerked a thumb back towards the city they’d passed, far away.
“Strong Humans. Cavalry is…”
He hesitated. Rags saw he didn’t want to say they were as good as or better than the Redfang warriors. She stared at Whitebeard. Perhaps Greybeard was a better name.
“Cavalry. Better than wolves?”
“Mm.”
Greybeard smacked his lips appreciatively as Pyrite filled his bowl with more squirrel stew. He looked thoughtfully at Redscar and Rags as he chewed.
“Dangerous, Chieftain. Very. Wolves is good for surprise and raiding. Horses is good for charging. Hard to stop.”
Pyrite nodded at that. Redscar looked upset, but he had to agree.
“Have to have way to stop if fight, Chieftain.”
That was all he said, and thrust the how onto Rags. She scowled. She had no idea how these mounted warriors fought, that was the problem! She was too young, too inexperienced for all her intelligence.
Then Greybeard looked up from his bowl and stared at Rags.
“Can remember, Chieftain.”
She paused and all the Goblins looked at him. Greybeard poked a nail into one ear, looking casual.
“Is big tribe. Probably can remember.”
That was right! Rags could use the memory of Chieftains! She was surprised she hadn’t thought about it herself—and slightly surprised Greybeard knew about the Chieftian’s memories. Then again, he was old.
That night, Rags lay on her back around snoring Goblins and closed her eyes. She had found something for the Goblins to do after all—she’d had them begin felling trees. It was tough work, especially since the trees were hard. But the magical axes were wonderful in that regard. Many were enchanted not to break or to be resistant to damage, and so they made wonderful tools for her woodcutters.
Rags had the idea they could build a fortress here, or maybe a village. It was just an idea, but more wood never hurt to have, especially since she was going to have her Goblins build some more crossbows anyways.
But the memory. Rags frowned as she concentrated. She knew how to recall the past, although sometimes it came to her unbidden. All she had to do was go back—
He was a warrior, a Hob Chieftain of the Biting Blade Tribe, one of the strongest tribes of the northern plains. He stood on the open battlefield, roaring as his tribe clashed with the force of Humans. They were strong. All the Humans in the north were strong. They had come to his tribe, his lands to take it from the Goblins who lived here. Some tribes had fled, the cowards. But so long as he lived, he would resist them.
A flash of light off of metal caught the Goblin’s attention. He turned and saw the [Knight] riding towards him.
Yaltes Byres. One of the great [Knights] who had slain countless Goblins. He wore silver armor, just like the rest of his famed house did. The Hob Chieftain bared his teeth. He had a big hide shield in one hand and javelins in the other. Even as the [Knight] charged him, the Hob cast his first javelin.
It was a powerful throw, one boosted by his Skills. It could kill even a normal Hob at range and pierce armor. But the [Knight] avoided the throw, urging his horse to gallop left. A miss. The Chieftain roared and threw another javelin.
This time the [Knight] took the impact with his shield. It was heavy—the Hob saw the mount falter briefly. But Yaltes came on. He was a worthy foe.
This was it. No time to throw again. The Chieftain briefly regretted not hitting the mount. But the [Knight] was so agile! His riding Skills let him dodge around a group of Goblins who came to protect their Chieftain, and mounted as he was, he was out of reach for all but Hobs. And his warhorse was armored as well.
Damn him. There was more to a warrior than just the quality of their armor. The Chieftain raised his javelin, roaring as he charged. He just had to take the first charge. He could see the silver lance pointed at his heart. He raised his shield—
And Rags sat up the next day, heard pounding, listening to the birds singing in the trees. They stopped singing fast as Goblins shot at them and claimed the eggs out of their nests. She rubbed at her eyes and cursed in Goblin.
She hated to remember her ancestors dying. It didn’t hurt, but it was scary. And real.
So, even a Hob Chieftain had fallen to a mounted warrior? Rags was under no illusions as to why he’d lost. Regardless of level or equipment, the truth was that the lance was a deadly weapon. She saw that now.
All that reach! On horseback it was capable of hitting anything with so much force that Rags doubted even Garen was capable to blocking it. Your only option was to dodge or take the rider out first. But if they had armor that was hard. And what if you were fighting in a huge group? Then you were a pretty stationary target, ready to be run through.
No wonder Redscar had been so concerned. Rags immediately got to work thinking of countermeasures as her tribe woke up and got back to work scavenging, cutting down trees, and in the warrior’s case, training.
Rags watched with interest as the Redfang warriors sparred and even did odd things like exercise before they ate. No wonder they were different from regular Goblins.
She should probably train too—it had been a while since Rags had trained with Garen. But later. She found Redscar and got him and a few other Redfang warriors—and Pyrite, the female Goblin and Greybeard—together for a thinking session.
Their conclusions were fairly simple. The time-honored way to stop a horseman was with a long, pointy stick, preferably in great numbers. Pikemen were a common sight in armies, and if you backed that up with a shield wall you could counter a lot of things.
Rags was only too willing to get her Goblins to start fashioning long, wooden pikes out of the trees they’d felled, but she had a feeling she was making some sort of mistake. Yes, pikes were good and useful and they’d stop a charge. But the easy counter to that was to shoot the pike holders, blast them with magic, or just sent a bunch of infantry at the pikes and shields and break them up so you could ride them down.
That might not be a problem if Rags had a Human army—she’d just make sure they were the best around and won’t break no matter what you sent at them, and keep a group of archers in reserve. But she didn’t have Humans. She had Goblins. And they couldn’t deal with a face-to-face pitched battle with Humans on foot.
There had to be a better way. Rags supervised her Goblins with carpentry Skills cutting the trees into pikes. She scowled when the best [Woodworkers] among them started competing with the one [Carpenter] to see who could make the longest pikes.
Twenty-foot long pikes? Rags kicked the Goblin who smugly showed it to her. No
Goblin could carry that! She doubted most Humans would be able to use it effectively!
But then Rags paused and reconsidered. No lance was going to beat a pike that long. And if two Goblins carried it…
It still didn’t help with the issue of the pikes being stationary and weak to ranged attacks. Plus, the gloomy Rags saw that a group of ten pikes all lined up was great and pointy—but only in one direction. She sighed. It took three or two Goblins to lift each pike, too.
They were giggling and nudging each other as they held the pikes in place. They weren’t warriors. Rags snapped at them and pointed. She told them to put the pikes with the other weapons. The Goblins grumbled, but swung the pikes up and then let them fall in the right direction. Then began running with them held horizontally—probably because that was a lot easier than holding them straight up and catching them on the branches of the few trees that still stood.
And they nearly killed a score of Goblins on the way. Rags watched all the Goblins in her camp shouting in panic as a—a wall of pointy death came straight at them. The Goblins holding the pikes laughed merrily, running full-tilt as Goblins dove out of the way. Everyone was shouting at the Goblins to stop, but no one could quite manage it. A Hob found himself in the path of the pikes and even he was forced to dive aside or risk being skewered.
And Rags stared at the Goblins causing havoc until Noears walked over and tripped them all up. In the ensuing confusion—where the offending Goblins were beat up by everyone they’d scared—Rags had another great thought.
—-
Later that day, the Redfang warriors were intrigued and amused to be ordered to spar against a force of regular Goblins in a mock battle. Their new Chieftain, Rags, had apparently come up with a new weapon or formation she wanted to try against them.
