by Pirateaba
Because he loved to hunt. And if you had a bow, what was the point of shooting at slow things on the ground? The masters of the sky were true challenges, from the tiny birds that could dodge an arrow’s tip at point blank range, to the big birds that might take a full quiver to down.
Bird had an arrow in one of his hands as he scanned the horizon. Check for birds, check for threats. He looked up, and then down. No birds in the sky. But they’d be coming soon. His [Hunter] instincts told him so. The world was warming, and that meant food for the birds and a time for mating, nesting. He just had to wait.
Look up—a flicker behind one of the clouds, about two thousand and three hundred feet up. A bit too high to shoot. Look down. Bird saw something move. He turned and stared.
“Goats.”
There were about thirty of them. They surged across the snow, screaming. Bird could see their bodies covered with blood; one of them looked like it was missing half its face, but it didn’t seem bothered. Another had an arrow sticking out of its side. Bird thought about that.
“Goats. Goats are an animal. They are not monsters. Therefore, they are no threat.”
Satisfied with that conclusion, he turned to resume scanning the landscape when he noticed something.
“The goats are going in the same direction as Miss Solstice. Towards the farming village.”
He stared at the distant hilltop. At the goats. At the one missing half its jaw. Bird shrugged.
“Goats are food. Can you milk a goat? I will ask later.”
Again, he was about to turn, when he spotted something else. A group of six, crossing the snowy plains. They were distant, but Bird’s eyes were enhanced thanks to his [Eagle’s Eyes] Skill. He liked it because it was based off a Bird. And what he saw made him pause.
“Green. Goblins.”
Six of them, all moving fast. They all had weapons, if not armor, and they were larger than the average Goblin. Bird thought and amended his analysis.
“Hobgoblins.”
He paused, arrow in hand. Bird watched the Goblins running, and slowly opened his mandibles.
“Goblins. Goblins are a monster. They are a threat. However, Erin’s sign says not to kill Goblins.”
That was a paradox. Bird scratched at his head and brightened.
“Ah. It said nothing about Hobgoblins.”
He put the arrow to his bow, sighted, and held his breath. Halrac had taught him how to shoot. Bird was grateful. He wished the Goblins were birds. That would make things so much more fun. Land-based things were so…easy.
The Goblins were over eight hundred feet away, a vast distance and far further than his bow was capable of shooting. Normally. Bird had no idea about technical terms like draw strength, the materials used in the composition of his bow, and so on—he didn’t know that it was a recurve bow. But he did know how to hunt birds. He knew that an arrow might not pierce a bird if it was shot from too far away.
“That is what Skills are for. Now. [Long Range Shot].”
He pulled the arrow back, sighted, and loosed.
—-
The Redfang warriors were arguing and split on their argument. They’d followed the Eater Goats down the abandoned road, and they had seen the goats pick up a scent. They saw the village the goats were headed towards, and half of them were in favor of waiting for the goats to do their work, and the other half were in favor of helping. Somehow.
None of them were under illusions. The Eater Goats outnumbered them and they were deadly. One could kill an average Hob. Six versus thirty wasn’t a fight, it was a death sentence.
And yet, Headscratcher insisted it wasn’t right. And however much Badarrow and Shorthilt snarled at him, he was growing more impatient. The Goblins were running after the Eater Goats anyways; they’d have a brief window to loot the village regardless of what happened. Headscratcher was cresting a hill when Bugear looked up in alarm and tackled him to the ground.
An arrow whistled through the air, catching Headscratcher in the arm. If Bugear hadn’t pushed him, it would have caught him in the chest. The Redfang Goblins immediately dove to the ground. Badarrow snarled as he grabbed his own bow and raised his head.
Where? The Goblins looked around, keeping low, aware that their position might be open. Headscratcher snapped the arrow in his arm, raised his head and ducked down.
Nothing that way. Rabbiteater crawled rapidly to the left and looked around a small rise of snow. He growled.
Nothing.
As Numbtongue raised his head over the hill, all six Hobs heard another whistling sound. Numbtongue ducked, and the second arrow nearly took him in the head. He snarled, and all six Goblins poked their heads up. They looked around, but only Badarrow with his enhanced eyes spotted anything. He pointed.
There!
The Goblins looked. All six ducked. The archer in the tower’s next arrow thunked into the ground that was giving them cover.
A lightning-fast debate with hand signs took place as the Hobgoblins analyzed the situation, and then, as Bird was waiting for them to pop up again, all six suddenly stood up.
“What is this?”
The Antinium stared at the six very helpful targets that had suddenly appeared. He shrugged, not deciding to question it since they weren’t birds, and aimed for the one he’d hit first. He sighted down his bow, and then jerked back.
An arrow streaked past his head, shattering on one of the wooden posts of his tower. Bird stared at the broken fragments as they splintered past him, and then at the Goblin in the distance holding the bow.
Badarrow grinned savagely. His best three arrows were in his hand. He nocked the first, aimed, and loosed.
[Farshot Mastery]. He’d learned the Skill after sniping the Goblin [Shaman] during the battle at Esthelm. Unlike Bird he could shoot as many arrows as quickly as he wanted, uninhibited by a need to use a certain Skill. Badarrow advanced, loosing all three arrows in succession.
As he did, the Redfang warriors advanced. Not at a run, but at a quick walk. Those of them with shields had them raised. They were waiting for a return shot.
When it came, it was straight at Badarrow. The Hobgoblin [Archer] grunted, and stepped sideways. The arrow flashed by his chest, scoring a line and making him growl. But it was a miss.
Advance. Badarrows’ shots came three at a time, flying with incredible accuracy to land on Bird’s position. The Antinium took cover by the stairwell, wishing he’d asked for a place to take cover from enemy fire when the Antinium had built this place. But birds didn’t shoot back! Well, most of them didn’t.
When he rose, an arrow struck him in the chest. Bird stumbled back, stared at the arrow, and touched it gently.
“Ow.”
The other archer might have been able to hit him at range, but his bow wasn’t good. It didn’t have the power to pierce his carapace with a single shot. That knowledge was important. Bird looked and saw the Redfang Goblins had covered over two hundred feet while the other archer kept him suppressed. They were advancing quickly, now.
“Troublesome.”
He aimed and used [Long Range Shot] again, but the Goblins were a bit too quick, and his arrows had to travel too far. He grazed one on the arm, and nearly got one on the eye until a lucky shot hit one in the knee. That Goblin fell, rolling until he was obscured in the snow. Bird ignored him. The real threat was hitting his tower now, concentrating on volume rather than accuracy.
Two more arrows struck the Antinium. They were both in each other’s range now, and the second and third arrows penetrated his carapace. Bird fumbled with an arrow. He could not die here. If he did…he would have failed again. Unacceptable.
“My turn.”
The arrow was coming. All five Hobs tensed. Shorthilt was hiding in the snow, and he had a healing potion. He’d make it back to them if he could, but the arrows were fast and deadly. The next one came fast and high at Badarrow. The Hob twisted to avoid it, grinning—
And the arrow curved into his side. Greatly surprise
d, Badarrow spun. Headscratcher caught Badarrow as he nearly fell. The Goblin gripped him, pulled himself upright—
The next homing arrow struck Bugear’s shield. It had curved right for Badarrow’s head. The Redfang Goblins looked at the distant archer. Badarrow snarled as he grabbed arrows from his bow. Whomever this strange bug was, he was good.
And yet, he was only one. Bird had to take cover again as arrows lashed his position. The other Goblin didn’t have his curving arrows, but he was quick! Bird peeked up, and an arrow nearly took his eye out.
“Dangerous.”
They were too close now. Too close! Bird had to risk a shot. This time he’d hit the archer in the head! He stood and took a fourth arrow to the chest.
“Ah.”
The cracks in his carapace were spreading. Bird fell against one of the guard railings of his tower, and lurched upright. One arrow. He drew it to his chest, sighted. Time felt slowed. He aimed at the Goblin. They both were aiming. The one who fell won. He could take the other Goblins down if he could just—
Where to aim? Head, chest—head. Bird drew, and spoke as he loosed.
“[Homing Shot].”
His arrow curved through the air, heading straight for Badarrow’s head. The Goblin archer sighted down his bow, aiming for Bird. He didn’t move. The arrow flew towards his head—
And Headscratcher’s sword shot out. The Goblin’s sword blocked the shaft as Bugear thrust his shield in front of Badarrow’s chest and Numbtongue covered his groin with a second shield. Bird stared.
“Companions. I see. How regr—”
The fifth arrow struck him just below the neck and sent him tumbling off the side of the tower. The Antinium crashed into the roof of the inn and slid towards the end. It was a long drop down. Down—
To oblivion.
—-
In the silence after the pitched archery duel, Badarrow lowered his bow, arms shaking, breathing heavily. The other Goblins clapped him on the back as they patched themselves up.
None of them were hurt that badly. Badarrow’s stomach and Shorthilt’s knee were the worst of it. A healing potion was very carefully used to mend both wounds.
As the Goblins regrouped, they moved away from the inn. Whatever the archer had been doing up there, it didn’t matter. The bug was dead, but no one was going to loot the inn. It was too close to the city—the Goblins might have already been spotted. They headed in the direction of the Eater Goats, hungry and desperate.
They spoke not a word about their victory either. It wasn’t a miracle, or a product of Badarrow’s superior levels or Skills. It was simple teamwork. Both sides had good archers, but one had located their attacker together, covered their archer and provided targets to distract the enemy. They didn’t fight alone.
—-
Meanwhile, in a small village, Erin was dragging her sled towards the gates. Several huge containers had been filled with different kinds of milks and she was wondering if she’d be able to get it to her inn without breaking any of them.
She was rechecking the ties on her sled when she heard a sound outside the gates. Erin frowned and stepped up onto the platform that allowed her to peek over the walls. She looked down and saw a goat standing outside.
“Hey Mister Wirclaw! I think one of your goats got outside somehow!”
Erin turned and hollered at the Gnoll [Farmer] who’d helped her pack the milk. He frowned and trotted over with his son, a small Gnoll with light blonde fur. Both Gnolls peeked over the walls with Erin.
“That is not my goat.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I know them all and this one is clearly wild. It is strange, though, no? Where would such a goat come from in the winter?”
“Should we let it in? It looks hungry, poor guy.”
“Perhaps. But…hrm. Is…something wrong?”
Erin frowned. She felt it too. A prickling at the back of her mind. She looked at the goat. It was staring up at her with big, off-putting brown eyes. The pupils of the goat were a horizontal bar, not round at all. And it was staring. At her.
“Yeah. I think I feel my [Dangersense] going off. But it’s just a goat, right?”
Wirclaw hesitated. He looked back towards his house and nudged his son.
“Fetch me my bow. Miss Solstice, perhaps you should back up. I do not think that is—”
Then they spotted the second goat. It walked around the wall. It was a goat. Scrawny, its body a mix of black and brown. However, one thing separated it from the other goat.
It was missing the lower half of its jaw. Erin clapped a hand to her mouth as the goat looked up at them.
“Its teeth—”
This goat had sharp teeth. Not sharp like a shark’s or a predator that just ate meat, but an omnivore’s teeth. And caught between the teeth and staining it was—
“Blood. And that is flesh. Miss Solstice, step back.”
Wirclaw grabbed the bow from his son’s hands and put an arrow to it. He sighted and shot an arrow before Erin could protest. The goat without a jaw stared as the arrow sped towards it and skipped to one side. The arrow thudded into the dirt.
Both Humans and Gnoll stared. Behind them, the few Gnolls and Drakes in the village were gathering. The two goats stared at Wirclaw and then turned.
And then a lot of goats popped out of the snow. Erin recoiled and Wirclaw growled. The goats stared at Erin and Wirclaw, and then screamed.
It wasn’t like a Human scream. Not at all. The Eater Goats screamed like a chorus of the damned, and then the first one rammed the gates. It had a set of slightly curved horns on its head and Wirclaw yanked Erin back from the wall.
“They’re trying to get in!”
He shouted at the others in the village and Erin saw them racing to get weapons. She scrabbled at her own belt pouches and pulled out a vial and a knife from a sheath at her belt.
“They can’t though, right?”
“The gates are thick. We should be fine—”
Wirclaw was aiming and loosing, but the goats were dodging. One of them backed up, its eyes on the Gnoll. It took a few jumps back, and then brayed. It charged towards the wall the Gnoll and Erin were standing on.
“It can’t get up—”
Erin was saying that when the goat leapt. It cleared at least seven feet and thudded into the wall. Too low. But the impact sent both Human and Gnoll scrambling backwards.
“Okay, they can jump! Real high!”
Erin was shouting. Wirclaw opened his mouth. He might have been saying that their walls were still high enough when two more goats charged forwards.
This time one goat leapt first. He vaulted into the air, a good six feet up, and the second goat leapt on top of him. He jumped a second time, using the first goat as a stepping stone, and hurtled over the wall.
The goat landed lightly on the ground in the center of the village. It turned, and stared around at the small gathering of Drakes, Gnolls, and one Human. It cocked its head, seemed to sniff, and then bared its teeth. It screamed, and charged.
—-
The Goblins saw all of it of course. From their position, the Redfang Goblins could see the first Eater Goat clear the wall and hear the screams from within the village. They had predicted that would happen. The Eater Goats were suicidally fearless and almost immune to pain; that didn’t mean they were stupid.
Now they had a choice to make. Headscratcher stared at the village. He’d seen a young woman on the walls. A Human.
He looked at the others. They’d all seen the same thing. The Hobs looked at him, and then away. Badarrow spat. He’d made his position clear several times. It wasn’t worth it. They’d die, and she’d die. And for what? She was just a Human.
Just a Human. The other Goblins reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t worth it.
And she would die. Headscratcher lowered his head and scuffed at the snow. His foot unearthed something. He stared, bent, and picked something up. The other Goblins paused. They turned, incred
ulously to Headscratcher and saw him holding—
A bug. It squirmed in his grip. He popped it into his mouth and crunched it. The Goblins all sighed. Headscratcher grinned. He cracked his neck and laughed silently at them. To ask them what they’d been expecting. He pointed.
The other Eater Goats were trying to repeat the trick and send their friends over the walls. Just one or two could wipe out the entire village. They’d kill everything within. They were too dangerous.
They all knew it. Fighting thirty? They’d die.
And maybe that was the point. Headscratcher reached into a small pocket he’d sewn into his clothing. He pulled something out. It was wilted, squashed, barely recognizable. But it was still a flower.
The other Goblins stared at it. Headscratcher looked at Badarrow. The other Goblin grunted irritably and pulled out an arrow. Headscratcher grinned.
Bugear scratched at one ear and nudged Shorthilt. They pulled out their swords. Rabbiteater lifted Grunter’s axe. Numbtongue sighed.
The Redfang Goblins slapped each other on the backs, grinned, and shook hands. They looked at the sky. Then they formed up.
They didn’t have the numbers for a proper formation. They couldn’t swarm their opponents. So they made a line. Badarrow raised his bow and put his best arrow to the string. He loosed one arrow, then another.
The Eater Goats were charging, trying to jump the walls again. The first arrow struck a goat in the back of the head. It dropped, and then stood up. The goat looked around for the source of the arrow, saw the Redfang Goblins. It bleated, a terrible, elongated scream, and the other goats turned. One seized the arrow in the first goat’s head and bit it off. The goat convulsed as the arrow was torn out of its head. At last it fell down.
And the Eaters charged. The goats raced towards the Redfang Goblins, screaming, a few staying behind to circle the village. The Redfang Goblins waited.
