by Adam Drake
“This is too damned heavy,” one of the two said. He was missing an ear, and had a wicked scar that covered the hole which extended up into his scalp. “We need to get a horse or something.”
“Well, we'd have a donkey to carry it if everyone hadn't got all riled up trying to kill those blacksmiths. Now we need to carry the thing ourselves,” the other man said. A huge ring extended from his nostrils, giving him the look of a bull.
Rob looked at the anvil more closely. It was the size of a medium sized microwave. How heavy could it be?
“Besides,” Nosering said, “We ain't got time to fetch a damn horse or donkey. I'm telling you to carry it, and you'll carry it!”
“Don't talk down to me like that! You're always talking down to me!” No-Ear said. “We should take turns.”
The other men stood a slight distance away from the two men, frustration showing on their faces. It looked like this wasn't the first time they'd witnessed an argument between these two.
As the two men continued their shouting match, Rob knew this was the perfect opportunity to launch an ambush of their own. He turned to whisper to the others when one of the men suddenly shouted.
“Hey! I hear something!”
Rob ducked down. Had they been discovered?
He glanced at the group of men, half expecting them to be charging in his direction, but was surprised to see they all had their backs to him. They were looking toward the opposite side of the clearing.
“I don't hear nothing,” No-Ear said.
“Of course you wouldn't,” Nosering shot back.
As No-Ear turned to snarl a retort, a fireball suddenly exploded from the other end of the clearing and engulfed one of the bandits.
What the hell? Rob thought, surprised.
Shouting came from the treeline and goblins spilled out from the vegetation. They charged at the bandits.
Momentarily stunned, the bandits recovered their wits enough to take up arms.
Within seconds, the clearing was full of clashing weapons and exploding fireballs.
Bandits versus Goblins, Rob thought. Well, this made his job easier.
The trio watched, wide-eyed as the two groups clashed. All Rob needed was a bag of popcorn.
The fighting was quick and savage, with neither side giving quarter to the other. But as more combatants fell, the fighting subsided. After several minutes all that remained were three warrior goblins and No-Ear.
The bandit still fought, swinging a longsword. The three goblins surged after him around the clearing, never giving him a moments rest, a tactic Rob was all too familiar with.
But it was inevitable. No-Ear fell under the constant onslaught. The three goblins cheered, waving their weapons in the air. The clearing was choked with bodies.
Rob turned to the others. “Let's ruin their celebration,” he said and charged into the clearing.
“A good goblin is a dead goblin,” Kortz said as he and Paxx followed.
So caught up in their jubilation, the three humanoids failed to notice Rob until he'd ran over one with a Shield Bash. He turned to the others just as one of them caught an arrow in the side of the head and dropped.
The third was already fleeing the scene, even before its companion hit the ground.
“I got this,” Rob said and pointed his hand at the creature's back. But at the exact moment he was going to cast, he was struck in the right ankle with an arrow. He slipped in some blood and the Sun Bolt fired upwards to strike a tree.
“Oops! Sorry!” Paxx said, cringing.
Falling on his butt, Rob looked over at the goblin as it vanished into the undergrowth, with one of Kortz's arrows missing it by a mile. Then the goblin was gone from view.
“Are you okay?,” Paxx said, running over to him.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Rob said, standing. His Damage Shield aura had absorbed the damage from both the arrow and the fall. “Only my pride is hurt.”
Relieved, Paxx laughed, and for a brief moment she reminded Rob of Rita. “I told you we weren't fighters,” she said with a smile.
“Speak for yourself,” Kortz said. “I nailed that one in the head.”
“You guys did great,” Rob said, and looked the direction the goblin had gone. He didn't doubt it was running off to the hideout. He could try to track it like the other.
But one quest at a time. He squatted next to the anvil. It looked identical to ones seen in cartoons. “So, this is it, huh?” He placed a hand on it.
Anvil of Durability
+25% durability for weapons and armor
+2% chance of weapons and armor gaining one magical trait
+1% chance of armor gaining two magical traits
Value: 20,000 gold pieces
Rob's eyes bulged out of his head. Twenty thousand gold pieces? Mother of god!
“Yeah, this is it,” Kortz said. “Obtaining this little beauty was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You better be talking about me,” Paxx said.
“Yes, of course, dear,” Kortz said.
Curious as to how much it weighed, Rob tried to pick it up. He barely managed to get it up to his knees before dropping it. The strain made stars dance between his eyes. It was almost as heavy as he was. “Now I can see why they were complaining about moving it.”
“Moving it isn't a problem,” Paxx said. Using both hands she casually scooped the anvil off the ground and hoisted it onto a shoulder like it was an empty keg of beer. “Keeping it from getting stolen is.”
Rob blinked in amazement.
Kortz laughed at his expression. “The anvil changes its weight depending on who tries to move it. Paxx and I are bound to it, so we have no issues. Helps keep other blacksmiths from sneaking away with it. Or bandits.”
Rob laughed and a message appeared.
Quest complete! “Between An Anvil And A Hard Place”
You have gained 750 experience points toward your next level.
Another one down.
Rob stared at the carnage around them. Bodies of humans and goblins were piled onto one another. This was going to take some time to loot.
Kortz suddenly said, “So, thanks for getting our anvil back. I guess we'll check out your village, as agreed. For a few days, at least.”
“Don't you guys want to split this loot? May as well.”
They both shook their heads. “That's not our place in the world,” Krotz said. “Killing, questing, looting. That sort of thing is in your purview. We just want to get to the village and get some well deserved rest.”
Rob was a little confused, but nodded. “Okay, I'll show you the way.”
“I think you're going to be busy,” Paxx said “With all this loot and finding the hideout. We should be fine on our own. Say, might that goblin be heading there now?”
Rob smiled. “I'm counting on it.”
Despite his reservations on leaving them to travel alone, he did want to take the opportunity to follow the goblin while he could. So he told them to go due west until they got to the road, and then north.
The two waved to him as they vanished into the forest, heading back to their donkey to collect their packs.
It took a while to search the pockets of all the dead in the clearing. Grim work, but his hungry kingdom demanded he put any qualms aside. The result was encouraging. Eighteen gold pieces, over one hundred silver pieces, and close to a thousand copper. Nearly all of which came from the bandits.
But there was a problem. There was no way he was going to bother stripping all the bodies of weapons and armor. Nor did he know what to do with them if he did. He certainly couldn't carry it all. So he decided to leave it all there and come back later. Maybe he'd bring a group from the village to help carry things. The bodies would be gone by then, but their clothes and items should remain. Or so he hoped.
Satisfied he was done, he marked the location on his map, then decided to move on to the next task on the list. Finding the damned hideout.
He looked aroun
d for the Shale Mite and spotted it on the back of a bandit corpse. Its proboscis was buried in a wound at the back of the neck, feeding.
“Hey, get over here,” Rob said. When the thing didn't react he pointed at the ground and commanded it to heel.
The bug hesitated for a moment, as if annoyed at being interrupted, then scurried over, scrambling over bodies.
Rob checked the area of the forest the goblin had passed through. He noticed small footprints in the damp ground and leaves splashed with blood. So it was wounded. Good.
“Okay, little buddy, let's go,” he said to the bug as they followed the goblin's trail.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The bloody trail was easy to follow. So easy that Rob's tracking skill didn't increase at all. Which didn't bother him, he was heading the right way.
The goblin's trail led almost to the edge of the mountains before suddenly turning due south, confirming Rob's suspicions as to where the hideout most likely was. Still, the forest was so vast it would have taken days for him to even find the hideout's general location. To the goblin, he was grateful.
He never caught sight of his quarry, instead holding back so to not spook the humanoid, just as he'd done with the previous goblin.
This was a good trick, he thought, as he navigated through the trees. Something he'd keep in mind for the future. He didn't doubt it would come in handy, again.
A flash of color behind a tree to his right caught his eye. He went over to investigate.
It was a cluster of small, bright red flowers that grew in a small clear area of grass. They resembled poppies, only their petals were thicker. On a hunch he touched on.
Blood Flower
This plant can be used as an ingredient in various potions.
Value: 5 Silver Pieces
Oh ho! Finally, he'd found some. Carefully, he picked one, only to have it crumble in his hand. Cursing, he tried again, and this one didn't crumble. Fantastic! There were about twenty of the flowers and he picked each one. A frustrating number crumbled in his hands, but he did manage to collect ten more, with his Herbatology skill increasing to 3%.
On a roll, he looked around for the Life Moss, the other ingredient in the Healing potion recipe. He touched all the moss and lichen in the area but none even gave him an item description. Frustrated, he gave up and continued following the trail. He resolved to explore the flora around the castle and see what other species of plant and moss he could find. Such an activity would be a nice break from questing for a little while.
Rob suddenly noticed something on the ground a short distance ahead and stopped. It was a body, barely noticeable in the tall grass. He cautiously approached, watching all around for danger.
It was the goblin. Its sickly green skin a lot paler than he'd seen on the species before. Bled out. Now it would never have a chance to reach its friends. Which was fine with Rob. He was close now, he could feel it.
He was about to continue on when he was hit with a thought. Quickly, he picked up the small limp body and carried it deep into the trees. He dumped it in a hollow between some gnarled branches. No one would notice it there.
He continued in the direction the goblin had been. After a short while, Rob spotted a column of smoke rising over the trees in the distance.
Finally, he thought.
He slowed, moving more cautiously until he reached the edge of the forest. Beyond was a tiny valley, more like a clearing, that stretched out over a large area. At the other end was a huge encampment. Dozens of hide tents and warped looking tee-pees clustered together behind a makeshift wall of logs, which encircled them all. The column of smoke rose from a huge bonfire next to the center tent, which was larger than the others.
And there were goblins. Lots of goblins. So many, Rob had trouble trying to count them all. But they moved around so much, disappearing in and out of tents, it was difficult. Add to that they all looked the same to him. But he put the figure at about seventy or more.
My god, Rob thought. I have to destroy that? It wasn't a little hideout as he'd envisioned, but an encampment for a damn army.
Looking at it all, he really wished he had a Rock-Cliff dragon with him again. Instead, he had a bug.
Bamboozled, Rob sought out a better hiding spot in a thick cluster of bushes at the edge of the clearing. Since destroying the camp was out of the question he needed to figure out something else.
He sat and watched the activity of the camp for about an hour, the Shale Mite exploring the immediate area around him. Any time it looked to be wandering out into the clearing he'd call it back.
What was he going to do? That was an army down there. And he was just a level five nobody. He reread the quest several times. As usual, the description was just vague enough to be frustrating. Destroy the hideout. What did that mean exactly? Kill every single goblin inside? What of the others that might still be out in the valley? Or did it mean to drive the goblins away?
He ran his hand over his face in growing anger. The last thing he wanted to do was leave this place. He'd been determined to end this particular quest, but it looked too difficult for his level and abilities.
A quick glance at his level progression did offer some hope. 88% toward level six. Twelve more percent and he'd have access to the lower caves, and the Foundation Stone. He didn't need to earn it here. Maybe he could hunt the forest for things to farm experience points for. He sighed. That felt like giving up.
He watched the encampment for a while longer, but an idea didn't come to him. Marching up to the gates was out of the question. If he entered the clearing he could very well be stuck fighting the whole lot of them. An impossibility. Even if he had an unlimited number of potions; Health, Mana, Energy, it still wouldn't be enough for him on his own to defeat them all.
Okay, then. If he couldn't finish this quest now, he'd do it later. Maybe when he had an army to command, whenever the hell that would happen.
He started to pull away from the edge of the clearing when movement across the way caught his eye.
A group of goblins emerged from the trees on the other side. Nearly a dozen.
Oh, great, more, Rob thought. Why not have all the goblin clans set up shop in his valley?
But his anger turned to surprise. The goblins had prisoners. Men appeared out of the forest escorted by the goblins. Each one had his hands tied behind his back. They marched two by two with the goblins probing them along with swords and spears. As Rob watched in amazement more men kept appearing. How many were there?
Eventually, the human marching band ended. Thirty men, all prisoners.
Wow. Rob was shocked. How did so many of them get captured? And more importantly who were they?
Fearing they were his subjects he peered at them trying to discern more details. They were a rough looking group. Tough and seasoned. Many had scars so large he could see them from this distance. No, these weren't farmers or laborers from his village. These guys were something entirely different.
Then a possibility dawned on him. Prisoners of war. They were soldiers. Or mercenaries. Some kind of fighting group that lost to the goblin horde. And these were the survivors.
As strange as this line of thinking was, it brought up another possibility. Were there wars being fought at the edges of his kingdom?
The prisoners were marched through the wooden gate of the encampment.
The goblins within came out of their tents to watch the new arrivals. He could hear their shouts of victory and Rob swallowed at a new realization.
What were they going to do with them?
As if in answer to that morbid question, a large goblin emerged from the center tent. It wore full platemail tailored to its size, and a helmet with a headdress of a what looked to be a bear's paw. The warlord.
The warlord walked up and down the line of the assembled prisoners. Rob could see that none of the men looked away from the goblin leader, instead, they matched the humanoid's gaze. These were tough dudes, even in the face of death.
&n
bsp; One of the men must of said something because the warlord whirled around and marched up the line to stand in front of him. It screamed at the man in its incoherent gibberish of a language, but the man stared at him, unflinching.
Then, without warning, a goblin broke for the crowd and stabbed the defiant man in the back with a spear, piercing right through his heart and out his chest.
The prisoners exploded with rage and many broke rank to charge at the goblins, kicking and biting. But it didn't last long. After many were beaten with the butts of spears and sword hilts, the men were finally subdued. At least three of them had been killed in the ruckus.
