To the Trenches in Trinsic

[McIan]

A goblin’s ears are unique: they are extremely long, tapered, and pointed, but that only seems to enhance their ability to amplify sound. P’Doink, the goblin-guest of Deminatza, and now Scar’s friend also, awoke upon hearing the sound of their voices on the floor above her own plush but barracks-like room. They were not really speaking loudly, and certainly not shouting, but were discussing events pertaining to a visit to Trinsic in clearly urgent tones.

She understood Trinsic to be a city, not in Malas where she now resided; it had been invaded by an army of red goblins; the place was an horrendous mess, and rats were beginning to multiply. The concern in her friend, Deminatza’s, words impressed the female goblin and it made her a bit surly and indignant. Though she had never actually seen one of the red goblins, she had heard tales of them and knew of what they were capable. He own kind could be ruthless enough, but those were nothing less than bloodthirsty brutes, incapable of being taught manners or caring for anything except themselves.

And if they were a danger to Trinsic, and if Deminatza was worried, then she and other humans like her would be in very real danger too.

The longer she mused on all of this the more resolute she became. “This not gud! Not none!” PD muttered. “No can rest now.” She arose from her bed, dressed herself in her armor, grabbed her combat kit, and set out in the middle of the night for Trinsic – goblin eyes were better in the dark than in daylight anyway. Before she departed, she scribbled a note for Deminatza and left it on her bed: "I go Trinsic for fight! I save my friends!"

She did not know where the city was, but she would find her way to it, one way or another. And when she did, let her vile kin feel the keen sting of her arrows!

​

 

[McIan]

Assistance Not Wanted

“This bad… baaaaad! PD not smart… noooot smart!” the small green goblin muttered to herself as she took refuge under a pile of hay in the stables of Trinsic. Thinking back on how she had gotten into this mess brought about this fearful moment of self-awareness.

She had watched someone at Sanctuary use the crystal teleportation orb, and was able to use that to get within Trinsic, thinking herself very clever. It was fortuitous that she did since the paladins guarding the city’s entrances would have killed her on sight. Once inside she began running in the direction of the columns of black smoke that rose into the sky from the southeastern part of town. At first there was no trouble – she did not see any humans about, or goblins for that matter, until she got close to the bridge to barrier isle. Along the way she shot a dozen rats that spilled into the streets in swarms and was having a good time of it, thinking herself aiding the cause of her “friends.”

However, her luck soon ran out. Paladins and militiamen spotted her and began a long, hostile, pursuit. “Kill that goblin!” “Come back here!” “Get it!” “Die foul imp!” they cried as she skidded around corners, squeezed through fences, ducked behind barriers, and generally made herself the smallest, briefest, target possible in an all-out effort to flee for her life.

And she was quite successful. Fleet of foot, small, even tiny, she managed to evade them all and their projectiles. The metal-clad paladins and their ilk simply could not keep pace with her, giving up eventually as they fell behind, or their mounts halted, unable to traverse the narrow alleys and lanes into which she darted.

She smiled to herself. “Them just bad as kin! Slow and stupid!”

At last the sun set. She sneaked into the stable, covered herself with hay, and lay panting, exhausted, and starving. “Not gud! PD go home!” she mumbled, wishing she had not dropped her reagents so she could have recalled out, and then fell fast asleep.

 

[McIan]

End of the Line

The little green goblin awoke suddenly; the sounds of clumping, heavy, footfalls; the scraping sound of metal on metal, and hushed human voices, brought her long ears back in alarm. Humans were nearby, perhaps right next to her as she lay covered in hay. Her first instruct was to bolt and run, but she could not be sure how many they were or where they might be positioned. She decided to freeze, remain entirely immobile at least for the next few seconds.

The swish of a pitchfork and her cover was laid bare. The next thing she knew, a large, heavy net fell over her. Strong hands pinned it down forcing her to the ground painfully. “We have you now, you dirty imp!” one of the armored men snarled as he tied her hands behind her back.

“You’ll soon be dead like the rest of your filthy kind!” another stated.

“Not just yet,” one soldier interjected. “Yeah, we’ll let you soil one of our fine jail cells, but I am sure Lord Chanticleer will want the pleasure of relieving your head from your body himself, so it will be worth it.”

Once bound, they removed the net, placed a gag tightly over her mouth, took away her weapons and kit to lead her away toward the Trinsic jail.

​