The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Garen was as strong as any Gold-rank adventurer, despite only possessing a magical sword and no armor or rings she could see. Mounted, he was a nightmare to fight thanks to his Skills, and it was clear that he was probably the most powerful Goblin in this place besides Tremborag himself.

  As for the Great Goblin…he could probably just roll over and crush any adventurer he came across. Rags had no idea how strong he was, but she guessed that if she’d shot him with her black crossbow, the bolt wouldn’t have gone through all his layers of fat.

  After dinner, Rags went back to her quarters and sat, dismissing the Gold Stone Chieftain and Hob. She had to think. Here she was in a new environment, and she needed to gain influence. It wasn’t about war and fighting any longer—it was about being respected.

  She’d never had to worry about that in her tribe, even when she wasn’t Chieftain. Rags stared at the stone ceiling, feeling odd. When she was just a Goblin, even if things were bad she was still a Goblin like anyone else. If they were running they all had a chance. There was only the Chieftain and the other Goblins. Other warriors didn’t have more…rights. If they ate more food it was because they fought and needed the energy, not because they were special.

  Rags had seen warriors eating scraps in that room along with normal laboring Goblins. It was all about power, here. Power, which divided a tribe against itself.

  She didn’t like it. But she didn’t have to like it to use it to her advantage. Rags rolled over and slept, dreaming of ways she could gain influence in this mockery of a tribe.

  —-

  The next day, Rags met the chief [Shaman] of Tremborag’s tribe. Or rather, the [Shaman] found her. It was surprise visit, but when Rags saw the female Hob wearing paint on her mostly unclothed body and little else, she immediately made time for her.

  She was very nearly naked. Rags had never met another Goblin shaman, so she had no idea if this was customary, but it didn’t seem practical unless they all stayed indoors in the winter. Paint—some kind of chalky colored substance—decorated the female Hob’s skin, creating exotic patterns that hypnotized the eye.

  And other body parts, it seemed. For all the male Goblins the [Shaman] passed—and a good deal of the females—stared with acute interest at her, both at the parts seen and the parts hinted at.

  Rags was young, so she didn’t care. But she was suddenly acutely aware of how other Goblins cared about looks. The Gold Stone Chieftain grunted approvingly as he stared at the [Shaman]’s backside. Rags didn’t see the point so she only scowled when the Goblins impeded their progress with appreciative ogling.

  This was a type of power too, and the [Shaman] flaunted it. That made Rags a bit wary when the Shaman led her to her large and sumptuous quarters, making the two Hobs wait outside.

  She had pillows, lots of them. And part of her room was clearly devoted to her craft; Rags saw a lot of items that wouldn’t have looked unfamiliar on an [Alchemist]’s table. She gazed around in interest as the [Shaman] talked with her.

  “You are Rags. A new Goblin and a Chieftain. So young!”

  Rags nodded, meeting the other Goblin’s gaze calmly. She had power too, Rags sensed.

  “You had no Shaman in any of your tribes. Have you never met a Shaman before?”

  “No.”

  She was very fluent, while Rags had to struggle to make herself understood. The [Shaman] smiled sadly.

  “It is not good. Shamans make a tribe strong. Without us, there is only Chieftains and all they can do is hit things.”

  That made Rags smile. The [Shaman] whispered a word, and a ball of light floated from her hands, colors—red, white, green, black—blurring together in a light show. Rags stared at it appreciatively.

  “We have power. We take it from the tribe. You know this?”

  “Yes. Magic. Like this?”

  Rags raised her hand and cast the [Light] spell. The [Shaman] gasped as an orb—perfectly mirroring the one she’d made—floated out of Rags’s palm. The Goblin smiled; she wasn’t so easily impressed by parlor tricks.

  “You have magic. No one told me this.”

  Which told Rags that she was being gossiped about. She shrugged.

  “[Shaman] magic. Is like [Mage]?”

  “Yes. And no. Different. My magics are basic, but strong with numbers. I can cast lightning and burn and create shields. And heal.”

  “Heal?”

  That attracted Rags’ interest. Pisces had taught her the fundamentals of magic and he had told her that healing spells were extremely advanced spells for mages.

  The Shaman nodded.

  “Close flesh. Restore blood. Not fix missing arm, though. Still useful.”

  “Very.”

  Rags thought about how many healing potions she could save with a [Shaman]. She pointed to the female Hob.

  “Only you? One Shaman?”

  “I am Ulvama. Another five [Shamans] are in the tribe, but I am strongest by far. They can throw fire. I can scorch the earth.”

  So you could have more than one if your tribe was big enough. Rags wondered if she could persuade a [Shaman] to join her tribe, or if Ulvama could teach someone. Could she learn?

  “It is good that you think.”

  Ulvama interrupted Rags’ thought. The [Shaman] leaned forwards and smiled at Rags, as if the two of them were sharing a secret.

  “You are smart. And brave. I saw you challenging the Hob. But Tremborag does not think you are important.”

  “No.”

  Rags scowled. Ulvama smiled deeper.

  “But I do. You need support. Allies. I can be your ally.”

  Rags held still. She eyed Ulvama cautiously. A [Shaman], much less the chief [Shaman] of Tremborag’s tribe would be very useful. But why did Ulvama want to help Rags? Did she really see something in her, as she was hinting?

  Or did she do this to all Chieftains? Was she just playing the odds or did she want something? Rags didn’t know, but she wasn’t one to spit on an offered hand.

  Unless it was someone she hated, like Relc.

  “Ally is good.”

  “Yes. I can speak to other leaders for you. They are not certain if you should be followed or fought. But I can persuade them.”

  Rags was under no illusions as to how Ulvama would do that. She frowned; she’d had the birds and bees explained to her by Erin of all people, although she had no idea why birds would mate with bees. But would the offer of sex really persuade so many?

  “Will work?”

  Ulvama laughed.

  “You are young so you do not know. But it will work, especially since you have a name. That makes you special.”

  Rags nodded proudly. A name was rare, even if the tribe had a [Shaman], she had learned. It was a mark of influence, and here, of power.

  “One thing is strange, though. You have no Shaman but you have a name. Did you come from another tribe? Or did your Shaman die?”

  Rags shook her head.

  “No [Shaman]. Human gave it to me.”

  Ulvama’s eyes widened. She stared at Rags, and then she shook her head sadly.

  “Then it is not a proper name.”

  Rags stared at Ulvama, shocked. She hadn’t liked the name Erin had given her, but it had stuck and she had long since taken it as her own. It was her name!

  “Why not?”

  “Only Shamans can give names. Not Humans.”

  Ulvama said it as if it were obvious. Rags didn’t think this made sense and said so.

  “My name.”

  “I can give you a better one.”

  “No. My name.”

  The two stared at each other, the good mood in the room evaporating like dew. After a moment, Ulvama looked away. She spoke more directly and with less smiles.

  “You will need to gain support from other warriors. Find strong ones; make them your allies or make them yours.”

  “How? Give things?”

  Rags had an idea of how to gain power. Bribing followers, rewarding the faithful,
demonstrating ability in combat and elsewhere—but Ulvama shook her head dismissively.

  “Use that.”

  To Rag’s surprise and outrage she reached out and poked Rags between the legs. The Goblin closed her legs instantly and glared at Ulvama.

  “That is mine.”

  She had no interest in sex, especially the way Erin described it. Goblins knew about the link between sex and babies of course; it was hard to miss the connection. But while Rags would have been considered a fine age for giving birth, she didn’t want to. It seemed like a pain.

  “It is the best way for females. Do not be stupid.”

  The Shaman was waspish. She stared at Rags and the Goblin glared back.

  “Sleep with others. Garen Redfang if you can. He will help you for that—all do. Do not be—”

  She was reaching for Rag’s legs. Rags slapped Ulvama’s hand down. The Shaman gasped in outrage. She raised a hand to strike Rags.

  And Rags kicked her.

  Kicking was better than a punch, mainly because people often watched your hands. Rags’s foot slammed into Ulvama’s stomach and the Goblin doubled over, coughing in pain. Rags sneered as she stood over Ulvama. The other Goblin was soft, lazy for all her power.

  “No.”

  When the Shaman looked up there was murder in her eyes. Rags stared down at Ulvama coldly, ready for a fight. She did not want to sleep with anyone, and she had no intention of being told what to do. Ulvama’s eyes blazed. She gathered magic to her in a wave, hissing with anger, ready to blast this upstart Chieftain.

  But Rags had a hand on her sword and the [Firefly] spell burning in her hand. The [Shaman] looked at Rags and the smaller Goblin knew she was wondering if she would be quick enough with her spells, or if Rags would stab her first.

  “Get out.”

  That was all Ulvama said. Rags nodded. She doubted the [Shaman] would be cowardly enough to strike her from behind. She walked towards the door. Then she turned at it.

  “I need no name. I have one.”

  The door slammed as Rags left.

  —-

  Rags felt upset and annoyed for hours after meeting Ulvama. She’d been hoping so badly for help, and Ulvama had offered it! But not only had the Shaman denied her name, she’d tried to force Rags to do something she didn’t want to, as if she had no choice. She was no true ally, and Rags had been right to not join up with her.

  But however good it had felt to kick Ulvama, the consequences of Rags’ actions were immediately obvious. When she received the summons to meet Tremborag with the other Goblins to plan a raid on a Human settlement, Rags found a room full of Goblin warriors standing around a map.

  In this, Rags could find no fault. She stared appreciatively at the map of the local area and, of all things, crude figurines arranged around a town on the big stone table. It was a tool for planning attacks, and Rags saw Garen leaning over the table as Tremborag spoke with a Hob who was pushing pieces around.

  When he saw Rags, though, Tremborag grinned at her. She saw other Goblins in the room turn to laugh at her as well and felt uneasy.

  “Ah! Fake Name Goblin! Come.”

  Rags froze mid-step towards the table. She stared at Tremborag. The Goblin laughed at her with his eyes and mouth. She glared at him.

  “I am Rags.”

  “That is not what Ulvama said. She said your name was given to you by a Human.”

  So, this was the Shaman’s revenge. Rags gritted her teeth, but she knew arguing was pointless. She pushed her way towards the table and stared at the pieces.

  “Attack?”

  “A raid. A Human town has many supplies and much food for the winter. I want it. But it is defended by many soldiers and some adventurers. See.”

  He pointed to the map. All business now, Rags listened as another Goblin explained the rough layout of the town. It wasn’t an easy place to attack by any means, she could tell. Stone walls, enchantments on the gates and even a tower spelled to hurl fire—add the Human defenders and she would have avoided it with her tribe.

  But Tremborag had the forces to take the town, and he wanted what was within. He pointed towards the board where a self-satisfied Goblin had arranged the pieces in a rough circle around the city, their means of attack.

  “What do you think, Fake Name Goblin? Garen says you are the best strategist. Can you come up with a better plan?”

  In an instant she could. Rags took one look at the proposed formation and swept it aside. The Goblin made an outraged sound, but she knew his plan had been terrible. All he wanted to do was attack from every side, as if that would immediately overwhelm the stout defenses of the town.

  In this, Tremborag’s Goblins were equal to any other Tribe. Rags sneered as she moved the pieces around. In short order she had a plan of attack that had Garen nodding approvingly. Feint a heavy assault on the gates while other forces surrounded the city. Then—feint a second attack with lots of Hobs on the west wall while the east side saw Goblins snipe the defenders there and rush ladders up with the main strike force.

  There were all kinds of other details of course, and Rags went through each phase of the plan. She paused when she came to the defenders, though.

  “Adventurers in city?”

  “A few. Not nearly as many as the soldiers, though.”

  Tremborag grinned at her. He’d been watching her work in silence. Rags carefully added a few groups of Goblins and Hobs to suppress the small group of adventurers and stood back.

  The other Goblins in the room stared at her plan of attack with grudging approval. Garen grinned openly and nudged Tremborag.

  “You see?”

  “I do. Well then, small Goblin. It seems you are capable of being a Chieftain after all.”

  Rags bared her teeth at the backhanded compliment. He wasn’t going to call her by her name ever again, was he?

  Tremborag smiled as he stared around.

  “Get ready for battle, my warriors! We will attack with many Goblins—and I will go as well.”

  This caused a stir among the Goblins in the room, and in moments all were volunteering to go with Tremborag. He chose only enough for the force Rags had proposed and then looked directly at her.

  “And you will come too. After all, it is your plan.”

  She nodded. Rags felt a bit of excitement burning in her, along with guilt. She’d be killing Humans. But this was a chance to prove herself! She looked Tremborag in the eye and bared her teeth.

  “Of course.”

  —-

  They mustered outside of the town just before evening. It wasn’t far to go, hence Tremborag’s desire to attack the town and the Goblins moved fast anyways. Rags found herself relegated to one of the side units, away from most of the fighting. She resented that, but comforted herself in the knowledge that this was her plan.

  Rags stood in the snow, shivering a bit in the leather armor she was wearing—it was very cold—and staring around. A group of warriors, including Tremborag, had been gathered for the decisive actual attack on the eastern walls. They were hiding in a copse of trees. Garen Redfang would attack the western walls with some Hobs so he was not present.

  In truth, neither Tremborag nor Garen were needed for this battle. Rags had gone over the plans; they had brought two Goblins for every one Human, and only some of the defenders could fight. It would be a slaughter either way; it only depended on how many Goblins their side lost in this battle.

  To Rags’ mild surprise, the group she was leading—one of the groups that would go into the city and tie up the Human soldiers—contained a spellcaster like herself. Only, the drooling Goblin who had to be prodded along by one of Tremborag’s warriors was very unlike her.

  For one thing, he had no ears. Someone had cut them off of him, leaving two earholes instead. Rags felt angry when she saw that; she knew some adventurers earned money from Goblin ears. Maybe one of them had done it to this Goblin.

  The Goblin stumbled towards Rags and stared at her blankly. She look
ed at him in disgust and turned to one of the warriors in her group.

  “Why bring?”

  The warrior shrugged as he examined his chipped sword.

  “Stupid. Head is bad. But can cast spell.”

  Rags stared at the drooling Goblin in doubt. He turned his head blankly towards her and grunted.

  “Ah. Ugn.”

  She wrinkled her nose and turned away. Ahead of her, Tremborag gave the signal and wild horn calls suddenly rent the air around her. The attack had begun.

  The Human town had been peacefully going about its daily routine, safe in the knowledge that so many soldiers and adventurers were gathered here to guard it. But in moments a savage Goblin attack shattered their bubble of complacency. The soldiers on the walls shot down at the masses of Goblins with shields, doing little damage. Goblins swarmed all around, but the Human commander, whoever he was, quickly realized the main push was coming from the western walls.

  Horns blew, men and women shouted orders, and the Goblins in the trees, saw the bulk of the defenders go to fight off the Hobs that were assaulting the west side. Now was the time.

  Standing in the back of the ranks of Goblins, Rags only heard the cut off screams as Goblins with high [Archer] levels shot the Humans on the walls and more Goblins rushed forwards with ladders. Tremborag shouted, and suddenly everyone was running.

  Rags raced with her group to a ladder and climbed it nimbly. Above her a warrior choked as an arrow caught him in the chest; he fell and nearly knocked the dimwitted Goblin down with him. Rags cursed and had to pull the stupidly grinning Goblin up.

  Then they were on the walls and in the main town itself. Rags ran with the warriors and two archers down one of the streets; they would stop any of the soldiers trying to help the others.

  In less than a minute Rags saw the first soldiers breaking away from fighting at the gates and walls to fight the Goblins in the city. But they were fragmented, caught off-guard. More of them rushed at the Goblins who’d braced themselves in the streets.