by Pirateaba
It was just—Rags didn’t feel that good. She sat next to Pyrite, letting him munch on the food she’d been given, trying not to glare as a group of Goblins ran past her, fighting over a large kebab one of the Goblins in front was trying to keep away from the others. She longed to shout at them to share and stop running in case one of the Goblins lost an eye on the poking stick—Goblin parties could have casualties if they got too wild—but she knew that would be pointless.
Rags felt bad and couldn’t explain why. She knew there was reason to celebrate and liked the change in her class. It wasn’t as if she was officially a Chieftain thanks to getting the class, but the Skills and title did help. It was a good thing.
She didn’t feel happy, though. Accomplished—yes. Triumphant—yes. But happy?
No. Rags couldn’t bring herself to smile and rejoice over it like the other Goblins. Not today. She just felt…
Tired. A bit tired, and almost melancholy, which was an odd emotion for a Goblin to have. But whatever feeling was in her, it overwhelmed whatever euphoria Rags should have had.
Why? Perhaps it was because for all this day was a triumph, it wasn’t enough.
Creating crossbows, rebelling against Tremborag, learning how to use pikes, gaining the [Chieftain] class…today Rags could only think how small each of her accomplishments were. She stared moodily into the fire and didn’t gorge herself.
And other Goblins noticed.
It was the consequence of being around so many people who knew you so well, from the way you walked to how you smiled and breathed. Rags could see Pyrite eyeing her as he sat and ate, and she had noticed how other Goblins looked at her before going back to celebrating. They knew their Chieftain was upset, even if they didn’t know why.
But where Goblins differed from Humans and other species with similar characteristics was how they treated Rags. No Goblins went over to hug Rags or ask her how she felt. They left her alone to brood, and that made Rags feel better in itself. It was her problem, and Goblins didn’t like to get involved in problems.
—-
The party lasted for around three hours until it ended all at once. Goblins stopped eating, mainly because they were full, and the mood in the camp returned to normal in minutes. Sensing the change, Rags stood up and began to shout orders. It was time to get to work.
The first order of the day, which she’d been planning on without the addition of her [Chieftain] class was testing out her tribe’s warriors. Rags had a new tribe, forged out of many disparate groups. She had to know who she could trust to fight or go hunting, and who she had to keep an eye on and command directly.
So Rags organized a fight. Other races might have called it a sparring session, or a test of arms, or a mock battle. But Goblins knew a brawl when they saw one.
The rules were simple. Rags told all the Goblins to get rid of their armor, their weapons, and grab a stick or non-jagged rock. They formed into whatever groups suited them—some Goblins because they belonged to a group like the Redfang warriors, others because they were friends or family. Then Rags gave the command and all the various groups of Goblins ran at each other and started fighting.
It was not training. Training involved deliberately honing skills or practicing with weapons to become better in combat. Most Goblins didn’t bother to train, although the Redfang warriors were an exception. But this was just a chance for Goblins to settle grudges without killing anyone and a chance for Rags to observe.
She sat on a tree stump as Pyrite sat next to her, chewing on some leftover gristle from the morning. She’d exempted him from the fighting and so he organized Goblins who dropped out of the brawl.
In this case dropping out meant the Goblins had had enough of being pounded on and walked away. Or they were carried if they’d been knocked out. Some of the pregnant female Goblins and younger ones—and ones not inclined to fighting—helped with this. The rest just hit each other.
Rags nodded to herself as she stared into the seething mass of green bodies. Her keen eyes could pick out individual Goblin’s faces in the mass and so she saw what few others could.
The Redfang warriors were in the center of the battle, laying about with sticks and enjoying themselves immensely by the looks of it. They were dominating any other Goblins who came at them with ease. However, they were outnumbered and so part of their group got split up. The Redfang warriors bashed their way through the Goblins, aiming for the edge of the fray where they could defend themselves easier and wait to regroup with their friends.
Rags saw them reach another competent group of fighters. The all-female Goblin group was doing well against regular warriors, fighting with ferocity if not the same skill as the Redfang warriors. Rags paused though, as she saw a familiar head standing out among the rest of the Goblins.
The old Goblin. Rags frowned as she stared at the Goblin with the white beard who was happily tripping other Goblins up and kicking them while they were down. She’d told Pyrite to forbid Hobs from joining in the fight since they were too strong.
“Hey.”
She reached over and poked Pyrite. He grunted—she’d gotten close to one of his potion-healed belly wounds. Rags glared at him and pointed at the old Goblin.
“Why he there? Hob.”
“He is old. Doesn’t fight fully.”
That was all Pyrite said. It wasn’t a full explanation, but Rags took it to mean Pyrite was looking out for Greybeard. She shrugged and watched his group. Her ears were good enough to hear him. He was pointing and talking to the female Goblin warrior who lead the group.
“Mm. Go this way, leader? Is good way.”
Rags narrowed her eyes as the female Goblin warrior hesitated, and then led her Goblins left as the old Goblin had suggested. In the chaotic melee, her band of female Goblins somehow ended up in a perfect flanking position to the Redfang warriors. They helped another band of Goblins drub the elite Goblins until some more Redfang warriors ran into the backs of the Goblins and drove them apart.
That was odd. Had he known which way to go in that chaos? Or was it luck? For that matter , why did he belong with the female Goblins anyways? Rags knew he’d been in their faction in the mountain to survive, but it seemed odd their leader would accept his suggestions.
“He is smart.”
Pyrite told Rags when she asked, and the female Goblin said the same thing as she and her warriors stumbled away from the battle.
“Crafty old one. Worth feeding.”
That was that. Rags watched as the other Goblins kept fighting. It looked like the warriors from Tremborag’s tribe who’d joined her were a bit above her regular warriors in skill, but only just. It still ended with a loss for every Goblin but the Redfang warriors, at least in the sense of who had the most bruises. But Rags was pleased to see Garen Redfang’s best didn’t get out completely unharmed.
That done, Rags let the Hobs do the same thing, only this time they had to fight completely unarmed and all the other Goblins watched. Pyrite declined to fight, but almost all the other Hobs were up for scrap. Rags watched them beat each other energetically and privately agreed with Pyrite’s decision; the old Goblin would have gotten smushed battling these ones.
Hobs were strong. They had to be to be Hobs. Whether they were fat or thin, adept at long-ranged weapons or comfortable with a club, they were simply on a different level than normal Goblins. It bothered Rags a bit, as she watched them. Any one of these Hobs could kill her. If she had her crossbow and sword and shield she might have a chance, but if she missed—
She was a bit weak, wasn’t she?
Troubled, Rags watched the Hobs hit each other until they got bored. She let everyone break and eat lunch while she thought on her seat.
She now had a good idea who her best fighters and leaders were, and which units of Goblins excelled at what. So without further ado, Rags decided to divvy up Tremborag’s cache of weapons and armor right then and there.
Her Goblins hadn’t been idle testing out their new weapons
. More than one sword had been blunted by hitting things, which was a pity, but a good whetstone would fix that. More importantly, Rags had an idea of which weapons were truly powerful.
There were only five. A wooden shield with faded paint showing some sort of flower on a field was unbreakable as far as her Goblins had been able to tell. They’d tried to burn it by dropping it in a campfire, had a Hob hit it, and let one of the felled trees drop on it. It didn’t break.
Another sword shocked anyone that touched the blade, fairly badly. It wasn’t a powerful enchantment per se, but it never stopped shocking and never ran out of magic. Any warrior with metal armor trying to block that would soon be numb.
A mace seemed to have the weight of a sledgehammer behind it. Another sword threw molten fire when you swung it hard—Rags eyed a badly burnt group of Goblins and decided not to give that one out. And one chest plate seemed to fracture any non-magical weapon that struck it, breaking the blades badly on impact.
Of course, there were plenty of other lesser magical artifacts. Some were sharper than they should be, others seemed unbreakable or burned or froze or in one case, made whatever they cut really itch. But the best artifacts were those five.
Rags was only slightly disappointed. She knew Tremborag had probably given the best artifacts out, but these were plenty good enough. They were of a higher quality than steel, which meant her warriors were outfitted as good as or better than most city militias. Even Liscor’s City Watch didn’t have magical weapons.
Dividing up the weapons among all of her eager warriors was a chore, though. Rags ended up giving both the shocking sword and the set of armor to Redscar, mainly because he was the highest-leveled warrior. He needed good equipment and besides, none of the Hobs could wear the chest plate. It was big on Redscar, but he could wear it more or less easily.
She would have given the armor to Pyrite if she could. Rags offered him the mace instead, or the sword, but Pyrite declined both. He preferred his axe. So she gave him the shield and he seemed quite pleased.
The last mace went to one of Rags’ Hobs, not one of the Redfang Warrior Hobs. This was purely to appease the Goblins who were upset the Redfang warriors got the bulk of the magical gear. Shields, high-quality armor, swords, and so on went to the delighted warriors. It made sense; they were Rags’ best fighters, but the other Goblins were unhappy.
There were still factions. Or perhaps the Goblins would have been unhappy in any case, but Rags appeased them by making the Redfang warriors give up their original gear and share it with her other warriors. That way, they still received an upgrade in their equipment.
That done, Rags finally let herself have lunch. She took a block of cheese and melted it over some meat and slapped some bread on it and ate it messily by her fire. While she did, Rags gauged the mood of the camp.
The Goblins who’d been upset about not getting magical weapons…were only upset. They sulked for a few minutes and then brightened up at their shiny new steel ones. The Redfang warriors were happy, and Tremborag’s former Goblins…
Seemed content. Some looked a bit disgruntled as they eyed the empty cart where only a few weapons remained—the molten fire sword and a shield that seemed to give any Goblin who held it a rash. Also, a spear that sprouted thorns everywhere except two specific handholds; none of the Goblins could remember where they were and kept getting their hands spiked. But Tremborag’s Goblins understood that giving the weapons away was better than locking them up.
And Noears? Rags saw him eating happily and shooting lightning to impress a female Goblin—he hadn’t cared about the weapons at all. Mages were like that.
Then Rags turned and saw the old Goblin. He was sitting next to Pyrite. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on him, the one oddity out of an otherwise predictable day.
He only acted stupid, Rags felt. She watched as he chattered to Pyrite, eating and laughing hugely as the other Hob ate in silence. That informed her next decision, much to the surprise of all Goblins.
Rags found that Goblins were best when they were led directly. Even under supervision, she required local group leaders to implement her orders. So she took her Hobs and divided them among her various groups. Some Hobs were in charge of leading hunting groups, others took over control of various warrior Groups.
A few Goblins were capable of leading too, of course. Redscar commanded the Redfang warriors as Rags’ mobile attack force and vanguard. And the female Goblin warrior—Rags had learned her nickname was Poisonbite thanks to the two poisoned daggers she wielded—Rags put in command of another group.
Her tribe had order. It had leaders. But Rags felt she needed one last thing. She was restless. And after watching the brawl…angry for no reason she could explain. So after a brief consultation with Noears and Poisonbite she struck camp.
Goblins usually organized fast, but all of Rags’ new policies and grouping caused delays. Still, it was best to iron out problems now and get her people used to the new system rather than later, so Rags gritted her teeth and dealt with the slow pace.
It was just hard to get everyone moving in the right formation. Rags wanted order when her tribe marched. Warriors would surround the noncombatants and valuable supplies and move in their units, rather than mix with non-warrior Goblins. It was a good idea, but hard to implement.
The new pikes proved to be another problem. The tribe had felled countless trees and fashioned hundreds of them, but they were just cumbersome to carry. They were obviously long and though they were actually lighter than they looked for being so tall—Rags guessed they were only around thirteen pounds in weight—they were still far heavier than a sword. Goblins had to work to carry them together, or if they were strapped to a wagon, they were so long they were in good danger of smacking Hobs or other obstacles as the wagons moved.
Rags sorted it out. Some Goblins could carry, and she had a few wagons modified to carry hundreds of pikes at one time. She yelled and bossed Goblins about and in the end she got her tribe moving.
They had to keep moving. It was just what Rags felt was right. She was missing something important. Their tribe finally set off, moving fast. Half again as fast as normal, in fact. To Rags’ delight, her skill [Fleet Foot] made her tribe move across the snowy ground with ease. She immediately tried to figure out how to use it to outmaneuver her enemies while marveling at how quickly her tribe could go.
And it meant they would definitely get where she wanted by tonight. Their destination was a well-known location to all of Tremborag’s Goblins, an area relatively uninhabited by Human settlements. For good reason. When Rags had heard of this place—a small village—she’d immediately wanted to see it for herself.
All of Tremborag’s former Goblins had objected, Poisonbite and Noears most stridently of all. But Rags had been adamant.
“Want to see.”
That was all she told them, and Rags overruled all the objections. But she was lying and she knew it. Rags just wanted to kill something today.
On the march, Rags summoned Noears and made him tell her and Pyrite all he could about the surrounding area. He was happy to do it and Rags found she liked how intelligent he was and the breath of his knowledge.
“Learned much while acting stupid, Chieftain.”
He grinned at her and then pretended to be dumb, eyes losing focus, letting his mouth fall open as he drooled on himself. Pyrite grunted and grinned as he chewed on some frozen tree sap. Rags smiled despite her mood.
“Good. Other tribes?”
Noears nodded. He counted on his fingers, listing off several big Goblin tribes.
“Tremborag is biggest by far. But strong Chieftains live here.”
“Have to be strong. Or run or die.”
Pyrite added. Noears and Rags both nodded.
“Strong Chieftains. Not run. One—big Hob with tribe of many Hobs. Another—[Witch]. Knows fire magic. And a tribe with many thieves. Sneaks into places and steals…”
Rags listened, nodding appreciatively at t
he information. These tribes certainly were a cut above the ones around Liscor. She wondered if there were Goblin tribes in the south who were just as strong, besides the two she knew of. Had the Goblin Lord absorbed all of them into his army?
She was also curious about one of the Chieftains Noears had mentioned. A Chieftain who was also a [Witch]? Rags would love to meet her, but they were too far away. Going to visit their territory would mean a long journey, careful planning, scouting and fighting against monsters and Humans…and besides, after Tremborag, Rags was a bit tired of meeting new tribes.
That was how Rags occupied herself on the first part of the march. The second part as they crossed an open section of ground filled with untouched snow was devoted to fighting and avoiding monsters.
Golem!
The cry went up among the Goblins. Rags immediately kicked her Carn Wolf and shot forwards. She saw Redfang Warriors racing towards her waving their arms, at the same time she saw the Snow Golem.
It was…about the size of a hill. That was to say, it was around two hundred…two hundred and sixty feet high. And it was nearly as wide as it was tall. The massive abomination of snow groaned, the sound echoing for miles, the product of shifting tones of snow and dirt and rock.
Rags stared at the Snow Golem. It was no classic snowman built by Human kids anymore. It was more like a squat, vaguely pyramidal horror with long arms that scythed around aimlessly as it moved. Slowly.
It hadn’t noticed the Flooded Waters tribe yet. Rags immediately shouted and her Goblins changed course, moving perpendicular to the Snow Golem to keep well away from it.
Snow Golems. Goblins knew countless monsters thanks to their tribal memory and experience living in the wilderness. But Snow Golems were usually one of the few monsters Goblins didn’t fear. After all, a normal one wasn’t that big unless the kids that made it were really ambitious and all they could do was smack you with their twig arms.
True, they could hit you hard enough to draw blood, but they were just snow. Hardly a threat unless they smothered you. Of the Golem species, Snow Golems were weaker than Mud Golems or Sand Golems, which was…embarrassing, really.