Conquest

by Dean Henegar

  Dholkos then surveyed the battlefield, looking for more targets. The only opponent left standing was the sergeant of the guard. As Dholkos watched, the sergeant landed a strong blow on the last warrior before being brought down by a backstab from the last remaining rogue. All three of the surviving party members were at less than twenty percent health. Dholkos prepared to follow down the path the other rogues had gone earlier to pursue the miners, when a squad of red-cloaked soldiers appeared behind them.

  “Looks like the alarm has been raised. Nothing to do now but try to buy some time to let Killadin to take out as many goblins as he can,” Dholkos ordered. The party was being paid based on the total number of kills they made this night, so kills completed by the other members would still line their pockets. “Let’s buy the others some time. See you back at the spawn point, folks,” Dholkos said as they began their last fight of the night.

  Further down the tunnel, Killadin and the other rogue pursued the goblin miners, quickly catching and dispatching them, one after another. The small passage they were following emptied out into another large cavern that was a mirror image of the one they had just left. They could see the passage that led off toward the dungeon, as well as another dozen fleeing miners heading toward the exit at the back of this cavern. Killadin was having the time of his life, slaying the weak goblins with hardly an effort.

  “These guys are easy, can’t believe we’re getting a bounty of fifteen silver for each one.” The words had barely left Killadin’s mouth when a small crossbow bolt slammed into his chest.

  Kip Kip’s hand crossbow critically hits you for 44 damage.

  “What the heck?! Where did this guy come from?” Killadin shouted as Kip Kip stood in the middle of the cavern, reloading the hand crossbow. “I got dibs on that guy!” Killadin shouted to the other rogue, who was speeding ahead to kill more miners. Kip Kip finished loading but missed his next shot as Killadin reached his foe. The twin daggers Killadin wielded went to work, slashing the hand holding the hand crossbow and then landing a critical hit on the goblin’s throat, causing a bleed over time wound. Kip Kip didn’t go out without a fight and managed to land a couple of weak slashes from the dagger that Raytak had given him for helping to defend the caravan. “Hey, aren’t you that dopey goblin that the merchant keeps around to do all his work?” Killadin taunted, as he continued to slash and stab at the goblin. The rogue only stopped once he was sure the goblin was going to bleed out.

  “Bree Yark!” The loud cry resounded through the area. At the other end of the cavern, a goblin stood wielding his own hand crossbow and dagger that were twins to the ones Kip Kip had used. The other rogue, who was now twenty yards ahead of Killadin, jerked to a stop, clutching a crossbow bolt embedded in his chest.

  “Owww, these things really hurt. I thought bree-yark meant a goblin was trying to surrender?” the other rogue questioned, as the miners stopped their flight and turned to face their foes. Scanning the goblin that had just shot his friend, Killadin found the following.

  Chief Bugtug. Goblin Chieftain Level 5.

  Bugtug has activated the inspiring presence ability. All routing goblins have had their morale reset.

  “You come here, kill the people, kill my son! Now you die, human! My people! Slay the intruders! Blood for blood!” chief Bugtug shouted as he led the swarm of goblins toward the two rogues. Killadin watched as his fellow rogue was quickly cut down by the miners; their numbers and fury overpowering his better skills and gear. Killadin began to throw daggers at the shouting horde of goblins, dropping one of the miners before they began to surround him. Mining picks, shovels, and hammers slammed into Killadin.

  “Stupid goblins…” Killadin wasn’t able to finish his thought as the combined attacks dropped his health to zero and sent him to respawn.

  Chief Bugtug looked down at his fallen son Kip Kip. The chief picked up his son’s hand crossbow and knife, stashing them in his inventory. The goblin chief then shrugged and went back to his throne room without appearing to have a thought or concern about his loss. The loss of a family member was not something to get worked up about, most goblins believed.

  Chapter 16

  Dawn was just beginning to lighten the eastern sky when Grizak began to yip and hiss at his sub-cackle, not afraid to nip at a few of the lazier ones in his attempts to wake them up and get them moving. They had much ground to make up if they wanted to catch their prey. The strike group that their people had sent to destroy the Drebix farms had been decimated two days earlier by an unknown group of humans. These new humans appeared to well equipped, trained, and organized, easily thrashing the gnolls in battle. There were only a few frightened survivors who were able to return with their report. The Cacklemaster of the Spinefur had commanded that the humans involved be killed and consumed. Many of the sub-cackles were, even now, attacking the Drebix and striking their outlying farms once again; raiding and wreaking havoc on the humans. There would be much plunder and feasting for those attacking, as the humans were known to have great supplies of food, even if their own flesh was stringy and tough.

  Grizak and his sub-cackle were assigned to track down the second group of humans, the ones that had helped the Drebix and then fled to the south. The trail was only a few days old, so it wasn’t too hard to pick up or to follow. Grizak’s cackle had been praised by the Cacklemaster for being the best gnoll trackers in the zone. Tracking humans was considered their specialty. Grizak felt that humans were usually the easiest humanoids, other than dwarves, to track. Humans would usually think to cover their trails, but rarely considered covering their scent, which was the best marker for a gnoll tracker to follow.

  After a few minutes, the group was ready to move. Gnolls were hardy creatures with strong endurance and took great joy in running down their prey. Grizak yearned for that moment when his prey began to tire. The scent of fear would waft off of them as they realized their death was moments away. His cackle was a small, but experienced, group having a total of five trackers other than Grizak. They ranged in levels from three to five, with Grizak’s level of six being the highest level in their group. Accompanying the trackers were three bloodscent hyenas that were level four beasts, smaller than their war hyena kin, but much more effective scent trackers. To pack some more punch, the Cacklemaster had assigned a dozen level four gnoll warriors, as well as the shaman Foulfur, to accompany them. Foulfur was level five and had often butted heads with Grizak, who believed the shaman had been placed in the group to keep him in line. Gnoll shamans were specialized in support magic, though nearly all the gnoll shamans kept a few combat spells at the ready for self-defense. The way to move up in a gnoll cackle was to prove your greater worth. The most common way of proving your greater worth was to kill or humiliate the gnoll ahead of you.

  The equipment his cackle employed was simple, but well kept. Despite the normal slovenly behavior of gnolls, Grizak insisted his cackle’s weapons and gear were well maintained. He realized that his own survival may depend on those under him buying a few more precious seconds for Grizak to flee if a hunt turned bad. The trackers carried weighted nets and short spears, using abilities to trap and incapacitate their foes before killing them. They were armored in a light leather harness, as were the warriors. The warrior gnolls used crude battle axes and wooden shields as their primary weapons. The shaman wore no armor, trusting in a few defensive spells and items to protect it. An armored harness could get in the way and interrupt spell casting. Foulfur wielded a magically sharpened rusty sickle in one hand and carried a bundle of bloodstained twigs in the other. The bundle of twigs was a reward from the Cacklemaster after Foulfur had helped him kill a particularly annoying rival. Foulfur was proud of his item that he called painbundle. The painbundle would absorb half the damage Foulfur received, individual twigs crumbling after absorbing a certain amount of damage. Foulfur didn’t know that the item was cursed. When the last twig was broken, all the damage ever absorbed by the item would be transferred immediately to its owner. The cu
nning Cacklemaster had given the gift to Foufur, knowing of its curse and ensuring that another potential rival was eliminated in due time.

  Grizak readied his own weapons as the cackle moved out. He had a more robust leather harness and completed it with a spiked leather collar. The collar would prevent rivals from latching their fangs to his throat and was magically enhanced to offer a minor defensive buff. Grizak had specialized in a duel wield combat style, carrying a matching pair of well-crafted battle axes. The cackle covered ground quickly with the trackers and bloodscent hyenas leading the way. Grizak placed himself in the middle of the group. As the leader, he was entitled to more safety than the lesser members of the cackle. After a few hours of travel, the trackers stopped and began to scout about, having lost the scent. Foulfur did not waste the opportunity to rub potential failure in his rival’s snout.

  “Heh, heh, heh…great tracker Grizak lost the scent of the little humans. I cannot wait to watch what the Cacklemaster does to you when you fail,” Foulfur yipped toward Grizak. Grizak pretended to take no notice, not because he was afraid of his rival, but because the Cacklemaster had forbidden him from killing the shaman until at least after the humans were dead and in the cookpot. The Cacklemaster had even promised him that he could keep the shaman’s painbundle if the shaman was eliminated. One of the trackers ran up to the main group to explain the delay. The rest of the trackers had elected the weakest and least liked of their group to deliver the bad news. No use losing a more competent tracker if Grizak decided to reward failure with death.

  “Great Grizak, much rain has passed through here covering the scent. Do not worry, we will pick up the scent momentarily,” the tracker said, trying to mollify its leader. Luck was with the tracker this time. Just as Grizak was about to decide to kill the gnoll in front of him for failure, one of the other trackers began to yip excitedly. He had picked up the scent of their prey and the cackle began to move quickly once more. The trackers eventually led them to an old abandoned farm. The scent of their prey was strong in the area around the partially destroyed farmhouse, where the human trail appeared to end.

  Grizak walked into the farmhouse, looking at the various blood stains on the floor. He sniffed and then tasted a few, spitting out the disturbing taste of the dark, black, syrup-like blood that was splattered amongst the human blood. His prey had been in a bloody fight here, one he didn’t think they walked away from, considering the number of blood stains in the room. Some other predators must have already cleaned out the bodies. Anything, save for the tiniest bits of gore, was gone. The marks on the floor showed that something had licked up all that was possible to eat. The smell and taste of the other blood was disturbing; something rotten and foul that Grizak hadn’t encountered before. If the humans were killed by some other group, he would at least have to find their remains to prove the foes were gone. Grizak grinned, thinking he could claim credit for removing the humans without losing a single gnoll, all due of course to his brilliant leadership. Grizak left the house to consult with his other trackers.

  “Where are the humans at? Something took them out and then cleared out the bodies,” Grizak inquired, looking for answers. One of the trackers moved up, leading a bloodscent hyena.

  Cackle leader Grizak, there is no other scent of the humans, just a foul smell of something else and the tracks of clawed feet that traveled to the southwest. There was also the faint hint of elves and dwarves in the air, but we haven’t pinpointed them yet,” the tracker added.

  “They can’t have disappeared. Have two of the trackers head out and keep searching. If we don’t find the humans in the next few minutes, we’ll have to follow the other tracks and see what we find,” Grizak ordered. The other gnolls began to relax and search their packs for food, happy to rely on the two trackers to continue the search without their help. After a short time, the painful yelp of one of the bloodscent hyenas was heard. The cackle grew silent as all eyes moved toward the tree line. Weapons were readied and the gnolls instinctively moved closer, gathering to face whatever threat was lurking in the woods. Grizak was about to address the cackle when a frightened tracker burst through the undergrowth, running toward them.

  “Grizak, the humans ambushed us, killed the hyenas and…began eating them. Humans don’t do that, do they? They smelt wrong, like a human but off somehow. There were four of them and Mange is keeping an eye on them while I ran back to tell you,” the gnoll tracker reported. The tracker was frightened, something about the humans had scared him.

  “Heh, Grizak not scared of humans. Stay here with the shaman and tremble in fear if you want. The rest of you, let’s go kill the humans! First pick of the loot for the first kill!” Grizak shouted, knowing he would, of course, keep the best loot, but he was not averse to lying to the cackle in order to generate a little extra motivation. Shaman Foulfur ignored the insult from Grizak and followed just behind the leader. The cackle rushed into the forest and moved to where the tracker had left his comrade. The only thing there was a mess of bloody clothes and the tracks of several of the humans dragging something away... most likely Mange. “This prey was making it too easy for us, leaving such an obvious trail to follow,” Grizak mumbled to himself, as the cackle pursued their prey once more.

  The trail led deeper into the forest, ending at a large mound in the midst of a small clearing. Nothing grew in a circle twenty yards around the mound. All the vegetation nearby seemed sickly and rotten. The mound had a doorway on one side that led into the dark. Grizak could feel a sense of foreboding, not liking what he was seeing. Humans didn’t act this way and had it not been for the Cacklemaster’s order, he would listen to his fear and leave the area. Putting on a brave face, Grizak shouted orders.

  “You warriors! Get in there and kill the humans! Our prey is somewhere inside. Trackers, stay here and keep watch. Shaman, you stay here with the trackers. I’ll send a warrior back, if we need reinforcements. Half of you warriors get some torches lit,” Grizak ordered. Gnolls had good night vision, but couldn’t see in complete darkness like many of the other races. He didn’t want to risk his last four trackers, or the last bloodscent hyena. If there was a fight, it would be much easier to replace warriors than the more highly trained trackers. While he would like the support of the shaman’s magic against the humans, he had a nagging feeling that the true purpose of the shaman was to eliminate him as a potential future rival of the Cacklemaster. The gnoll warriors entered the mound with Grizak safely ensconced in the middle of the group. Ancient carvings could be seen in the pillars that supported the entrance, the gnolls taking no interest in what was written there.

  The entrance led down and the soft, dirt floor showed the marks of many clawed feet passing this way, along with the marks of several bodies that had been dragged past. The tunnel opened into a large circular room. Ancient sarcophagi were placed around the walls of the mound, the lids or sides on all of them were bashed in, revealing only dirt and pieces of bone. The bones were all split open, as if something was trying to get at the rotted marrow inside. In the back of the room, a stone altar was placed. The altar was carved with time-worn script in a language that the gnolls could not read. On top of the altar, two candelabras were placed, each with a burning candle in them. The candlelight shed a faint, sickly glow that revealed three humans kneeling at the foot of the altar. Atop the altar, between the candles, sat the body of one of the trackers, Mange. The humans in front of him were dressed as soldiers of the Imperium, though their smell was a bit off. One of the humans chuckled and began to address the gnolls in a raspy voice.

  “Lord Dunderman welcomes you. We are always happy to see new recruits, especially when they bring such tasty treats with them.” As he finished speaking, the three humans stood and turned. The light from the torches that the warriors held revealed the true nature of the “humans” they had been tracking. Just recently completing their transformation, the ghouls that were former soldiers of the Imperium licked their mouths with impossibly long tongues. They dropped t
he chunks of the hyena they had been feeding on, anxious for fresher meat. A voice from the shadows to the right spoke up.

  “Feed well my warriors, but same some…I need ten of the strongest kept alive. The rest will suffice to make a good meal for us,” advised Ghoul Lord Dunderman as he slunk from the shadows. Since his ascension to the Ghoul Lord class, Dunderman had increased his intellect and ability to reason. The greater cognitive abilities enabled him to resist the call to kill and feed as soon as he saw prey. He preferred to prepare cunning traps for intruders, weighing which ones would be added to his army and which ones were best used as rations. The soldiers he had converted had made good minions, he would have to find more of them.

  The only disappointment came from a party of adventurers that wandered into his mound just this morning. They fell to his pack after killing several of the soldier ghouls. These “players” didn’t even offer him the option of being turned into ghouls. They were delicious, however. The fortuitous entry of these gnolls would enable him to recover his losses and feed the hungry pack for a time. Dunderman activated an ability that caused terror to emit from him in waves, crashing against the fragile morale of the gnolls. Four of the warriors broke, fleeing back toward the entrance, while Grizak began to establish some order.

  “Bahh, not scared of dead things! Get at them! Hack them apart and find their loot!” Grizak ordered as he dropped the torch he was carrying to pull out his second battle axe. A high-pitched, laughing sound came from Grizak as he activated an ability to boost morale.