by Lucas Thorn
He nodded slowly, though, as everything became clear. He’d wondered what the wounded Hobgoblin had been on about at the time. How he’d kept on and on about why they shouldn’t kill him. That what he was doing was important. Emperor this. Emperor that. Something about a dangerous thing somewhere.
It hadn’t seemed important at the time.
They’d told the Hobgoblin, just before they finished him off, that they were passing through the Forest of Decay to see what it was like up north. Maybe go as far as Doom’s Reach.
They’d asked him the way to Crachen.
Hope the Ogre gets you, he’d said.
“I know it,” Bossyou said with satisfaction. He tapped his head where his smarts were hidden deep within. “It not big it. It Ogre.”
“OGRE!” screamed Onespud as he crested the hill. “It fucking Ogre!”
“See?” Bossyou said with a big grin which showed off his razorsharp teeth.
“You always right,” Spitblood said grudgingly.
“We fight?” Fistguts asked.
Spitblood chewed his lip and looked thoughtfully up at the hill to where Onespud was rolling down so fast it was as if the rising sun was on his tail.
The massive shape behind him roared and waved a club roughly the size of all six Goblins put together.
“We got tactics,” Fistguts said. “Bossyou, he think of some.”
Bossyou sighed hard and nodded. Times like this tested his patience. Tactics. Think of something. What did they think he was? An Elf?
“We could split up,” Spitblood suggested. “Come at him from behind? Rip his back open?”
“Fuck,” Fistguts said. “He big.”
Onespud kept screaming as the Ogre lashed out with his club. Only narrowly missed splatting the squealing goblin.
“Nah,” Bossyou said. “We fucked.”
“Run?” Fistguts asked.
“Run,” Bossyou nodded.
“Wise,” Flyrunner said.
And they legged it.
Because that’s what Longrunners do best.
Just ask Eventide.