The Dark Lord prepared himself to give the order to attack, his goblins were in position ready to fire the first volley of arrows into the unsuspecting bandits. Ambush had proven to be the only way for his goblins to match any experienced fighter in combat. He hoped that the goblins had improved their aim since the last ambush so that he would only have to worry about the bandits still sleeping soundly within their tents. He decided a Stenjin should accompany all of his military operations in the future, the ability to sense the locations of all enemies and allies in an instant was too valuable to be left unused. Zal’Rodal stood up from his hiding spot and screamed, “Now! Kill them all!” before signalling his goblins to fire.
The goblins released their arrows instantly upon hearing the command, he was sure that some of them had held their bow drawn the entire time. The arrows whistled through the air puncturing the bandits below, making pincushions of their chests and backs. One arrow found its way into the roasting pig. Three of the bandits were writhing on the ground moaning in pain while the others dove into whatever cover they could find. The goblins readied themselves for another volley. Zal’Rodal had made sure that the goblins wouldn’t rush in after the first volley but was certain he could not contain their bloodlust for a third. The goblins fired again, one of the bandits that was exciting his tent while pulling on his boots was slain with an arrow through the throat. The bandits continued diving for cover, a wise decision if the goblins had not chosen that moment to charge. Five of the bandits were dead or dying while another three were injured. Twenty goblins against two healthy warriors was a fight that even Zal’Rodal was certain they could win.
Zal’Rodal joined his screaming horde rushing into the bandit camp himself, Migaal turning himself once again into an elegant black blade. The goblins were upon the bandits like a pack of rabid dogs. The fighting did not last long, one of the bandits dropped his weapons and tried to surrender, the goblins just considered this to be easier pickings and sliced the man to death. With the fighting over Zal’Rodal ordered his goblins to loot the camp and search for the Heart of the Mountain. The Stenjin rolled into the camp as the fighting subsided and started opening chests frantically in search of their stolen treasure. The goblins emptied out all chests and sacks that the bandits carried in the centre of the camp and started divvying up the loot. Zal’Rodal noticed that the Stenjin were not looking for the loot and went to search for them. They had gone into one of the tents and were huddled around a small wooden chest, its sides lined with a thick iron frame.
“Did you find what we are looking for?” Zal’Rodal asked.
“Yes, we think so. We can sense it from within this chest but we have not seen a key to match its lock.” Spen answered.
“That’s an easy fix.”
“You found the key?” Spen asked a hopeful tone in his voice. He stepped aside to let the Dark Lord unlock the chest for him.
Zal’Rodal stepped forward and instead of kneeling down to open the key raised his arms up, Migaal changed forms into that of a warhammer before being slammed down onto the chest. The chest caved into itself, the wood turning to splinters under his blow. The Stenjin gave out a shrill tone before rushing to the chest, their stone hands removed the splintered wood. Spen put his hand in the remains of the chest and from within it he pulled an ember orb, no larger than the size of a fist. The orb glowed and pulsated in the palm of Spen’s hand. The Stenjin’s stone body shimmered as cracks in its body mended themselves in the light of the stone.
“We have an issue,” the other Stenjin said.
“Issue? We found the Heart of the Mountain, what’s wrong?” Zal’Rodal asked, hoping they wouldn’t send him on another quest. Spen held still for a moment and looked at his stone companion before speaking.
“Yes we have found the Heart of the Mountain but we sense figures approaching. We were distracted and did not notice. I am sorry.”
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“How many can you sense?”
“Thirty-four, they are quite close as well, they appear to be running. Perhaps they heard the fighting.”
The Dark Lord rushed out of the tent and yelled at his goblins. “Grab what you can and run! More bandits are coming, we’re outnumbered!”
The goblins seized their victory celebrations and grew quiet for a full second before breaking into panicked screams. Sacks and chests were filled by grubby green hands haphazardly before being thrown over their backs as they ran. Zal’Rodal followed the goblins making sure that the Stenjin were following. They rushed towards the river and according to the Stenjin the bandits were gaining on them. He was sure they could reach the river before the enemy was upon them and so they ran towards the log bridge.
He saw some of his minions already reaching the logs and scurrying over while carrying their stolen treasures. Now more than ever the goblins seemed lithe and dexterous in their crossing, it was a miracle what the right motivation could do to someone. Zal’Rodal stood at the edge of the bridge waiting for everyone to cross before him, should the worst come he could always swim. The last of the goblins passed and only the Stenjin remained. Once again the wood creaked under their steps but held firm even as it splintered with every heavy step. The Stenjin were halfway across the bridge when an arrow struck Spen’s back, the stone creature continued moving unbothered, the arrow had splintered on impact with his stone body. Spen jumped onto the other shore making the bridge wobble as his weight no longer encumbered it.
Zal’Rodal stepped onto the logs trying to ignore the arrows whistling past him. He thanked Migaal for turning the night sky dark. The goblins had carried their loot behind some trees and were now coming out again with their bows, shooting arrows past Zal’Rodal covering his retreat. He reached the halfway point of the bridge when he noticed it shudder beneath him, he turned around to see a hulking brute of a man stepping onto the first log of the bridge. Two arrows were sticking out of the bandit though this did not seem to bother him. The bandit growled a challenge at Zal’Rodal before slapping a thick wooden club with his free hand.
Migaal turned into a weapon for the third time that night. Zal’Rodal preferred a sword over any other weapon but the demon instead turned into a long slender spear. An ideal weapon for the situation he was currently in. He danced on the log to turn towards his opponent, the bandit grinned, revealing a red mouth hidden only by four lonesome teeth still holding guard. Zal’Rodal thrust with his spear trying to maintain his foothold, the black blade was stuck aside by the bandit. Though the thug seemed a fool, he was no stranger to combat. He pulled the spear back again and thrust at the bandit’s stomach. A firm hand grabbed the spear before it found its mark and was then flung aside. Zal’Rodal had to let go lest he be sunk. The black spear disappeared in the current of the river Eberon. Arrows continued flying through the air though they ignored the duel on the logs, neither side willing to risk friendly fire.
The bandit approached the now weaponless Dark Lord, surprisingly nimble despite his corpulent frame. Zal’Rodal ducked under one of the club’s blows and then sidestep another strike. He could not keep this up much longer without ending up in the currents, the safety of the shore was still too far away even if he leapt for it. Zal’Rodal felt a tingling in his fingertips as he dodged another strike. He could feel something materialising in his hand slowly amidst a dark mist. Zal’Rodal leapt forwards towards the bandit taking the man by surprise and rammed a black dagger into the bandit’s stomach. Migaal had somehow returned to his hand out of the river’s currents.
The bandit staggered backwards holding his wounded stomach before slipping on the log and falling into the river. Zal’Rodal turned once again and ran as fast as he could across the bridge, hoping that the bandit arrows would not find his back. He leapt the final stretch landing on the grassy shore, an instant later he found an arrow sticking out of the grass just a hair’s width from his head. He pulled himself up from the ground and turned towards the bridge one last time. He cut through the ropes with the black dagger before running into the woods, his goblins following close behind. They waited in the cover of the trees observing the bandits as they approached the bridge. The logs had now drifted onto the other side of the shore being held together on only one end. The bandits waited around the bridge for a while, probably discussing if they should attempt to fix it before deciding against it and skulking back into their side of the woods.
The goblins left their hiding spot behind the trees and started gathering arrows, a valuable resource to those without fletchers. They then grabbed their sacks of loot which they had stashed safely away from the fighting and followed Zal’Rodal back to the castle. The Dark Lord would only have to escort Spen back to the mountain and the Stenjin would swear fealty to him.
