Zal’Rodal barely had time to prepare before the horn blew again, sending the knights thundering toward the village. He barked orders to the Stenjin, who rolled into position, their stone bodies bracing against the charge. The Stenjin at the village’s edge, carrying the wagons, rolled in to join their brethren in the defence. Goblins scurried, throwing loot aside and clambering onto rooftops, arrows clinking against their bows. Somewhere, a stack of stolen hats tumbled to the ground as its owner scrambled for higher ground. The remaining goblins positioned themselves behind houses that were out of sight of the knights. The Dark Lord ordered the goblins to spread rope out between the houses to trip the riders as they charged into the village.
“Prepare ropes to trip the horses! Throw anything you find to slow them down!” the Dark Lord yelled over the goblin clamour. The green creatures quickly went to work tossing crates and rolling barrels onto the road.
The goblins worked fast—ropes stretched taut between houses, barrels rolled into the street, and an overturned cart was shoved into place. A few goblins grabbed old fishing nets, stringing them between doorways, while another ran in circles before realising he still had the rope they needed slung over his own shoulder.
One of the goblins yelled, “Wez so deadz, run!” before being slapped by another green hand and dragged back into the formation.
The riders were closing in on the village without slowing their mounts. Zal’Rodal had expected to have more time to set up his defences while the riders evaluated their next move, it appeared he would not have that chance. The lead rider blew into the horn again spurring the soldiers forward and making the goblins flinch at the sound. They would have to take advantage of the soldiers' justified overconfidence to come out victorious. The goblins and their shortswords were a miserable combination to face mounted combatants, he should have some spears made for future confrontations but it was too late to worry about this now. The Dark Lord stretched out his arm and let the demonic ferret scamper to his hand before it transformed itself into a weapon.
Zal’Rodal expected a blade to form in his hands but instead, he was now holding a long black halberd, the ideal weapon to deal with his current foes. “A Dark Lord should know the right weapon for the right battle. You wouldn’t eat soup with a fork, just as you wouldn’t fight a mounted knight with a sword.” Zal’Rodal approached the village's main road and stood some steps behind the ropes snaking from one goblin hand to the other. The goblins were spread out between the three main roads entering the village but the riders seemed determined to simply charge down the main street. He could now see the riders more clearly. They carried long spears with them, their tips glinting in the setting sun, shields of various colours held to their sides and axes and swords hung from their belts. The soldiers wore helmets with nose guards and chain-mail to protect themselves, if they had worn plate, the defence would have been a doomed endeavour.
Zal’Rodal planted his feet, the weight of the halberd familiar in his hands. He had seconds before the charge met them. The knights thought they were riding into a slaughter.
They weren’t wrong. They just didn’t know whose blood would spill first.
Five Stenjin were blocking standing in the main road two at the front slowly marching towards the horses while the other three waited in the back. The riders entered the street and were greeted by a hail of arrows from the rooftops that were blocked in their entirety by their shields. Zal’Rodal hated giving such a command but it was necessary, “Aim for the horses!” The goblin archers shot a second volley before the riders were upon the Stenjin line. Most of the arrows still struck shield or pavement but some found their mark buckling horses and throwing soldiers off their mounts, their armour clanking as it hit the cobbles below.
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The first of the riders reached the Stenjin and thrust at the stone creatures with his spear. The wood shattered on impact sending splinters of wood flying across the street at the same time that another Stenjin was struck to the same effect. White marks were left upon the stone where the metal tip had struck them but the stone creatures seemed otherwise uninjured. The soldiers rode on past the Stenjin avoiding striking them with further attacks. The remaining Stenjin curled up and started rolling into the horses confident that the horse would break before their own bodies would. More riders fell from their mounts and continued charging on foot, their shields held high to block off the never-ending hail of arrows.
The remaining fifteen riders approached the end of the road and the goblins waited in ambush. Once again one of the riders blew into his battle horn just before they charged into the village centre. The goblins let go of the ropes in shock, still expecting to see the riders tumble to the ground even without the taught rope. Instead, the knights simply adjusted their charges, leaping obstacles and cutting through the first wave of goblins. The cheers of triumph turned to screams as swords flashed, horses reared, and goblins were crushed beneath the horses' hooves.
“Regroup! Regroup, surround them and attack! Stenjin, crush the horses!” Zal’Rodal roared. His halberd gleamed in the fading sunlight, raised high as the first knight bore down on him. Zal’Rodal thrust his Halberd at the approaching rider slicing at an armoured shoulder and then hooking the blade around the soldier’s neck and flinging him off his mount. The Dark Lord swung around ready to unhorse the next soldier foolish enough to approach but instead, pain flared up in his body as an axe buried itself in his shoulder as another rider passed him and started turning their mount ready for a second charge.
At that moment the Stenjin positioned to block the remaining village roads came rolling into the village centre the ground rumbling underneath them. One of the Stenjin charged into the returning rider, ramming the horse to the ground and burying the rider under their combined weight. The Stenjin did not know how to fight but simply lying on top of the soldier and suffering his blows was enough to take him out of the fight. Zal’Rodal rubbed his shoulder, his hand coming away red. The remaining Stenjin followed suit ramming the horses and blocking the path of any charges approaching the goblins.
Once the soldiers were unhorsed the goblins were upon them swarming around the men with their superior numbers. They jumped on their victims two goblins holding down each of the soldiers’ arms while a fifth goblin slashed their throats soaking chain mail in blood. The riders still started riding out of the village away from the mass of goblins and Stenjin and disappeared as quickly as they came while shouting the retreat.
Zal’Rodal ordered his goblins to stop the killing of the soldiers and to take them, prisoner, instead, he was sure they would have more information about the Arberonian army movements than the village yokels he had already carried off. The goblins stripped the soldiers and put on their armour before returning for the loot they had dropped. The village filled with the moaning of wounded goblins and the scraping of chainmail against the ground. The Dark Lord ordered the goblins to help their injured comrades, a notion that seemed entirely foreign to them. While the goblins would not become an elite fighting force having more experienced warriors surviving each encounter with the enemy could only be considered beneficial. He let the goblins decide what to do with their own dead as he had no more use for them, this mostly resulted in the corpses being stripped of all their belongings before being dropped by the side of the road.
They returned to the wagons with their prisoners and loot and started the journey back to the dungeon. The Stenjin rolled back into formation, carrying the wagons, their bodies now marked with their first taste of battle, although they did not seem affected by that fact. Zal’Rodal leaned back, wincing as Migaal bandaged his shoulder. He watched the bound prisoners—gagged, stripped of their armour, and forced to sit beside goblins waddling proudly in their stolen gear.
