The grunting made no sense to him, but Chris suspected he wouldn't have been listening even if he could understand it. His sense of fear was simply to high.
Something else distracted him from figuring out what was being said - the stench. They all joked around the table while playing DragonLore what the smells would be like, but saying something smelled bad was nothing like experiencing it in person. If a sewer could vomit and then drag itself through a pile of dog shit, this is what it would smell like.
The goblins milled back and forth around the fire. Their camp looked spartan - a piece of torn cloth on sticks for shelter here, a large communal water bucket there. Large slabs of some kind of meat were spit over the fire and roasting, although Chris was in no hurry to find out what kind of meat it was.
One of the goblins came over, grabbed him by the hair, and lifted his head, snorting in his face as he did so. It's green face was streaked with dirt, and its needle-like teeth had chunks of flesh in them.
"What do you want?" Chris asked by instinct.
It grunted and snorted at him, its putrid breath ravaging Chris' nostrils. It walked away after slamming his head on the ground.
After a few seconds, Chris regained vision and looked around again. Most of the goblins were either ripping pieces of flesh from the bones they'd taken off of the fire, or they were sharpening blades on rocks nearby.
Chris struggling against the ropes, but they were too tight, even digging into his wrists every time he moved. It sounded so easy in their games to use something to cut such ropes, but real life was far harder.
One of the goblins came over to him and pulled out a knife. Chris' eyes widened when the creature held it against his arm, and those same eyes winced when the blade was pressed into his skin. The goblin held a goblet against his arm and filled his cup. It raised its nectar high into the air, grunted something(likely a toast), and swigged it down. As it drained the goblet, the rest of the goblins cheered.
Chris could've sworn he heard a whizzing sound in the air, but it was hard to distinguish against the cheering monsters. A second whizzing sound went by, accompanied moments later by a goblin roar. He looked towards the fire as much as the pain would allow him to and saw a pair of goblins on the ground.
That was when the fire in the center of the camp exploded. A shower of embers rained down on him as goblins raced for their weapons and headed away from him to meet whatever the threat was. A mountain of a man filled the shadows and began slicing goblins in half.
It took him a second or two to realize that his hands were free. Chris looked up to see Lisa kneeling beside him.
"Come on, Assisi," she whispered. "Tucker has them distracted, but even he can't take on the whole camp. We need to move."
Struggling to his feet, Chris was surprised by how much the pain in his arm hindered the movement of his feet. The arm hung limply at his side, blood running off the end of his fingertips. He staggered towards the perceived safety of the woods just a few feet away. He and Lisa were about halfway there when he heard a couple of the goblins shout, their feet trampling the ground and getting closer.
"Shit," Lisa snarled. "We've gotta move."
She grabbed Chris by his wounded arm and pulled him into the forest. The priest cried out in pain, but he could do little except obey as he went. The goblins were getting closer until Chris heard another sound nearby that reminded him of his younger days with his dad as they killed chickens on the farm.
Tucker had raced through the crowd and cleaved the pair of monsters cleanly in two. His shoulders heaved as he panted, his helmet covering his expression. "Get the hell outta here, now!"
Lisa took Chris by the belt and threw him onto the horse nearby. She leapt onto her own steed in a single swift motion, and the barreled into the trees as a green mist went up behind them. The whizzing he heard were now goblin arrows that raced by their heads. Some of the shouting got closer as part of the horde pursued them while the others tried taking down Tucker and whoever else was back there.
Despite his limp arm, Chris nearly managed to straighten before an arrow pierced his shoulder. He yelped and then slumped on his horse before the pain blacked him out.
Something else distracted him from figuring out what was being said - the stench. They all joked around the table while playing DragonLore what the smells would be like, but saying something smelled bad was nothing like experiencing it in person. If a sewer could vomit and then drag itself through a pile of dog shit, this is what it would smell like.
The goblins milled back and forth around the fire. Their camp looked spartan - a piece of torn cloth on sticks for shelter here, a large communal water bucket there. Large slabs of some kind of meat were spit over the fire and roasting, although Chris was in no hurry to find out what kind of meat it was.
One of the goblins came over, grabbed him by the hair, and lifted his head, snorting in his face as he did so. It's green face was streaked with dirt, and its needle-like teeth had chunks of flesh in them.
"What do you want?" Chris asked by instinct.
It grunted and snorted at him, its putrid breath ravaging Chris' nostrils. It walked away after slamming his head on the ground.
After a few seconds, Chris regained vision and looked around again. Most of the goblins were either ripping pieces of flesh from the bones they'd taken off of the fire, or they were sharpening blades on rocks nearby.
Chris struggling against the ropes, but they were too tight, even digging into his wrists every time he moved. It sounded so easy in their games to use something to cut such ropes, but real life was far harder.
One of the goblins came over to him and pulled out a knife. Chris' eyes widened when the creature held it against his arm, and those same eyes winced when the blade was pressed into his skin. The goblin held a goblet against his arm and filled his cup. It raised its nectar high into the air, grunted something(likely a toast), and swigged it down. As it drained the goblet, the rest of the goblins cheered.
Chris could've sworn he heard a whizzing sound in the air, but it was hard to distinguish against the cheering monsters. A second whizzing sound went by, accompanied moments later by a goblin roar. He looked towards the fire as much as the pain would allow him to and saw a pair of goblins on the ground.
That was when the fire in the center of the camp exploded. A shower of embers rained down on him as goblins raced for their weapons and headed away from him to meet whatever the threat was. A mountain of a man filled the shadows and began slicing goblins in half.
It took him a second or two to realize that his hands were free. Chris looked up to see Lisa kneeling beside him.
"Come on, Assisi," she whispered. "Tucker has them distracted, but even he can't take on the whole camp. We need to move."
Struggling to his feet, Chris was surprised by how much the pain in his arm hindered the movement of his feet. The arm hung limply at his side, blood running off the end of his fingertips. He staggered towards the perceived safety of the woods just a few feet away. He and Lisa were about halfway there when he heard a couple of the goblins shout, their feet trampling the ground and getting closer.
"Shit," Lisa snarled. "We've gotta move."
She grabbed Chris by his wounded arm and pulled him into the forest. The priest cried out in pain, but he could do little except obey as he went. The goblins were getting closer until Chris heard another sound nearby that reminded him of his younger days with his dad as they killed chickens on the farm.
Tucker had raced through the crowd and cleaved the pair of monsters cleanly in two. His shoulders heaved as he panted, his helmet covering his expression. "Get the hell outta here, now!"
Lisa took Chris by the belt and threw him onto the horse nearby. She leapt onto her own steed in a single swift motion, and the barreled into the trees as a green mist went up behind them. The whizzing he heard were now goblin arrows that raced by their heads. Some of the shouting got closer as part of the horde pursued them while the others tried taking down Tucker and whoever else was back there.
Despite his limp arm, Chris nearly managed to straighten before an arrow pierced his shoulder. He yelped and then slumped on his horse before the pain blacked him out.
No comments:
Post a Comment