On their passage through the streets, the Goblins slowed. Now that they weren’t running, they let their most silent trackers—Badarrow and Numbtongue—go ahead. Numbtongue peered down an alley and shook his head. The Goblins swiftly passed by the entrance, avoiding the group of Humans at the other end.
On their passage through the streets, the Goblins slowed. Now that they weren’t running, they let their most silent trackers—Badarrow and Numbtongue—go ahead. Numbtongue peered down an alley and shook his head. The Goblins swiftly passed by the entrance, avoiding the group of Humans at the other end.
Rabbiteater. Bugear. Numbtongue. Shorthilt. Badarrow. Headscratcher. They tossed wood on a growing flame, warmed their frozen bodies, and carved up the dead Goblins, roasting flesh on pans and eating greedily. Hungrily. They were starving. They’d been starving for days. Normally, a small Goblin could live for a week on a single body, but these Goblins consumed all they found and went back to look for more. Because they weren’t small Goblins any longer.
The Hobgoblin transformation process was usually like this. But as Numbtongue pointed out with an eloquent grunt after their hunger pangs had subsided, it was rare for so many Hobs to appear at once.
It was a death sentence. Already, the Redfang warriors felt hungry again. Numbtongue and Rabbiteater went to look for more corpses. The rest sat and debated what to do.
As Numbtongue raised his head over the hill, all six Hobs heard another whistling sound. Numbtongue ducked, and the second arrow nearly took him in the head. He snarled, and all six Goblins poked their heads up. They looked around, but only Badarrow with his enhanced eyes spotted anything. He pointed.
As Numbtongue raised his head over the hill, all six Hobs heard another whistling sound. Numbtongue ducked, and the second arrow nearly took him in the head. He snarled, and all six Goblins poked their heads up. They looked around, but only Badarrow with his enhanced eyes spotted anything. He pointed.
And Headscratcher’s sword shot out. The Goblin’s sword blocked the shaft as Bugear thrust his shield in front of Badarrow’s chest and Numbtongue covered his groin with a second shield. Bird stared.
There were eleven or so now, all injured, but Eater Goats never gave up. And they were quick! Headscratcher turned as one raced behind him. He shouted, and Badarrow twisted. The goat bounced off his raised arm. Numbtongue spat as he lifted one of the two swords in his hand and threw it. The goats dodged around the sword, slowing them down.
Now Numbtongue was down a sword. That meant he ran faster. The Hobgoblins were nearly caught up with the girl, and so were the goats. She was floundering in the snow. Headscratcher turned, ready to fight, to die—
Now they stood outside of an inn just a short distance away from Liscor and stared up at it. Not one of the five Goblins had a sword in their hands. It was a surreal experience. Headscratcher hesitated at the wooden door to the inn for several minutes before he pushed it open. Numbtongue stared up at the inn’s name as the other Goblins walked in.
Logic warred with the evidence before their eyes. It was Numbtongue who moved first. He picked up a vial and squinted at the tiny label on it. After a moment he nodded and the others immediately uncorked the vials and bottles and poured it on their injuries. Then they received another surprise.
