They were a formidable bunch and if Rags compared herself to them, she fell behind. Each Goblin was better at what they did than she was. Noears could throw lightning, Poisonbite was a better fighter, Redscar a better fighter and battle leader, and the Rockfall Chieftain and Quietstab were both probably stronger and definitely older than Rags. But what they didn’t have was Rags’ mind. That was why she was Chieftain.
Quietstab looked around. The other officers shrugged. Maybe? Rags’ desire to return to her home was known, and the rumor in the tribe was that she planned on returning to the dungeon. There was food and magical items in a dungeon. True, there was a lot of danger there too, but if they had to choose between a bunch of angry Humans and a dungeon…
Poisonbite and Quietstab had to admit that their Chieftain wouldn’t have been much better. Tremborag wouldn’t have cared about other Goblins. He’d have made sure he wasn’t being eaten alive and maybe some of his lieutenants would have proliferated the fly whisk designs, but nothing else.
So said Quietstab and his Goblins, the former members of Tremborag’s mountain faction. They glanced at their fellows with a mixture of scorn and sympathy—they had disobeyed their Chieftain, and yet none of them wanted to see their friends die.
Another Redfang Warrior, a Hob, growled at Quietstab. The Redfang Warriors muttered agreement, looking at the offending Goblins darkly. They’d taken this offense most to heart; the idea of assaulting anyone, much less a prisoner, ran against everything Garen Redfang had taught them. It was Poisonbite who offered another solution to the stalemate.
However, that was one opinion. Quietstab vehemently rejected Poisonbite’s suggestion with a slash of one hand. She grinned at him, showing all her teeth. But she didn’t take it further than another fairly explicit gesture. All eyes turned instead towards the true arbiter here.
It took a few seconds for Rags to communicate the idea to the other Goblins with a few additional gestures. Sometimes ideas were hard to express with the Goblin’s intuitive body language reading. When they finally understood, the Goblins looked at each other. Quietstab nodded in agreement. And it was Redscar who grinned.
Pyrite strode back into the convoy as Rags watched. Each of her officers had a duty at times like these. Redscar was usually the scout, occasionally with Quietstab and his Goblins on foot. But usually Rags would keep a few of her better leaders in reserve in case of an attack. Poisonbite for instance usually marched with her warriors. But the rest of her Hobs and officers were spread around the marching tribe. To deal with problems.
After him she let Redscar choose, as her best warrior, and then Quietstab to placate his faction. The Goblins after him she chose in rough order of how good they were and how much she liked them. Impatiently, all the Goblins waited as Pyrite pondered the armor and weapons.
Quietstab was clearly dismayed not to have one of the two weapons, but he recovered enough to pick out one of the two shields. The other Goblins descended on the armor, jostling each other for a good pick, but held back when Redscar barked an order. He pointed at the twin sets of bright pink-red metal and looked at Pyrite.
She was lying on the ground, her head lying at an angle. Goblins stood around her as Quietstab knelt by her side. He had an empty potion bottle by one side. The ground was covered in blood. Pyrite’s ears rang. He ran forwards, nearly throwing Quietstab aside. He reached for Rags.
She was lying on the ground, her head lying at an angle. Goblins stood around her as Quietstab knelt by her side. He had an empty potion bottle by one side. The ground was covered in blood. Pyrite’s ears rang. He ran forwards, nearly throwing Quietstab aside. He reached for Rags.
