Adventures in DnD: Session 1 (Part 2)

Continued from Part 1.

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The sun had reached its zenith as Theren passed beyond a sharp curve in the dirt path. Despite the sun bearing down there was still a slight chill in the air, even this far south along the Sword Coast. Theren pulled his well-worn traveler’s cloak closer to his chest, and continued forward. He would lose sight of the wagon being driven behind him but he was sure the wagon was only a few hundred yards behind him, staying in the same relative place to him as it had all morning. There’s brown elf-eyes, flecked with burnished gold, scanned the enveloping forest on both sides of the path. A small cliff began to rise up to his right, reaching almost thirty feet high. As he pressed on he noticed two dark shapes lying in the road ahead. Careful, he advanced. His right hand on the pommel of his scimitar, ever ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

Before him, in the middle of the dirt road, lay the corpses of two horses. At this distance, perhaps twenty yards away, Theren could tell that the animals were dead, but his druidic nature pushed him to examine them anyways. Theren’s hand left his sword as he rushed towards the corpses. Several black shafted arrows stood out from each body. The rivulets of blood that had run from the wounds and down the animal’s flanks to seep into the ground has long since dried. It would be clear to almost anyone, especially to one of the forest elves trained in the druidic craft that the horses had been dead for at least a day and left in the roadway since their death. Theren was surprised that no other animal had fed upon the bodies during the night. It was not like the wolves in this area to ignore as tasty a morsel as fresh horse flesh. A slight chill ran up his back. Theren slowly started to rise from his crouch, wary that he was now standing alone and unprotected in the middle of the road. But before he had stood half-way up, several more black shafted arrows slammed into the horses from both sides of the road, missing Theren only by inches. An ambush, he thought, and what a fool as I to be caught so easily.

Theren drew his sword and scanned the forest for his attackers. Ahead of him, slightly up the cliff behind a bush of dense green foliage a rustle of branches gave away a creature’s movement. Whatever surprise the creature though it had gained was quickly lost by a high-pitched battle cry. A sound akin to a squeak from a children’s toy came from the chapped lips of small greenish creature clad only in rags. The goblin rushed forward down the hill, quickly covering the distance to Theren. A rusty and pocked scimitar held high over its head in a two handed grip. The goblin’ sword swung down while Theren raised his own to deflect it. However, the weight of the blade and the fury of the goblin’s charge carried the rusty weapon along Theren’s own blade and into his left shoulder cutting a shallow wound down to his elbow. A small cry escaped Theren’s lips, more from the shock and surprise of being struck by the goblin, then pain from the wound. A look of irritation flickered upon his face and Theren’s hateful gaze fell upon the goblin standing in front of him. The goblin was trying to bring its sword up for another swing. As the goblin lifted its rusty weapon, a fresh line of red dripping down its surface, a flurry of arcane words rushed from Theren’s mouth. Theren flipped his scimitar upside down, pointing the weapon toward the ground. He slammed the weapon into the ground at the same time unleashing the arcane power he had just drawn upon. A thunderous wave or energy rushed outward from Theren. Beyond him the echoing wave of power pressed into the goblin. The creature was lifted into the air and thrown fifteen feet across the group, landed with a thud. The impact of the wave having crushed its feeble body. The remainder of the wave dissipated into the forest and disturbed the trees and bushes for a few seconds, showing more green bodies staring down at the elf. Small red eyes full of hate.

            

Back behind the curve in the road, the loud crack of thunder carried to the wagon. Bentar strained forward. He could just make out the faintest high-pitched cries for help. “Battle,” he cried, “we must make haste.” A look of excitement leapt to Bentar’s face and he whipped the oxen forward toward the bend. As the wagon suddenly lurched forward Easton neatly jumped into the bed of the wagon, pressing himself into the canvas and putting his book back into his travel pack. The wagon passed around the bend in the roadway. The scene before Bentar was maddening. Theren lay crouched down between the two dead horses, keeping his body protected from the constant stream of arrows shot in his direction. The wagon pulled to Theren’s side, blocking the aim of any archers on the hillside. Easton and Bentar rolled off the wagon, grabbing cover from one side of their attackers.

            

“About time you got here,” shouted Theren. “I’ve been under attack for nearly a minute.”

            

“Don’t go running off by yourself then Elf,” retorted Bentar as he pulled his glaive from the seat of the wagon.

            

Lord Easton peaked around the wagon searching the trees on the hill. A rustle between two trees drew the observant youth’s attention. Concentrating on the movement of the tree branches he eyed a goblin with a small curved bow in his hands. A half-full quiver of black fletched arrows hung across its back. Noting the creature’s location in his mind, Easton dropped back behind the wagon. His hands began moving in a repeating series of simple hand gestures. A low mumble of nonsensical words filtered from his mouth. Suddenly, behind the goblin a ghostly skeletal hand appeared from the ether reaching with talon-like fingers towards the goblin’s head. Where the floating hand touched the goblin its skin instantly turned black, the flesh necrotizing in the hand’s wake. The hand finished its sweet caress of the goblin’s head. A fresh skull stood atop the goblin’s shoulders. The goblin fell forward and down the hill, landing near the wagon.

            

Easton scanned the hillside again, no longer finding any movement. “South is clear,” he said to his companions. “Now if only we knew how many more creatures we faced. How did you even manage to walk yourself into such an easily recognized ambush?” Theren only scowled in return, the retort in his head squashed as several more goblins charged from the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. Bentar turned to face their rushing charge skewering a goblin upon his glaive that was too slow to stop its charge. Another goblin turned off towards Theren, scimitar clashing against scimitar. The last goblin rushed Easton, its weapon slashing down at the unprotected youth. Easton sidestepped the goblin’s overconfident attack. The goblin’s weapon continued downward slamming into the wagon, lodging deeply in the wood. Bentar turned and dispatched the creature with a heavy swing, removing the creature’s head from its shoulders.

            

Another arrow flashed by Bentar, flying over the wagon. Easton turned to where Theren had been hiding seeing only another goblin lying on the ground. Theren was already running into the brush to find the bow-armed goblin. “We need one alive, Elf.” Easton yelled as the elf disappeared into the trees. Racing around a thick oak, Theren spotted the remaining goblin knocking another arrow in its bow. Before the goblin could draw, Theren slammed the hilt of his sword into the goblin’s head, dropping it to the ground. A glaze slowly crossed its eyes as Theren began dragging him towards the wagon.

The goblin blinked open his eyes, hoping to clear the pain from his head. Glik looked around. He was lying on his back facing the bright sun. Something stepped into his view, shading him from the sun. Before Glik stood three humanoids, faces full of anger. He screamed in fear and tried to scramble away but his small body was held tight by the foot of the large armored human. “Wwwaa, wwaaat, what hit me,” he stammered in the high-pitched goblin tongue, shaking the fogginess from his head.

“He did,” the armored human said in a deep, guttural voice, but clearly in Glik’s own language. His finger pointed towards the horrible elf that had kept dodging his arrows.

“No, no, no,” Glik cried. “Please don’t kill Glik. Glik is friend. Glik do whatever you want. Just don’t kill Glik.”

“What is a ‘glik.’” the human asked.

“Glik is me. Glik is goblin. I am Glik,” he said, a slight hint of anger in his voice. Glik wondered how any creature would not know he is Glik, goblin of the Kragmaw tribe. Glik thought this human must be an especially stupid member of its race.

“No one is going to kill you Glik. Yet,” the human leaned on the word. “Assuming of course, you answer all of my questions truthfully and quickly. I don’t have all day to deal with you and I definitely don’t want to spend it with you.”

            

The human spent the next several minutes questioning Glik, occasionally taking input from the young human and the elf who were speaking in a weird broken language. Glik, fear and self-preservation at the forefront of his mind, answered all of the human’s dumb questions in an attempt to prove his usefulness. Glik told his captors all about his family back at the tribe keep and his upbringing in the Kragmaw tribe. He explained, in painful detail, how he was forced, by those goblins and other creatures in the tribe that are stronger and smarter than Glik, to attack travelers and taken them off to a nearby cave, something Glik stressed he was especially against. Glik himself was against all violence against any creature he repeatedly told his captors.

            

“Who do those horses belong to?” the impatient human asked, interrupting Glik’s story.

“A dwarf. And some human.” Glik chimed. “They were caught yesterday and hauled to the cave. Glik don’t know what happened to them since.”

            

“Where is this cave?”

“Up the hill.” Glik lifted his chin. “Glik can take you if you let Glik live. Glik protect you from smart goblin traps you would never find.”

Bentar pointed up the hill telling his companions what the goblin had said. Lord Easton walked up the hill and was gone for several minutes. When he returned he said, “there is a path that continues through the forest and turns towards the East. It has been heavily used by the goblins for some time and it looks like two large creatures, probably Gundren and his companion, were dragged up the path.”

Bentar turned toward the goblin. “Lead us, and live.”

The goblin led the group to the cave through the secret path its compatriots had cut through the forest. Along the roughly cut path, the gibbering creature enthusiastically pointed out several easily identified goblin “traps” consisting of small spike pits covered in dissimilar and dead foliage or uncovered snares laid out in the middle of the path. Each time a “trap” was pointed out the goblin turned towards Bentar and uttered a high-pitched squeal, a look of excitement on its face as if the sheer act of accomplishing such a simple and unnecessary task would eventually prove its importance to the group and bring acceptance.

Thirty minutes later the ragtag group reached the end of the forest path. A meadow ran from the edge of the forest to a granite cliff face. Embedded in the cliff face, right along the ground, stood the entrance to a cave. A small creek ran from the cave entrance off to a small pool by a heavy thicket of thorn bushes. The low meadow was empty of any cover between the forest and the cave except for the small thorn thicket approximately thirty yards from the end of the goblins’ secret path. Easton recognized the danger that the cave presented. A single bowman could hold the cave mouth from a small band of adventurers with such open terrain, and Easton was not sure yet of the abilities and competencies of his companions. Especially after the elf walked himself into such an easy ambush along the roadway. Easton stared intently at the cave mouth looking for any signs of movement or anything out of the ordinary. “No sentries at the cave mouth,” he said. “If this is the goblins’ cave,” he looked over at the goblin, “then they are extremely lax in their protection.” Easton ducked back behind the trees deciding on the best way to the cave.

            

“And none in the thicket,” added Theren quickly.

            

“I’ll go first and secure the entrance,” Bentar said. “Stay here and wait for my signal. And don’t,” he pointed towards the goblin, “let it out of your sight.” He advanced towards the cave, angling towards the thicket with his glaive in his hand. Bentar acted causal, but he was slightly wary just in case someone was hiding inside the cave mouth. He was not as confident in Easton’s eyes as the fool noble was. Halfway to the thicket, Bentar failed to notice a glint of metal peaking from the thorn bushes. Without warning, two crossbow bolts flew from the thicket and slammed in Bentar driving him to his knees, the breath escaping from his lips by the surprise attack.

            

Easton and Theren saw their companion drop to the ground, a crossbow bolt lodged in Bentar’s thigh and another more dangerously lodged in his chest. Easton reacted first, a glow of arcane energy appearing from his hands and racing towards the thicket. A strangled cry reached his ears and Easton smiled. “One down,” he yelled.

            

Theren raced towards Bentar. Dropping to his knees next to Bentar’s body, Theren pulled the bolts from Bentar eliciting a cry of pain. He ran his hands over Bentar’s body, magical energies being drawn from the ether and pouring into the wounds. Bentar’s wounds knit back together under the conflux of magical energy. Bentar’s eyes opened wide and he rose to his feet. Anger prevalent on his face. “I thought you said the thicket was clear,” he growled at Theren. Bentar grabbed his glaive off the ground and raced toward the thicket. Ignoring the sharp thorns that scratched his exposed skin and tugged at his doublet and wool pants Bentar crashed through the thicket. Three hundred pounds of muscled, armored human tore a huge gash in the thicket. Reaching the cleared center of the thicket, Bentar looked about for a foe to vent his anger and rage upon.

            

A lone goblin turned, terror in its eyes, as Bentar crashed into his hiding place. Surprised by the onslaught, the goblin unleashed his last crossbow bolt wildly off course. Bentar raised his heavy glaive above his head and brought it crashing down onto the goblin with all his might, his thrust nearly splitting the goblin in twain. Bentar growled in triumph and then took a few long, slow breaths to calm himself. “All clear,” he called back to the others.

            

Easton and Theren, dragging the goblin captive along, moved into the thicket. Easton kept his eyes upon the mouth of the cave in case Bentar’s yelling had drawn any attention from the inhabitants inside the cave. When the group had settled into the protection and cover of the thicket Bentar rounded on the goblin. “You! Why didn’t you tell me that there were goblins in this thicket watching out for anyone who have might have stumbled upon the cave.” The look on Bentar’s face was grave and the pain of the bolts still fresh in his memory.

            

“Glik not know,” Glik cried. “They must be new. Glik thought Ketch was back at keep,” He turned and kicked one of the goblin bodies, the only one that seemed even remotely recognizable. “Klarg must have ordered them here after we captured that stupid dwarf. Glik has not been back to cave. You know. Glik tell you, Glik was ordered to stay at road with the others.”

            

“Then what good are you, Glik, if you don’t know what we will expect to find in the cave?” Bentar asked.

            

“Wolves,” Glik replied. “Glik know wolves live in cave. Pets of Klarg. And Klarg. And Yeemik. And other goblins.”

           

“And who or what is this Klarg?” Bentar questioned the goblin.

            

Glik gave the armored human another look of incredulity. How could this big human, who so easily killed all the other goblins, not knowing anything. “Klarg, is the leader of the goblins in the cave,” he said in a voice that would have been patronizing if it was not so high-pitched. “He is strongest and much bigger than a goblin. But he is not goblin of Kragmaw tribe. He stupid, selfish bugbear.” Glik smiled. “You kill Klarg. You much stronger than him. He stupid too. And mean. Kill Klarg and Glik help.”

                                            

                                                                                                                    To be continued . . . .