Fight:Goblins!

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: A wood elf scouting band, including Emrith, is ambushed by goblin battalions led by a mysterious skald. The elves fight valiantly, yet they are quickly overrun by the superior numbers. The goblins seem eager to engage the elves further and have interest in occupying and razing areas of Sage Forest. Rumors of more goblins to come spell bad news for the elves, and possible good news for the drow.

Other Side of the Fence (Kelay-Sage)

It is dawn, and high time that this expedition came to an end. Drow prefer to scout at night, away from the pitiless eye of the sun, but these elves have been ranging slightly to the east of the largest concentration of trees, seeking a specific type of root which is vital to a potion they favour. It is a group of five: three rangers, an herbalist, and Emrith Kohl, who is there only because he could not sleep and wanted the exercise. The rangers are all fairly capable of combat; the herbalist, though, is a relatively old woman, who is present because of her superior knowledge of herblore. Now, she calls a halt to her companions, who immediately form into a small inward-facing circle. Their necessity for silence forces the elves to use hand-talk, a series of gestures and facial expressions which allow them to converse to a surprising degree without making a sound greater than that of the whisper of skin on skin, or cloth against cloth. Yuka, the herbalist, is shaking her head, and looking sadly at her belt-pouch, which is quite full. She signs, "This is enough, and I tire" to the others, and they all nod silently. There they stand, all looking at one another, poised on the verge of scampering back westward to Frostmaw with their trove of herbs. They are vigilant, as life in a forest has taught them ever to be, but not particularly watchful in this brief moment of vulnerability. Emrith is thinking that it is high time to find a quiet place to sleep.

Rustling echos throughout the forest, the pitter patter of some sort of creature approaches. Having torn through the forest all throughout the night the goblins see the trees finally thin. The group consisted of thirty shieldboys, a dozen dartboys and Klongy. She had been regulated to being in charge of this small band part of a much larger force with orders straight from his greediness the goblin king himself. The trek thus far had been rather boring, the usual slaughtering animals, burning trees, and in general just being a nuisance to the area around them. Klongy sat back the seasoned learned goblin she was, suddenly she issued a hush to the men around her having even to band two troups' heads together to get them to listen, she smelled something, it was odd. With that she walked up to private conscript 'insert name here' as his name wasn't the most bit important, especially now. With that he was given a torch for each hand and it was 'suggested' he run ahead to prove himself by facing whatever was out there. The lone goblin so powerful and mighty on his own. The common grunt it seemed had been just wandering through the forest on his own and was of no cause of harm after all. While he was taking the time to 'introduce' himself to the other life forms in the forest the skald and her men took it upon themselves to travel opposite of him to the side it would be to stay hidden close by still obscured. Flanking, ah one has to love simplicity. All there was to do was to wait for whatever was out there to make a sound, goblin screams would surely follow. Odd that this simple goblin just had been wandering the at the same time, no cause of alarm though... So certainly sure.

It is Emrith who sees the torch-bearing goblin coming first, and he immediately gestures to the others, pointing warily. The creature is small and stooped, likely a goblin and not native to the area. Emrith does not introduce himself, but instead taps the jade at his throat and vanishes cleanly, having grown extremely dim to the naked eye. He is hoping to startle the little creature into some sort of action which will give its intentions away one way or another, and in this he only partially succeeds. The single grunt, obviously surprised, turns and flees rather than standing still in shock, and one of the elven rangers, a man far too eager to draw blood in Emrith's own estimation, has seen enough. An innocent man will not free when frightened, he thinks. He draws his short bow, pulls the string to his cheek and lets fly. A twang, a gurgle, and the lone goblin has dropped, torches setting fire to the grass beneath him as he bleeds out with an arrow through his throat. Emrith flashes hand-talk at the errant ranger, then growls in annoyance when he realizes the man can't see him. Instead of a goblin scream, the first sound to shatter the quiet is an elven one. It is wordless and fierce, made all the more peculiar because it appears to be sweating out of the very air itself, with no particular source. This will either cause the large warband still in concealment to run in fear, or it may embolden them into an attack; Emrith, who does not yet know that a large force is flanking his small party, has only shouted this way because one torch-wielding stranger in hostile territory usually heralds something worse. The rangers immediately take up positions around the herbalist, shielding her in a small knot of their combined backs and shoulders, all of them facing outward on high alert. Bows are drawn and ready. Emrith stands by, short swords in his hands, meaning to do battle if he must, or to beat a hasty escape if whatever comes is too great to face.

To the side of the murder of their fellow goblin all the remaining troops jump to their feat upon hearing the elven scream. Five goblins take the lead as they're drenched in herbs and the only ones it seems to not be wielding torches. Klongy still concealed starts to play her bongos invigorating her men. Suddenly screams and war cries explode from the goblins. Speaking of explosions and goblins, the five at the lead run straight at the elves surrounding the herbalist as a torch is thrown there way. Goblins love fire and explosions, what an honorable and fun way to go out. With that the ramianing men advance in a dead run while the few dart throwers start to hurl their toxic darts. What fun. Klongy continues to play a smug grin coming across her face as she kept the rage going. Whatever it was she was fighting she felt gold and or resources would be the spoils.

As soon as the screams erupt nearby, Emrith knows this isn't going to go well. He knows that simply standing with his rangers and herbalist will get them all killed. As such, he veers to the left, then button-hooks back toward the flank of the warband's frontmost group, falling into flame stance and attacking in a flurry of steel. Goblins start to fall, and for a few seconds at least, they have no idea who or what is killing them. He cuts down two would-be torch-throwers before one of them gets lucky and hurls a burning brand in his face. The front of his hood catches fire, and Emrith has to lift up his right arm and beat at the flames to put them out. Still invisible but now sporting the smell of scorched fabric, the elf is both enraged and alarmed. As the darts begin to whicker through the air, Emrith falls into water stance and begins to dodge; the goblins surely are not aiming at him since they cannot see him, but a single errant jab from one of those little missiles might be problematic, to say the least, since the elf has no idea what toxon, if any, they might carry. One of the rangers takes a gash across his cheek; another bats at a dart with his bow and saves himself a wound only because he was wearing leather gloves; the little needle digs a furrow in the cuff of his right glove before falling to earth. One, two; reload; three, four; they are trying to use the little creatures as target practice, but shortly the range is too small and they are forced into melee, where they are quickly swarmed. The herbalist, meaning to escape with her life, turns to run the other way, then trips and falls over a root. One of the earlier-flung torches is there to greet her when she hits the ground, splattering tar across her eyes and mouth as her chin hits its base and levers it upward. She begins to scream, and now the forest is laced with the smell of hot pitch and burning meat. Emrith knows this is going badly, but he continues to dodge as best he can, taking a swipe at a nearby goblin whenever he gets a chance. Some hit, some don't. The rangers have definitely taken down a few in their skirmish, but it's only a matter of time before they are overpowered by sheer numbers.

Klongy had been doing the tactics in her head while she played. While playing might slow her mind slightly the aged skald was able to maintain enough focus to think up tactically what she should do next. As she approached the fray maintaining her tribal beats to maintain the bloodrage among the boyz suddenly she had her yellow conniving eyes upon the chaos before her whilst still at a healthy distance. Her eyes gaze off towards a ranger's. "Scared?" she questions as she takes one hand away from playing for just long enough to make some simple hand gestures. Ah, the humble spellcraft, this one she was particularly proud of this spell in particular. Those without a quick mental fortitude on the enemy lines would succumb to her true terror, frightening isn't it? With that her melee troops start to encircle the elves at least four goblins engaging each elf. Darts flying wildly into the fray as the sounds of war echo through the once tranquil forest. Clattering louder and louder as the goblins attempt to plunge their rusted swords into the weak elves. Goblins not crippled or outright killed seemingly shake off all sustained injury as the forced anger they seem to have channeled through them is seemingly keeping them adrenaline filled and warcrazed with no deterrence. Noticing the downed herbalist one of the dartboyz laughs malevolently as he retrieves a vile of orange liquid much unlike the green tips of all the previous darts. Grinning he lets the arrow go as it sails into one of the goblins over the herbalist. Sacrificing minions in glorious works of fiery explosions fix everything, especially when collateral damage is involved. Klongy had taken the time to calculate her losses however, she concluded as long as she stayed out of immediate sight and surrounded the foe with meat shields, she'd at least by standing by the time they all run away or perish, perfectly fine in her opinion, more gobbos were in the surrounding areas anyhow. The damage to the surrounding area was beautiful to her.

Emrith is holding his own until he catches a glimpse of the skald. He has heard vague mutterings of their ilk in the few hundred years he has been alive, and knows that she must be the leader of this particular band. There's only one problem: a sea of goblin flesh between the elf and the bongo-playing goblin. Invisible or not, Emrith has no hope of getting through to her, nor a bow with which to attack from range. As he sees first one ranger and then the other collapse, Emrith turns tail, the taste of bile in his mouth. He is harried on his way, though he does not know it, by the skald's simple spell of terror, which sends him running as fast as his long legs will carry him, far away from the scene of the massacre. The goblins may not get too much for their effort, however; a pouch of leaves, which may or may not have burned up or been squashed to pulp by now, as well as a few elven cloaks and sets of ringmail, a couple of bows and short blades...nothing truly remarkable, in other words. Two rangers and Yuka, the herbalist, are dead; several goblin corpses litter the ground at the site of the slaughter as well. He does not know why these goblins have been so bold as to attack, but the spell-blade senses trouble borne on a rising wind.

Klongy stops playing upon seeing the battlefield clear. "Loot" is her only order at first as both the elven and goblin bodies are stripped of all their resources. They hadn't planned on the assault this day, such didn't matter however. If this small skirmish were any indicator she could repeat the conflict at a macro scale given some time for planning. Her thoughts then wandered off to returning to Kregus and signaling all the tribes in the surrounding area. Ah the glory of tarpitting the enemy to death. The Goblins did need land and resources after all. It would take time, once all the pointy eared annoyances were cleared all that would remain is burning the forest to the ground and they would solve their space issues. Shaking her head back to the here and now she bellows to the troops. "We crushed them, now we eat." Nothing were to go to waste, not even her own men especially not the enemy. She wasn't completely ignorant however, she knew these types, much more skilled in spellcraft than she could ever hope to be, a solution to even the playing field would have to be looked into. The winds suddenly picked up over the battlefield. The heads of the elves were removed and mounted on pikes in the surrounding area as a battle standard of Kregus was laid out in the area. Fear will rule this day. With a final laugh she sat and watched with glee as the spoils of war were reaped.