Our commanders in the Black Hand continue to demand “mission reports” from us after our battles. I have told them several times to listen to the wind, and all they need know will be spoken by the wind and rain. Of course they don’t understand. So I will give them their report. And continue to ask the spirits to bless my ignorant “superiors”.
We were tasked with stopping a goblin raiding party that was terrrorizing the local villages. A battle I was glad to accept. I’ve yet to meet a goblin that cared about the world around them .All they care for is gold, meat, and the battle. With what we’ve learned, it looks like we’ll be dealing with the goblinoid menace for the forseeable future. This revelation almsot cost us our lives, unfortunatly. And at the hands of only a handfull of goblins even! I hope none of my elven breathen find out about this, the humiliation would be severe.
We searched the area that we heard the goblins lived at, and eventually found their den. After doing a bit of reconisance and checking out the cave under cover of darkness, I found out that there were only three goblins, along with two of their beetle “pets”. Even though the beetles were a significant size, I dismissed them and considered the goblins our real threat. That was a mistake I will not be making in the future. Had I only taken a better look at them, I might have reconized them for what they were. Fire beetles. I hate fire beetles! Damn things almost roasted us alive too.
So we decide to enter the cave and take care of the goblin threat. Navigating around a poorly concealed trap (stupid goblins), we entered and took up position to do battle. And this is where our inexperience at working together showed. Rexgar, that giant brute, stopped to engage in battle with one of the beetles. Perhaps he had sensed the true threat. Maybe there is more to the giant lug than I give him credit for. Or maybe he picked the beetle because it reminded him of his favorite bruise. It’s hard to tell sometimes with him.
I was busy staying at the edge of the cave, staying out of combat range and using my bow to weaken our foes. Goblins hate bees. Really, everything hates bees, I find them quite helpful, I am always honored that the primal spirits are willing to grant me their small but significant help.
In the meantime Indra and Cyrus rushed forward, with Cyrus quickly getting surrounded. This is not good, neither one of them can handle a beating like that. Had it been Rexgar, I would have expected this. In panic to stave off the swift death that could have happened, I summoned a swarm of bats to confuse our enemies, drive them away, and give us a chance to regroup and re-organize. Cyrus took advantage of the distraction, and got Indra out of harms way.
THose damn fire beetles proved quite good at roasting us alive. Indra almost fell prey to one of their fire blasts, only the actions of Cyrus prevented what could have been fatal burns. We finished them off just in time too, they were about to blast us again soon I’m sure.
At the end of the battle we had one lone goblin who surrendered and begged for mercy. Mercy, ha! I’m traveling with a squemish lot. They decided to keep it alive and bring it back to town for a trial. Had this been a dwarf, or a human or one of the other civilized races, I would have agreed. But a goblin, they deserve nothing but a swift death. That miserable creature cared not for any being it came across. And in a way it got what it had coming to it. Had I had my way, an arrow through the throat would have been a swift painless death. Instead I can only imagine the torture the townsfolk inflicted upon the beast before it perished. There were several people in the town who had lost loved ones from these thieves, People who would wish slow, painful revenge on their enemies. The “honor” and “dignity” of cities and towns have no place in the wilderness. I must continue being a voice of reason with my allies. I fear if I don’t, we might end up sitting down and talking with our foes and working out payment schedules for the thieves to pay back their victims.
Its no wonder that the word for “not-elf” also means “foolish”.
During the goblin’s rants and groveling for its life, we did find out that the goblins were working for a larger Orc group. We now travel to find their base, and get rid of this thorn in the peace of the local area.
I hope that the messenger bird I used to send this message finds its way back to the Black Hand. It is a fine hawk, one that has flown far and kept up with our party throughout our travels. I doubt that the rest of the party even knows that we have an observer, watchiing our progress, and more than likely reporting what it sees to soemone. We’ve sparked someone’s interest, I only wonder who’s…..