Written in Blood 3.7

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None of the deserters did more than glance briefly Blacknail’s way as he walked up behind them. They were preoccupied by the bandits in front of them, and the hobgoblin was still wearing the cloak he had won from the sentry. Winning something from a fight was very different from stealing it.

No one found anything odd about another straggler joining the group now and that’s exactly what Blacknail looked like. Most the deserters wore the same cloak as him, and he wasn’t even the only one in the group with his hood up.

The hobgoblin stretched himself as tall as possible and walked on his toes as he entered the crowd of deserters. He hoped his somewhat awkward gait wouldn’t attract attention but he was short for a human so he had to do something. He avoided directly looking at anyone and tilted his head down so that his green skin was hidden within the shadows of his cloak.

Blacknail saw his target; he was rather hard to miss actually. The man loomed over the other deserters like a solitary mountain over the forest.

Quickly, but without seeming hurried the hobgoblin walked up behind the large man. Luckily for him, the rest of the men had had taken a few steps back from their leader and given him space.

“You’ve had all the time you need. If you don’t surrender right this second I’m going to kill every last one of you!” the enemy leader yelled.

“Hmmm,” Blacknail muttered thoughtfully to himself.

He wasn’t sure what his next move was going to be. Things seemed more complicated now that he was actually in the middle of the enemy tribe. His target was definitely very big!

Even from the back he towered over the hobgoblin. Blacknail would have trouble just reaching his throat and that the shiny shirt protected his chest. The hobgoblin needed to adjust his plan, and quickly, or it wouldn’t work.

A tall man with a sword in his hand turned towards Blacknail and looked him over. He was standing only a few feet away.

“Ha, I’ll bet you two silver that those spineless dogs are going to surrender any second now. No one sane would pick a fight with Basghus,” the swordsman told Blacknail.

The hobgoblin gave a vague grunt of acknowledgement and ignored the man. He still needed to come up with a better plan.

The disguised hobgoblin perked up as an idea suddenly occurred to him. He sure hoped he could pull it off. Stupid Red Dog, his insane plan had put Blacknail’s master in danger. Blacknail idly wondered how the man had survived so long without someone around to clean up his messes.

The hobgoblin drew his dagger as he stood in the very middle of his tribe’s enemies. He sighed in relief when his action failed to raise anyone’s suspicion. Everyone around him was still focused on Red Dog’s group.

Then, with a vicious snarl, Blacknail pounced onto the back of the enemy tribe’s leader. As everyone around him reacted in shock, Blacknail got a firm grip on the neck of big man’s chain shirt and pulled himself up higher.

“What the holy fucks!?” the giant yelled as he jumped in surprise.

He dropped his sword and the vial he was holding, spun around, and reached back to try and grab the freaky thing that was climbing his back.

Blacknail wasted no time. As the man flinched and tried to grab him, the hobgoblin reached around and cut the man’s exposed throat. The dagger dug deep as Blacknail put as much force as possible into it. He wouldn’t get a second chance at this. He felt warm blood wash over his hand, and the scent of wet iron filled the air.

As the man choked and began to topple forward like a felled tree, Blacknail flipped himself over the man’s shoulders. He landed on the ground, and rolled straight towards the bandits and safety. His hood slipped off as he moved.

Blacknail didn’t even notice; he was completely focused on sprinting like mad towards his master. He had a feeling there was about to be a whole bunch of very angry humans behind him.

He cut through the wind and tore the dirt up behind him as he ran. He pushed himself faster and faster, and he didn’t even think of stopping until he had hurtled past the bandits. He was going so fast he had to drop and roll wildly across the ground to reduce his momentum so he could stop. Once safe behind Red Dog and the others, he climbed back to his feet.

As Blacknail brushed some of the dirt from the roll off of himself, he noticed that everyone was staring at him. The bandits had all turned away from their opponents and were looking at him. Their mouths were open and eyes were wide with shock.

“What?” Blacknail asked.

Then he threw a nervous glance behind himself, just in case. There was nothing there, but you could never be sure in this accursed forest.

“Messa-Mien’s mercy! Where did you come from?” Red Dog exclaimed.

Blacknail considered the question for a second.

“From the sewers?” he replied uncertainly.

Saeter broke out laughing so loudly and joyfully that it echoed through the camp.

“So much for the Slosher,” he cackled.

“We still have to worry about that combat mage,” Red Dog reminded him, but a big half crazy smile was plastered across his face as he said it.

Saeter gave the other man an even bigger grin, which almost didn’t seem possible. His normally lined face looked practically cragged as he smiled uncharacteristically. Then Blacknail’s master turned and faced the deserters.

They were still recovering from the shock of seeing the hobgoblin murder their supposedly invincible leader right in front of them. Not a single one of them had even started after Blacknail. They were still staring wide eyed at each other and the corpse on the ground in front of them.

“Surrender now, or we’ll send more hobgoblins after you!” Saeter yelled.

No one answered for a few seconds.

“We surrender, as long as your offer to join Herad is still good” someone eventually called out.

It was the staff carrying mage that answered. He was still staring in shock at the corpse of the vessel. No one among the deserters challenged his decision.

“It is,” Red Dog yelled back.

“I guess we won then,” Saeter announced with satisfaction.

Red Dog just blinked blankly at him.

“Good, Blacknail. I’m feeding you as much as you can eat when we get back.” Saeter told the hobgoblin.

“And I’m buying you a beer,” another bandit added. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

A chorus of agreements and offers of treats flowed from the rest of the bandits. Blacknail smiled at them. Even Red Dog gave him an approving nod.

“I protect my band-ss. It’s what warriors do,” the hobgoblin lied through his sharp pointy teeth.

He had only really cared about saving Saeter, but he was more than happy to take the opportunity to suck up and make some new allies.

It took a few seconds for everyone to remember that they were still in hostile territory and sober up. When they did, Red Dog straightened up and walked a few steps towards the defeated deserters. They were just standing there looking unsure of what to do, or even of what had just happened.

“Hey! You guys drop your weapons, and that goes double for the mage. You’re now our captives until you officially join up with the Black Snake,” he yelled at them.

Blacknail walked up beside the bandit lieutenant, and gave him another toothy smile.

“I get the big one’s shiny hat,” he told Red Dog.

Red Dog let him take the helmet.

As Saeter and other bandits organized the aftermath of the fight, Blacknail wandered around the camp and explored. Since everyone else in his band was busy rounding up the deserters he had the camp almost to himself.

The clearing the deserters had made their home in was filled with the army equipment they had taken with them and the goods they had stolen. A very crude wooden shelter had been set up under the ledge of an overhanging cliff, and over a dozen similar small blue tents were scattered around. The far end of the camp was marked by a small muddy stream.

As Blacknail wandered about he tried on his new helmet. It didn’t fit. It was far too large and it rattled as he walked. His large green nose also poked out and the helmet pinched it painfully. With a sad sigh, Blacknail packed it away for later and then continued riffling through the nearby tents and supplies.

Everything he found that peaked his interest, like random pieces of clothes and shiny things, ended up shoved into his pouches or pack. Everything that smelled tasty ended up shoved into his mouth.

As Blacknail was chewing a piece of cheese, which he had recently acquired a taste for, he heard an unexpected rustling from a nearby tent. Curious but wary, he crept over to check it out.

Something was definitely moving within the blue tent ahead! The sounds were quiet, as if someone or something was trying to make as little noise as possible. The idea of something hiding from Blacknail triggered his predator instincts. Surely, it wouldn’t be hiding if it didn’t have something to hide? Something Blacknail wanted…

Silently, the hobgoblin approached the entrance to the tent. He carefully grabbed the entrance flap, and then he ripped it open so he could peer inside.

He had a brief glimpse of a naked woman huddled among a pile of blankets and holding one to her chest, before the tin plate she had thrown smashed into his face. Blacknail hissed in pain and staggered back from the tent.

The woman began to scream fearfully. Outside the tent, Blacknail hopped around in pain. Blacknail’s nose had taken the brunt of the hit, and had started to throb painfully. It hurt a lot. He rubbed his nose, and then pinched the end. Neither of which really helped at all. The woman continued screaming shrilly, which on top of everything else hurt his ears.

The commotion attracted Saeter and several other bandits. His master calmly took in the sight of the obviously pained hobgoblin and the screams from the tent.

“Well, what do we have here?” Saeter asked.

“Sounds like a woman to me,” one of the other bandits replied eagerly.

“She hit me!” Blacknail whined pitifully to his master.

“Some man slaying monster you are. I’m glad none of our prisoners are here to see this. They’re terrified of our killer hobgoblin,” Saeter remarked as he smirked.

A few of the other bandits chuckled as well. Blacknail gave them a hostile glare, but that only made them chuckle more. Saeter turned to the tent and addressed the occupant.

“Come out now and you won’t be harmed. Stay in there and you won’t like what happens next,” Saeter commanded.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then there was a brief ruffling noise, and the woman who had assaulted Blacknail stepped out of the tent.

Her hair was long and blonde, and her eyes were light blue. Her thin but mature figure and large breasts were covered only by blanket she had wrapped around herself. One of the bandits whistled appreciatively.

Blacknail rubbed his sore nose, and glared at her. He thought she was ugly, smelly and, stupid.

The woman was pale and shivering ever so slightly with fear. Her eyes were wet and glossy as she met the stares of the bandits, but she did meet them. She only flinched when she noticed Blacknail glaring at her hatefully. She seemed determined not to let her fear show.

“And who might you be?” Saeter asked her politely. There was a silly smile on his face that Blacknail didn’t recognize.

“My name is Erissa, sir. I was travelling to Riverdown with some merchants, when they were killed by Basghus. He took me prisoner and used me to warm his bed,” she answered with a slight tremor in her voice. “May I ask who you are?”

She appeared afraid, and smelled of fear as well, but Blacknail noticed her give every bandit a brief appraising look. This woman wasn’t helpless.

“Ah, we’re bandits as well, but of a less crude sort. Who’s this Basghus you speak of?” Saeter replied carefully.

The blonde looked weary but replied quickly.

“He’s the big leader of the bandits here,” she stuttered with evident confusion.

She seemed to have disregarded the other bandits and was now focusing on Saeter. She stepped towards him until she was within an easy arm’s reach. Then, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Ah, him. He’s dead, so you don’t need to worry,” Saeter told her as he fidgeted and looked uncomfortable.

“Wha… what are you going to do to me?” Erissa asked.

“Nothing you haven’t been through before I’m sure,” one bandit joked.

Saeter tore his gaze away from Erissa and gave him a brief disapproving look.

“You’re our prisoner for now, but behave yourself and we’ll drop you off at Riverdown,” he told her.

Erissa looked somewhat, but far from completely, relieved at the older man’s words.

“Thank you,” she simpered gratefully as she held the blanket to her chest and Saeter smiled at her.

“Wait a second, I just realized something,” A shorter bandit suddenly blurted out.

“What?” Saeter asked impatiently.

“According to Herad’s rules she goes to whoever found her, but that wasn’t you. Blacknail was the one that found her…” he explained.

Everyone, including the woman, turned to look at the hobgoblin. Startled at all the unexpected attention Blacknail gave them a flat uncomprehending look back.

“Then she’s mine until we find somewhere to get rid of her,” Saeter told everyone.

“Um, how do you know Blacknail doesn’t want her? I mean, there are stories about hobgoblins and women who get lost in the woods,” another bandit asked.

Erissa suddenly looked terrified. She took another step towards Saeter until she was practically pressed against him. Blacknail’s master reached over and smacked the bandit that has just spoken across the side of the head.

“You’re definitely not a farm boy, or you’d know why those are tall tales. I’m not going to explain the birds and the bees to you, but you should know it doesn’t work that way. If it did we would be up to our eyeballs in forest nymphs and frog knights,” Saeter answered him scathingly.

“I was just saying,” the red faced bandit muttered as he massaged the side of his head.

Several of his fellows were smiling or chuckling at his expense. Erissa just looked really relieved, and Blacknail didn’t quite understand what was going on. Did they expect him to eat her?

“She smells bad,” Blacknail said.

Several bandits broke out into laughter. Even Saeter looked amused. The blonde woman’s one eye twitched and she scowled at Blacknail. The hobgoblin was now even more confused. Did the stupid woman want to be eaten? He scowled back at her.

“I’m leaving,” Blacknail muttered as he began to walk away.

There were still places in the camp he hadn’t explored yet, and his master was acting all weird. Being alone right now sounded like a great idea.

Eventually, after the hobgoblin had claimed a few more trophies for himself, the deserters were released. After all their weapons where collected they were allowed to start packing up. Red Dog planned to sleep over at the camp and then head back with the new recruits in the morning.

They set up all their own gear in one corner of the camp and put several men on watch. Both Red Dog and Saeter thought the deserters were sincere in their surrender and desire to join Herad, but neither of them was willing to put themselves at risk to test it either.

As night fell, everyone began to lie up for the night. Several of Red Dog’s men were seated around a fire in the center of their encampment. A pale waxing moon had risen in the sky. Every once and a while a pale cloud would float past and hide it from view.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had army rations,” one of the men around the fire told his companions.

“Me too. I didn’t miss them,” another replied with a scowl of distaste.

Blacknail was sitting in the shadows, and observing them. He could have joined them but didn’t feel like it. He was in a foul mood. His master had retired to his tent along with the stupid blond woman.

At first they had talked for awhile and Saeter had acted all weird. Now, Blacknail could hear them mating and it was disgusting. Mating among goblins was simple. A female went into heat and then the last male standing got to claim her. All the weird talking they were doing was disturbing.

“Forget about the food. What I want is chance with that bountiful blonde we picked up today!” a taller black haired bandit interjected.

“Ha, good luck with that. By Herad’s rules she belongs to Saeter. He was the second to find her, even if you don’t count Blacknail as the first. No way is he going to give her up now. She’s got her hooks into him good,” the sole female bandit in the group responded.

“Grr, why him? He’s an old crusty bastard,” the taller bandit asked.

“Ha, he may not normally seem like it these days, but Saeter used to be a famous lady killer. He was a regular master of seduction,” a shorter bandit told him.

“Besides, he was clearly in charge and Blondie could see it. She’s not stupid and obviously knows what’s what,” the outlaw woman added.

“Ya, I have a hard time seeing Saeter as a lady killer,” someone else replied.

“I don’t know, if he were a dozen years younger, and didn’t scowl so much, I think he would be fairly handsome. He’s certainly got the tall, dark, and handsome thing down,” the woman mused.

“Well, damn that bastard anyway, and his stupid pet too. We’re supposed to be bandits, not gentleman bloody thieves. He could at least share!” the taller bandit exclaimed.

He stopped ranting suddenly when he noticed everyone else at the fire was staring slightly behind him. He froze then grimaced regretfully.

“Saeter’s behind me isn’t he,” the man groaned.

“It’s worse than that,” the man to his left told him.

As if on cue, Blacknail leaned down over the short man’s shoulder and glared at him. The bandit froze. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds, as Blacknail reached down and took the man’s plate of food from his hand.

He stared hard into the other man eyes as if challenging him to say something about it. The man didn’t so much as breathe. Smugly, the hobgoblin then walked back over to the shadows and started eating. A chorus of quiet chuckles broke out behind him. Blacknail felt a little better now.

As he was eating he saw Red Dog emerge from his tent. He walked over to the fire and started talking quietly to one of the men beside the fire. The man responded and then got up and walked away from the fire and out into the darkness. He was headed across the camp to where the deserters were.

Blacknail watched with interest. What was Red Dog doing? The bandit lieutenant was now just standing beside the fire and waiting. The hobgoblin stared out into the darkness that encircled them for any sign of activity. A few minutes later, a sudden clanging noise off in the night drew his attention.

Then, without warning, Blacknail was blinded by a searing white light. It flashed into existence across the camp and illuminated the entire area. Its radiance poured over Blacknail, and he hissed in distress as he tried to shield his eyes from the light that burned them.

What was this unnatural light? It was unlike anything he had ever seen! Sounds of surprise and confusion rung out from the bandit camp. Alarmed, the hobgoblin rolled behind the crate he was sitting on and sheltered in the shadows behind it.

From his hiding spot he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Still somewhat blinded by the white afterimages that filled his eye sight, a nervous Blacknail drew his dagger. Just what was going on?

Written in Blood 3.6

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Blacknail was quite happy with himself. Not only had he tricked the stupid human but he had managed to get some free food out of it as well. After hiding the evidence, Blacknail walked back and picked up all the food that had been dropped onto the ground in the earlier scuffle.

The hobgoblin spent the next few minutes watching the forest below from the top of the hill and eating the red meat and hard bread that he had picked up earlier. From his vantage point at the sentry’s post, he saw Saeter and the other bandits arrive and begin to climb the hill below him.

“Er, you changed your clothes?” Saeter asked Blacknail curiously when he reached the top and saw him.

The other bandits were right behind the scout. One of them gave Blacknail a horrified glance.

“Forget about that. What in all the hells is he eating?” the other bandit asked in alarm when he saw Blacknail.

The hobgoblin sniggered at the man’s concern. He was sitting on the piled bodies of the unconscious men he’d knocked out, while casually chewing a piece of meat. He’d tried looking for something else, like a log, to sit on but hadn’t ended up finding anything. Besides, the pile of humans was actually very comfy.

“It smells, and looks, like boiled beef,” someone else answered condescendingly to the other man.

The first speaker flushed slightly in response. Blacknail ignored the other bandits and focused on Saeter. As amusing as they were, only his master was important.

“I had to be sneaky,” Blacknail explained to Saeter as he pointed to the third unconscious man.

“Huh, well I guess it worked,” Saeter replied.

He looked like he wanted to ask some more questions, but instead he turned to Red Dog.

“We should get going. They’ll soon notice these men are missing,” Saeter told him.

Red Dog nodded and then turned to Blacknail and gave him a disapproving look.

“Are those men still alive?” he asked the hobgoblin.

“Probably,” Blacknail replied with an indifferent shrug.

Red Dog appeared unsatisfied by Blacknail’s answer, but he only scowled and turned back to Saeter.

“Fine, let’s go. The hobgoblin stays here and guards these men, though,” he said.

“I have no problem with that,” Saeter replied levelly without concern.

Red Dog began giving orders to the other bandits. He got them organized and told them the plan of attack. Blacknail listened and was disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t be joining in the rest of the fun.

Red Dog’s plan did seem like it might involve a lot of face to face fighting though, and Blacknail was fine with missing out on that. He much preferred attacking people from behind. It was safer.

Besides, Blacknail knew he wasn’t a very good swordsman yet. He much preferred the sneaky type of fighting, so he had no problem with staying there while continuing to eat his food and sit on his trophies. Maybe one of them would even wake up and then Blacknail could have some more fun.

As the hobgoblin watched, the bandits finished their planning and drew their weapons. Most of them had swords but others had bows or more exotic things like hand axes. Red Dog led the way and the group headed towards the deserters’ camp.

With their dirty unshaven faces and their worn down and mismatched leather armor the bandits looked savage and dangerous. They didn’t however display the discipline and competence of the horsemen from earlier or even Persus’ guards.

Blacknail watched them go, and he decided he wasn’t going to listen to Red Dog after all. When the other bandits were out of sight, the hobgoblin got up and followed them. He wanted to see what happened next.

Saeter led Red Dog and the rest of their group of outlaws through the woods towards their target. They moved slowly in order to sneak up on the group of deserters who had set up camp ahead. The thick trees and hilly terrain concealed their approach.

It didn’t take long for Saeter’s group to get within sight of the deserters’ camp. The old scout stopped at the edge of the forest where it ended in a cliff. He crouched low to the ground to help conceal himself and looked down. Below them and down a rocky incline lay a small recessed valley.

The sound of rushing water could be heard from a small waterfall that rushed down the steep rocky cliff that lay across the valley. The creek it fed then wandered along one side of the valley and marked its boundary. The thick forest and sharp hills continued on the other side of the stream.

A bunch of uniform blue tents had been set up within the gorge. Under an overhang on one section of the cliff the deserters had also constructed a large crude wooden structure. Seater and Red Dog could see a number of men moving about or lounging around the area. In the center of the tents someone was cooking on a large fire.

“Well, those are definitely standard Elorian infantry tents. That means these are our deserters,” Red Dog whispered.

“It could be an entirely different group of deserters who just happen to be highwaymen as well,” one of the new recruits whispered back.

Red Dog was not amused by the comment and it showed on his face. One of the other bandits took this as permission to cuff the speaker. The man took the blow and shut up.

“Look at the tents and that shelter over there. There are more of them than we thought,” Saeter told Red Dog.

“How many do you think there are, exactly?” Red Dog asked him.

“At least as many as us, even without counting the scouts we took out on the way in,” Saeter answered.

“Then, I guess we’ll just have to go back and ask Herad for some reinforcements,” Red Dog muttered sarcastically as he scowled down at the camp below them.

No one laughed.

“You’re in charge,” Saeter remarked indifferently.

Red Dog gave him a dirty look. The bandit lieutenant clearly didn’t like any of the options available to him.

“We have the advantage of surprise,” he mused.

“Until we lose it,” Saeter added.

“If you have nothing constructive to add, then shut up.” Red Dog hissed back.

Saeter didn’t bother to respond or even turn around. He kept looking over the cliff and at the deserters’ camp.

“Fine, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go down the hill that way, and then we’ll sneak around to those tents over there,” Red Dog explained as he gestured to various spots down below. “They’re close to the edge of the woods and there are quite a few men lounging about around them. We’ll rush out and capture them before they know what is happening. That’ll give us the advantage in numbers, and some prisoners to bargain with.”

“With odds this close I’ve always preferred less direct attacks. We could scout around a bit more,” Saeter recommended.

“That could take hours. They could stumble onto our trail or notice their missing sentries at any time. No, we have to go in now,” Red Dog replied.

“Fine, I’ll stay here as a lookout. That way I can guard the rear and cover you with my bow,” Saeter suggested.

Red Dog appeared to think it over for a few seconds. The other bandits all around him waited for his response.

“No, you can cover us better from further down the hill and closer to the action. Besides, you just unpacked that sword of yours so let’s give you an opportunity to use it,” Red Dog told him with a smirk.

Saeter didn’t look happy with the other bandit’s decision, but when Red Dog led the rest of the outlaws down the slope he followed them.

Red Dog slowly and carefully led his group of twenty-four bandits down the slope and through the woods around the camp. The slope was rocky and cover was limited to the occasional large rock or bush so they had to move carefully, but they made it safely to the bottom and back into the forest without being seen.

As they moved through the trees, there were several times when a new recruit messed up or slipped and accidently made a loud noise. When that happened everyone froze and listened nervously for any reaction from the men ahead of them. When they were sure that no one had noticed them they continued warily on.

Once they were only a few dozen feet from the tents, and the deserters around them, they stopped to observe their targets for a minute. There were eight enemies seated or standing around their target. Only a few of them had any visible weapons on them. An about equal number of other men were visible in more distant areas of the camp.

Silently, Red Dog signaled his men forward. Ever so slowly, they crawled through the last stretch of thick brush and towards the back of the tents that sat at edge of the woods. Saeter was with them but was lagging behind and holding up the rear. When Red Dog reached the edge of the forest he burst out and into a run.

The large man raced around the tents and announced himself by punching out the closest deserter. There was a loud crack as his fist impacted the other man’s chin. As the now unconscious deserter fell to the ground his startled companions sprung to their feet.

“What the hells, an attack?” someone shouted in surprise.

The rest of Red Dog’s rugged outlaws were right behind him. They crashed into the unsuspecting opponents ahead of them with a series of vicious yells. There were sounds of shock and alarm as they swept out of the woods and tried to encircle the nearby deserters. Saeter remained at the edge of the woods and drew his bow.

In front of the tents a melee had started, even if it was a very one sided one. Red Dog’s men not only outnumbered their opponents but the enemy was also mostly unarmed. Red Dog himself managed to lay another deserter low with a second solid punch before even having to draw his blade.

However, it didn’t take long for the rest of the deserters to realize something was happening. Their camp came alive like an anthill that had just been kicked. Shouts of panic and alarm filled the air as they tried to figure out what was going on.

The closest group of deserters began falling one after another. Some of the bandits used clubs, or were just strong enough, to disable their opponents with painful blunt strikes. Others simply surrendered when swords and daggers were shoved in their faces, and they were then forced to the ground.

Those that tried to run or draw their own blades were put down hard, usually in a bloody and fatal manner. As they were cut down brief screams of pain joined the panicked yelling that filled the camp. Only one man managed to flee across the camp to regroup with his fellows.

By this time, the deserters in the rest of the camp were beginning to get organized. One man emerged from a tent across the camp with a bow and promptly shot an arrow at Red Dog.

The bandit lieutenant didn’t see the projectile coming; he was busy watching over his men. Fortunately for him the shot missed and ripped through the tent behind him.

The noise alerted Red Dog to the threat and he spun around to find the shooter. Before the archer could try for another shot one of Saeter’s arrows took him in the chest. Red Dog gave Saeter a brief nod of thanks as the old scout drew another arrow.

An organized group of defenders began to appear across the camp. A large group of the deserters had banded together and armed themselves, but they were holding back for now.

Saeter sent a few arrows their way to distract them. The deserters scattered and took cover among the nearby tents, rocks, and equipment. Shouting could be heard as someone attempted to get the former soldiers organized and come up with a plan.

Their strategy became obvious when reinforcements arrived carrying round wooden shields. Saeter took a few more shots at the men but the shield carriers intercepted every one. With an annoyed grunt, Saeter stopped shooting to preserve arrows, and the fighting ground to a halt.

On one side of the camp were Red Dog and the rough looking bandits. They numbered two dozen but were busy regrouping and securing their captives. Almost a dozen men lay on the ground at their feet.

On the other side, a dozen armed and organized deserters were glaring at their attackers but weren’t moving to engage them. Most of them still wore their blue military uniforms. Every once and awhile they would be reinforced by a straggler or two.

“Well, that’s inconvenient. Who would have thought they would have carried those heavy things all the way here? No one in the band bothers with shields,” Red Dog remarked as he examined their next group of opponents.

“Bah, who cares? A few shields isn’t going to help them,” one of the bandits said.

“True, we have them outnumbered now. So, let’s see if they want to negotiate,” Red Dog announced.

However, before he could do anything the situation changed.

“What the fuck is all this now?” a deep booming voice suddenly yelled.

The group of deserters grew agitated and then split apart, to let a large man walk to the front of them. He towered over the nearby men and was heavily muscled. Even from a distance it was obvious he was far bigger and more muscled than anyone else there.

The new arrival had a huge two handed sword over his shoulder, and he wore a chainmail shirt on his chest. As the bandits watched, he pulled a metal helmet over his head. A few more deserters arrived alongside him, which meant the bandits only had a slight advantage in numbers now.

“Well, balls,” Red Dog swore as he eyed this new opponent. He didn’t seem happy.

“Our superior numbers won’t mean much if we have to worry about prisoners,” Saeter remarked.

“I don’t suppose you could just shoot him?” Red Dog asked. They both knew who he meant.

“With that armor and those nearby shields? It’s not bloody likely!” Saeter replied.

“Damn, that would have made this a lot easier,” Red Dog muttered half heartedly.

Their discussion was interrupted by a loud yell from the deserter leader. Instantly, both sides went still. The air was thick with tension.

“Who in all the hells are you lot?” he roared.

Saeter gave Red Dog a look that clearly indicated that it was up to him to answer, and that he had better make it good.

“We’re bandits in service to Herad the Black Snake. You’ve been poaching in her territory so she sent us to put a stop to it,” Red Dog yelled back.

“What, she was too afraid to come herself?” the giant asked arrogantly.

“More like you aren’t worth her time. Why would she bother herself with a few deserters? She runs this entire territory, and she has hundreds of men under her command,” Red Dog replied.

Saeter gave a quiet snort of amusement at the exaggeration. Red Dog ignored him.

“So then why did she send so few of her men to kill us?” was the unconvinced reply.

“We’re not here just to kill you. We’re also here to offer you a chance to join us. You’d be stupid not to take it,” Red Dog told them.

“Why in all the hells would we want to join up with a bitch like the Black Snake?” the man laughed.

“So, that you don’t all die. You may think you’re tough ex-army shit but so are half the outlaws in the North. We saw what was left of one of your men when that troll got through with him. You’ve no idea how to survive out here. Even if we don’t kill you something else will soon enough,” Red Dog argued.

“Ha, if that troll comes back I’ll kill it myself. We don’t need you or your bitch. I’ll kill her soon enough anyway, and then this territory will be mine. I’ll give you one chance to save yourselves. Join me,” the man bragged as he pulled a vial from a pouch and held it up for them to see.

“Fuck me, he’s a Slosher,” Red Dog moaned.

As a ripple of fear spread through Herad’s minions, another figure stepped forward from among the deserters. He was a plain looking man whose chin was covered in stubble and whose brown hair was un-kept. The only reason he stood out was that he was holding a long staff that ended in a clawed orb.

“A combat mage too? They have a thrice damned combat mage! I strongly suggest we run now,” Saeter urged Red Dog.

“We don’t know what crystals he has or what magic he can do,” Red Dog replied.

“Does it matter? I doubt he would be lugging that staff around if all it could do was light his way to the privy,” Saeter responded harshly.

“If we run that Slosher will chase us down quickly enough,” Red Dog reasoned.

“If he hasn’t taken any Elixir yet then he won’t unless he has to. He must know how hard that stuff is to get out here,” Saeter guessed.

“I suppose you can’t just shoot the mage either?” Red Dog asked darkly.

“Even if I could, who’s going to fight that huge armored Slosher, you?” was Saeter’s sarcastic reply.

Red Dog sighed. He seemed to deflate as he slouched in despair.

“You know what really bothers me about all this? That the bloody goblin of yours is the only one who’s going to survive this,” he muttered darkly.

“Give me your answer or I’ll cut you to pieces!” the giant roared impatiently before Saeter could reply.

“We’re discussing your offer. Give us a second,” Red Dog yelled back with an annoyed tone.

“Don’t piss him off!” Saeter hissed.

“Or what, he’ll kill us?” Red Dog hissed back.

Blacknail watched Saeter and Red Dog continue to argue from atop the hill that looked down on the camp. It definitely seemed like his master was in a trouble.

Things had been going well until that big male human had arrived. For some reason everyone was afraid of him. Well, he did have a very impressive sword and a shiny hat.

The men behind Red Dog seemed on the edge of panic. Even his master looked out of sorts. Blacknail blamed the fat faced man, Red Dog. His plan had obviously been stupid and had put Blacknail’s master in danger.

The hobgoblin really didn’t want his master to get hurt or die and it was looking increasingly likely that he would. He owed the man too much to let that happen.

He also really didn’t want to have to walk back to camp alone and then try and explain everything that had happened to Herad. He doubted she would be very understanding or that he would survive.

What could he do though? The problem was the big man so Blacknail had to do something about him, but what? He was definitely very big, and Blacknail was rather small. It would however be very satisfying to defeat such a man… to kill him.

Blacknail shivered as the cruel hunger from before surged through him again. Feeling giddy and lightheaded, the hobgoblin smiled viciously in anticipation as he quickly considered various schemes. Yes, he would show these enemy humans why they should have never entered his territory!

Having made up his mind, Blacknail launched himself down the hill and scrambled through the woods. On all four limbs he navigated through the tangle of bushes and avoided the rocks at high speed. His light agile body allowed the hobgoblin to move in ways humans couldn’t.

Once he reached the edge of the woods that lay below the hill the hobgoblin forced himself to a stop. That done, he quickly brushed himself off and threw his hood up. Then, with false calm he strolled out of the woods and into the deserters’ camp.

Immediately, several of the deserters looked his way. Blacknail felt their gazes on him as he approached, and he nervously noted that they were all armed and rather angry looking. He doubted he could fight a single one of the large humans off, let alone the whole group.

Blacknail really hoped his plan was going to work. He probably should have spent a little more time thinking it through. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time though, when he had been far away and safe. If this plan failed not only was he going to die painfully but most likely so would his master.

Up ahead the large human leader raised his huge sword into the air and roared.

“You cowardly dogs have had all the time I’m willing to give you! No more stalling. It’s time to fight. When I cut you fuckers down I’m going to make sure your deaths are slow and bloody, as a warning to others,” he yelled with a voice full of rage and bloodlust.

Written in Blood 3.5

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“Could be worse, it could have been a drake,” Saeter told Red Dog. “Trolls are smaller and will rarely attack a group of armed men this big, especially if they’ve just eaten. As long as we don’t trip over the damned thing we should be fine. This one must have followed the same blood trail as Blacknail and picked the bleeder off.”

Looks of terror appeared on some of the bandits’ faces, and several of them threw nervous glances at the surrounding woods. The thick tree trunks and uneven ground of the forest could easily have been concealing an approaching threat.

“What’s a troll? I mean, I’ve heard of them but I never actually expected to see one, or have one see me,” one of the new recruits asked nervously.

Saeter gave the man a disdainful look, but answered him.

“Trolls have twin fangs the size of long knives and thick skin that doesn’t bleed unless you pretty much decapitate them. Except for that, they’re basically what you would get if you took a goblin and made it twice the size of a man and a hundred times as angry,” he explained.

“Bloody lovely…” one of the other bandits muttered sarcastically.

Saeter then got up and examined the ground all around the corpse. He called Blacknail over and showed the hobgoblin various signs within the disturbed area. The hobgoblin found this much more interesting than his earlier tracking lessons. His sense of smell didn’t help him nearly as much.

“It looks like there were three men here. The troll came down on them fast. It killed the wounded one and his friends made a run for it. It doesn’t look like the troll followed them, instead it ate its fill and then headed off back into the woods,” Saeter told Red Dog.

The man looked thoughtful as he considered their options. He didn’t seem concerned about the troll and in fact seemed quite calm.

“We should be good to just follow them back to their camp then. Will they still be on alert?” Red Dog asked the old scout.

“Hard to say. I’m guessing the troll attack happened last night, which is enough time that I would feel safe. I doubt these guys are used to the forest though, so I’d bet they didn’t get much sleep last night,” Saeter answered.

“And we did?” Blacknail heard someone mutter doubtfully behind him.

“We’ll go carefully then, and when we find the camp we’ll circle around. They’ll undoubtedly be watching the direct way, for trolls if nothing else,” Red Dog said as Saeter nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take Blacknail and scout the path ahead then. We’ll take out or mark any sentries so then you and the others can approach unseen,” Saeter suggested.

“Sounds good,” Red Dog replied.

“Come Blacknail. It’s time for me to teach you the more violent parts of the ranger’s trade. I have a feeling you’ll pick it up quick,” Saeter told the hobgoblin as he shrugged off his backpack and handed it to another bandit.

Blacknail chuckled and licked his lips. This sounded like it would be so much fun! He could think of nothing he would rather do than stalk unsuspecting prey through the woods with the scent of blood in the air. His heart pounded in excitement just thinking about it.

“Thank you-ss so much, master,” he replied eagerly as a wicked grin stretched across his face.

A few seconds later, the hunt was on. Saeter slipped through the trees so quietly that even Blacknail had difficulty hearing him. The hobgoblin followed in his master’s wake and tried to be just as silent. To his own ears he wasn’t quite successful, but with his boots removed he moved quietly enough that Saeter didn’t complain.

The hobgoblin instinctively knew how to balance himself and where to place his bare feet to avoid breaking twigs and other obstacles. After so long walking in boots, the cool earth and wet grass felt soothing beneath his feet as he walked. The thrill of the hunt he was now feeling was more than worth the long walk it had taken to get here.

As Saeter and Blackail moved through the forest it changed. The canopy overhead grew thinner until light began to leak through. Thick clusters of green bushes sprouted up in the abundant sunlight, which helped hide the pair from prying eyes.

Ahead of Blacknail, Saeter moved out from behind a mossy boulder to peer at a trampled plant. Having confirmed that he was still on the right track, the scout got up and started moving again. He stalked through the bush while moving from cover to cover and checking for signs of their targets.

An impressed Blacknail observed and tried to copy his master’s movements. How could Saeter move so quietly and track without using his nose? It almost seemed like magic.

The hobgoblin watched his master examine the surrounding forest while crouched behind a bush. After a minute Saeter raised a hand and signaled Blacknail.

Before they had headed out to track down the deserters, Saeter had made him memorize several different hand signals. Blacknail had instantly realized how useful they would be for communicating without making any noise. His master was surely a genius for coming up with such a great idea! Blacknail was sure nothing like it would ever have occurred to him.

Saeter hand had three raised fingers, which meant someone might be around. Slowly and carefully as not to attract attention the hobgoblin bent down and took cover at the base of the tree beside him.

A flash of excitement burned through Blacknail at the thought of finally cornering their quarry. His mouth moistened with saliva in anticipation, but he obeyed his master and remained where he was.

However, he couldn’t resist the urge to peek out and look for whatever Saeter had seen. Blacknail eagerly scanned the forest for signs, but was disappointed when he didn’t see anything or anyone among the leafy branches or rough barked tree trunks around him.

He wanted to hunt! His teeth ached, and his tongue flicked out and over his teeth to clean them in preparation. He shivered as he felt a seductive feeling similar to rage start to burn within him. It filled him with a hunger for action and blood.

Blacknail had to close his eyes and focus on mentally picturing sword exercises to suppress the urges. He knew discipline would make him stronger than rage or hunger ever could, but why did it have to be so hard?

A few seconds later, after Blacknail had managed to get his urges under control, he opened his eyes to see Saeter flashing more signals his way. The first signal told Blacknail to look over to his left, and the next meant he wanted Blacknail to wait and watch. With a regretful sigh, the hobgoblin resigned himself to spending the next little while waiting and not hunting. His master could be so cruel!

As Saeter stealthily got up and began moving, Blacknail looked over in the direction his master had indicated. He still didn’t see anything. Saeter stopped beside a large smooth tree trunk and signaled Blacknail again. He wanted the hobgoblin to carefully circle the target from the opposite direction.

Blacknail smiled as he got up and obeyed. Finally, a chance to act! Excitedly, he crept forward while looking out for his prey. As he was moving over to a large jagged rock, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye up on a nearby hill.

Instantly, the cloaked hobgoblin went totally still and his eyes focused on that spot. He watched and noticed something brown and human sized move ever so slightly. It was mostly hidden behind a tree so he slipped around the boulder to get a better view.

It was a man! The human was scanning the forest from a high viewpoint while leaning against a tree. He had a large brown cloak on and under that he was wearing a bright blue shirt and black pants.

The clothes confused Blacknail. He couldn’t think of a good reason for wearing the blue shirt that would be anything but a stupid idea. Did the man want to be seen? Was it some sort of trap?

Blacknail threw a look back at his master. Saeter noticed the glance and quickly raised two fingers in another sign. Two fingers meant… that there was another man nearby. Blacknail hastily flashed the ‘where?’ sign back.

His master pointed up to another spot on the hill and then gestured to himself to show ownership. He then pointed to the man Blacknail could see and then back to the hobgoblin. Blacknail grinned happily and licked his lips. His master was going to take one of the men and he wanted Blacknail to take the other. What a wonderful present his master had just given him!

The hobgoblin watched the sentry on the hill until the man looked away. Then unseen, Blacknail slipped out from behind the rock, and crept forward along a path up the hill that was mostly concealed from the man’s view. He was practically purring with joy.

Soon, the hobgoblin got close enough that he could smell the human, and he shivered in anticipation. He circled around the hill and began to climb it from the side. It was steep but there were plenty of exposed roots to use as footholds. This was going to be so much fun!

As he climbed, Blacknail’s long ears detected sounds that were out of place in the forest. Carefully, he paused in his advance to listen. It sounded like several humans talking and moving, which meant the human camp wasn’t too far away.

He examined the forest in that direction but didn’t see anything that would indicate anyone in the camp was close enough to see him. Reassured, the hobgoblin began to creep across the final stretch of bush between him and the human scout.

His target was an average sized man with black hair. He was still leaning against the tree while lazily scanning the forest below him for threats. However, Blacknail had already snuck right under the man nose and was now safely behind him. The sentry would never see the hobgoblin coming, which was just how Blacknail liked it.

“See anything yet, Kratz,” the man suddenly yelled. Blacknail dropped to the ground in alarm.

“Ha, I would have said something if I did,” come an answering shout from out of sight.

“Ya, but the boss wanted us to check in with each other every once and awhile. I guess you’re still alive since you’re still talking and all,” the first man replied in jest.

The only answer the other man gave was a brief chuckle. Blacknail rose a bit and tried to find the second speaker, but much to his frustration he couldn’t see him.

Then there was the sound of a scuffle and a brief gasp. Blacknail’s target looked over and frowned with concern.

“You okay, Kratz? I thought I heard something,” the man shouted.

The only sound from where the other man had been was a distinct cheery birdcall. The sentry’s frown deepened as his concern turned to suspicion. He took a step towards the camp and opened his mouth as if to shout.

But, Blacknail had already launched himself forward towards the man. The birdcall had been a signal. Blacknail was sure it meant Saeter had just taken out the second sentry, and that meant Blacknail needed to act.

The hobgoblin covered the ground lightning fast. His long muscular body carried his light frame forward with startling speed. The wind whipped his cloak behind him as he shot forward from the bushes. Before the man could even turn or start yelling, Blacknail was upon him.

The hobgoblin hit the unprepared man with a flying tackle that ended with his arms wrapped around his opponent’s waist. Surprise and momentum allowed the lighter hobgoblin to knock the man off balance. It also knocked the air from his opponent’s lung and prevented him from yelling out a warning.

They careened off to the side together. As they fell the sentry flailed uselessly. Meanwhile, Blacknail used his hold on the man’s waist to pull himself up and then twist one of his legs so he could hook it under the man’s knee. Using the leverage this gave him, Blacknail flipped himself around so that he was now clinging to the man’s back.

They hit the ground with a loud thud. The man landed face first with the weight of the hobgoblin on his back. The breath was knocked out of the sentry for a second time by the impact, and all he could do was wheeze in pain.

The fallen man tried to draw in a breath to yell, or maybe to scream, but Blacknail grabbed his hair and yanked the man’s head up. This caused the man to croak in pain and allowed Blacknail to wrap his other claw around the man’s neck.

The sentry went very still as he felt the hobgoblin’s sharp nails dig into the flesh around his throat. He whimpered in fright, and Blacknail smiled in satisfaction. The hobgoblin adjusted his weight so he could lean forward into the man’s line of sight.

The man must have suspected something was strange about his assailant, but when he got a close look at Blacknail’s face his eyes widened and he went white as snow.

“Be very quiet,” Blacknail half whispered and half growled to him.

The man’s head bobbed up and down. At first Blacknail thought the sentry was trying to nod but then his eyes rolled up into his head until only the whites were visible and he went as limp as a dead fish.

Blacknail released his grip on the man’s throat and slapped him across the face. The blow made a loud smacking noise and left a red handprint on the man’s face but otherwise the sentry didn’t react.

There was a hiss of disappointment as the hobgoblin studied his prey. He had wanted to have more fun! With a sigh, Blacknail got to his feet and stared with dissatisfaction down at the unconscious sentry.

There was the sound of someone approaching, and Saeter pushed his way out from the bushes. The old scout frowned as he saw the corpse white and unmoving man at Blacknail’s feet.

“I thought I told you to try and capture them alive!” Saeter said with obvious disappointment.

“He’s not dead, just stupid. Stupid-ss man went to sleep so he’s no fun,” Blacknail hissed in annoyance.

“I see,” Saeter replied in a confused tone that meant he didn’t really understand at all.

Frowning, he walked over to the unconscious man and kicked him a few times. He seemed satisfied when the man flinched and moaned ever so slightly.

“Prey’s camp is that way,” Blacknail impatiently told his master as he raised a finger to point towards the source of the noise he had heard earlier.

The hobgoblin wanted to continue the hunt. There were still more humans to catch and he had never had so much fun before. He was lightheaded with giddiness and anticipation even if he was also a little disappointed he couldn’t eat any of the prey he caught.

After throwing a look in the direction Blacknail had indicated, Saeter addressed the hobgoblin.

“Good to know, but that’s not our job right now. Grab that fellow and hide him in the bushes along with the one I knocked out. Then sit on them until I get back with Red Dog… er you don’t actually have to sit on them, just guard them,” Saeter told Blacknail.

“Yes, master,” Blacknail acknowledged with a disappointed sigh.

Why couldn’t his master just ever let him have fun? The humans were so close. He wanted to at least stalk them a little. No one would ever even know.

Saeter turned away and walked back through the trees towards where Red Dog was waiting for them. When he was gone, the hobgoblin grabbed the man at his feet and started dragging him into the bushes. He easily found the man Saeter had knocked out by smell and dumped the other sentry on top of him.

He was almost disappointed that Saeter didn’t actually want him to sit on them. Piled up as they were the unconscious men actually looked sort of comfy, and Blacknail liked the idea of resting atop the bodies of his defeated prey.

Blacknail’s mind began to wander as he waited for Saeter to return. He was getting kind of hungry. He wasn’t allowed to eat the humans but maybe he could lick them. Or maybe he could maim a few and eat the bits that came loose. They would survive that… probably.

After thinking it over for awhile, Blacknail decided to simply take some jerky out of his pouch and eat that instead. He was in the middle of chewing it when he heard someone yell in his direction.

“Kratz! Teriol! I’ve got your supper,” the voice shouted in Blacknail’s direction.

Blacknail calmly swallowed the last of the jerky and tried to come up with a plan. Obviously, this human was calling for the other two who had been knocked out. If he didn’t get an answer then he would probably raise the alarm, which would be bad.

Should he try and mimic a human and reply himself? No, that wouldn’t work. He didn’t have a very human sounding voice. Human voices were all deep and dumb sounding.

The hobgoblin started licking his fingers clean. Should he wake a human up and force them to answer? No, not enough time.

Blacknail’s eyes swept over the unconscious men he was supposed to be guarding, and they lingered on the smaller man’s cloak and gloves. He grinned gleefully as an idea occurred to him.

“Guys, you there?” the voice called again.

The speaker sounded a little nervous now. He stopped walking and glanced warily at the bush in front of him for signs of his friends. He was balancing two plates of steaming hot food in his hands.

The human’s nervousness disappeared however when a small man he recognized stepped out from behind a tree. His hood was up for some reason but the man recognized the sentry’s cloak.

He smiled as he realized his friend was in the middle of a fit of coughing, which was probably why he hadn’t answered him earlier. The sentry did however wave cheerfully as he strode forward before then extending a gloved hand to take a plate of food.

“Behind you,” the sentry said between coughs, as he raised his other hand to point behind the man. His voice was unusually raspy, probably from the coughing.

“What is it?” the deserter asked as he turned to look.

That was when Blacknail, who was dressed in the sentry’s clothes, jumped up and smashed him in the back of the head with the wooden plate.

“Wha?” the man groaned as he staggered.

Blacknail hit him again and kept hitting him until he went down. Then, the hobgoblin flipped his hood back to reveal his green grinning face and began to drag the third man into the bushes to join the others. This was just too much fun!

Written in Blood 3.4

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Training with Vorscha was much more enjoyable than with Saeter. It was actually kind of fun and he learned quite a bit faster from her. This was most likely because he took fewer blows to the head.

“Good, keep your weight mostly on your back foot,” Vorscha told him as he blocked one of her thrusts.

The tall chesty brunette was obviously not putting all of her considerable strength behind the blow. Blacknail appreciated the consideration since she probably weighed twice as much as him.

“Now attack,” she told him.

The hobgoblin eagerly did as she asked. He stepped forwards and launched a horizontal slash, which Vorscha easily blocked. Not that he had been expecting to land the blow.

“No, that was all wrong. You were off balance. Stop,” Vorscha said with a frown.

“I’m sorry,” Blacknail replied submissively as he lowered his blade.

The large woman was clearly a much more skilled fighter than him. Blacknail mentally added her to the list of people he didn’t want to challenge to a real fight.

“See, do it like this,” Vorscha explained.

The large brunette’s blade sliced through the air as she demonstrated the proper technique. Blacknail watched her carefully. She was startlingly graceful looking when she had a sword in hand, as she flowed between different stances and attacks her brown curls barely moved.

Blacknail tried to copy her movements but his weren’t nearly as smooth. He certainly had a long way to go in order to become any good at swordsmanship. He would just have to cheat in the meantime.

“Good, now practice that by yourself for a while, while I go check on Khita,” Vorscha told him as she watched him practice.

Blacknail continued repeatedly slicing the air as he practiced the move over and over again. Vorscha gave an approving nod and then headed over to Khita.

She then walked over to where the young woman was practicing, or where she was supposed to be practicing anyway. Khita had stopped practicing quite a while ago and was now just standing around.

The young woman was red faced with exhaustion, and the sword she was supposed to be swinging hung loosely from her hand with its tip resting on the ground. She scowled at Vorscha as the older woman approached.

“Why have you stopped?” Vorscha asked her in disapproval.

“Ugh, I can barely move my arms anymore. Can’t I take a break?” Khita whined in response.

“Ha, and you thought you didn’t need anyone’s help. It hasn’t even been half an hour yet. Real fighting takes a little more muscle than that back alley scuffling you’re used to, doesn’t it now?” Vorscha asked her.

“Maybe…” Khita muttered resentfully back.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll have you in fighting form before too long. It will just take a few hours of practice every day,” Vorscha explained with a gleeful smile.

Khita winced as is if someone had just slapped her across the face. She didn’t seem to like Vorscha’s plan very much.

“I don’t suppose I have a choice?” she asked the other woman.

“Nope, I already got permission from Herad to make you my subordinate. You have to do what I say, or its back to the city with you,” Vorscha replied with a smile as Khita groaned.

While they were talking Blacknail had grown bored of repeating the same technique so he started throwing in a few other ones. He was so engrossed in the feel and sound of the blade as it sliced through the air that he didn’t notice Saeter and Red Dog arrive until one of them actually spoke.

“Blacknail, come here,” Saeter called out to him.

The hobgoblin flinched in surprise at the unexpected voice. He recovered quickly though, and then walked over to his master. He dropped his blunt practice blade on the way over.

“Hello-ss, master and Red Dog,” Blacknail said as walked over to them.

Red Dog’s expression was unusually neutral. He didn’t scowl at the hobgoblin. Instead, he just regarded him without judgment.

“We have a job for you, hobgoblin,” Red Dog told him.

“Oh, what-ss is it?” Blacknail asked with obvious interest.

Red Dog wouldn’t be here talking to him unless it was something out of the ordinary.

“There’s a small group of army deserters who have set up camp to the south. They’re robbing, and usually killing, travelers. Herad wants them dealt with and made an example of,” Red Dog explained.

“Men hunt in our territory, so we-ss kill them,” Blacknail summarized.

“Basically, yes. Herad does want some of them alive though, they’ll make better recruits than most the riffraff we’ve been getting from Riverbend,” the bandit replied as he threw a disdainful look at Khita.

Blacknail agreed with Red Dog about the uselessness of the one named Khita, but had to suppress the urge to remind Red Dog that he was the idiot who had recruited her.

“They’re hiding in the forest somewhere so you’ll be helping me track them down, plus it will be a good experience for you,” Saeter added.

“I understand-ss, master,” Blacknail replied as he nodded.

“How many men are you taking?” Vorscha asked. She had dismissed Khita and joined them as well.

“Only a little more than a dozen, and I see you’ve joined Saeter in this insanity,” Red Dog replied with a nod in Blacknail’s direction. “I mean fine, so he’s useful to have around. That doesn’t mean you should be training the hobgoblin to kill people better. Can no one else seriously see why that’s obviously such a bad idea?”

“He’s actually a very well behaved student, and learns fairly quickly,” Vorscha replied with a shrug.

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Red Dog told her dryly.

“You can whine all you want on the way there. Let’s get going,” Saeter interjected impatiently.

Red Dog’s lips curled up in displeasure as he responded.

“Fine, whatever. We’ve got the goblin, so let’s head out,” Red Dog replied in exasperation. He seemed eager to get the job over with.

After a brief stop to grab some stuff from his shelter, Blacknail and the bandits were on their way down the road. Just like Red Dog had told Vorscha earlier, their group was comprised of about two dozen people, with an about even mix of new and experienced bandits.

“Couldn’t we have used some of the horses?” one of the recruits complained as she walked beside Red Dog.

They had been walking down the old dirt road that cut through the forest for several hours now.

“There are too many of us for that. Besides, we aren’t going all that far, and we’ll be moving through a lot of bush. You’ll just have to get used to walking distances further than down the street,” Red Dog told her disdainfully.

“…and riding can be even more painful and exhausting than walking if you’re not used to it,” Saeter added.

Suddenly, Blacknail heard something from up ahead. He froze, pulled his hood down, and listened. Everyone else noticed his actions and stopped as well. Most of them had curious looks on their faces. A few had apparently managed to somehow forget he was a hobgoblin and looked shocked at his appearance.

“Horses, many of them, from up ahead,” Blacknail announced as he stared of into the trees that concealed the twist in the road ahead.

“Shit, could be a patrol or something. Everyone off the road and out of sight, now,” Red Dog commanded as he moved towards the forest that ran along the road.

The rest of the bandits rushed after him, and they were soon all concealed along the tree line.

“I don’t hear anything. How do we know the hobgoblin isn’t making this up?” someone asked from where he was crouched behind a bush.

To Blacknail’s surprise it was Red Dog who answered.

“Because I’m smarter than you. Now shut up,” Red Dog hissed at the first speaker.

Almost immediately, the sound of hooves reached the humans’ ears. The bandits were all crouched in bushes or leaning against trees, but as soon as they heard the noise they all turned to look out at the road.

They didn’t have to wait very long for the horsemen to appear. They rode into view at a quick canter. There were slightly fewer of them than there were bandits, but every one of them was mounted and heavily armored.

The soldiers, and that’s what they had to be, were even more heavily armed and shinier than Persus’ guards had been. On top of their padded clothing they wore long chain-mail shirts. Their legs were covered by steel greaves, and their lower arms by banded bracers. Their heads were protected by steel helmets that hid everything but their eyes and mouths, which could be seen though a large y-shaped hole in the front of the helmets.

Blacknail was glad he was no longer out on the road. He could imagine the horsemen simply riding right over him and the other bandits. Most of them would have been trampled to death without much of a fight. It was just another reason why Blacknail really hated horses.

Most of the riders not only had swords at their waists but held long spears as well. One of the riders out front had a large blue piece of cloth tied to the end of his spear. It waved and snapped loudly in the wind behind him as he rode, showing flashes of a golden stag’s head insignia.

As Blacknail watched the soldiers pass, he had to admit that they looked dangerous. The humans in his tribe never looked quite so impressive. When the riders were out of sight down the road Red Dog spoke up.

“That’s Lord Strachan’s banner. What are that many of his armsmen doing out here? His land is further south, and he can’t have a lot of men to throw around these days” he mused aloud.

“Could be anything. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been out of touch with noble politics lately,” Saeter answered.

Red Dog grunted in agreement, before ordering everyone back onto the road. Then they were on their way again.

As the hours went by many of the bandits began to tire out, including Blacknail. The hobgoblin had never walked so far before. The bottom of his feet ached and his boots were rubbing his skin raw. He had tried removing the boots, but Saeter had stopped him, and told him that it would only make things worse. Blacknail wasn’t sure if he believed his master, but he did as he was told.

Eventually, Red Dog stopped the party with an upraised hand. Blacknail looked around and listened carefully, but he didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. It just seemed like any other spot on the forest enclosed road to him.

“There’s nothing here,” Blacknail muttered crankily to himself.

“We’ll stop here for the night, and start tracking our targets in the morning. We’re too close to them to be using the road anymore. If they have the sense the gods gave goblins than they’ll have someone watching the road,” Red Dog explained.

Blacknail gave Red Dog an annoyed glare at the obviously intentional insult, but most the other members of the group just seemed glad to be able to finally stop walking. Blacknail empathized with them, he couldn’t wait to get off his feet either.

The bandits split up for a few minutes to find a good place to set up for the night. Soon, a spot was chosen. It was a small cluster of gray boulders large enough to shield them from sight and to be somewhat defensible.

There were nine stones and each of them was taller than a human. Together, they were arranged in a loose circle. No trees grew within a few dozen feet of the stones, and the ground around them was hard with only a sparse covering of plants. Blacknail thought it was beautiful.

The hobgoblin walked up and ran his hand along the surface of the closest stone. It was smooth to the touch and warmer than he thought it would be. The sun must have heated it.

From this close, Blacknail could almost make out faded patterns on the rocks, like someone had carved pictures into them once upon a time. However, if the stones had once born images or words of some sort the wind and rain had long since worn them away.

Saeter noticed Blacknail examining the stones, and walked up behind him.

“These stone were put here. They’re too old for men and they’re not the Flore Kurava’s style. The forest people don’t work stone. That means this circle was put here by goblins. Maybe, even ancestors of yours,” Saeter told the hobgoblin.

Blacknail removed his hand from the stone. The idea that this… special place had been made by goblins felt right. The stones, and the way they were arranged, spoke to him. It had meaning, even if Blacknail couldn’t tell what the meaning was supposed to be.

He looked up into the clear blue sky above him. The thought that goblins had created something that had lasted so very long resonated with the hobgoblin. The idea of making things such as this had never even occurred to him before now. He turned to his master.

“Thank you, master,” he told him. Saeter eyed him curiously and a corner of his mouth rose to form a smirk.

“For what?” he asked.

“Everything,” Blacknail replied. He turned back to the stone and touched it again.

Red Dog stomped over and interrupted them. He looked annoyed and there was a frustrated scowl on his face.

“Great, so not only do we have to sleep beside a bloody hobgoblin but we’re also setting up camp in some sort of creepy goblin shrine thing,” he remarked with obvious distaste. “It’s probably where they buried all the people they killed.”

“We could try to find a different spot if you want, you’re the boss, but this one seems better than most. That is of course, unless on top of your fear of hobgoblins you’re also afraid of ghosts?” Saeter joked.

“It sure doesn’t sound like I’m the boss,” Red Dog grumbled as he walked past them and began helping set up.

It didn’t take them a lot of time to set up for the night. They had been traveling light. Beyond the basic gear and weapons, all they had brought was blankets and a large tarp in case it rained.

Red Dog didn’t allow anyone to light a fire until it got dark. He wanted there to be no chance of them being detected, and a fire during the day would be too much of a risk. The smoke would be visible for miles.

As night began to fall, Blacknail could smell some of the new recruits grow nervous. It wasn’t a great smell.

For many of them, it was their first time out in the woods at night in such a small group. The fact that they didn’t have a fire, but did have bad human night vision, probably didn’t help either.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice coming North, especially after days like today. Sure, it was the easiest place to escape the draft to, but maybe I should have tried to go West,” a bandit mused. “They don’t give a fuck about what the King of Eloria says out there.”

“I’d say you’re lucky you didn’t. The western border is well watched, because the people out that way are insane. The forest is just as dangerous there, but the peasants are superstitious and worship demons. They say that some villages eat strangers and that their nobles bathe in human blood,” another bandit replied with a shiver.

“What do you expect from inbreed bastards that isolate themselves from the rest of civilization?” a third man added.

 

“You’re getting too loud! Keep it down,” Red Dog suddenly ordered everyone, and that ended the conversation.

When the night sky had blackened enough to completely mask any smoke, Red Dog finally lit a fire in the center of the boulders. He kept it small enough that it was unlikely anyone would see it through the trees.

The fire helped a little but a lot of the men still seemed nervous. Blacknail didn’t blame them. He didn’t like camping out in the forest much either. The shadowy forest and reaching tree branches might be concealing any number of threats, and unlike most of the men here he knew exactly what to be afraid of.

As a hobgoblin, he might be larger than before but most of the hungry beasts that lived in the woods would barely notice the difference. He would simply be a slightly more filling snack.

Between the aura of fear and the heavy watch Red Dog insisted on, very few people got much rest that night. Many of the bandits slept fretfully and were awake much of the night.

Blacknail himself slept more than he had planned to. He found the presence of the ancient stones that encircled their camp soothing for some reason. They loomed over him reassuringly when he settled down to rest. As he closed his eyes, he could still sense them standing guard.

Eventually, the long night ended and dusk broke across the sky. Those few people who were still sleeping were awakened, and the group packed up and headed out to complete their mission.

They followed the road but stuck to the edges of the bush, so that anyone watching would have a hard time seeing them. The party was split in two, with one group on each side of the road, so that they wouldn’t miss anything. Saeter led one group, and Red Dog the other.

“What’s that?” one of the new recruits suddenly asked as he pointed to a spot beside the road.

Everyone immediately looked in the direction he indicated, including Blacknail.

“Looks like a trashed wagon. Let’s check it out,” another bandit replied.

“Wait a second. First we’ll search the area to see if anyone is watching,” Saeter told them.

At the old scout’s command the bandits continued on past the wagon, through the woods. When they didn’t find anyone or anything, Saeter stepped out onto the road and looked around.

“I don’t see any good vantage points nearby, so we should be unobserved,” he told everyone.

He ordered several men to cross the road and fetch Red Dog, while he and the others headed back to check out the wagon. They walked down the road until they got to the wooden wreck. Its remains were partly concealed from the road by a small overgrown hill, which they had to go around.

When they got to the wagon Blacknail immediately smelled blood, human blood. The wagon itself was badly damaged, and nothing but a pile of broken wood that had been stripped of everything useful.

Red Dog and his group arrived and joined them around the wreck.

“Well, this was sure a waste of time,” one of the bandits commented.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m willing to bet this is the work of our highwaymen. This looks like a farmer or small merchant’s wagon. That would be an inviting target for them,” Saeter replied.

“How does that help us?” someone asked.

“We know they were here not too long ago, so now we just need to track them back to their lair,” Saeter explained as he examined the wagon and the ground around it.

After a minute the old scout straightened up and turned to Blacknail.

“Do you have a scent?” he asked the hobgoblin.

“Yes, one of them bleeds,” Blacknail replied.

He smiled eagerly as the scent of blood and his master’s attention excited him. It was time for him to be useful and hunt!

“That makes this almost too easy,” Saeter said as he smiled back.

“Bloody creepy, is what it is,” another bandit muttered to himself.

“Just be glad he’s on our side,” someone else whispered softly, but not so softly that Blacknail couldn’t hear them.

The hobgoblin’s smile widened in response. That was what he wanted the humans to think, that they were better off with him on their side. Soon, he would have them all well trained.

“So you can track them?” Red Dog asked. Saeter huffed indignantly before responding.

“I can track practically anyone or anything. They left plenty of signs and with Blacknail’s nose this will be as easy as falling off a log,” he answered.

“Good, then you and your pet can lead the way,” Red Dog told him.

Blacknail hissed softly in anger at the disrespect he heard in the man’s voice, but he suppressed the sudden flare of rage and didn’t act on it further. This didn’t stop the two men closest to him from backing away a few steps, though.

Red Dog was apparently unconcerned by the hobgoblin, but Saeter gave Blacknail a disapproving look. The hobgoblin looked to side and felt his cheeks burn slightly with shame. He had let his emotions get the better of him for a second. Why was controlling them so hard?

“Let’s get going,” Red Dog told everyone.

Saeter led them across the road and into the forest, once again. The rest of the bandits followed him and Blacknail. As they moved, the old scout pointed out signs to the hobgoblin, like broken twigs and a partial boot prints.

Blacknail found it interesting but almost unnecessary since he could simply follow their prey’s scent. Saeter had to stop and look around for tracks every once and a while but Blacknail never lost the trail. His master seemed to want to track the highwaymen himself though, because he only asked for Blacknail’s help once.

The iron like scent of blood began to grow stronger as they walked deeper into the woods, until Blacknail felt a twinge of concern grow in his gut.

“More blood,” he whispered to Saeter.

His master frowned in concern as well, but they continued moving forward. The forest here was mostly clear of bushes and tall plants, but it was hilly and large twisted roots jutted out from the bottom of the nearby tree trunks. There were plenty of places for something to lurk outside Blacknail’s vision.

They soon found the source of the smell. Up ahead, lying on the forest floor was a shredded human corpse. It took a few seconds to identify it as the remains of a man. It was little more than a pile of bloody flesh and broken bones.

“Shit. This wasn’t done by no man,” One of the bandits gasped as he went white and began to panic.

Behind Blacknail, Red Dog calmly drew his sword and leveled it at the panicked speaker’s throat.

“If you can’t keep your shit together then just shut up and stay fucking still, or you’ll regret it,” he told the startled man. Then, he turned to Saeter who had crouched down to examine the body.

“What are we dealing with?” he asked the old scout grimly.

“Hopefully nothing because it filled its stomach and left. This mess is definitely the work of a troll, though,” Saeter answered.

“Damnation,” Red Dog swore. “I fucking hate trolls. Every time I run into one someone dies.”

Written in Blood 3.3

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The man known as Ferret strolled off into the woods towards the camp latrines. The large rough shaven bandit had been lounging around the bandit camp for awhile, but now nature’s call had lured him out into the forest.

From where he was sitting and watching from another corner of the camp, Blacknail smiled. It was not a friendly smile, but one meant to display both teeth and menace. After a quick look around to make sure no one was paying attention, he slowly got up and slipped off into the trees.

Most of the bandits in the camp simply avoided the hobgoblin, but several were more hostile. Among the most vocal about their distrust of Blacknail was Ferret.

Ferret had made his hatred for Blacknail plain at every opportunity. He spent a great deal of time trying to turn the other humans against the hobgoblin, and had even threatened to kill the hobgoblin. Worse, he had threatened Saeter. That would have to stop. Besides, Blacknail owed the man one for when he had threatened him the first day his master had freed him.

Blacknail stalked through the woods silently. He had removed the boots Saeter had given him. He found it easier to move undetected without them. He had also removed his cloak; his green skin was actually harder to see in the forest, and the cloak tended to get caught on things.

Nearly invisible, the hobgoblin circled the camp towards the latrines and his prey. He slipped noiselessly between the trees and bushes. Anticipation for the hunt gleamed in his eyes.

Soon, the cracking of breaking twigs and the whooshing sound of human breath reached his ears. With his prey located, he stopped to observe and plan for a moment from behind a nearby tree.

Ferret’s back was to the goblin and his pants were down around his ankles. He was busy emptying his bladder. Blacknail took advantage of the man’s distraction and stalked towards him. The sound of bird calls and Ferret’s own messy noises masked Blacknail’s quiet approach.

Ferret continued to urinate unaware as Blacknail closed the distance between them. When he stood directly behind his target Blacknail drew his dagger, but then the hobgoblin hesitated.

He had never actually assaulted a human before without his rage driving him. Part of him doubted he could pull it off. Ferret was not a small man. However, another part of Blacknail urged him forward. He had seen humans fight and die many times now. A good blade could end them easily enough, and Ferret was a threat to him and his master. The hobgoblin made up his mind.

Blacknail kicked the man’s feet out from under him. With a startled oomph, Ferret fell forward over the latrine pit. He flailed as he tipped forward and desperately tried to find some way to steady himself, but before he could fall into the latrine Blacknail reached out and wrenched him backwards. The hobgoblin’s long thin fingers entwined themselves through the man’s hair as he pulled the man up.

Before the man could yell and draw attention, Blacknail reached around and rested his blade against Ferret’s throat.

The rough bandit stiffened and froze in alarm as he hung unsteadily over the pit. From this close Blacknail could hear his heart pounding. The edge of his knife put pressure on the man’s skin but didn’t draw blood, yet.

“Hello-ss, Ferret,” Blacknail whispered as he leaned in and licked the side of the man’s face.

The bandit’s skin was salty with sweat. Ferret shuddered in horror.

“What do you want?” the bandit stuttered fearfully.

“Silence, yours. I have-ss heard you try and turn the band against me. You challenge me,” Blacknail answered.

“You’re not part of the band. You’re just a stupid beast. Kill me if you want but then everyone will know you for the vicious animal you are, and then they will hunt you down,” Ferret replied angrily.

Blacknail let his dagger drop, and then stabbed Ferret in the leg.

The bandit hissed in pain and flinched but Blacknail held him tightly. A few seconds later, the large man went limp and loose in the hobgoblin’s grip. Blacknail sheathed his poisoned dagger, and drew a rock from one of his pouches.

“I thank you for permission to end your life,” Blacknail told the man he had paralyzed with spider poison taken from Saeter’s bags.

Emotionlessly, he then smashed the man in the head with the rock, creating a small gash that bled freely, and let the body and the rock fall into the latrine together.

The bandit landed head first, with a loud wet splat. Much to Blacknail’s satisfaction, his face was submerged in the collected human excrement, where the paralyzed and most likely unconscious bandit would drown.

His chore complete, Blacknail got up from where he was crouched beside the latrine pit, and headed back to the camp. He circled the camp instead of heading straight back to the clearing, as not to draw suspicion down on himself. Hopefully, he would be back to where he had been sitting before anyone even noticed he had left.

He hadn’t actually followed Ferret planning to kill him. He had been planning to simply scare him into submission. However, the unthinking hatred he had seen in the man’s eyes had convinced him that wouldn’t work. Ferret had been a danger and would have never accepted Blacknail into the band.

Everything had worked out, though. Anyone that found the body would probably think Ferret had fallen in, hit his head and then drowned in the latrine. With all the footprints from the heavy traffic to and from the latrine no one would notice the hobgoblin’s prints. Blacknail smiled at his own cleverness. Saeter would probably even approve, not that Blacknail was ever going to tell him.

He emerged from the bushes at the border of the clearing and crept stealthily into the bandits’ camp. No one even looked his way. Once he reached the pile of firewood he had been sitting on earlier he picked up his discarded cloak, and put it back on.

That done, the hobgoblin decided to head back to Saeter’s campsite. His master probably had tasks for him to complete. As he moved through the camp, most of the human moved out of his way and threw him wary glances.

Word had spread about who and what was under his cloak. Blacknail found it amusing. He didn’t wear the cloak to make people less uneasy around him; he wore it because it made them more afraid. Not really knowing what he looked like was what upset them the most.

He suspected the larger and heavier humans would grow accustomed to his presence quickly if he took off his cloak and simply spent time around them. For now, he wanted to make sure they didn’t disregard him. Fear would help make him equal in their eyes and secure him a higher position within the band; without the need for violence, or at least less of it.

Blacknail arrived at the camp he shared with Saeter. Beside Saeter’s tent the hobgoblin had dug a shallow hole and built a small lean-to over it from twine, branches, and grass. It was little more than a dry place to sleep and store a few things, but that was all he needed.

Saeter wasn’t around so Blacknail strolled off to find him. Eventually he found his master by the road. He was watching a group of people approach the camp. Blacknail walked over to join him. He was curious what was going on. He hadn’t heard about anything important happening today.

“There you are, Blacknail. Decided to stop lazing about, did ya?” Saeter remarked as he looked at the approaching people with obvious disapproval.

“Yes, Master. What-ss is this?” Blacknail asked.

“The last of Herad’s new recruits,” Saeter explained. “She must have hired every petty thief and thug in Riverbend to get as many as she has. Most of them won’t last long. She’s probably planning on simply letting most of them die and keeping the survivors.”

Blacknail studied the group coming down the road. He recognized Red Dog leading them. Behind him were around two dozen men and women. Only three or four seemed familiar to Blacknail.

When they arrived, Red Dog recognized the hobgoblin and gave him a nasty look. Blacknail simply smiled back at him and made sure to flash as many teeth as possible. He knew the man wasn’t a real threat to him. He would never dare go against Herad’s wishes.

Red Dog chose to ignore Blacknail and turned to Saeter instead.

“I see your pet hasn’t managed to kill you yet, Saeter,” the bandit remarked.

“I’m not the one that needs to be afraid,” Sater responded cryptically.

“Did I miss anything important while I was gone?” Red Dog asked the other man as he frowned at Saeter’s response.

“Yes, they passed out the good manners. Too bad you weren’t here,” Saeter replied with an amused tone.

“Very funny, old man. Why don’t you use some of that matchless experience of yours and show some of these baby faced recruits around while I go talk to Herad,” Red Dog told him with a roll of his eyes.

Before Saeter could answer back, someone Blacknail had never seen before walked up behind Red Dog and spoke.

“Who is this old man, Dog?” a young human female asked as she leaned out from behind him.

The bandit lieutenant cringed slightly as she spoke. The girl had short cut red hair, and was about average size for a human female. She smiled excitedly as she looked Saeter over.

“You’re recruiting children now?” Saeter asked Red Dog disdainfully.

“I’m over sixteen winters,” the girl interjected. She seemed very annoyed at being called a child.

Red Dog just shrugged.

“I told her to screw off the first time she showed up, but then several of the other people I tried to recruit dropped out with mysterious knife wounds. Seemed like a good idea to just let her come at that point,” he explained.

The redhead smiled again as Red Dog spoke and she winked at Saeter conspiratorially. The old scout looked the girl over carefully.

“Who are you running from, girl?” he asked her.

“Name’s Khita, and I dunno what you’re talking about. Maybe, I just wanted to serve under a famous swordswoman like Herad,” she replied.

Saeter grunted and gave her a skeptical look. He didn’t seem convinced.

“Those are gang colors you’re wearing. The gangs look down on bandits, and they don’t take kindly to their members quitting either. That tells me you were looking for a quick exit from Riverbend when you joined up with us. So tell me, who are you running from?” he responded dryly.

Khita narrowed her eyes and gave Saeter a hostile stare, but then relented under the pressure of his steady gaze. Few people could outstare Blacknail’s master. He had a lot of practice at it.

“Ugh, fine! Maybe, I kinda stabbed someone I shouldn’t have,” she explained.

“Who and why?” an unsurprised Saeter asked her.

The girl’s mouth twisted into a frown as she considered whether to answer him.

“My boss’ girl. Bitch thought she could take my stuff just because she was shacking up with Klavik, our leader,” she explained reluctantly.

Saeter turned to Red Dog. The other man just shrugged indifferently.

“This is wonderful new recruit you’ve gotten for us,” Saeter told him sarcastically.

“She’s here now, so she’s not my problem anymore. Thank the gods,” Red Dog replied with an amused grin.

He then turned and walked back towards the other people he had recruited, leaving Khita with Blacknail and Saeter.

As Red Dog left, Khita seemed to notice Blacknail for the first time. She looked over the cloaked figure suspiciously.

“What’s with the cloaked freak, she just gonna stand there all day?” she asked.

Blacknail twitched as she mentioned him. She had confused his gender? Oh right, human females were smaller than males so she thought he was one of them. It was still kind of insulting for some reason. He decided he didn’t like her.

Blacknail took a long step towards the girl that removed most the distance between them, and straightened up to look her directly in the eye. Then, he swept his cloak back behind him and flipped his hood down dramatically to fully reveal his inhuman visage.

The girl’s eyes went wide and she took a step… forward? Blacknail froze in confusion and the grin slipped from his face as he took in Khita’s delighted smile.

“A hobgoblin! I can’t believe this gang has a hobgoblin in it. That’s the sharpest thing I’ve ever heard” she squealed in delight.

Blacknail took a step back away from her nervously. Her unusual lack of fear unnerved him. What was wrong with this human? Saeter looked more than a little taken aback as well.

“What’s your name? How many people have you killed? Do you know any secret hobgoblin stuff?” she asked Blacknail excitedly as she took another step towards him.

Blacknail growled menacingly, but that failed to deter her approach. He threw Saeter a panicked look. He didn’t know how to get the female away from him without drawing a blade, and he had a feeling that would be frowned upon.

Saeter rolled his eyes, but stepped forward and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Stop harassing my hobgoblin,” he told her.

“Who were you again?” Khita asked him as she turned and pushed his hand off her shoulder.

“I’m Saeter, a scout. Now come with me,” he told her.

“Why should I go anywhere with you, creep?” she asked him hostilely.

Saeter scowled down at her.

“Because the hobgoblin goes where I go,” he answered her dryly as he turned to walk away.

“Come on, Blacknail. Let’s go see Vorscha,” he then ordered the hobgoblin.

Blacknail was more than eager to obey, and put some distance between him and the human female. She was weird.

Saeter walked off towards the camp. Blacknail shadowed his master closely, just in case Saeter needed to put himself between him and the girl again. Khita watched them walk off for a few seconds before sighing and running after them.

“Fine, where are we going? If you’re trying to get into my pants I’ll bite your bits off.” She told Saeter.

Blacknail’s master grimaced in distaste and gave her an insulted look, as he continued walking. People gave them odd glances as they made their way through the bandit camp.

“I’m taking you to Vorscha,” Saeter explained.

“Why?” Khita asked.

“Because, she loves dealing with hopeless cases like you,” Saeter told her gruffly.

Khita gave him a mean look, but continued following them.

“Does the hobgoblin talk?” she suddenly asked.

“Yes,” Saeter replied without looking back at her. He looked very annoyed to Blacknail.

“Why isn’t it talking now?” she asked.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Saeter answered in an annoyed tone as he turned to the hobgoblin.

“Answer her questions, Blacknail,” he commanded the goblin before muttering, “So she’ll leave me alone.”

Blacknail grimaced. He didn’t want to have to deal with this clearly insane youngling, but he had to do as his master ordered.

“Yes, master,” he responded with frustration clear in his voice.

“He does talk! Why are you wearing that cloak, is it magic?” she asked excitedly.

“No, I just like it,” Blacknail answered her.

Clearly she was both stupid and insane. Blacknail didn’t know a lot about magic, but even he knew it was rare and had absolutely nothing to do with goblins.

Blacknail sighed in relief as he spotted Vorscha and Geralhd up ahead at their campsite. They were seated right outside the large tent they shared.

“Vorscha!” Saeter yelled. “I got something here for you.”

The muscular woman stood up and looked their way. Blacknail thought giving the girl to Vorscha was a great idea. Blacknail wasn’t quite sure what the warrior would do with her, but he didn’t really care as long as she was kept far away from him.

“Why do you have a little girl, Saeter? She’s not yours, I hope,” Vorscha asked with amused concern.

Saeter shuddered in revulsion at the very idea of Khita being his daughter.

“No, or at least I pray to the gods she isn’t. Red Dog recruited her, apparently she insisted. I thought I should introduce you two, since I know how you like to pick up strays,” Saeter replied.

Vorscha looked Khita over and frowned.

“I might have to have a talk with Red Dog about this,” she remarked with more than a hint of threat in her voice.

“You do that,” Saeter responded indifferently.

As the two bandits had been talking Khita had been staring at Vorscha with an impressed expression on her face.

“Gods, you’re big,” she suddenly blurted out.

“And you’re tiny,” Vorscha responded with an amused smile.

“I’m not tiny. I’m over seventeen winters old. You’re just huge,” the affronted Khita replied.

Vorscha looked Saeter’s way.

“Well, thanks I guess, Saeter. I wasn’t looking for a new project right now, but I’m sure as death not going to let her wander around by herself either,” she told him.

“I don’t need any help. I can take care of myself!” Khita said as if she had been insulted.

“That might have been true in the city, but out here things are a bit different,” Vorscha told her.

The large woman looked the girl over carefully.

“Have you ever used a sword?” Vorscha then asked her.

“How could I? They’re kinda hard to hide and the city guards don’t like people other than blue bloods having them. Besides, knives work just fine,” Khita explained in a tone that suggested only idiots wouldn’t already know all this already.

Blacknail smirked at the girl. He knew how to use a sword… sort of.

“There aren’t any guards out here, so everyone has swords or worse. If you’re going to survive a week out here you’re going to need to learn to use one too,” Vorscha explained.

“That reminds me, I wanted to pass off some of Blacknail’s sword training to you as well,” Saeter interjected.

Khita’s eyes suddenly gleamed with excitement.

“If the hobgoblin’s going to be there then I’m in!” she exclaimed.

Vorscha threw the girl a confused look, and Blacknail felt a sudden spike of concern at the unexpected direction the conversation had abruptly taken.

“You want to practice sword fighting with a hobgoblin?” Vorscha asked Khita in disbelief.

“Ya, he’s so sharp and scary looking,” she answered enthusiastically.

“And this makes you want to train with him?” Vorscha asked again uncertainly.

“Yep,” Khita said.

Vorscha sighed deeply. The movement caused her chest and bosom to heave impressively. Off to the side, the still silent Geralhd smiled appreciatively.

“Well, whatever works I guess. What do you think, Saeter?” Vorscha asked him.

“Blacknail should be fine. It might even help with his control. It’s not like they’ll be sparring against each other right off the bat anyway,” Saeter answered her.

“Looks like I’ll be training these two together then,” she remarked as she eyed Blacknail and the grinning Khita. “This is certainly not how I expected to be spending the next little while.”

“Me too,” the hobgoblin muttered as he looked over at the young woman grinning at him.

His life had just gotten a little more complicated, and a lot more annoying.

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