A Goblin Hole

[tomcat]

As Hathcyn lifted crates in search for the items he needed, Grimbeorn led down the passage to where the intersection saw it split, going to the left and right. With a nod, the Beorning signaled the Fire-watcher and their new Elf ally to follow the right passage, as he watched.

The forge was silent and only the coal embers provided any light. There were tools there, too, which were of orcish make - but also those of Men. Surely these were more spoils of the raiding parties. Laeral saw that the goblin-smith had finished a large batch of arrowheads that needed only to be attached to shaft and feathered. Cruel barbs, they were, with wicked edging that would pierce deep. Arbogast saw a batch of unfinished blades - their tangs yet to be cross-guarded and wrapped, though orcs oft times did not labor much on guards.

There was a large box of charcoal with a spade, a workbench with tools, and a shelf that contained small cups filled with different minerals of various metallurgic use. The room was also filled with multiple picks, axes, and shovels.

After reviewing all the content, Laeral went south to where a passage led into darkness. Arbogast moved to the other passage where bright light flickered. A series of small stairs led down to a large chamber and many voices could be heard.

"You come here with news, you say?" came a gruff voice.

Another voice, "We have marched long from the south of Mirkwood by order of the Master of Dol Guldur. He has sent us to give word of the Great Eye and the return of the Dark Lord to his throne in Mordor. All must rally to his banner."

"Must I?" inquired the first voice.

"Your warren of goblins might be unrevealed to our enemies - east, north, and west - but your labors are always for Him. Never can we ignore the Master when he calls." The reply came with an edge of anger. It was becoming apparent to Arbogast that the deeper voiced Uruks were here to demand tribute to their master in the south.

But whom? The threat that they saw in Dol Guldur? Or was this new threat to the west, on the Dwimmerhorn - this Gibbet King? Or perhaps worse - the rumors of Mordor rising?

"Our master will come next, or certainly another of his kind, and then will you be made to kneel once more before the powers. Otherwise, this cozy warren that you pride yourself on will be wiped clean of all of you." The deeper voice was becoming more agitated. "The dragon is dead. Men, Elves, and Dwarves now grow in strength in the North. The Master does not wish to see such a union of folk and ever shall we worm into their councils to spread fear, disunity, and isolation.

"So, while your little raids are important in keeping these men of the lake on the water, it is time that you become more ruthless. You will aid the Master of Dol Guldur by housing his servants, along with us Uruks. From these holes we will sow the seeds of distrust."

"And should I have my folk become more ruthless by killing these men, surely they will seek us out! No longer will we be just a nuisance, but now a real threat."

The Uruk voice responded coldly, "Then be the threat. Let them raid this hole. We shall dig more and undermine their world!"

A sudden gleeful cry went up from the many goblins that were present in the chamber - the aura of strength had left their chieftain and was now surely in the hands of the greater orc.

Back in the first chamber, Hathcyn pulled at a crate to free it from the stack - inside were four bottles of Rhovanion red wine.
I will be making a purely random event here by rolling a d12. A result of 4-10, or a rune will mean the crate is freed from the stack. A roll of an -or- a 1-3 will cause the stack to collapse creating a great noise.

[tomcat]

Rolled 1d12 : 7, total 7

[tomcat]

Hathcyn sucked air through his teeth as he pulled the crate from the stack. He watched nervously as the other crates behind it slowly rocked back and forth, only to settle. Inside the crate he held, the wine bottles tinkled together.

[Eclecticon]

While the raucous noise from below continues, Arbogast leans against the passage wall and considers this new development.  An ill wind it is, he thinks, that blows in such harbingers of the Enemy.  But what an opportunity this presents, not only to end the threat of the goblins here in this warren but to sow confusion and mistrust between the servants of the Eye... 

It is this thought that spurs him to action.  Crossing to where Laeral waits at the mouth of the dark passage, he whispers "their leaders await below.  If we are swift, we may slay them all at once.  Gather the others." 

[Eclecticon]

Once the companions have gathered, Arbogast quickly explains what he has found.  "If we strike now," he says, "we may with one stroke lay low their leaders.  There seems to be little fellow-feeling between the goblins of the forest and the orcs from the south, and I believe the kin of each would believe the other to be responsible." 

He looks to the two Beornings and the Elf, still an unknown quantity in his eyes.  "The Shadow works not only by blades and fury but by sowing dissent between the Free Peoples.  Let us take an opportunity to use its own methods against it." 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn required no convincing, just direction.  "No need for debate on this. Point me in their direction and it will be done." His axe felt light once again, almost eager to spill the foul ichor of the denizens of The Enemy.

[AlyC]

Laeral signals her agreement with a single nod of her head and readies herself for action.

[Eclecticon]

The eyes of the Fire-watcher shine, stern beneath his helm.  "Then let us to our work." 


Doug, unless anyone says otherwise I think we're going to rush down the stairs and start stabbing anything that looks orcish. 

[tomcat]

Glad to see that Brandon got the site back up!

I will have a post up tonight, or tomorrow morning.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn remembered their bold dash at the steading too, but he said nothing and wrapping his wine bottles prepared for the attack.

[tomcat]

The companions gathered in the silent forge and gathered their arms. The goblin warren would be cleansed - or at least emptied by driving them away.

With all prepared, they charged down the passage and crude stairs until they entered the large, lit chamber below. There was a large feast table in its center and at the head, in a large chair, sat an ugly goblin. It was evident from his apparent size and strength that he was chieftain of all the others, though still he did not compare to the much larger Uruk.

Around the table, as well as sitting on the floor, was a great number of other goblins listening intently to the talk between their chief and the visiting orcs.

Grimbeorn's war cry brought a sudden shock to them all, as the companions raced forward attacking as they did. The goblins, caught completely unawares, were weaponless and startled - pausing in wonder as to who these attackers were.
Goblin Feast Hall - Surprise Round