Hasan, feeling horrible about his impulsiveness, yelled to the dwarf. “Make your way out of the forest and into the clearing! We may get some support from the tower there. I may be able to use some magic there to reverse the trap.”
Feldard heard Hasan’s advice—knew it was sound—yet still grimaced at the notion of retreating from goblins. He backed his way towards the clearing as goblins charged.
The dwarf greeted the first of the four with a full out axe swing. Then the others were on him. Feldard continued to back his way towards the clearing as he fended off the goblin attacks, ensuring none got in behind him. There were too many and too close to use his axe effectively but the dwarf kept them engaged as he drew them out into the open; taunting them all the while in their own tongue. “You call that a spear? I’d call it a sliver the way you use it. And you, you sure you ain’t part elf? You’re delicate enough for one. Be careful you don’t bend over your buddy there is looking frisky.”
The taunts got more raunchy as dwarf got on a roll with it as he attempted to block rage fueled attacks. One of the goblins poked him with its short sword—the dwarf retaliated with his great axe, killing the beastie. Feldard didn’t have the time to concern himself with minor wounds. He needed to get them out into the open. Almost there. Feldard hoped the tower hadn’t been taken and that support would be available.
Then Hasan was there at his side and together they were fending off 6 or more… it was hard to count, one goblin would fall only to have another take its place. The dwarf dropped another as they finally breached the treeline into the clearing. Hasan was not nearly as well armored as the dwarf, and thus he had taken greater damage. The two converged in the clearing as a group of goblins followed them, blades clashing against blades. It would be much harder to keep the goblins from surrounding them out in the open, but hopefully their allies in the tower would turn the tide in their favor.
* * * * *
As the first goblin stepped into the hall, Stephan uttered his battle cry.
“Haaaaaaallaaaaaavvaaaa!”, he yelled while bringing his blade straight down cleaving the pate of the first of the unfortunate goblins to step into the hall. The goblin dropped dead. His brethren stepped over him, shouting gutteral warcries.
“Ahh…” Maruc lost his footing as the table slewed over him. This saved him from Stefan’s deflected blade, and the hastily following goblin war cudgel. He shuffled his way backward and rolled onto his feet, his shield raised. “Well my goblin friends.” he said brightly, “This is going to hurt you lot more than its going to hurt me!”
Kicking the table out of the way he strode purposely into the melee. Checking a few ill aimed thrusts with his shield he swung his flail overarm at the snarling goblin in front of him. The goblin was a good head shorter and brought its shield up the chain caught on the rim sending the studded weight whipping behind with a satisfying crunch. He yanked the handle back pulling the shield with it and he jabbed the stock into the now dazed goblins face. Feeling the rush of wind and the proximity of a second blow Maruc sidestepped a fraction and brought his own shield to bear. A deflection of his midriff brought his attention to the third goblin forcing his way in but an arrow sprouted from its shoulder and it backed out with a cry of pain. Maruc risked a glance sideways at the battling warriors and saw a murderous thrust coming in unnoticed toward Pyrtor. Maruc over extended and parried the blow but it left him wide open…
Miklos paled as the goblins rushed the door. “Pyotr! To the hall! You two keep shooting. Don’t rush, its not time to panic yet!” He danced back to the other side of the tower and scanned the treeline.
Five against two—so far. The odds were not yet against them.
“For Sukiskyn!”, he shouted as his mace connected with the neck of another unfortunate gob.
Pyotr joined the fray, taking the side of his brother. The goblins seemed just about to flee, when in through the door charged a dire wolf—the beast that had lost its rider charged into the room.
Upstairs, Miklos was trying to shut out the clamour of battle below as time seemed to slow down. “Come on,” he urged his companions lost in the wood. He started to prepare his sleep spell in readiness as he saw Feldard backing out of the forest edge. Hasan suddenly appeared at his side obviously alarmed. It was impossible to tell from the tower what expression crossed the face of the dwarf. Miklos could guess though. Blistering from the darkness, goblins seemed to come from everywhere. “One, two….eight!” Miklos swiftly came to the conclusion that even the mighty Feldard might succumb to such numbers. He dismissed the idea of finding out, and cast his shroud of sleep over the advancing foes.
The goblins attacking Feldard and Hasan all collapsed in mid-battle. The two demi-humans looked up and saw a dozen or more goblins standing back behind the treeline. Faced with magic and arrows, they stayed back in the woods, concealed by brush, smoke and darkness. Sheathing their short swords, they grabbed their slings, determined to kill the elf and dwarf before they could reach the safety of the tower.