Italcatten was a prosperous fort. In its eighth year and producing significant amounts of wealth, to the point that hundreds of dwarves had immigrated there since its founding. Of course, many of them met their ends due to easily preventable accidents, the likes of which have plagued many a fort, but the wealth that flowed through Italcatten's gates was enough for many dwarves to risk their lives.
Kivish Olinthiz was one of Italcatten's founding seven. Formerly a hunter, the overseer had conscripted her into the military once she'd hunted almost all the game around the area to extinction. Apprehensive at first, she soon found that putting bolts through goblins (and their larger cousins, hobgoblins and bugbears) wasn't that different from putting bolts through deer and foxes. It was much more satisfying, to boot.
The fort was in a dangerous area, next to three hostile civilizations, and of course the vast amounts of wealth attracted raids and sieges from the neighbors.
The military, including Kivish, was well outfitted with steel and consequently injuries were rare. But during one goblin siege, a goblin child snatcher, taking advantage of the chaos of battle, tried to sneak into the fort and abscond with a hapless dwarven child.
Kivish spotted him just a moment too late- after he'd dropped from above and stabbed her in between the joints of her steel breastplate, piercing her left lung. Too scared to continue with his plan, the kidnapper turned tail and began to flee.
Kivish was injured badly and found it very difficult to breathe, much less walk, but she had a duty to the fort. If she didn't do something now, the bastard would undoubtedly be back. As she had already engaged squads of goblin warriors during the siege, she was down to a single iron bolt. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, she loaded her crossbow, aimed at her attacker (who was quickly approaching the edge of her weapon's range,) and pulled the trigger.
Whether it was luck, sheer determination, skill, of the favor of some god who found her courage inspiring, the bolt flew straight and struck the goblin in the back of the head, punching a hole in his skull and piercing his left eye from behind, destroying any use it would ever have again. He fell over on the ground, convulsing. These weren't the spasms of a dying goblin- he was still alive.
Dedicated to finish the job, Kivish pulled up more determination than she'd thought she had and began marching towards the kidnapper. Her lung was quickly filling with blood, and she kept coughing it up, but by Armok, she had been charged with the defense of the fortress, and the job was only half done. Forcing her feet to carry her across the dry grass, the summer sun beat down mercilessly, sweat mingling with the blood pouring from her mouth and side. She had to stop frequently to catch her breath, and she knew that one of her fellow soldiers could easily slay the helpless goblin but they were all busy engaging the rest of the goblin army.
As she approached, the goblin had stopped convulsing and was simply laying in the grass, blood pouring from both sides of his head. His eye had been popped out of his socket by the force of the bolt. With his good eye, he looked up at her as she loomed over him, her shadow temporarily blocking the sun from his vision. She had to wonder whether he was aware of what was happening as she lifted her crossbow with her right hand- the left side of her body hurt too much to use her arm- and slammed the butt of the weapon down on his skull, caving it in and putting an end to his suffering.
Breathing heavily from exhaustion, Kivish watched as the goblin's body spasmed one last time before expiring, then turned and began her march back inside.
"Great Armok... I need a damn drink," she muttered as she headed back to the fort.
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Topic: Short Stories of Brutality, Cruelty, and Violence (Read 2874 times)