Right, so I was extremely happy when the Goblins came. One squad? Easy, I said. Afterall, i'd faced wave upon wave of Orcs before this. I was looking forward to smashing them to puny pieces.
With a little reluctance, my Military stationed themselves, then ran down to get rations, then re-stationed themselves. I thought nothing of it, the Goblins were far in the distance.
I stationed my 6 man (4 Hammer 2 Sword) melee squad out by my front gate, ready to anticipate the oncoming horde of bastards. Unluckily, EVERY single man in the squad went to get provisions, apart from one. Urist McHammer stayed put, looking on in grim determination.
As the two factions grew closer, Urist McHammer heaved his hefty axe upon his shoulder, daring the first Goblin to make a move. A move it made, a very nimble, sly move. Urist gauged where the Wrestler would attack and swiftly slammed his Hammer ontop of the Goblin, the brunt of the force kindly taken by the Goblins thin skull. The Goblin slammed against the ground, a blur of gore and limbs, its body a messy tangle. Urist McHammer smiled with glee, he loved the feeling of war, the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Heart throbbing, arms bulging with excitement, sweat pouring unduly off his forehead. He was born for this.
Urist McHammer felt so excited that he entered into a Martial Trance, his eyes reflecting nothing but self calmness and tranquility. He heaved his axe out of the Goblins skull, and poised himself, ready to deflect the next attack. It was as if Armok himself had possessed his being, each one of his Ancestors providing him with the Agility, Strength, Guile and Cunning they had once harbored on the earth.
The Goblin Macemaster looked on, reluctant to lower his gaze. He stared straight on, as if curious by this strange Dwarf before him. He had met none other like this before. Yet, he could fail to see how his 12, now 11, Goblins could not take on this Dwarf. Even though he felt something was wrong, some strange alchemy taking place, he could not back down. It was the worst act of cowardice to back down. You either fought to the death, or won. That was how he was bought up, and that is how he had gotten this far in life.
The Macemaster yelled his defiance at Urist McHammer and sent his minions forth, whilst he stayed back to command them. He was stunned, this Dwarf was like none other he had defeated before. The way he handled his huge axe so effortlessly, as if it were some mere wooden stick. It took a lot of willpower to not call a retreat, and he had to focus on not letting his jaw drop. He watched as one by one, his friends, soldiers, even family were slaughtered. Skurat, his closest friend, they had faced many harsh battles together, struck down so effortlessly. All those years he had been watching over Skurat, training nonstop, all washed away by this beast of a Dwarf. Teks, next, was swatted away, like some mere fly, a small annoyance. Teks was the Macemasters brother. Even though he did not like Teks, he still held a lot of respect for the Goblin.
Urist McHammer was slamming his mace left, right and center. Carving long paths through the mass of Goblin bodies. Blood drenched his chain mail, gore clapped against his shield, bits of flesh crammed between the crevices in his armor. He was starting to get tired, but still relentlessly drove on. He was not the type to succumb to fatigue, he was a fighter. He would not succumb to death, either.
The Macemaster saw how the Dwarf faltered, saw how he took shorter, quicker gasps of air, how his arms did not seem as bulging as before. Even so, the Dwarf still endured, giving out as much punishment as he received. He had already surpassed that of the greatest Goblin warrior alive in the Macemasters clan. This Dwarf had some sort of Demon in him, he could not be real. Even so, the Macemaster could see it was now or never, he could see the Dwarfs comrades in the background, charging to aid their brother in arms.
The Macemaster lunged forward, a deep, throaty growl escaping from his mouth. His muscles taut, arms back, mace in hand. He sweeped the mace through the air, bellowing as he swung, shouting his anger, his blood lust, his rage. He would not be defeated by this one Dwarf. He would prevail, even if it carried him to the grave. He would avenge his fallen brethren, only two of which were left standing, quivering in fright under the shadow of this behemoth. The Macemaster shoved them aside, no respect for the cowardly. As his mace neared the Dwarf, he could see the true extent of this insane Dwarfs powers. The thick veins in his arms, his deep set eyes, his closely drawn eyebrows formed into a frown of grim hatred. The Macemaster braced for impact.
The breath was driven out of Urist McHammer, he was at his limits. After all, he had taken out an entire squad of Goblins, his duty was almost up, yet he would not give in, he would not surrender. He could hear the shouts of his comrades, swiftly making for his aid. It was now or never. In return to the Macemasters challenge, Urist too released a deafening roar. He slammed the boss of his shield against the ribs of his enemy, a sickly crack followed in its wake. The Macemasters swing was broken by the force of the impact, his mace feebly tapping against the side of the shield. He knew he was finished.
The Macemaster jumped backwards, out of the reach of the deadly hammer.
"You fight like a demon. Are you... possessed? I have seen no mortal ever take on so many enemies like you have. Perhaps the Gods look on in favor upon you. However, our race shall seek revenge, do not think otherwise. We are not the type to forgive, nor forget. Our time shall come, we shall enslave all other races." The Macemaster growled, a thick stream of blood weaving down from his mouth. He spluttered and coughed.
Urist McHammer looked at the Goblin, trembling with rage and unstoppable power. He had entered a frenzy, an uncontrollable want to kill.
"THIS...IS...REGALBOLT!!!" The Dwarf said, whilst he thurst out his leg, kicking the Goblin in the chest. The Goblin fell backwards into a cage trap.
"That, my friends, is the story of the Great Battle of Regalbolt. Your great ancestors fought it. Truth be told, it was one of the greatest in the history of Dwarvenkind. They still house the body of the Macemaster in our zoo, along with Bob the Carp, Jim the Giant Eagle and Urist McFrenzy, our crazy mayor." Said the Historian.
Hope you enjoyed the story :p True story by the way
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Topic: First Siege of Goblins (Read 1181 times)