Days Gone By

Evening - 3

After a long and grueling day of school that most teens bear. We find our young protagonist settled in along with his three closest friends. All enjoying the merriment of refreshing caffeinated beverages, thick crust pizza with mountains of toppings, and intellectual topics based upon the game they are playing. Dungeons and Dragons is the past time of these young lads. They scrape by on the weekdays doing their various daily duties for this moment. This weekend that comes anywhere from one to four times a month. A moment they really treasure, for it is the time when they gather to escape their normal lives to become more. Valiant heroes for all to gossip about. Mastercraftsman of magical armaments. Diplomats for nations. Yes in this shed they shared as the ultimate domain for these escapes.

“You really need to learn to dodge.” The oversized lizard with scales of obsidian would announce to his comrade. “A minute slower and that spiked wall would have skewered you and sent your soul into oblivion!” Those reptilian eyes narrowed as they viewed the burly dwarf he had rescued.

“Shut yer mouth! I had that trap well in hand disarming it!” The surly young dwarf brought the point of a makeshift lock pick up. Aiming it at the face of the lizard man. “You gotta go an ruin everythin’ by being hasty! And dumb! You dun know the meaning of stealth and silence! Now the whole cave-a-goblin’s gonna know we out here!”

The two’s feud appeared as though it would peak to blows at a moment’s notice. To ease the tension between his comrades the human of the outfit took his place between them. Wielding his deadly mandolin he broke their heated argument the best way he knew how.

“Fellas, fellas, we will never get treasure with you two bickering like Ettin giants. These goblins will be easy pickings whether or not they are aware of us.” Standing firmly between the two with the instrument in one hand and his other temporarily placed on the dwarf's shoulder. “You my friend have got this battle already won with the maul you wield from the shadows. Should you go find those shadows now would be the prompt choice.” With a nod, the dwarf withdrew from the trio to find a vantage point for the audible goblins incoming. Turning to face the Lizard-folk that outmatched his height by a couple of feet. Looking up the towering barbarian’s prowess eventually to those slit reptilian eyes, Fyrde would take a moment to think of whimsical small talk. Ho’ggir was easy to keep in check, mention gold, drink, or women as a reward and he was loyal. These lizard people, however, had different beliefs, different means of joy. The barbarian part of him surely is the same all many others. Fyrde would assume it would be safe to press barbarism as a means of inspiration. Finger pointed towards the ax blade that resided on his back. “That will need to prove itself now more than ever. Show these goblins what savagery the swamps of the south have to offer!” Pointing towards one of the many cave mouth openings the human bard would begin to inspire his men at arms. “Let us destroy these vile fiends and save our ally!” Out of several dark confines of the cave come the small savage humanoids. “Spare one at least! We will need answers and a possible guide through the treacherous cave passages.” Rapidly plucking strings on his mandolin Fyrde would magically hasten his friends.

A horrific roar would emerge from the Blackscale lizard man. His muscles would enhance, his scales would rise up as though they were resembling hairs on a mammal. Unleashing his ax from its resting place on his back. He wasted little time to begin the s*******r. Strange enough he threw his two-handed ax into one of the first goblins that came into view. Like a madman, he rushed into a small group of now six members. Their crude wooden spears were no match for the natural armor he possessed. To add to that he also wore a handcrafted hide armor. Bare hands the barbarian clawed, punched, kicked, and even bit the enemy. The bloodlust had all but consumed him at this point. However, this came with reckless abandon, mistakes could easily be made. Fyrde watched as crossbow bolts from makeshift murder holes in the cavern walls began to fill up the menacing barbarian. In his rage he felt no pain, this merely fueled him to attack even more. With the magical haste spell upon him, he moved with swiftness and guile but it was for aggression.

“Zodd! Get out of there! They’re swarming for you!” Pleaded the bard as he watched his ally slowing down and the damage was becoming too much for him to bear. Attempting to keep him alive he announced his curative magic’s to mend the wounds. The goblins would notice the spell caster and quickly avert some attention towards him. Making a mad dash to overrun the human with primitive weaponry. Using his mandolin he would club them back, the magical imbued instrument was his primary source of defense. Using his cantrip spells he would close the murder holes in the rock walls.

Ho’ggir finally made his debut by smashing one in the back and launching it into a group of others knocking them prone. “Ye guys are so reckless! Why did I decide to help you, fellas, again?!” That mouth much like a motor always running. He fought with subtly and guile using the mass numbers against themselves with blunt force. Also, a person who used alchemical means would throw fire flasks at the groups. Given a short amount of time the goblins would begin to run in terror. Seeing that they were losing ground to the trio that made magic happen in all forms. The dwarf would snag one attempting to crawl away. This would be their inside man. Their map of the cavern. “Fyrde! I got us one.”

“Great, bring him over here and we can interview him as a potential guide.” Aiding his barbaric friend with some simple healing potions. “Zodd you got to watch yourself, There may come a day I won’t be able to keep you alive.”

“Bah! You’re just a catchall bard! You’re no healer, no warrior, you just a magical talker!” Gloated Zodd as he gathered his ax from the ground and placed it back where it once was.

“Ye best show respect to tha boss ye filthy lizard! He’s the brains of this op! His magic is far beyond what you or I could comprehend! I dun see you healin’ yerself! So shut it and be grateful he’s wasting his talents on you!” Ho’ggir pressed their goblin captive towards them. Smacking it behind the knee with a swift kick dropping it down to the ground before them. They surrounded the small green-skinned creature. Filled with so much terror and fear of death it was beyond screaming anymore. Wetting itself it muttered. “No-kill me.” Over and over.

“I will admit my curative magic is no match for Xanthea but she is a servant of the divine. I am a servant of the road.” Fyre attempted to defuse yet another heated moment amongst them. “That’s why we are in these caverns because,” Looking down at the goblin. “You’re tribe kidn*pped her from our camp the other night. Why is that goblin?”

Brown beady eyes would dart around the area looking for an exit. The trio crowded to close for that to be a viable option. “We, we, we need healer!” Fidgeting its fingers around with each other while seeming to be unable to stand still took a pause to speak further. “Our shaman sick, our world dying! Sickness come from giant alligator! But no can kill!” The more it spoke the more shook up and rapid it spoke. “Holy Lady help us after we borrow her for healness!” Pointing to a narrow corridor. “That way she be, I take I take you help you help!” Excited it would rise up and tarry forth. Squeezing between Fyrde’s legs finding the escape he was looking for earlier. The joy would be interrupted by Zod smashing a mighty foot in front of the goblin.

“This could be a trick, I say we make our own way and forgo any other surprises.” The lizard-folk made for quite a good point, however, goblins are the best kind of cowards… dumb as a bag of rocks. Primitive in both lifestyle and mentality the others felt the goblin would make a great guide to find their missing friend. Despite the barbarians digress towards it, the vote favored in keeping the goblin alive to show them around the caverns in the mountain.

“Please, lead the way… What might your name be?” The bard’s charismatic nature shows with ease. As he cautiously followed the goblin in the dank narrow all natural-seeming hallway. His dark vision scroll needs to be refreshed. So he turned to his potions and consumed a magical one to restore his ability to see in the bleak dark.

“Humans and their weaknesses are unending.” Zod would speak aloud as he watched Fyrde sipping down the small vial. Looking over his shoulder, he would see the dwarf eyeing him in that disgruntled way he has so many times.

The tiny goblin would announce his name as Flea the Mushroom Farmer of the Darkdweller tribe. Leading the way he would halt suddenly to disarm some makeshift floor traps similar to bear traps. “Tricky things all over the place.”

Ho’ggir would smirk at the simplicity of the traps and give his long blonde beard a hefty tug to prevent from an outburst of laughter. “Boy oh boy, Flea you’re quite tha trap snapper eh?”

“Ye yes! We catch large mices! Nummy foods! Learn a lot about sneakies and traps!” It would appear the goblin has taken quite a shine to what he believes to be his tribe's new saviors. After some time traveling, Flea would excitedly rush forward through a cavern “Home home home!” he announced with glee as they all stumbled across the smell of burning wood, then past a large blanket composed of shoddy animal hide. There would unfold before them a small civilization of small green and brown people. Elderly and toddler goblin dwelled here in this vast opening in the belly of the mountain. This would explain the smoke that exited the mountainsides giving it a volcanic look. The stench of the area was of questionable wet animal, death, wood, and other non-compelling scents. “Gorrik! Ey Gorrik! We gots more people to fight alligator with the Holy Lady! Tough warriors, sure to win if we follow them!” Swallowed up by a crowd of goblins bearing hundreds of questions to Flea. This quickly made his announcement null and void.

The three would look about the short race to find their female companion in the far distance inside a tent. “Flea we are going to talk to Xanthea and see what is going on.” The three managed to w**d their way through the excited goblins that were shuffling about them. Most kept distance for natural fear, but others grew closer to examine the could be heroes. Various noises and chattering could be heard all about the den of goblins. As the group arrived at their friend they would see her sitting with a much larger goblin, a hobgoblin dwelled in this larger hovel. The two seemed to be mapping out an area and discussing things. This would quickly cease once they recognized they were impeded by visitors.

“Well lookie here! You guys finally arrive! I knew the divine would guide you to these troubled people. Gorrik,” she would turn to face the hobgoblin that looked in shock at the new faces before him. “These are my friends I spoke to you earlier about. My fellows, this is Gorrik the Shaman and Leader of the Darkdweller tribe.” Her vibrant green eyes moved to each individual one. “Here we are, whole once again and on a virtuous quest! Gorrik! Let us share what we know of this green dragon terrorizing your people.”