So began the first campaign of Itchynose.
The goblins manning the hurler [gamenote: sadly unanimated or even depicted], at their leader’s signal, aimed for the scouts on the hill down the road; ratcheted back the monstrous hammer mounted over the weapon’s frame; and then dropped it onto the forge-bellows; poofing a spear over hundreds of yards, to crash with a splintering smash into their midst.
“Scout that!” Itchy shouted. “Our old men shall spit on you in fatal derision! See!”
Sho-doon had been growling and muttering over being left behind, as he saw it; but on hearing this he cackled and charged ahead to loft an explosive ball of something into them, too. The monkey scouts retreated off the hill, toward the camp of their people.
“Not too far forward at once,” Itchy warned. “They may have many bowmen out in the distance where we can’t see. Let them dare to come to us. We have plenty of time, and none of you are very experienced fighters yet.” So his pansies took the first of the range of hills nearby, close to where the monkey scouts had been, while the pans stayed on the road with their spears, supported by Sho-doon. Itchy was gambling that no one had clearly seen where the hurler had shot from, and didn’t want to draw any more attention to it yet.
The following day, Itchynose ordered the careful strategy again: longrange bombardment, followed by Sho-doon’s explosive recon. This time the monkey scouts routed completely away, dragging their survivors, despite having been reinforced the previous night by the hunting encampment. Sho-doon’s sharp eyes told him at least one squad of archers waited behind the camp to support the spearhunters inside it.
“Still plenty of time,” Itchy advise. “Let’s take it slowly.”
“Why not run up and drive off those hunters?” his sergeants insistently growled.
“We don’t know yet if
they have archery support as well. And no real way to find out yet, without our own scouts getting too close to the archers that we
can see.”
“But,” said his pansy sergeant, “we do need to keep going as far as we can. Let me run up the road to the side of the hill. The archers cannot shoot that far, neither the ones we can see nor the ones which might possibly be there, too. Then we can see what is there around the town.”
“And if they come forward to shoot you, you will have no protection!” Itchynose warned.
“They haven’t tried that yet, and their scouts could surely see the unprotected hurler, as well as most of us, sir,” the pans sergeant observed. “The worst that can happen is that the monkeys move up into a position that makes us easier to poke them apart. Some of us will be hurt and even die,
whatever we do, if we continue. Let us do the job that you’ve been training us for. Sir.”
Itchy relented.
Not only did his pansies confirm the existence of another supporting archery squad -- which helped to justify Itchynose’s caution, as his sergeants had to agree, if a bit grudgingly -- but they crept forward, still out of the range of the enemy arrows, and stoned the final scouts to death!
The pans, learning this, also moved up to the southern bend of the path, still out of bowshot but readier to run up into a breach that might be created soon.
“We’ll drive out those thieving invaders even sooner, now!” Itchynose promised, as he and the sergeants met that night, back on the hill with Sho-doon. “Please accept my apologies, for trying to shelter you as long as possible. Oh, wait, did the stinking monkeys UTTERLY MURDER OUR PANSY SCOUTS with multiple archery volleys and an advance by the spears from their camp!?”
The surviving pansy sergeant hung his head in shame; the pans sergeant didn’t look any happier.
“Defense,” Itchynose stressed. “Defense, defense, defense. We didn’t have to be in a hurry. And now we are greatly weakened, while the monkeys have only slightly worsened their position.
“I don’t treat goblins as garbage to be expended. But after all,” he sighed, “this is my fault. I should have refused your suggestion. We will try to bring in some reinforcements for you as soon as possible, but this will slow our advance even worse than before -- for now we have fewer stones with which to drive the monkeys out!”
The third day dawned, with one of the monkey archery squads being pummeled in a crossfire by Sho-doon and the spear hurler.
Between them they completely destroyed the archers outside the encampment! Itchynose tried attacking the camp itself, but mainly only managed to wound some defending hunters.
This would leave all his goblins very much vulnerable to another concentrated counterattack, although the pansies had run away back to Sharzulg.
As it happened, the hunting archers ran out of the camp to take a hill and shoot at the spear hurler -- followed soon by the monkey militia! Yet the goblins had “cobbled” the machine quite strongly despite its appearance, and its crew briskly defended it from all the surrounding spears, even managing to kill a spearman or two.
Tiring out its assailants, the machine pulled back in good order that night, and moved back into the protection of the goblin village the following morning -- whence it threw spears in retort!
Sho-doon, by himself, ran into the camp, and attacked the militia from behind, weathering a shower of supporting arrows to do so. Not long afterward, Itchynose led his ‘pans orcs’ up into the hills where the archers had camped to free the road of goblins -- and slew them nearly all, driving them back eastward a little in a broken huddle!
The enemy archers did snipe a pansy or two from there, but only after reinforcements had already arrived that day: the 2nd “pansy orcs” were ready to fight again on the morrow!
The surprisingly tough monkey militia managed to survive again barely on day 5, though they had to retreat to the foothills of the mountain range to the south of the road between their encampment and the goblin village. Their friends among the archers were all wiped out by the wrath of the spear hurler, however.
It still took all of Itchy’s men to hunt the stubbornly resilient spearhunters down at last the following day in the cold and wintery wastes.
“That was completely embarrassing,” Itchy grumbled that night. “Most of a week, wasted. I hope Ugraum is doing better.”
“I haven’t felt a request from him for healing anyone, though I was too busy to help in any case,” Sho-doon sighed. “But, great Axenose! Listen to what I heard from a monkey I caught in the camp! -- a wounded one, unable to fight. I made him talk, as only hexers can, hee hee hee!” he rubbed his hands and cackled. “They were here to hunt, but not hunting food, oh no! They had meant to hunt treasure, sir! Trollish treasure, washed down the river, down from their cave to the swamps.”
“Rot,” Itchy proclaimed, rubbing at his nose and wondering whether it might be shaped like an axe. “How could they possibly know that?”
“Goblins found it first! Hahahaha! Monkey hunters hunting saw them scurrying in from a distance to search the swamp, and saw them find it! Now the goblins have reinforced a monkeyman fortification in the swamp.”
“That might explain why the goblins west of here didn’t want to join great Ugraum,” pondered the sergeant of the pans.
“Shall we go out and take it?” wondered the pansy sergeant.
“We would be murdered in those swamps whenever they counterattacked,” Itchy shook his head. “But maybe we can spare some days of shooting them, driving them out long enough to go search the fort and see for ourselves. We need to gather together again, instead of being spread out so far anyway.”
On the seventh day, Itchynose brought his goblins back together, near the swamp, where the spear thrower started seriously reducing the little spear defenders Sho-doon could see, but not yet reach himself with his tube.
“That is just as well,” he confided to the goblin commander. “For I felt Ugraum asking for healing sent on the leaves. He will be weakened for a day, but better able to survive -- I hope!”
As Itchynose sent his pansies up ahead of his company, the dawn of the second week of his campaign, he learned to his grief that the goblin town ahead had been overrun -- by wild trolls!
“Doubtless looking for their lost treasure!” he ground his teeth in rage. “Which those imbeciles stopped guarding their people to find, and then to cower around!”
“Yooouuu! Yooooouuuu!! I SPIT IN YOUR DIRECTION!!!” Sho-doon screamed at the goblins in the swamp. And he did. And they died, and ran away.
“There shall be no survivors,” decreed the goblin commander. “Slay them now, with justice from the sky!” And so the crew of the hurler rolled it up, and slew them all, all who remained.
And so it was named, “The Skyjustice Spear”.
[Gamenote: I've checked and reposted the img code for the previous and next screenies several times. They just aren't loading occasionally for some unknown reason -- the code is good. Oh well.]
On Day 9, Itchynose dared to instruct his pansies and Sho-doon to go ahead and begin attacking the trolls in town, hoping that they would counter attack outside their defenses and so be a little more vulnerable, especially with Sho-doon supporting the pansies. The wizened goblin’s keen senses detected more trolls nearby across the river -- including trained war trolls! A serious problem, though if they could be caught in the river, somewhat less of a problem. Itchy himself and his spearmen would be busy for a couple of days, slogging around in the swamp to find whatever the traitors had hidden.
As Itchy had predicted, the trolls tried to beat the pansies to death; but with Sho-doon’s help they resisted, though with difficulty; and the trolls ran away, out of the goblin village, not even taking time to regenerate.
“Keep up the pressure!” Itchynose ordered by courier that night.
At dawn, the bruised and wounded pansies leapt into the village, having regained a little energy during the night, and ready to fight the trolls outside again.
Suddenly, HYENAS!
The pansies panicked, as well they might! -- but the goblins riding the hyenas explained, that they had been summoned for help by the villagers when the trolls attacked, and only had now arrived.
“Us, too!” the ‘pansy orcs’ wisely explained. “But we were too late; no one seems to have lived. Not too late for vengeance, though!”
“It is true,” Sho-doon agreed as he approached. “Look at the scarring on those trolls, yonder! We serve Axenose the grim, himself a commander under Ugraum the great! Axenose sends his regards, and will soon arrive with a special gift, um, for you, as a sign of our good will toward all our fellow goblins! -- if they will join us.”
“We shall see,” the leader of the riders said. “First, we must drive off the WHOOAAH!” --
-- for out of the sky, justice had fallen among the stony creatures.
“That is the vengeance of Axenose,” Sho-doon casually explained. “They will still be hard to finally kill, and we could certainly use as much help as you’re willing to give. But please, don’t interfere with us punishing these murderers.” And so saying he spit a bomb of acid far over the heads of the riders, who ducked in amazement. As a troll FLEW BACKWARD TO DIE FROM THE FORCE OF THE BLAST!
Its surviving fellow retreated to where the body had fallen, picked it up to stand on its feet, and turned to face its foes. Whereupon its felled fellow fell again, to rise no more.
[Gamenote: that pretty much literally happened, by the way. You can see the DEAD TROLL flying off to where its surviving squad member retreated. I thought at first it had survived after all, because it was standing up afterward; but then it faded away.]
“Yeah!” the pansies distantly shouted... and threw a few rocks. And then ran back inside the village, just in case.
“We... uh... shall try not to get in the way,” the riders promised. And then ran to the far side of the trolls, to drive them back toward the goblins protecting the town, so that the creatures might not quite escape. It didn’t work, but they did wound a troll a little more.
Suddenly, giant mushrooms sprouted under the remaining troll, bursting in a caustic cloud around it as it choked and wheezed.
Sho-doon squinted, but said nothing, yet.
The trolls did try to attack the harrying hyenas, but were quickly repelled, sending them away -- to be promptly dispatched by the spear hurler first thing the next morning.
“Move along, move along quickly!” Itchynose demanded, as his pans left the swamp with their prize safely hidden away.
“But other goblin spears are coming out of the woods now...” sent the pansy sergeant by courier.
“Never mind, let them have their town back if they will leave us to scout the trolls and attack their village from a distance!” The squad of hyena riders rode up to find him at that time, and where the spears had been hurled from, too. Words and assurances were exchanged, and the riders rode on to find the troll king waiting in the village-cave, for want of a better term, across the river, along with three wild trolls.
And then, a ball of burning ice fell from the sky, engulfing the king, freezing him in place.
Sho-doon saw it fall but still kept silent.
He kept less silent when the troll king sent his minions across the canyon river to attack him in the forest!
Barely escaping with his life, the little goblin hexer then was surrounded by the goblin spears, who didn’t understand that this armed company had come to save the village. Viciously spitting in all directions, Sho-doon fended them off, and they retreated away from the village for now as he crept away to heal or die -- into the forest from where he had fled the original troll attack!
Just in time to see the troll king himself climbing down into the canyon, too frozen to move out of it that day.
“Quickly!” Itchynose screamed. “Avenge our assaulted elder! The other trolls don’t matter, slay the king while he is hampered in the river!”
Almost as if on cue, another blast of ice fell onto the king from out of the blue -- doing more than only slowing him down this time! He growled like crushing his own teeth to gravel with the pain, as the rushing water boiled with frost around him, ripping into his skin.
“What manner of commander are you?” shouted the rider leader, as Itchynose came forward to oversee the final assault, leaving behind his spears for now.
“...uh.” The little goblin stared in awe and confusion. “One who takes advantage for the victory! Let justice fall from the sky and...”
...and up in the sky, a boat rowed up, hanging from a bloated bag above.
And threw justice down on the trollish marauder. Also, bombs.
“You... that...” the goblin riders could not believe their eyes. Neither could Itchynose exactly, though he could hear the goblin cheers from elsewhere in his company -- and in the airship now from nowhere.
“That,” Itchynose said, pointing his finger, “is not what I meant. This is.”
And lowly arcing over his head, just under the scrabbling goblin zeppelina as they frantically scooted aside -- flew a tree-sized pole, smashing the living daylights out of the troll.
He tried to flee, back into his caves on the other side of the river.
“YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO RUN AWAY!” Itchynose declared, raising his axe. “Sho-doon, my hexer, do you have enough strength for a final bout of vengeance?”
“...no,” the poor little goblin wept, and limped away to relative safety. “I am sorry. I am so very sorry, great Axenose. I tried.”
“I know,” the leader comforted him. “We’ll keep you safe among us. Those trolls will not get near us. We’ll get him next time. I promise.”
Only some of the mounted goblins survived the next assault of the wild troll bodyguards.
The troll king laughed all night in rage, as he regenerated completely. Then in the morning, he ran out of his village-cave, back into the mountains.
He didn’t get far, before those poisonous mushrooms bloomed beneath his feet, causing him to gag and blister with sores -- reducing his ability to defend himself.
“Go!” shouted the goblin leader. “Begone, wretched king of running stone!” Signaling his newfound allies, anchored in the bombing blimp, he sent them after the crippled troll, and threw artillery, too. Broken and shatter, the troll king ran to the north even faster.
“Surely he will get away.” “Truly a shame,” the goblin riders said.
“I trust my main army to run him down; by now, they will have surely overcome whatever was on the other side of the river, and should be approaching him now from behind.”
The goblin riders laughed. “Over there?! Aside from a monkey fort of stone, there are orcs who ride on bulls! And, perhaps even worse, a chief reigns among the mad orcs, a giant red berserker orc, cleverer than most of his mind-damaged peers -- and stronger, too! He lives in a castle of stone! What army could you have brought, who are only a goblin, such that... that...”
A bright red towering orc, with two four-flagged ‘kon’ on his back, ran up out of the mountain pass behind the village-cave, and chopped the troll king down.
“...that is Bersargar...” the riders said in amazement. Another, even larger and better armored orc ran up behind him, and praised him loudly for his victory, though too far away to be heard in the wintery wind across the rushing canyon water.
“My allies.” Itchynose casually fingered his axe. “The troll chief is of no importance anymore.”
