[As it happens, he didn't want quite everyone dead. The best part of this plan hinges on a soldier live enough to talk. Too bad the men-at-arms were so over-enthusiastically loyal.]
[Glowing eyes lift beneath the black helm, catching movement. He doesn't move himself. He simply commands, and a small gang of minions scurries to intercept David. Only to surround, he instructs. Carefully this time.]
[The minions grin back at him with mouths of razor-like teeth. Most of them already carry weapons from David's fallen comrades, bits of human-sized armour added to the mish-mash strapped to their skinny bodies. David's surrender doesn't seem to affect their excitement: they brandish their weapons at him in a gleeful warning.]
[The Overlord takes note of what he hears, however. Finally, someone with the intelligence to co-operate. He tosses the ornate rag back onto its owner's corpse and strides over, a figure of black steel and sharp edges. His creatures part eagerly before him; one pipes up with, "Got it, master!"]
[He doesn't answer. Just studies their prisoner for a second. This one's just a boy, really. Can't be much older than Gromgard himself - they're certainly about even in height, minus spikes. Better hope he knows something.]
Good. [His voice is less heard than felt, dark and carrying an unnatural echo.] Then you will answer my questions.
[For a few terrifying seconds David's sure that he just signed his own death warrant by dropping his blade. The hobgoblin things don't seem to hear him, much less notice or even care that he's disarmed himself. They advance, carrying the same swords and axes the rest of his squad wielded just moments before.]
[Then the little monsters all make way in unison for the warrior that can only be their master. Despite David's first impressions of him, glimpses as he at first tried fighting and then dove for cover, the grim figure is not actually that tall. What he lacks in height, though, he more than makes up in menace: garbed in black armor of a kind David's never seen before and festooned with spikes, he's not exactly a comforting figure.]
[He wants to retreat from the black warrior's approach, but there's nowhere to go. The hobgoblins that parted to make way for their master are still lined up behind, grinning shark-toothed grins and brandishing their weapons eagerly.]
Y-Yeah. [He nods quickly, keeping his hands raised to show he's no threat.] Yeah, I'll answer any questions you've got. Sir.
[It's quite satisfying when they're properly cowed. Much as he enjoys crushing the haughtier soldiers, they're often too thick-headed to accept their defeat. This last lot being good examples.]
How long have you served Count Gorgona?
[Those eyes bore into him, expecting a prompt answer. Gromgard has reason to remember the count. It's certainly not mutual.]
[This close to the black warrior, all he wants to do is look down at the ground and disappear. But he can't. Those fierce eyes peering out from beneath the warrior's horned helmed hold him as surely as a rat held terrified by a cobra's stare.]
Two... um, two and a ha-half months, sir.
[He'd been drafted, like all boys of age were. And he hadn't liked it, but what could he do? The highlords played their games and all lowborns like him could do was obey.]
[Not promising. But he's thinking of the raw recruits in his own castle, back when they used to have some. The old-timers loved to feed them stories - some more reliable than others. And if the boy's local-born, so much the better.]
What do you know of his vault?
[Because he knows the count has things in there that once belonged to his predecessor. Things rightfully part of the Gromgard legacy.]
[A moment's hesitation, because every soldier knew about the Count's vault, and they knew just as well the penalties for betraying its secrets. But the Count isn't here and the black warrior is. That's enough to loosen his tongue.]
I know Count Gorgona adds more treasures to it every day. That he only t-trusts a squad of handpicked men to guard it. That anyone who enters the vault without his leave, without even his presence, is condemned to, uh... to die.
[And he knows one other thing too. But he hesitates to say it, because all he wants right now is for the black warrior to let him go.]
[He's always been the quiet one, this Gromgard. He's spent his short lifetime watching people. He's learned how to listen. And he's learned to notice when there's more to be said.]
[He leans forward a little, the wicked axe held loose at his side. He really doesn't have to draw attention to it. It does that by itself.]
[Now the black warrior's so close that the metal of his horned helm is almost resting on David's forehead. It's terrifying, being in quarters this close to the man who killed every other member of his squad. He almost stumbles back and falls.]
I, uh... er, um...
[He's trying to get the words out, he really is, but he can feel the hobgoblins behind him waiting for him to fall and between them and the grim figure before him, he's almost dizzy with terror.]
There's a way in! A secret way, I mean! No one uses it, no one talks about it or tries to steal Gorgona's treasures, but I saw it with my own eyes! My captain, he showed it to me and took me up to see the vault! And then two days later he disappeared and I haven't been there ever since, it's the truth, I swear!
[A hiss of pleasure from those minions paying attention. Secret passages? Now that's more like it! The Overlord draws back with a thoughtful sound. He's not disappointed now.]
[But he's also not an idiot. His advisor's comments in mind, he tilts his head.]
[It takes him a few seconds to realize where the black warrior's going with this. When he does, his eyes widen/]
But it's not like that! My captain, he was a friend of my dad, he died in the last war. So when I got conscripted he watched out for me, made sure the other guys didn't give me any trouble.
[The grim figure's not so close, and that's good, but the hobgoblins are still all around him and that's not. He's sweating nervously by now, and wants badly to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he doesn't dare lower his hands. Not with that axe still so close to his neck.]
It's the truth, I swear on my life! I don't know why I wasn't taken away too! Me and my squad were sent out a few days later, I never got a chance to find out!
[So perhaps this one was simply overlooked. And perhaps this is a trap, though the Overlord will be surprised if it's for him. Maybe he's built up enough of a reputation now for the nearest lords to start wondering about the epidemic of well-placed, anonymous destruction. So far he knows of only one elf who's guessed his true name. And Erasmus is very dead.]
Your name, peasant?
[He still has his hands up. How long will he do that? Gromgard's curious, in an amused way.]
[Truth be told, David would like very much to lower his hands. They're starting to get tired. But his head is more important to him, and he's worried the black warrior will think he's reaching for a weapon if he does lower them, so up they stay.]
[David nods quickly and dips his head a bit, being too scared not to. The hobgoblins are giving him some room now and that's good, but that request is still a dangerous one. For him, at least.]
Milord, I... I'll do as you bid, but if I show you the way... if I do that, Count Gorgona shall surely have me hanged.
[The Overlord is no longer looking at him, busy issuing silent commands. But to that he gives David a look that's faintly amused. If one can tell under the steel and cloth and shadows.]
He will have greater problems.
[The minions are all scurrying back now, as his call draws them in. It's a smallish horde, about a couple dozen tough, lanky browns and smaller, slender greens with whiplike tails and thorny claws. All of them carry their scavenged weapons and trophies, but some have collected a bit of coin. And three carry orbs of softly glowing light, which they hasten to present to their master. He hardly looks, just extends a gauntlet and allows the energy to be absorbed into himself.]
[David breathes a weak sigh of relief when the hobgoblins finally back off and the black warrior turns away. Part of him wants to run and run hard, now the he has the chance. The other part knows it's not going to be that simple.]
So... is that it then? Am I free to go?
[Slowly, with infinite caution, he lowers his hands, watching in morbid curiosity as the creatures bring treasures to their lord. Those three glowing orbs are what hold his attention, though, and when he sees them absorbed, he shivers, though from fright or excitement he's not sure.
Magic. Something he hasn't seen since he was a boy. Something he thought he'd never see again.]
[He should probably have told the boy he could lower his hands. But he's already thinking far ahead. There's a hunger in him now, to reclaim the Black Baron's treasures - and more, of course. Perhaps it's not entirely his own desire.]
[The Overlord flexes his hand a moment after absorbing the life force offered. He's not quite used to the sensation. It doesn't distract him from answering David.]
[After what he's told them, David may be safer a prisoner than free. And should he prove useful rather than treacherous, Gromgard will have no qualms about freeing him. Until then, the boy with the keys to his plan stays right in reach.]
[He gestures for David to come and leads the way outside, heading for a copse of trees not far away. Gnarl will send the Reds to burn the outpost to the ground.]
Where is the entrance?
[They're a long way from the count's home. He needs to decide on a route.]
[Though reluctantly, David follows as bidden. He's not quite sure what the Black Lord plans to do with him between now and them, but to his surprise and relief he's not restrained by gibbering hobgoblins. Instead the lord leads him out of the abattoir that used to be an inn and over to a copse of trees just off the worn path most travelers take.]
[He joins the Black Lord under the trees, feeling fairly useless without a weapon in his hands.]
There's an old mill, between the castle and the village. It's been abandoned for years. There's a trapdoor in the basement, it leads to a tunnel and the tunnel leads to the vault. I think it was built by whoever built the castle originally as a means of escape.
[As soon as the words leave his lips he winces. Lords don't concern themselves with the opinions of peasants. He'd best be served by keeping his mouth shut.]
[The Overlord doesn't seem affronted by his comment, however. Unlike some lordlings, he doesn't ignore information out of pride, or spite. He merely nods, and steps through to where the trees have been hollowed out into a clearing. Dusk has all but fallen, and the last sunlight illuminates the scene of his arrival.]
[Within the tangle of freshly-upturned roots is a tight circle of standing stones. The carvings on them are sharp, newly cut, and yet they look as if they've sprouted straight from the ground. In fact that would be the best description. At the Overlord's approach the ground in front of them bubbles up into four mounds, each about knee-height. From the top of each emanates a soft glow in vivid colours: yellow, red, green, blue. He appears to consider them. The minions hang back in a gaggle of heavy breaths and luminous eyes.]
[To David's relief, he isn't reprimanded for speaking out of turn, the way he's faced reprimands from minor nobles in the army before. He follows the Black Lord through the trees and lingers near them once they reach the clearing. Nothing about this clearing looks natural to his eye, and that's reason enough for him to keep his distance unless bidden otherwise.
The hobgoblins are following them too, though, and they decide to hang back near the trees too, forcing David to follow the Black Lord up to those eerie glowing mounds. Each one glows a different color, and staring at them for too long makes David dizzy. This is clearly magic, and not a sort of magic he's encountered before either. He stops a few steps behind his dark-armored captor, uncertain as to whether he should come closer.]
Not heavily. Too many guards would draw attention to it. Outside the mill is one guard who is there always; he poses as the groundskeeper. Inside are three more. They come from the castle and they will all be well-armed.
[There's a soft rumble from inside the helm, a 'hmm' transmuted into something less human. He lifts his free hand and first one, then several minions dash forward, Brown and Green splitting up and heading for their respective mounds. The earth opens to admit them, the minions jumping in headlong as if there are unseen pits beneath those molten lights.]
[No sooner have they disappeared than he turns, calls on the red and blue gates to send forth their minions. They leap out of the ground, ram-horned Reds and fish-scaled Blues, and run to form up with the multicolored horde. The Overlord surveys them, and then looks back to the only other human present. There's a question or two he hasn't forgotten.]
Why is he conscripting?
[There are many possible reasons - the messy elf-dwarf war spilling over borders, ambitious neighbours, ambitious locals, endemic bandits, himself. It would be useful to know what the count fears.]
[Still wary of those hobgoblins after witnessing them massacre a score of his fellow soldiers, David jerks back and almost stumbles over his own feet in his haste to get out of their way. But he needn't have bothered - the little monsters ignore him entirely. Instead they dash for those mounds and then, to David's astonishment, are swallowed up into the dirt. He whips his head back around to stare at the Black Lord in naked shock. Why is he sacrificing his own servants?]
[A moment later he gets his answer as new hobgoblins burst forth from the other two mounds, these of a different cast than the others entirely. Between the fiery--red horned creatures, the blue ones that look like the river goblins of children's tales, and the horde he already had, the Black Lord's forces look ready for war. Staring at them, he's immensely thankful he had enough sense to surrender.
Seeing that horned helm turn back to face him instantly captures his full attention, and David turns back around as quickly as his feet will let him.]
I... uh...
[Another piece of information that training has drilled in him not to disclose to the enemy. But he has nothing left to lose now - he's already the Black Lord's prisoner, his life forfeit if he is taken alive by the forces he so recently fought for, and that helps him overcome the fleeting vestiges of hesitation he has left.]
His forces are spread too thin, milord. Too many veterans tied up defending the borders or leading treks further north for more treasure. Conscription is mandatory in all the villages now, and even farms in the hinterlands.
[The glow of his eyes brightens for an instant. It's an opportune moment, then. The very hour for the forces of Evil to strike. Axe resting on his shoulder, he strides for the centre of the stones and the low plinth embedded there. There is a gate closer to their destination, one he feels he can reach.]
Come, then.
[And if David hesitates, he'll soon realise the minions are crowding up right behind him.]
[David certainly does hesitate. Witnessing magic is one thing. Offering himself up to it is quite another.]
I, ah...
[Unfortunately any thought he might have of running for it is quickly squelched when he turns to find his rear almost completely overrun with hobgoblins. They're not threatening him (not yet at least) but they are completely cutting off any direction he can go other than forward. Reluctantly he comes closer.]
[Gromgard has patience, truly, but he's not going to dither about for some wavering boy soldier. He waits just a moment for David to join him, then extends an armoured hand to grasp the back of his tunic. One small shove to get the boy safely on the Waypoint Gate, and they can be off.]
[He's already reaching out to the gate's magic. Its power runs down, deep into the roots of this land, connecting to its counterparts along innumerable threads. And one in particular that answers to his demand. The gate flares bright around them, the landscape shifting in a matter of heartbeats. A few leagues, a few dozens of leagues away - he's not certain. It's nothing at all to his roads.]
[David holds his breath as he crosses the threshold, uncertain as to what to expect. Given that he just saw these gates used to seemingly transform hobgoblins into bigger and meaner hobgoblins, he's not exactly optimistic. But with the Black Lord's mailed gauntlet clasping his tunic firmly, all he can do is stand still and wait to see what happens.]
[To his relief, neither he nor the Black Lord start transforming. Instead the light glowing around them flares up without warning, forcing David to lift a hand to shield his eyes. He only catches glimpses of what happens next but what he does see is enough to make him gasp - instead of himself or the Black Lord transforming, it's everything else that's transforming. The eerie midnight forest seems to bleed away and reforge itself into an entirely new place in the span of mere seconds.]
[It's a bit too much for David. He twists his head away from the Black Lord, doubling over as much as he can with his tunic still held firmly in the armored man's grasp, and regurgitates the contents of his last meal onto the ground.]
[His first reflex is to tighten his grip... but then he realises why David is yanking away like that. He lets go quickly and peers down with a frown of surprise. He wasn't expecting a reaction like that. Then again, he's never brought another live human along before.]
[He gives a 'hnh' to himself and steps around the boy. The standing stones are churning from the low hilltop around them, the mirror image of those left behind. He inspects them briefly. David is allowed a moment to clear his throat, under the minions' sniggering eyes. One of the Blues hops forward to prod him with a webbed finger, gills rippling behind the ear-like fins either side of its head.]
You recognise this place? [They're not so far from Gorgona's castle now, but he only knows the stylised, half-decorative maps of noblemen, and they don't show such details as peasant villages and mills. Useless, really.]
[Hands on his knees, David retches until all he's doing is dry heaving, and still he can't stop himself until he feels a bratwurst-sized finger poke him in the ribs. It's one of the hobgoblins, of course, leering at him mockingly, and before David has a chance to stop himself he tries shoving the creature back.]
[Once he's straightened up again David looks around himself pensively, trying to figure out what just happened. Surely no man, even one as powerful as the Black Lord, could reshape the land itself to his whims? It's not until he spots the abandoned windmill to their left that he realizes what must have happened - and more importantly, where they are.]
... I do, milord. [He steps forward and points to the windmill, so collapsed that a stranger probably wouldn't even be able to recognize what it once was.] Just past that windmill is the road and from there it's only a couple of leagues to the village. But if it's the mill you seek, we need to go west.
[Less sturdy than his brown or red cousins, the scaly Minion is rocked back onto his tail. He hops back with an indignant yelp.
"Soft guts," one of his lookalikes diagnoses in a low rasp, the eldest and soberest Blue there. The shoved one just harrumphs and sneers at David for now.]
[All these antics are, it seems, ignored by the Overlord. What he cares about is what David knows, and he looks where the boy points, arranging the land in his mind's eye. They're a couple of petty kingdoms over from his family's lands; he's never crept inside these bounds to satisfy boredom or curiosity. Nor for malice, though he has some saved up.]
[Maybe it's a shame he didn't get to visit, though. Gromgard considers the pile of stones claimed to be a windmill. It's been very thoroughly obliterated. Kind of impressively. He gives David a patently inquiring look.]
[It's impossible for David not to hear those two scornful words and he eyes the hobgoblin in question balefully, wishing he still had his sword and could drive it through the monster's eye. Sure, he'd probably be killed a few seconds after doing so, but in that moment it feels almost worth it.]
[But then he feels the Black Lord's gaze upon him and turns away from the minions. Sure enough, the armored lord is eyeing him, and while it's hard to make out even his eyes under that helm, let alone an expression, there seems to be an unanswered question hanging in the air.]
I, ah... I played in that windmill when I was young. [Useless information, perhaps, but giving information has kept him alive so far.] It was destroyed only four months back, when a horde of barbarians led by Antares of Rath invaded our lands. Much of the village was destroyed as well and though the barbarians were driven back to their mountains, it was our lands that paid the price.
[There's a sound of contempt in reply. Of course. The land always pays.]
The count is no stronger than the rest. [He's kind of satisfied about that. It means the count hasn't learned to use the half of what he's collected - and it confirms his opinion of the fool. Just like all the other jumped-up rulers who preyed on his realm for years.]
[Barbarians, now... he'll have to deal with them himself, soon enough. That might be interesting. Good practice for his sister's homecoming. He leads the way west, commanding the Greens to spread out and disappear into the greenery ahead. The stealthy little assassins can approach the mill in a pincer movement... and take their permanent, pungent stench with them.]
[And if things go the way they look like they're going, perhaps not ever. Though David still can't imagine how this one man and a motley collection of hobgoblins hope to take the castle. Perhaps they don't, perhaps he is only assuming and this is but a robbery. Perhaps, but he doubts it.]
[He sticks close to the Black Lord's side as before, breathing easier moments after the green hobgoblins separate from the horde and move ahead. Up to this point he'd just assumed that stench was endemic to all the hobgoblins; knowing it's not makes being around the others slightly more bearable.]
What are they doing? [He asks out of curiosity, before he remembers who he's talking to.] Ah... forgive me, milord. I shouldn't ask questions.
[No, he probably shouldn't. Gromgard snorts to himself. He's learned from his family that telling the servants not to question you doesn't actually make them stop. Making them afraid to ask... well, that might do it yet.]
Silence. [A simple order, and the minions take it as much for them as for David. Their dimwitted comments and squeals quiet down. They're approaching the mill, and David will soon have his answer. As soon as they're in sight, the Overlord pauses. The Green minions are nowhere to be seen - in fact, they're moving up on the mill from either side. Chameleon-like, their hides have shifted to match the dappled shadows of the undergrowth. They're a hint of blurred movement far ahead, sneaking as close to the front wall as they can. And then they stop, and there's not a trace to be seen. Not unless one were to get suicidally close.]
[They won't touch the guard outside, though. He must have the chance to cry out. The Overlord finally brings his axe down from his shoulder and gives it a casual swing.]
Watch for magic. [This to the eldest of the Blues, who salutes in reply. Then he marches for the door. No attempt to hide their approach now. No point. No need. He grins to himself, unseen.]
[David's been around enough lords to know that when they tell you to shut up, you shut up. So he falls silent and glances back at the minion horde, who've all fallen silent as well. He can't help but wonder if that's what the Black Lord intends for him after this is over, to make him one of his hobgoblins. He hopes not.]
[The Black Lord comes to a halt and David almost walks into him before he catches himself. He looks up at him in confusion, wanting to ask why they've stopped but knowing better. So instead he follows the armored lord's gaze and squints at the mill for a few seconds before he sees a glimpse of one of the green hobgoblins. Just a glimpse, and it's gone before he knows it, but he saw it. They can turn invisible, he realizes, and shudders with the thought. No wonder his unit had been massacred so easily in the tavern, if the Black Lord's followers have powers like that.]
[Much to David's chagrin, rather than take a stealthy approach the Black Lord just heads straight for the door. And he has no choice but to follow, wondering for a crazy second if he should perhaps warn the guard, give him a chance to flee. The ugly truth is that he just plain values his own life more than some guard's, though, so he holds his tongue.]
[The guard sees David and recognizes his uniform but quickly turns away from him. The armored lord next to him simply commands more attention.]
[It's not so much that he trusts David, as that he judges the boy bright enough to watch his own neck. When he thinks back, he'll be minorly gratified to be right.]
[The guard is smart. He shouts warning before he pulls his blade. But he's a big fellow, taller than Gromgard. Perhaps he's not expecting the strength with which he's met, or the catlike speed. The Overlord doesn't break his stride as he reaches the man. He lifts his axe to block the first strike, hooks the blade aside, and then swings straight back and down, cleaving through the padded armour.]
[One goes down, and at least two leap to arms inside. The Overlord yanks his axe free of the gurgling soldier and steps back, eyes on the door. Anyone coming out puts their back to the Greens' knifing tails: they won't be a problem. Right now his most important skill is the ability to count.]
[He decides he'll have David lead the way inside, afterwards.]
[And all the while, as the Black Lord cuts down one of his own, as the hobgoblins with their deadly tails impale the two other men inside who heard the guard's yelling, all David does is stand back and watch.]
[What else can he do? He's unarmed, his sword left behind amidst the bodies of his fellow soldiers in that inn dozens of leagues from here. And even if he was armed, what would he do with that blade? Defend the guard and find himself slain moments later? Or join the hobgoblins in their slaughter and transform himself from reluctant prisoner to bloodthirsty turncloak? Without his sword, neither is an option, and honestly, he's glad for that.]
[So David stays clear of the Black Lord as he cuts the guard down with his fearsome axe and tries not to look at the guard as he collapses into a bloody heap. Or the other two soldiers that just fell victim to the hobgoblins without even seeing one of their own among the enemy.]
[It's not until the killing is done and the Black Lord once again turns to face him that he realizes what's expected of him now.]
[The Overlord gestures to the door by way of answer. By all means. In the gathering dark it's becoming plain that it's not just the light catching his eyes: there's a burning glow to them, breaking the shadows of his helm.]
Afraid?
[It's not asked for the sake of mockery. David's the one who knows what lies inside. As far as Gromgard's concerned, the boy stopped being Gorgona's creature the moment he arrived to lay claim to this land. As yet, David probably doesn't realise that. He's being allowed to waver a little.]
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sixwordstories2013-06-22 11:23 pm
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[Glowing eyes lift beneath the black helm, catching movement. He doesn't move himself. He simply commands, and a small gang of minions scurries to intercept David. Only to surround, he instructs. Carefully this time.]
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Except that's when a fresh batch of those hobgoblin things decides to show up. And when he turns back, he finds they're behind him too.
David's not like the other soldiers. He'd rather be alive than be loyal. Which is why he drops his short sword and lifts his hands.]
I surrender, okay? I surrender! Just don't kill me!
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[The Overlord takes note of what he hears, however. Finally, someone with the intelligence to co-operate. He tosses the ornate rag back onto its owner's corpse and strides over, a figure of black steel and sharp edges. His creatures part eagerly before him; one pipes up with, "Got it, master!"]
[He doesn't answer. Just studies their prisoner for a second. This one's just a boy, really. Can't be much older than Gromgard himself - they're certainly about even in height, minus spikes. Better hope he knows something.]
Good. [His voice is less heard than felt, dark and carrying an unnatural echo.] Then you will answer my questions.
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[Then the little monsters all make way in unison for the warrior that can only be their master. Despite David's first impressions of him, glimpses as he at first tried fighting and then dove for cover, the grim figure is not actually that tall. What he lacks in height, though, he more than makes up in menace: garbed in black armor of a kind David's never seen before and festooned with spikes, he's not exactly a comforting figure.]
[He wants to retreat from the black warrior's approach, but there's nowhere to go. The hobgoblins that parted to make way for their master are still lined up behind, grinning shark-toothed grins and brandishing their weapons eagerly.]
Y-Yeah. [He nods quickly, keeping his hands raised to show he's no threat.] Yeah, I'll answer any questions you've got. Sir.
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How long have you served Count Gorgona?
[Those eyes bore into him, expecting a prompt answer. Gromgard has reason to remember the count. It's certainly not mutual.]
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Two... um, two and a ha-half months, sir.
[He'd been drafted, like all boys of age were. And he hadn't liked it, but what could he do? The highlords played their games and all lowborns like him could do was obey.]
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What do you know of his vault?
[Because he knows the count has things in there that once belonged to his predecessor. Things rightfully part of the Gromgard legacy.]
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[A moment's hesitation, because every soldier knew about the Count's vault, and they knew just as well the penalties for betraying its secrets. But the Count isn't here and the black warrior is. That's enough to loosen his tongue.]
I know Count Gorgona adds more treasures to it every day. That he only t-trusts a squad of handpicked men to guard it. That anyone who enters the vault without his leave, without even his presence, is condemned to, uh... to die.
[And he knows one other thing too. But he hesitates to say it, because all he wants right now is for the black warrior to let him go.]
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[He leans forward a little, the wicked axe held loose at his side. He really doesn't have to draw attention to it. It does that by itself.]
And?
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I, uh... er, um...
[He's trying to get the words out, he really is, but he can feel the hobgoblins behind him waiting for him to fall and between them and the grim figure before him, he's almost dizzy with terror.]
There's a way in! A secret way, I mean! No one uses it, no one talks about it or tries to steal Gorgona's treasures, but I saw it with my own eyes! My captain, he showed it to me and took me up to see the vault! And then two days later he disappeared and I haven't been there ever since, it's the truth, I swear!
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[But he's also not an idiot. His advisor's comments in mind, he tilts his head.]
But you were not harmed.
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[It takes him a few seconds to realize where the black warrior's going with this. When he does, his eyes widen/]
But it's not like that! My captain, he was a friend of my dad, he died in the last war. So when I got conscripted he watched out for me, made sure the other guys didn't give me any trouble.
[The grim figure's not so close, and that's good, but the hobgoblins are still all around him and that's not. He's sweating nervously by now, and wants badly to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he doesn't dare lower his hands. Not with that axe still so close to his neck.]
It's the truth, I swear on my life! I don't know why I wasn't taken away too! Me and my squad were sent out a few days later, I never got a chance to find out!
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Your name, peasant?
[He still has his hands up. How long will he do that? Gromgard's curious, in an amused way.]
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David. [A beat.] Sir.
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[The emphasis is almost casual, but very clear. He gives a short wave of his free hand. The minions back off a bit.]
Show me the way inside, and you will be rewarded.
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[David nods quickly and dips his head a bit, being too scared not to. The hobgoblins are giving him some room now and that's good, but that request is still a dangerous one. For him, at least.]
Milord, I... I'll do as you bid, but if I show you the way... if I do that, Count Gorgona shall surely have me hanged.
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He will have greater problems.
[The minions are all scurrying back now, as his call draws them in. It's a smallish horde, about a couple dozen tough, lanky browns and smaller, slender greens with whiplike tails and thorny claws. All of them carry their scavenged weapons and trophies, but some have collected a bit of coin. And three carry orbs of softly glowing light, which they hasten to present to their master. He hardly looks, just extends a gauntlet and allows the energy to be absorbed into himself.]
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So... is that it then? Am I free to go?
[Slowly, with infinite caution, he lowers his hands, watching in morbid curiosity as the creatures bring treasures to their lord. Those three glowing orbs are what hold his attention, though, and when he sees them absorbed, he shivers, though from fright or excitement he's not sure.
Magic. Something he hasn't seen since he was a boy. Something he thought he'd never see again.]
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[The Overlord flexes his hand a moment after absorbing the life force offered. He's not quite used to the sensation. It doesn't distract him from answering David.]
When I have what I seek. If you are not foolish.
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[On the other hand, he'd rather be a prisoner then be dead.]
Ah... of course, milord. Understood.
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[He gestures for David to come and leads the way outside, heading for a copse of trees not far away. Gnarl will send the Reds to burn the outpost to the ground.]
Where is the entrance?
[They're a long way from the count's home. He needs to decide on a route.]
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[He joins the Black Lord under the trees, feeling fairly useless without a weapon in his hands.]
There's an old mill, between the castle and the village. It's been abandoned for years. There's a trapdoor in the basement, it leads to a tunnel and the tunnel leads to the vault. I think it was built by whoever built the castle originally as a means of escape.
[As soon as the words leave his lips he winces. Lords don't concern themselves with the opinions of peasants. He'd best be served by keeping his mouth shut.]
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[Within the tangle of freshly-upturned roots is a tight circle of standing stones. The carvings on them are sharp, newly cut, and yet they look as if they've sprouted straight from the ground. In fact that would be the best description. At the Overlord's approach the ground in front of them bubbles up into four mounds, each about knee-height. From the top of each emanates a soft glow in vivid colours: yellow, red, green, blue. He appears to consider them. The minions hang back in a gaggle of heavy breaths and luminous eyes.]
Gorgona should know this. How is it guarded?
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The hobgoblins are following them too, though, and they decide to hang back near the trees too, forcing David to follow the Black Lord up to those eerie glowing mounds. Each one glows a different color, and staring at them for too long makes David dizzy. This is clearly magic, and not a sort of magic he's encountered before either. He stops a few steps behind his dark-armored captor, uncertain as to whether he should come closer.]
Not heavily. Too many guards would draw attention to it. Outside the mill is one guard who is there always; he poses as the groundskeeper. Inside are three more. They come from the castle and they will all be well-armed.
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[No sooner have they disappeared than he turns, calls on the red and blue gates to send forth their minions. They leap out of the ground, ram-horned Reds and fish-scaled Blues, and run to form up with the multicolored horde. The Overlord surveys them, and then looks back to the only other human present. There's a question or two he hasn't forgotten.]
Why is he conscripting?
[There are many possible reasons - the messy elf-dwarf war spilling over borders, ambitious neighbours, ambitious locals, endemic bandits, himself. It would be useful to know what the count fears.]
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[A moment later he gets his answer as new hobgoblins burst forth from the other two mounds, these of a different cast than the others entirely. Between the fiery--red horned creatures, the blue ones that look like the river goblins of children's tales, and the horde he already had, the Black Lord's forces look ready for war. Staring at them, he's immensely thankful he had enough sense to surrender.
Seeing that horned helm turn back to face him instantly captures his full attention, and David turns back around as quickly as his feet will let him.]
I... uh...
[Another piece of information that training has drilled in him not to disclose to the enemy. But he has nothing left to lose now - he's already the Black Lord's prisoner, his life forfeit if he is taken alive by the forces he so recently fought for, and that helps him overcome the fleeting vestiges of hesitation he has left.]
His forces are spread too thin, milord. Too many veterans tied up defending the borders or leading treks further north for more treasure. Conscription is mandatory in all the villages now, and even farms in the hinterlands.
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Come, then.
[And if David hesitates, he'll soon realise the minions are crowding up right behind him.]
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I, ah...
[Unfortunately any thought he might have of running for it is quickly squelched when he turns to find his rear almost completely overrun with hobgoblins. They're not threatening him (not yet at least) but they are completely cutting off any direction he can go other than forward. Reluctantly he comes closer.]
... very well, milord.
[As if he has a choice.]
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[He's already reaching out to the gate's magic. Its power runs down, deep into the roots of this land, connecting to its counterparts along innumerable threads. And one in particular that answers to his demand. The gate flares bright around them, the landscape shifting in a matter of heartbeats. A few leagues, a few dozens of leagues away - he's not certain. It's nothing at all to his roads.]
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[To his relief, neither he nor the Black Lord start transforming. Instead the light glowing around them flares up without warning, forcing David to lift a hand to shield his eyes. He only catches glimpses of what happens next but what he does see is enough to make him gasp - instead of himself or the Black Lord transforming, it's everything else that's transforming. The eerie midnight forest seems to bleed away and reforge itself into an entirely new place in the span of mere seconds.]
[It's a bit too much for David. He twists his head away from the Black Lord, doubling over as much as he can with his tunic still held firmly in the armored man's grasp, and regurgitates the contents of his last meal onto the ground.]
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[He gives a 'hnh' to himself and steps around the boy. The standing stones are churning from the low hilltop around them, the mirror image of those left behind. He inspects them briefly. David is allowed a moment to clear his throat, under the minions' sniggering eyes. One of the Blues hops forward to prod him with a webbed finger, gills rippling behind the ear-like fins either side of its head.]
You recognise this place? [They're not so far from Gorgona's castle now, but he only knows the stylised, half-decorative maps of noblemen, and they don't show such details as peasant villages and mills. Useless, really.]
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[Once he's straightened up again David looks around himself pensively, trying to figure out what just happened. Surely no man, even one as powerful as the Black Lord, could reshape the land itself to his whims? It's not until he spots the abandoned windmill to their left that he realizes what must have happened - and more importantly, where they are.]
... I do, milord. [He steps forward and points to the windmill, so collapsed that a stranger probably wouldn't even be able to recognize what it once was.] Just past that windmill is the road and from there it's only a couple of leagues to the village. But if it's the mill you seek, we need to go west.
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"Soft guts," one of his lookalikes diagnoses in a low rasp, the eldest and soberest Blue there. The shoved one just harrumphs and sneers at David for now.]
[All these antics are, it seems, ignored by the Overlord. What he cares about is what David knows, and he looks where the boy points, arranging the land in his mind's eye. They're a couple of petty kingdoms over from his family's lands; he's never crept inside these bounds to satisfy boredom or curiosity. Nor for malice, though he has some saved up.]
[Maybe it's a shame he didn't get to visit, though. Gromgard considers the pile of stones claimed to be a windmill. It's been very thoroughly obliterated. Kind of impressively. He gives David a patently inquiring look.]
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[But then he feels the Black Lord's gaze upon him and turns away from the minions. Sure enough, the armored lord is eyeing him, and while it's hard to make out even his eyes under that helm, let alone an expression, there seems to be an unanswered question hanging in the air.]
I, ah... I played in that windmill when I was young. [Useless information, perhaps, but giving information has kept him alive so far.] It was destroyed only four months back, when a horde of barbarians led by Antares of Rath invaded our lands. Much of the village was destroyed as well and though the barbarians were driven back to their mountains, it was our lands that paid the price.
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The count is no stronger than the rest. [He's kind of satisfied about that. It means the count hasn't learned to use the half of what he's collected - and it confirms his opinion of the fool. Just like all the other jumped-up rulers who preyed on his realm for years.]
[Barbarians, now... he'll have to deal with them himself, soon enough. That might be interesting. Good practice for his sister's homecoming. He leads the way west, commanding the Greens to spread out and disappear into the greenery ahead. The stealthy little assassins can approach the mill in a pincer movement... and take their permanent, pungent stench with them.]
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[And if things go the way they look like they're going, perhaps not ever. Though David still can't imagine how this one man and a motley collection of hobgoblins hope to take the castle. Perhaps they don't, perhaps he is only assuming and this is but a robbery. Perhaps, but he doubts it.]
[He sticks close to the Black Lord's side as before, breathing easier moments after the green hobgoblins separate from the horde and move ahead. Up to this point he'd just assumed that stench was endemic to all the hobgoblins; knowing it's not makes being around the others slightly more bearable.]
What are they doing? [He asks out of curiosity, before he remembers who he's talking to.] Ah... forgive me, milord. I shouldn't ask questions.
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Silence. [A simple order, and the minions take it as much for them as for David. Their dimwitted comments and squeals quiet down. They're approaching the mill, and David will soon have his answer. As soon as they're in sight, the Overlord pauses. The Green minions are nowhere to be seen - in fact, they're moving up on the mill from either side. Chameleon-like, their hides have shifted to match the dappled shadows of the undergrowth. They're a hint of blurred movement far ahead, sneaking as close to the front wall as they can. And then they stop, and there's not a trace to be seen. Not unless one were to get suicidally close.]
[They won't touch the guard outside, though. He must have the chance to cry out. The Overlord finally brings his axe down from his shoulder and gives it a casual swing.]
Watch for magic. [This to the eldest of the Blues, who salutes in reply. Then he marches for the door. No attempt to hide their approach now. No point. No need. He grins to himself, unseen.]
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[The Black Lord comes to a halt and David almost walks into him before he catches himself. He looks up at him in confusion, wanting to ask why they've stopped but knowing better. So instead he follows the armored lord's gaze and squints at the mill for a few seconds before he sees a glimpse of one of the green hobgoblins. Just a glimpse, and it's gone before he knows it, but he saw it. They can turn invisible, he realizes, and shudders with the thought. No wonder his unit had been massacred so easily in the tavern, if the Black Lord's followers have powers like that.]
[Much to David's chagrin, rather than take a stealthy approach the Black Lord just heads straight for the door. And he has no choice but to follow, wondering for a crazy second if he should perhaps warn the guard, give him a chance to flee. The ugly truth is that he just plain values his own life more than some guard's, though, so he holds his tongue.]
[The guard sees David and recognizes his uniform but quickly turns away from him. The armored lord next to him simply commands more attention.]
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[The guard is smart. He shouts warning before he pulls his blade. But he's a big fellow, taller than Gromgard. Perhaps he's not expecting the strength with which he's met, or the catlike speed. The Overlord doesn't break his stride as he reaches the man. He lifts his axe to block the first strike, hooks the blade aside, and then swings straight back and down, cleaving through the padded armour.]
[One goes down, and at least two leap to arms inside. The Overlord yanks his axe free of the gurgling soldier and steps back, eyes on the door. Anyone coming out puts their back to the Greens' knifing tails: they won't be a problem. Right now his most important skill is the ability to count.]
[He decides he'll have David lead the way inside, afterwards.]
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[What else can he do? He's unarmed, his sword left behind amidst the bodies of his fellow soldiers in that inn dozens of leagues from here. And even if he was armed, what would he do with that blade? Defend the guard and find himself slain moments later? Or join the hobgoblins in their slaughter and transform himself from reluctant prisoner to bloodthirsty turncloak? Without his sword, neither is an option, and honestly, he's glad for that.]
[So David stays clear of the Black Lord as he cuts the guard down with his fearsome axe and tries not to look at the guard as he collapses into a bloody heap. Or the other two soldiers that just fell victim to the hobgoblins without even seeing one of their own among the enemy.]
[It's not until the killing is done and the Black Lord once again turns to face him that he realizes what's expected of him now.]
Me?
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Afraid?
[It's not asked for the sake of mockery. David's the one who knows what lies inside. As far as Gromgard's concerned, the boy stopped being Gorgona's creature the moment he arrived to lay claim to this land. As yet, David probably doesn't realise that. He's being allowed to waver a little.]