I walked around my old haunts, seeing new recruits killing goblins and skeletons on the beaches and in the woods. I tried to help them, gave them a few tips here and there where I could, handed out some of my old gear, but it was painfully obvious that Sandbrook was no longer a home to me. I had outgrown the frontier village. There was little I could accomplish, and few I could help by staying longer. That's what I thought anyway, but I was soon proven wrong.
I was sitting by the Vault in Sandbrook, passing time by going through the very modest wealth I'd accumulated, when I saw a ragged and bloody man stumble by. This wasn't an uncommon sight in Sandbrook, as recruits were often bested by goblins and sent back to their bind stones. But then three more walked by, and another two again. Something was clearly wrong.
I stopped the last woman as she limped past me and asked what had happened. "There's a murderer out there hiding in the woods. He came out of nowhere while I was looting a goblin and killed me. I need to get back out there and see if he left any of my gear, excuse me!" I assumed the story was the same for the others wandering by. Excited by the prospect of being able to help the town I strapped on my best scale armor and slipped out the back gate of Sandbrook.
I didn't have very high hopes for the battle. Until now, in almost every fight I'd had with murderers, I'd been forced to run. In the rare cases where I didn't flee for my life, I had the upper hand somehow. Now it was just me, no plan or backup, striking against someone who was likely much more powerful than myself. I crept through the bushes and waited, observing the recruits pushing back the constant stream of goblins. One woman wandered off by herself and leaned back behind a tree after a brutal fight, trying to avoid more goblin arrows. If ever there was a time for this murderer to strike, it was now.
I didn't have to wait for more than a few seconds; a human wearing leather armor coated in bones sprayed a giant stream of fire at the recruit, blasting her backwards into a tree. Light gathered in his hands and then a spear of electric energy lanced out towards the prone recruit. He drew a spiked greatsword from a sheath on his back to finish off his stunned victim.
I saw my chance, and sprang from my hiding place. I cut into the aggressor's back, breaking off pieces of his bone armor, but getting my blade caught at the same time. He spun around with a rictus snarl on his face, almost wrenching the sword from my hand.
"What are you doing!" he hissed, holding his sword before him. "These men are ruthless killers! I must stop them, and you're getting in the way!"
I was shocked. Usually the only sounds I heard out of these murderers was laughter or taunts. This man though, had a light of madness in his eyes. "Who do you think you're protecting?" I asked him. The bone covered man blinked in genuine confusion. The recruit he had attacked scrambled to her feet and ran back towards the city.
"The goblin tribes.. They're being relentlessly hunted for sport! Every time they try to rebuild more men come and invade their homes!" I slowly pulled my sword away from him, but didn't sheath it. He stood quivering before me, not seeming to notice the oozing gash in his back.
"But the goblins are invaders... this is Mercian land, they kill the people here." I wasn't sure why I was trying to reason with him, but I couldn't help myself.
"No, the goblins only kill those who enter or come near their homes. Do they try to steal from the humans? No! So much of Mercia is empty, why don't they let the goblins have some?" No immediate answer came to my head, so he continued. "They're escaped slaves, you know. They ran from Ork oppression, weakening human enemies, but they're met with hate everywhere they go! Tell me, do they chase you after you leave their villages? Hunt humans down?"
"They've invaded Sandbrook so often the walls had to be rebuilt!"
"Did you ever actually see goblins invading?"
"I-" He was right... I hadn't. Not once did I ever see a goblin leave it's own village area. "You hunt your own kind, how are you any better?"
The madness returned, "I am their savior! They chose me and my fellow warriors to deliver them from injustice!"
"There's more of you?" I found myself hoping that the rest were just simple old fashioned marauders and that there wasn't more than one nutter under the same flag.
"Of course, the Goblin Preservation Society. We kill humans because the goblins can't do it themselves. Now leave this goblin home, or I will make you leave."
Confused, but feeling bold, I raised my scimitar, and the fight began. I held my own for a while, primarily using my blade to hack bits and pieces off the goblin-sympathizer, but every now and then he'd speed off to duck behind a tree, and cast a few spells on himself. Then he'd charge back entirely refreshed, or fire his bow at me from his hiding spot.
I didn't know any of these healing spells and soon our fight became one of attrition, and without magic, I was losing badly.
The battle though, had attracted some interest. The local goblin tribes had slunk down from their huts and were now firing arrows into the fray, aiming for both of us.
I was in a bad way, armor scorched from my enemy's spells, dozens of cuts around my arms and thighs, and a few fresh arrows sticking out of my calf and hip. My opponent was ever fresh. I downed my last potion and started to look for a way to escape, maybe lure the madman back to the guard towers. But, it soon became unnecessary. Some of the new recruits had heard the fighting, and recognizing the man who had killed and robbed them just moments ago, gathered together and rushed to join the battle as one. As unskilled as they were, sheer numbers began to wear my enemy down, and with fear in his eyes, he fled the field, only to be only to be further shot by his own goblins.
I caught up to him and with a few quick swings and a powerful stab I brought him to the ground. I left him there bleeding out, and soon the recruits found him and pushed past one another to be the first to finish him off. They gave a cheer and set about looting the fresh body as quickly as they could. One man ran back to town swinging a the spiked two handed sword, another walked away wearing some of the bone armor. I went back to Sandbrook, my mood slightly uplifted, but still not much improved.
