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Red Hand of Doom
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<blockquote data-quote="Mark" data-source="post: 2823236" data-attributes="member: 5"><p>The tale continues . . . </p><p></p><p>Uth-lar ran. It wasn’t the bravest thing he had ever done. He wasn’t happy about it but he knew he had to do it. Those travelers were not what his hobgoblin detachment typically found along the road at this end of the Vale over the last couple of weeks. Given the amount of magic being tossed around and the equipment the travelers were carrying, there was no way his patrol would survive. His only chance was to hook up with the squad two hills over. If he could just make it there alive, he could convince his counterpart from the other patrol to assist him, and perhaps they had already even brought the lumbering one on board. He ran some more.</p><p></p><p>“And what the hell happened to that Doom Hand Priest that was assigned to help my patrol?” thought Uth-lar. Contemptuously, while in stride, he spat, both to clear his throat as he ran and to express his disgust at being abandoned by the priest when the blood started to fly. “That little hob-throttler will get his due if I get out of this jam!”</p><p></p><p>Uth-lar risked a glance over his shoulder as he crested the first of two hills he would need to surmount before he could reach relative safety. No one following him yet but they’d be coming soon enough, he knew. Their type never let up until there was no more blood left to spill. Their type was ruthless, relentless, and they tended to be a bit stringy uncooked. He ran.</p><p></p><p>“Damn that Koth!” cursed Uth-lar aloud as he reached the valley between the hills. He’d already slaughtered the Doom Hand Priest in his mind a dozen ways and figured he’d spread his murderous thoughts further up the hierarchy. The Wyrmlord Koth was resting easy back at the ruins of the Keep while all of the hobgoblins did his grunt work. “They send along the Doom Hand Priests with some of the patrols to spy on us to weed out the slackers.” Uth-lar’s thoughts continued, “Being part of the vanguard might have some early rewards but it would probably have been safer to stay behind and come into the Vale with the-“</p><p></p><p>“Thork!” cried Uth-lar as he looked back while making his way up the near side of the second and higher of the two hills. There was that blasted warrior with his steed giving chase. It did appear, though, that he also had another of the humans riding behind him, sharing his horse. Maybe that would slow the mount enough to give Uth-lar the chance he needed. With a renewed incentive, he loped on just a little bit faster.</p><p></p><p>The copse of woods he meant to reach was at the top and halfway along this second hill. As he gained the summit, he knew it would be a close race. He risked one more look. He saw that his pursuers had come down the other hill and were nearly across the valley. Uth-lar’s breathing was more labored than ever before in his life. He tasted iron and realized his nose had begun to bleed from his exertions. It wouldn’t be enough just to get to the woods, he knew. He would have to make his way through them to the mound with the cave.</p><p></p><p>Now he could hear the hooves of that accursed warhorse loudly behind him. They must have made it to the top of this hill. Uth-lar crashed into the trees but kept his pace. Branches bit into his tough skin and slashed him across his face and forearms as he ran. He’d borne much worse growing up in the tribe under the lash of his elders. His mind was crazed. His endurance and his will were nearly at their limit. He managed to fight his way through one more thicket and he was there. As the astonished hobgoblin patrol looked on, Uth-lar fell among them, gesturing wildly in the direction he had come and gasping for air.</p><p></p><p>“Give him something to drink, you idiots, or I’ll slit your throats and let him quench his thirst with your blood!” spat a voice from somewhere nearby but, at the same time, from nowhere. It, too, seemed somewhat out of breath.</p><p></p><p>Several of the hobgoblin regulars milling about, here in front of a low mound and cave mouth, quickly produced wine and water skins for Uth-lar. He grabbed one and downed part of its contents. Another of the skins disappeared from the hands of its owner then disembodied, gulping sounds could be heard. Uth-lar slowly regained his composure. Still unable to speak, he looked back, fully expecting his pursuers to come bounding in among the unaware patrol but it was not to be. Uth-lar struggled to his feet. Staggering back in forth to try and gain an advantageous view through the trees, he could see that the horse and its riders had pulled up at the edge of the woods. Uth-lar gestured and tried again to explain the situation to the others but he doubled over with a cramp.</p><p></p><p>“Can’t you understand?” demanded the disembodied voice. “He’s been followed, you fools! Go and get your commander and tell him to come out from the cave! We may be attacked at any moment!”</p><p></p><p>The hobgoblin that first caught on to the danger dropped the water skin he was holding. Turning away from the others, he dashed toward the cave mouth. As he reached the entrance, he slowed and then stopped. This was that creature’s lair, after all. The one they were sent to convince to join the Red Hand. The one they said would be as powerful as a whole patrol, or even more. His own commander was inside and had given orders not to be disturbed. His commander was in the midst of some delicate negotiations. Was he to tell his commander that a hobgoblin that couldn’t speak and a voice from thin air had countermanded his orders? He turned back around and took another look at the one who had just arrived. Then he did something ill-advised for anyone of his station. He tried to think.</p><p></p><p>“Zarr? Is that you, you accursed priest?” asked Uth-lar of the emptiness when he once again could speak.</p><p></p><p>“Of course, it is I, you worthless cur!” returned the Doom Hand Cleric. “And don’t curse me, you moron! I did no less than you, in coming here to retrieve more help, and by doing so invisibly, at least <strong>I</strong> managed not to lead those others to us!”</p><p></p><p>Uth-lar, still not fully recovered, gasped for a bit more air. What the priest said was true enough and Uth-lar knew it. “If I had known you were doing so,” began Uth-lar defensively, “I might have done otherwise!”</p><p></p><p>“No time for that now,” Zarr countered quickly, knowing it was an argument they could both lose if something wasn’t done about the situation. He noticed the hobgoblin he had sent for the other commander hadn’t entered the cave yet. “Curse you, you brainless fool!”</p><p></p><p>Uth-lar had also realized the hesitation of the hobgoblin at the cave mouth and now Uth-lar jogged toward mound himself. To his own mind, when all the bugs were shaken out of the bearskin, it would fall better for Uth-lar if he was the one taking the initiative. The disadvantage Zarr had in being invisible was that no one could swear he had arrived first.</p><p></p><p>As Uth-lar reached the cave mouth, though, he stood face-to-face with the other patrol commander. Apparently the shouting and commotion had drawn him forth of his own accord. He was slightly taller than Uth-lar, much more muscular, and broader in the shoulders. Uth-lar hadn’t met him before but knew of him through messengers. Uth-lar had sent over some horses captured earlier that day to help sweeten the offer being made. He was called Urgnol. However impressed Uth-lar might have initially been by the size of this hobgoblin, though, it was nothing compared to what followed from out of the cave.</p><p></p><p>Ignoring the creature behind him, Urgnol stepped out among his command and barked, “Report!”</p><p></p><p>Will Urgnol taking charge, and the creature from the cave, spell Doom for the adventurers? More to come . . .</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mark, post: 2823236, member: 5"] The tale continues . . . Uth-lar ran. It wasn’t the bravest thing he had ever done. He wasn’t happy about it but he knew he had to do it. Those travelers were not what his hobgoblin detachment typically found along the road at this end of the Vale over the last couple of weeks. Given the amount of magic being tossed around and the equipment the travelers were carrying, there was no way his patrol would survive. His only chance was to hook up with the squad two hills over. If he could just make it there alive, he could convince his counterpart from the other patrol to assist him, and perhaps they had already even brought the lumbering one on board. He ran some more. “And what the hell happened to that Doom Hand Priest that was assigned to help my patrol?” thought Uth-lar. Contemptuously, while in stride, he spat, both to clear his throat as he ran and to express his disgust at being abandoned by the priest when the blood started to fly. “That little hob-throttler will get his due if I get out of this jam!” Uth-lar risked a glance over his shoulder as he crested the first of two hills he would need to surmount before he could reach relative safety. No one following him yet but they’d be coming soon enough, he knew. Their type never let up until there was no more blood left to spill. Their type was ruthless, relentless, and they tended to be a bit stringy uncooked. He ran. “Damn that Koth!” cursed Uth-lar aloud as he reached the valley between the hills. He’d already slaughtered the Doom Hand Priest in his mind a dozen ways and figured he’d spread his murderous thoughts further up the hierarchy. The Wyrmlord Koth was resting easy back at the ruins of the Keep while all of the hobgoblins did his grunt work. “They send along the Doom Hand Priests with some of the patrols to spy on us to weed out the slackers.” Uth-lar’s thoughts continued, “Being part of the vanguard might have some early rewards but it would probably have been safer to stay behind and come into the Vale with the-“ “Thork!” cried Uth-lar as he looked back while making his way up the near side of the second and higher of the two hills. There was that blasted warrior with his steed giving chase. It did appear, though, that he also had another of the humans riding behind him, sharing his horse. Maybe that would slow the mount enough to give Uth-lar the chance he needed. With a renewed incentive, he loped on just a little bit faster. The copse of woods he meant to reach was at the top and halfway along this second hill. As he gained the summit, he knew it would be a close race. He risked one more look. He saw that his pursuers had come down the other hill and were nearly across the valley. Uth-lar’s breathing was more labored than ever before in his life. He tasted iron and realized his nose had begun to bleed from his exertions. It wouldn’t be enough just to get to the woods, he knew. He would have to make his way through them to the mound with the cave. Now he could hear the hooves of that accursed warhorse loudly behind him. They must have made it to the top of this hill. Uth-lar crashed into the trees but kept his pace. Branches bit into his tough skin and slashed him across his face and forearms as he ran. He’d borne much worse growing up in the tribe under the lash of his elders. His mind was crazed. His endurance and his will were nearly at their limit. He managed to fight his way through one more thicket and he was there. As the astonished hobgoblin patrol looked on, Uth-lar fell among them, gesturing wildly in the direction he had come and gasping for air. “Give him something to drink, you idiots, or I’ll slit your throats and let him quench his thirst with your blood!” spat a voice from somewhere nearby but, at the same time, from nowhere. It, too, seemed somewhat out of breath. Several of the hobgoblin regulars milling about, here in front of a low mound and cave mouth, quickly produced wine and water skins for Uth-lar. He grabbed one and downed part of its contents. Another of the skins disappeared from the hands of its owner then disembodied, gulping sounds could be heard. Uth-lar slowly regained his composure. Still unable to speak, he looked back, fully expecting his pursuers to come bounding in among the unaware patrol but it was not to be. Uth-lar struggled to his feet. Staggering back in forth to try and gain an advantageous view through the trees, he could see that the horse and its riders had pulled up at the edge of the woods. Uth-lar gestured and tried again to explain the situation to the others but he doubled over with a cramp. “Can’t you understand?” demanded the disembodied voice. “He’s been followed, you fools! Go and get your commander and tell him to come out from the cave! We may be attacked at any moment!” The hobgoblin that first caught on to the danger dropped the water skin he was holding. Turning away from the others, he dashed toward the cave mouth. As he reached the entrance, he slowed and then stopped. This was that creature’s lair, after all. The one they were sent to convince to join the Red Hand. The one they said would be as powerful as a whole patrol, or even more. His own commander was inside and had given orders not to be disturbed. His commander was in the midst of some delicate negotiations. Was he to tell his commander that a hobgoblin that couldn’t speak and a voice from thin air had countermanded his orders? He turned back around and took another look at the one who had just arrived. Then he did something ill-advised for anyone of his station. He tried to think. “Zarr? Is that you, you accursed priest?” asked Uth-lar of the emptiness when he once again could speak. “Of course, it is I, you worthless cur!” returned the Doom Hand Cleric. “And don’t curse me, you moron! I did no less than you, in coming here to retrieve more help, and by doing so invisibly, at least [b]I[/b] managed not to lead those others to us!” Uth-lar, still not fully recovered, gasped for a bit more air. What the priest said was true enough and Uth-lar knew it. “If I had known you were doing so,” began Uth-lar defensively, “I might have done otherwise!” “No time for that now,” Zarr countered quickly, knowing it was an argument they could both lose if something wasn’t done about the situation. He noticed the hobgoblin he had sent for the other commander hadn’t entered the cave yet. “Curse you, you brainless fool!” Uth-lar had also realized the hesitation of the hobgoblin at the cave mouth and now Uth-lar jogged toward mound himself. To his own mind, when all the bugs were shaken out of the bearskin, it would fall better for Uth-lar if he was the one taking the initiative. The disadvantage Zarr had in being invisible was that no one could swear he had arrived first. As Uth-lar reached the cave mouth, though, he stood face-to-face with the other patrol commander. Apparently the shouting and commotion had drawn him forth of his own accord. He was slightly taller than Uth-lar, much more muscular, and broader in the shoulders. Uth-lar hadn’t met him before but knew of him through messengers. Uth-lar had sent over some horses captured earlier that day to help sweeten the offer being made. He was called Urgnol. However impressed Uth-lar might have initially been by the size of this hobgoblin, though, it was nothing compared to what followed from out of the cave. Ignoring the creature behind him, Urgnol stepped out among his command and barked, “Report!” Will Urgnol taking charge, and the creature from the cave, spell Doom for the adventurers? More to come . . . [/QUOTE]
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