1874-01-29: Goblins at the Granary
Goblins at the Granary
Summary: There are goblins. Goblins at the granary. Goblins took the grain!
Date: 1874-01-29
Related: None.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Wulfred  

Returning home was always the high point of any campaign or time spent away. There was something about the warm hearth, the good wife, the children (though grown-up now) and the grandchildren. Sat before said hearth, bare feet aimed towards the flames, a blanket spread across his lap and a mug of warm mulled wine in hand, Wulfred was content. Though as ever, the world conspired to ensure that such contentment could not last.

The door to his room was flung open with a crash and through it collapsed a bloodied soldier, followed by two household servants who were trying to steady the all too swift and dutiful soldier. The mug clattered to the floor, splashing its contents towards the hearth. The blanket tumbled to the cold stone floor and Wulfred dashed towards the man, Constance close behind.

The man had uttered four words.

"Goblins! At the granaries!"

And then the soldier slipped unconscious, not that Wulfred waited to see as he dashed towards the door, pausing only to slip his riding boots on with a degree of desperate hopping. Shouts echoed throughout the castle, and before long Wulfred and a small contingent of soldiers, veterans one and all were riding hell bent towards the granaries. Wulfred at the fore, the ground pounded beneath the hooves of his horse and those others riding alongside him. Half-dressed, buckles undone upon his breastplate, his old conical helm slightly askew, but riding as swift and bold as a knight half his age.

There was no order for lances, there was just a roar of annoyance from the old Wolf, and he and his men rode straight for the rampaging greenskins, having never seen such a creature before Wulfred could hardly believe it. Horrid little squat things. All teeth and claws and horrific armour of bone and scrap. The very sight made his skin crawl, but atop his war horse, Wulfred gave them little thought as the thundering charge crushed a good few beneath heavy flat hooves, another was punted by a swift kick from another horse beside him, sending the startled goblin flailing in a broken arc, before it crashed and crumpled into the dirt a few feet away.

To Wulfred's left, the furthest outrider let rip a horrified scream, a scream that soon turned to a gurgle as the man's horse was toppled mid stride, crushing a few more goblins beneath its bulk, but both the man and horse were dead before they hit the ground, cleaved and slashed and stabbed repeatedly.

Time had been on the goblins side however, for the granary doors were wide open, grain was spilled alongside a great deal of blood where some field workers and farmers had sought to take refuge in the buildings. A guard or two had fallen in a valiant defence, and Wulfred's charge though it broke the greenskin's attack, they had arrived too late to save the grain.

The charge, minus that one poor unfortunate broke free of the greenskins, wheeled about and thundered back towards the foul creatures once more. Several shots rang out from the charging horsemen, a few goblins fell. More began to run, skittering away all too swiftly. When all was said and done, only a few goblins had been slaughtered, the bulk had long since escaped with the grain, and what grain they hadn't taken was strewn across the ground.

Wulfred and his men dismounted, moving to tend to the wounded and the dead. The grain however, that would be expensive…

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