>>5807238Your party followed the goblins, for what else could you do? You all stayed on guard, though you were somewhat smug to discover one (1) goblin upon the hill with a crossbow. ‘Several’ indeed! She joined with the rest of you, though she fell in behind and kept her weapon ready to shoot you in the back.
“I ought to cast <Mage Armour>,” Pearce mumbled, glancing back.
You shook your head. Not yet. Your instincts told you that—for now, at least—these goblins could be trusted.
Your intuition was vindicated a second time as you fund yourself brought to something akin to the goblins’ temporary camp which you had raided before to free their captive, but… Well, larger. It had the look of something semi-permanent, as well: ratty rugs were splayed out between the lumpy ungulates which the goblins of the wastes seemed to use in lieu of horses or donkeys. Crates and satchels heavy with food, and practical supplies, and trade goods pinned it down at the corners, as served as makeshift seating for goblins to sit upon or lean against. Your eyes widened a little to see some truly old-looking goblins, old enough to make even the intoxicated fellow with you look young. So too did you see, running about on all fours and snarling like feral dogs, what could only be described as goblin PUPS, naked and green-skinned runts that tackled and wrestled one another for thrown scraps of food while their parents passed a smoking pipe and laughed at the display. Goblin family-life, then.
“You gonna’ be any trouble here?” Yok-Brot asked, narrowing his eyes.
You frowned, saying only: “We don’t want any trouble, no.”
He grunted, and shrugged, and gestured for you all to follow towards the sole actual TENT among this open-air lounge-space. As the goblins of the camp noticed you, their expressions shifted from relaxation to a motley mix of suspicion and irritation. Many a conversation fell silent, or its already-unpleasant goblinoid syllables turned harsher and more guttural. The children growled at you, though their intermittent giggling indicated that at least THEIR spite might be more for show.
“Zith-Zi!” shouted the sober elder male among your guides (or guards). “We’ve brought some here who want to trade! Get your fat ass out here!”
