The Ambush

As they approached another rise, the scout once more came back, reporting that he had spotted Ratkin, pointing over the hill. Grashok stealthily approached the crest and crouched low behind the boulder, his crimson eyes narrowing as he assessed the scene. Below lay the trail from the Human settlement of Ingunde through to the river crossing. The Ratkin convoy trudged along the track, the heavy cart squeaking under its burden. Eight warriors accompanied it: six marching in formation, two riding atop tusked Burrowbeasts that snapped their jaws irritably. The caged humans inside looked pale and defeated, their hands gripping the bars weakly. The chained figure trailing behind them, however, caught his breath. She was like nothing he had ever seen—dangerously beautiful, even in her captivity. Yet, Grashok pushed his awe aside, focusing instead on the tactical problem before him.

He slipped back down the hill where his goblins waited, their expressions grim but ready. Grashok’s mind raced, conjuring a plan with precision born of Hobgoblin instinct. The Ratkin held superior individual strength and better equipment, but Grashok’s advantage lay in numbers and surprise.

Grashok pointed to the goblins armed with spears. "You five, take the right flank and lie in wait among the trees. When the cart reaches the clearing, strike the riders and Burrowbeasts first. Bring them down quickly."

The spear-wielders nodded, slipping into the undergrowth like shadows.

Next, he turned to the goblins carrying slings. "You six, circle around to the left. Get to high ground above the path and wait for my signal. Your targets are the rear Ratkin. Keep them distracted and off balance."

Finally, he gestured to the remaining goblins and the Hedge-witch. "The rest of you stay with me. We'll hit the cart directly once the flankers engage. Hedge-witch, prepare something flashy to sow chaos."

The Hedge-witch smirked, already beginning to murmur incantations under her breath.

Grashok took a moment to steady himself, then gave the order to move. The goblins dispersed, silent and invisible in the forest, their movements guided by the discipline Grashok had instilled. He waited for the convoy to reach the clearing, every second stretching endlessly. When the Burrowbeasts’ heavy footsteps thudded into the clearing, he raised his hand and dropped it.

The forest erupted.

On the right, the spear-wielding goblins surged from the undergrowth. Their pointed weapons thrust with surprising precision, targeting the legs of the lead Burrowbeast. The massive creature bellowed, collapsing onto its side as a spear pierced its knee joint. The rider was thrown violently to the ground, where the goblins pounced, driving their spears into him before he could recover.

The second Burrowbeast rider reacted with a roar, swinging his blade, but his mount reared in panic, unseating him. Another spear struck the beast in its flank, sending it crashing into a tree. The goblins pressed the advantage, dispatching the disoriented rider with ruthless efficiency.

Simultaneously, the slingers launched their assault from the left. Rocks rained down from above, striking the rear Ratkin. One warrior staggered as a stone smashed into his temple, blood spraying. Another howled as a projectile struck his knee, causing him to stumble. The Ratkin turned, screeching in their high-pitched language as they raised shields against the relentless barrage. They failed to notice that the front of their formation was already in chaos.

Grashok and his group charged directly for the cart. The Hedge-witch let loose her spell, a dazzling burst of light that blinded the Ratkin closest to the cage. Disoriented, they flailed wildly as Grashok and his goblins descended upon them. His axe swung in a deadly arc, crushing the skull of one Ratkin with a sickening crunch.

The wolf cub darted under the cart, its fangs sinking into the ankle of another Ratkin. The warrior howled, only for Grashok to capitalise with a crushing blow to his ribs. The goblins around him hacked and stabbed at their foes, emboldened by the effectiveness of their ambush.

The remaining Ratkin attempted to rally, but they were outflanked. Spear-wielders closed in from one side, while slingers continued their deadly harassment from above. Grashok waded into the fray, his axe swinging with brutal precision. The last Ratkin lunged at him in desperation, but the Hobgoblin ducked under the clumsy strike and drove his weapon upward, shattering the creature’s jaw. With a final, satisfying crunch, the Ratkin crumpled to the ground.

The battlefield grew quiet, the only sounds the panting of goblins and the soft whimpering of the Burrowbeasts. Grashok straightened, blood splattered across his armour, and felt the familiar ding of a system notification.

Level Up!

Grashok is now Level 6!

Wolf Cub is now Level 3!

The Ratkin bodies faded away, leaving behind scattered loot bags and weapons. Grashok surveyed the battlefield with grim satisfaction. His goblins were already gathering the spoils, their faces alight with victory. He strode to the cage, where the humans looked up at him with a mixture of fear and hope.

But it was the chained figure who held his attention. Her silver eyes locked onto his, and a faint, dangerous smile played across her lips. Grashok knew their journey had just become far more complicated.