Cyrus The Great

True to their word I wasn’t able to get going until sundown. The cavalry briefly came back into town, horses bloody. They gave themselves a victory lap around town and sped off to the capital to the praise of their masters and I’m sure a woman or two.

I was fit to vomit from the whole affair, sure that they’d ride by and cut my head off for good measure, but I was spared that fate. It seemed they didn't expect anything more sinister was behind the goblin attack. They had no worry that a goblin breeder was lose in their town, or that a prophet of Bellowyn was behind the attack to begin with. Great news!

I cautiously left town, and am now navigating my way back to camp. What’s left of camp. It’s easy to find, the cavalry isn’t a bunch of rangers. They left my camp burning and the few trees that had gone up with it beckoned me home.

I wouldn’t look too suspicious if anyone found me here. They’d assume I was a scavenger looking for scraps, the fact that I’m an alchemist would only make this more convincing.

The camp had not been a pretty place to begin with, it was over run with goblins after all. Now it was down right hideous, with the stomped and sliced bodies of my minions strew about like litter from a hurricane. I only counted five horsemen, but they’d taken out three times their number in goblins.

Impressive.

I shift through the ashes for anything. There’s a few gold coins buried around that I greedily pocket. These chest is nowhere to be seen. They took it with them I’m sure, mission accomplished on their part.

What should I do?

Probably just leave right?

I’m basically where I started when I crawled out if my hole. Only a lot more bitter and world weary. Crossroads was proving to be exactly as punishing as Glinda had planned.

I have enough supplies to last a month. I can pick a direction head that way, by the time the wheels on my wagon break I’ll be far enough from the capital to breath.

It’s a tempting thought but it’s not going to happen. My pride is too great. If this is where Bellowyn wants me, then here I shall die. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s religion. Some things you have to take on faith.

First step is going to be finding another place to take shelter. This spot is comprised, not to mention on fire.

There’s movement in the bushes. Fuck. Looters. I look to my horse, I’m gonna have to make a run for it.

Then a green head comes poking out if the bushes, and I deflate. “One of you survived?” I ask the goblin as he removes himself from the brambles. I didn’t recognize the little twerp, but the snotlings all looked more or less the same to me. If one was able to escape and hide from the cavalry he must very clever, or very cowardly.

“Yes boss.” The creature nodded nervously. “When I heard the horses coming I ran.” Cowardly then. He reaches into his pockets and pulled out a jangly sack of coins. “I couldn’t carry the whole chest but I saved some of your coin for you.” and just like that he's clever again.

"Then it wasn't a complete loss." I snatch the sack from him, and count up the coins. "What happened to the chest?"

"They took it with them, after they slayed the tribe." The goblin's not taking this whole thing very well. He looks downright distraught. As unlikely as it is for a human to feel sad at a goblin's passing, it's even stranger for a goblin to feel bad about it. "They slayed them all like animals boss!"

"Not all of them." I say, slowly. "What's your name?"

"Cyrus." The goblin says nervously.

I think I know what's up with this guy. Goblins are a pretty unstable species. They have a lot of mutations in their genes thanks to their Bellowyn ancestry. About one in every hundred goblins is born with some substantial mutation. Some explode, some regenerate, and some have personality defects, usually psychosis, but sometimes they can be smarter or in Cyrus' case more nervous than other goblins. Off all the goblins to survive I'm stuck with the runt.

"Well Cyrus looks like you just got promoted." I nod to the wagon. "Climb on in, we're going to find a new place to make camp."

"Wow thanks boss!" He brightens up, and climbs onto the wagon. He plops his dumb goblins ass right next to my seat on the wagon, and kicks his feet over the edge as he waits for me to join him.

"That's gotta be the strangest goblins I've ever seen."

For those not in the know, during the original run of this story I had people suggest what sort of weird goblin we found left alive after the attack, and one of the suggestions was a heretic of Bellowyn. A prudish goblin, who was smart, and well mannered, and thus Cyrus was born.