“Goblins, on spiders…”

Brandt saw the mist and heard Priska’s shrill scream before he saw the goblins and their mounts. He slid his heater shield off his back and onto his left arm with a wince of pain, bringing it up just in time for a small arrow to thunk into it. He glanced down and saw the rough fletching in the short arrow, and painted rings of dark green and red along its length. He hefted his hammer in his good hand, the weight already feeling tired and sluggish. As the swift greenskins came upon them, Brandt stepped forward to meet them, bashing one off its mount with his shield and stabbing with the top-spike of his hammer into the thorax of the spider it rode. The creature made a squirting sound, curling its legs underneath it stiffly. He couldn’t see it’s rider, either knocked into the bushes or fled. Another scream bounced through the woods and Brandt looked for the source.

Priska was being menaced by a goblin wielding what it probably considered a sword. The weapon was made of scavenged steel bound to a bone handle and was so short that the creature couldn’t quite get to her as she kicked at the face of the spider it rode. Before he could move to aid her, Jurgen took a slight step to his right and bifurcated both the goblin and it’s mount in one backswing - a move that looked like a mere afterthought to the warrior. Priska stared at the gorey mess in horror, but Brandt lost sight of her as the battle moved around him. The goblins avoided the whirlwind of death that was Jurgen’s great blade, which meant they swarmed around the others.

Roderick seemed content to bash at them as they came and Brandt thought he heard the young priest muttering prayers - or curses - amidst the laboured ragged breathing of combat. Lord Waldo was, surprisingly, holding his own as well. He stabbed at goblins and hacked away spider limbs with a gilt-handled shortsword. The lordlings noble training kept him an even match with the goblins and he kept near his bodyguard who never allowed him to be overwhelmed. Maria stood between them, methodically cranking her crossbow and loosing bolts at a steady pace. The goblins seemed to catch on to this, however, and their own mounted archers began firing back at her, though their aim was especially poor due to the fact their spiders were only nominally under the control of the riders.

With a huff, Brandt rushed towards the archers, keeping his shield up to cover as much of his body as possible. A few more painted arrows thunked into the wood or bounced off, scratching what was left of the quartered Hochland green and red. He swung his hammer wide, smashing a goblin off its mount and into a tree, bringing it around in a wide arc, trying to smash another on the ground but only clipping a few legs from its mount, who skittered away. The archers did scatter however, and so Brandt considered it a small victory. The smiths apprentice began backing away back to the group, when movement from the corner of his eye caused him to turn. If it weren’t for his oft-repaired helmet, he might have been dead there as a mounted goblin slashed at the back of his head with a curve-bladed sword. Disoriented, Brandt swung wildly at the source of the attack, which was quite high for a goblin he realised. His hammer smacked heavily into a tree and he heard wood splinter. He caught sight of the goblin, its hairy legged mount clambering back up the tree. The greenskin wore a great crest of bird feathers, and had a necklace of finger bones hanging down over its paint-daubed chest.

Brand returned to the group and glanced at his hammer, which felt strange in his hand. His hit against the tree had splintered the handle, and he doubted the head of the weapon would stay on for more than a few more strikes, and that if he was lucky.

“Shit,” he cursed, and brought his shield up in defense. “I think I’ve seen their leader! He’s in the trees, and wearing a bunch of feathers! Maria, can you bring him down?”