day, the orcs begrudgingly grateful for the begrudgingly generous goblins and their food rations. While orcs and goblins can out march any human alive, they suffer from hunger like all creatures. Once appetites were sated the group set watches and slept. So this routine was repeated for another day, the goblins and Okada foraging and hunting as the group pressed on. At the end of the third day of travel, just as the sun was setting on the horizon, they reached the Meeting Stones.
“All this talk of orcs is well and good, drive them out I say, slay them all. Though if you asked me, I’d say send those elven rangers with their fancy bows into the foothills of my country at the head of a rich caravan. The goblin clans will show them a thing or two about spear and snare.” --- Salis Kahn, caravan master
A great many myths and legends surrounded the place of the Meeting Stones, most were lost in the haze of time and forgetfulness. Though there were some who remembered. Ca’tic’na was one who remembered. He was the goblin leader of the force that traveled with the orcs as well as the defacto authority over most other goblin clans on the north side of the Iithsulian border. While diminished in size, like all goblins, he was a formidable fighter and expert hunter. He was also one of the few loremasters left in this world, one of the few receptacles of knowledge about the old world that continued to slip into obscurity. Like Ghalik, he knew the true history of his race, and that knowledge would die with he and his warriors. So it was with the ancient races of goblin and troll, even the immortal orcs, life was short so there was little time or use for history.
While Ghalik and his people lived high in the mountains surrounded by villages and fiefdoms yet away from the continent spanning empires of men, Ca’tic’na and his people lived right on the border between empires and wild lands. He had witnessed the vast numbers of fighting forces march out of Iithsul. He knew that the religious leaders of men had called for a crusade against the remnants of the old world. A genocidal holy war designed to carve out more of the world for what they called the good people.
He told Ghalik of these things, the old wizard never ceasing to amaze Ca’tic’na with his command of the goblin tongue. He told the orc about the lightning raid on his clanhome, a savage massacre resulting in the death of all but he and the warriors, who arrived too late to make any difference. The goblin chief was about to tell Ghalik about the dwarves when one of his scouts chirped a warning, they had arrived.
The place of the Meeting Stones was impressive indeed. A circular clearing in the thick woods nearly one hundred and fifty yards in diameter. Tall, ornately carved stone pillars ringed the clearing, their tops curved inwards to give the illusion of claws coming out of the earth. Several campfires had been lit, shedding soft orange light into the coming night. Around these campfires sat an alarmingly large number of hulking, yellow skinned trolls. These creatures were taller than even the orcs, their gangly muscular arms nearly as long as their entire bodies. They were clothed in threadbare loincloths and boiled leather armor, at their sides or in their hands the majority of them carried wickedly spiked cudgels or maces. One particularly large troll, undoubtedly the leader, stood to reveal a massive greatsword strapped across his back.
Ca’tic’na chirped a greeting as he entered the circle, the trolls relaxed and went back to their eating and talking. The troll leader approached Ca’tic’na but suddenly stopped short with a threatening snarl when Ghalik and the orcs began stepping into the light. Immediately the trolls were on their feet and crowding behind their leader. The orcs reacted just as quickly, forming up to match the trolls as they bared their teeth and growled.
The goblins retreated in confusion, Ca’tic’na and his band joining the
“All this talk of orcs is well and good, drive them out I say, slay them all. Though if you asked me, I’d say send those elven rangers with their fancy bows into the foothills of my country at the head of a rich caravan. The goblin clans will show them a thing or two about spear and snare.” --- Salis Kahn, caravan master
A great many myths and legends surrounded the place of the Meeting Stones, most were lost in the haze of time and forgetfulness. Though there were some who remembered. Ca’tic’na was one who remembered. He was the goblin leader of the force that traveled with the orcs as well as the defacto authority over most other goblin clans on the north side of the Iithsulian border. While diminished in size, like all goblins, he was a formidable fighter and expert hunter. He was also one of the few loremasters left in this world, one of the few receptacles of knowledge about the old world that continued to slip into obscurity. Like Ghalik, he knew the true history of his race, and that knowledge would die with he and his warriors. So it was with the ancient races of goblin and troll, even the immortal orcs, life was short so there was little time or use for history.
While Ghalik and his people lived high in the mountains surrounded by villages and fiefdoms yet away from the continent spanning empires of men, Ca’tic’na and his people lived right on the border between empires and wild lands. He had witnessed the vast numbers of fighting forces march out of Iithsul. He knew that the religious leaders of men had called for a crusade against the remnants of the old world. A genocidal holy war designed to carve out more of the world for what they called the good people.
He told Ghalik of these things, the old wizard never ceasing to amaze Ca’tic’na with his command of the goblin tongue. He told the orc about the lightning raid on his clanhome, a savage massacre resulting in the death of all but he and the warriors, who arrived too late to make any difference. The goblin chief was about to tell Ghalik about the dwarves when one of his scouts chirped a warning, they had arrived.
The place of the Meeting Stones was impressive indeed. A circular clearing in the thick woods nearly one hundred and fifty yards in diameter. Tall, ornately carved stone pillars ringed the clearing, their tops curved inwards to give the illusion of claws coming out of the earth. Several campfires had been lit, shedding soft orange light into the coming night. Around these campfires sat an alarmingly large number of hulking, yellow skinned trolls. These creatures were taller than even the orcs, their gangly muscular arms nearly as long as their entire bodies. They were clothed in threadbare loincloths and boiled leather armor, at their sides or in their hands the majority of them carried wickedly spiked cudgels or maces. One particularly large troll, undoubtedly the leader, stood to reveal a massive greatsword strapped across his back.
Ca’tic’na chirped a greeting as he entered the circle, the trolls relaxed and went back to their eating and talking. The troll leader approached Ca’tic’na but suddenly stopped short with a threatening snarl when Ghalik and the orcs began stepping into the light. Immediately the trolls were on their feet and crowding behind their leader. The orcs reacted just as quickly, forming up to match the trolls as they bared their teeth and growled.
The goblins retreated in confusion, Ca’tic’na and his band joining the
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