The raiders attacked the farmstead after midnight. It was a dark, moonless night and the goblins melted into the shadows as they rushed the walls about the farmstead.

  Most of the outlying farms located along the edges of the valley are protected by  some form of fortification. The area is still wild and untamed. Humanoid raiders, wild beasts and worse make life on the edge risky indeed.  What brings the settlers, despite the risks, is the fact that the land rents are cheap and the Counts and Barons will allow any Freeman to settle and farm these districts, so desperate are they to turn these empty lands into productive farms. For safety sake several families will band together and pool their resources and strength to make a mini fortress to guard against attack.  Such was this farmstead situated along the Lendalfoot river.  There were four families living behind the walls, eighteen souls in all. Eleven adults and seven children.

  The dogs sounded the alarm as the first of the goblins scrambled up the ten foot high walls. They were dropping into the inner courtyard as lights began to appear in the windows of the blockhouse, a two story log and stone affair with the only windows located on the second floor.

  The first of the attackers had to contend with the dogs. Their were six of these, large, fierce hunting dogs that the family kept for just this purpose. Two of the raiders were dragged down screaming beneath thee fangs of the hounds. The next wave of goblins, warned by their comrades noisy fates, had their weapons ready and fended the guardians off while other goblins began plying bows from atop the wall. As the yelping dogs died beneath blade and bow the defenders began shooting the archers from the open windows. Crossbows snapped and hummed as the exposed archers were either slain or forced to drop back down on the outside of the wall.

  Though the defenders had kept the archers from killing all the dogs, two were still struggling with their goblin oponnents there were still seven goblins on the ground inside the courtyard.  Two were occupied with the remaining dogs, though the contest was now onesided and would soon be over, two more took cover behind a farm cart and strung their own bows, the remaining three sprinted to the main gates.

  Crossbows cut down two before they reached the gates, the third lived long enough to lift the bar.  His efforts were rewarded with no less than three bolts in the back. He fell dying, only to be trampled by his comrades who were crowded outside awaiting the opening. The gates were thrust open and eight goblins, shields up and ready, rushed into the courtyard and charged towards the blockhouse door. Five crossbows snapped in response but with no appreciable result, all the raiders made it safely across the danger zone.

  Once against the wall they were protected from the crossbows but they were exposed to other dangers. A window, situated directly above the door was quietly opened. The room beyond was left darkened so as not to provide a target for the goblin archers. An arm was stealthily extended, it held an iron kettle filled with the still hot remains of that nights meal. Warned by some instinct one goblin raised his shield, two of his companions though looked up at some slight noise and recieved a faceful of hot soup.

  As they shrieked both goblin archers let fly at the window. From the darkness came a scream and the kettle hit the ground in front of the door with a clang. The window's wooden shutters banged shut. From inside was heard the wail of a woman's lamentation. The raiders grinned at each other, clearly a defender had gone to join the Sky God, cursed be his name!

  Three of the goblins crouching by the door carried axes and they set to work with them at once. The blades bounced off the thick oak planks leaving only a slight indentation to mark the event.  After half a dozen ineffectual blows the senior goblin snarled an order. The axe wielders desisted and another goblin raised a fist sized horn to his lips and blew a single blast. The sound was curiously muted, perhaps by the size and design of the horn, what ever the reason the call was heard by those it was intended for. A minute passed  and then the dimly seen gateway was suddenly filled by a hulking shape. The form advanced across the courtyard and the defenders despaired at what they saw. It was a huge mountain ogre, fully nine feet in height as strong as a team of oxen. The monster carried a shield of wood and leather that was bigger than most men, it was bigger than the door the creature was coming to destroy.

  The defenders realized instantly that if the ogre reached the door the end was at hand. Accordingly they threw caution to the wind and began shooting from every window that allowed them to bring a crossbow to bear. Bolt after bolt `thunked' home into the huge shield. The poor light combined with the sheer size of the shield frustrated their efforts. At least one bolt found flesh as the monster shattered the night's stillness with a horrific roar of pain.

  The goblin archers were not idle either. Their bows twanged again and again as they shot at the darkened windows in an effort to silence the crossbows. Though much less powerful than the crossbows, the goblins short bows allowed a faster reload time, and since they lacked a clear target anyway, they wasted no time aiming. Their efforts were rewarded by at least two cries of pain before the defenders ceased their futile attempts to stop the ogre's advance.

  The creature was too close now for effective shooting. Those inside turned their attention to defending the door itself. The window above the door was reopened, the goblins crouching below had been expecting that and they called a warning. The archers directed their attentions to the dark shape of the window, and the ogre raised its shield to protect himself from whatever might be forth coming.

  From inside came a hefty splash as a large bucket of lamp oil was thrown out upon the ogre's upraised shield. Much of the light oil splashed down onto the goblins that attempted to shelter under the collossal shield. A burning torch appeared in the window, briefly illumunating a large man holding a medium round shield to protect himself from the goblin's arrows. Reaching out with the torch, the ogre and the shield were so large that the shield was but an arms length from the second floor window, the man ignited the oil. The fire spread out almost instantly and now flaming oil was dripping onto the goblins below. This in turn ignited the oil already on them and in a trice the shield and three goblins were illuminating the otherwise dark night. With a laugh of satisfaction the man hurled the torch at another goblin and stepped back into the darkened room as two arrows caroomed off his shield.

  Shrieking in agony the flaming goblins tried to flee the burning horror that spread across their greasy hair and oiled leather armor. Hither and yon they ran about the courtyard, their cries of pain joined by howls of rage from their companions. One goblin, blinded by the this nightmare of flame, ran headlong into a pile of straw and stable dung, there he died in a flaming hell. A second goblin quickly collapsed into a terrible twitching pile that quickly fell silent and still. The third, possessing more sense than his companions, rolled about in the dirt in an effort to smother the flames. Though successful in this, he did not live long as a crossbow bolt in the head ended his pain.

  Snarling with rage the ogre hurled the burning shield aside and raising both hands over his head he struck the door with his clenched fists. Inside their was a thunderous crash, and though the tough oak shuddered, the door held.  Again he raised his arms and struck. The door again held, but several cracks appeared in the crossbars that kept it secure. Those waiting inside called a warning to those upstairs. In the room above the doorway, the man who had wielded the torch again stepped forward. In addition to his shield he now bore a long spear of heavy ash. With a cry he thrust down at the ogres face, the seven inch blade tore a long gash across the monster's face, ending just short of it's left eye.

  The creature screamed in pain, and with a movement of surprising speed for a thing so large, grabbed the spear and pulled. Taken by surprise the man lost his balance and with a cry fell out the window and into the ogre's outstretched arms. Hampered by the shield he was unable to draw a weapon as the monster's enormous hands closed about him. Raising its attacker over its head, the ogre howled in triumph before dashing the man to the flinty ground of the courtyard. His scream of pain was drowned out by the howls of glee from the goblins and the cries of despair from the defenders. His agony of broken bones and shattered spine was ended abrubtly as the ogre's huge clawed foot smashed down onto his head.

  The ogre's victory howl turned abrubtly to one of pain as a crossbow snapped overhead and a ten inch bolt buried its full length into the monster's side. In a rage the creature hurled it's full three quarter of a ton weight against the door. The oak, though strong, was not indestructable. The cross bars virtually exploded, spraying the waiting defenders with splinters. The door itself was split in two and the left half bowled over a tall man with armed with a heavy axe who had been waiting to attack whatever first came through the door.

  There where four men waiting inside. They were armed with axes, spears and two crossbows. Each one had a shield and they wore shirts of thick boiled leather studded in key places with bits of metal. The two with crossbows let fly as the door came down. In that moment of confusion the bolts went wide and the room was suddenly filled by the enraged ogre.

  One of the men holding a spear stepped in close and stabbed two handed, burying the entire blade and several inches of shaft, deep into monster's guts. Blood, black in the flickering light of the torch that lit the room, fountained out. The wound was mortal but it was too late in coming.  A fist the size of a keg smashed into the spearman, lifting him from his feet and slamming his already lifeless body against a wall. Grabbing the spear with one hand the ogre yanked it out, bringing forth another gush of blood as well as an earsplitting shriek. With tottering steps it backed out of the door and across the courtyard until it collided with the farm wagon and collapsed into a sobbing heap.

  As the ogre cleared the doorway the five goblins waiting without charged in. The fight was brief but fierce. Two of the goblins were wounded, neither seriously, and what remained of the two men was little more than a pile of raw meat. Sensing victory the four goblins remaining in the courtyard dashed across to the open door. Their advance was uncontested and they quickly joined their comrades inside.

  The lower floor of the blockhouse was of stone and consisted of one large chamber. It served as storeroom, larder and hen house for the farm. Access to the second floor was by a ladder up to a trap door. As the goblins spread out, disturbing the sleeping chickens, there came a scrape and a bump as the ladder was drawn up through the trap and the door was slammed down. Standing beneath it the raiders could hear the sound of heavy objects being dragged across the floor and stacked on the door.

  Calling down the curses of his dark and bloody gods, the goblin chief set his troops to work, building up a pile of grain sacks and crates of food and furniture until they could stand on it and reach the trapdoor. Three of the strongest goblins crouched beneath the door and heaved with all their might. It gave slightly then fell back into place.

Cursing furiously the chief paced about the chamber, swiping at chickens in his rage. Several of the other goblins set about rummaging through the contents of the room, chattering happily at the large store of food and liquor. A curse from the chief quickly silenced this foolishness. All of the goblins stood in respectful silence as their leader paced and swore. Pausing to lean against the pillar that supported the two massive beams that spanned the space between the stone walls and provided the support for the floor joists of the level above, the goblin stared at the wood for a long moment before he fully comprehended what he was looking at.

  Within a few minutes two goblins were at work with axes, hacking at the base of the pillar. The remaining goblins were sorting through the contents of the cellar, carrying the most valuable loot  quietly outside and placing it along the wall of the blockhouse. Though the fires outside had all but died out, there was still too much light to cross the courtyard safely.

  Twenty minutes later the goblins lined up against the wall outside on either side of the doorway. Only the chief remained inside. He had judged that the post was all but ready to collapse and it was up to him, as the bravest and smartest, to give it the last few whacks. He paused to listen. There was weeping and moaning coming from the humans upstairs. He decided to give them a chance to surrender. Clearing his throat he called out in atrociously accented Velitar, "Humans! Humans, listen! Come down. Give up. No more killing. You hear? No more killing! Your men are dead. Our Jhugga* is dead. Many of my warriors are dead. Enough. Come down. Come down now. Or I, Hrugga, destroy your ruht.* You hear?"

The weeping stopped and there was silence. Hrugga waited a few more moments. Raising the axe he yelled a battle cry and with all his might struck at the splintered post. There was a loud crack, followed by a long creak that grew into a splintering crash. Hrugga was already out the door, the other goblins were cheering as their chief dashed to safety.

  In truth Hrugga's desperate dash was unnecessary. Instead of crashing down in a heap of rubble and dust, the beams and joists of the second floor sank slowly. The post, leaning over further and further, let the floor down almost gently. It was only during the last foot or so that it fell sharply.

The center was caved in to ground level while the outer edges of the floor were still raised up three or four feet.

  The secondfloor of the blockhouse was the main living quarters of the famlies occupying the farmstead. It was divided up into a number of rooms by wattle and daub walls that provided privacy but where light in weight. This fact alone saved the remaining defenders from being crushed to death in the collapse. There where some injuries but nothing severe, everyone came through pretty much unharmed. This however, was not the blessing it appeared.

  The goblins swarmed over the wreckage and dragged the stunned survivors out of the house. Several goblins occupied themselves with beating out a small fire that threatened to consume the remains of the blockhouse. The rest herded the captives to one side of the courtyard

  Of the eighteen occupants there where twelve still alive. These consisted of one adolescent boy nursing an arrow wound in his shoulder, an adolescent girl, three grown women, three young boys and four young girls. All of the children were under the age of twelve.

  Hrugga was pleased. The slaves, along with the loot they would garner from the wreckage, as well as the farm's livestock would make this a very profitable raid. It would more than make up for the fact that he had lost over half his band in the attack. The death of the Jhugga was a shame, but then again it would not be neccesarry to split the booty with him. The ogres were expensive mercenaries, well worth it though. Hrugga doubted that the blockhouse would have been taken with out the monsters aid. He sent one of the goblins to fetch the chains and manacles that had been left in the brush a few hundred yards from the holding. He studied the sky, it would be dawn in three or four hours. They must hurry, there was much to do and he wanted them far from here by first light.

  One of the human females screamed. Hrugga turned quickly to see two of his followers pulling her to the ground and begin shredding away her clothing. With a foul curse he waded into the goblins, striking heavily with the flat of his sword.

"Stupid Troll Shit! There's no time for that now! We have to be on our way back into the mountains before the cursed horse soldiers catch us! You, search the ruht. You, start gathering up the animals. There are some caves about twenty tal* from here, I want to be well on our way to it by the time the sun rises. Once we're safely hidden you can play with them. But not the whelps. They're worth much more untouched. Now get to work!"

  Hrugga knew from long experience that the children and adolescents would bring a premium price on the Thanos auction block, and the slavers out of Khun Dahgra would pay accordingly. The older females were less valuable. Hrugga's tribe would probably keep them as slaves rather than trade them for weapons and armor from Khun Dahgra. He would allow his warriors to amuse themselves with them while they waited for darkness in the caves.

  From the wreckage of the blockhouse the goblins gathered tools, weapons, armor, shields, food and liquor, various household goods, sleeping furs, and a small wooden chest with about six hundred silver coins and bits. This last brought howls of glee from the goblins. From the stables they gathered four ox, five cows, a calf, six pigs, two draft horses and two riding horses. Goblins don't go in much for riding, but they do recognize the value of horses as beasts of burden, as well as meat on the hoof and a source of leather.

  On Hrugga's orders the pigs were slaughtered and hacked into rough quarters. A number of the chickens were caught and killed, as was the calf. The meat, along with the assorted loot, was bundled up into newly emptied grain sacks. These were loaded haphazardly onto the horses. Heavy bundles were given to all the adult captives and the two adolescents. Since they were going to spend the rest of their lives as slaves to the goblins they might as well start now.

  Satisfied that the adult humans were properly manacled to the slave coffle, each one had their right foot locked to the chain, and the children were all collared and linked together, Hrugga called his band together and issued his marching orders. It is the custom for goblins on a raid to travel in silence without speaking. Instructions, if needed were issued before they started. As the column got under way Hrugga had to cuff one of his younger warriors half senseless. The fool had started to set fire to the blockhouse. A fire would burn for hours, well past dawn. The smoke would be seen for miles around and soldiers would soon come to investigate. Mounted troops, presented with a fresh trail, would quickly catch the loot laden goblins. The farm was somewhat isolated and if the goblins were lucky the raid may not be discovered until tomorrow.

  It was still lacking an hour or more till dawn when the raiders and their captives left the farmstead. Hrugga was confident that they'd reach the caves safely. For him this raid would bring much glory. Goblin warriors would clamor to follow a successful chief, and Hrugga was a successful chief. For the captives this moment was the beginning of a long and unending nightmare of pain, suffering and horror. It would only end with death or a longed for rescue. Escape from a goblin tribe was a remote chance at best, and escape from Khun Dahgra was virtually impossible.





  * Jhugga: Goblin name for the Mountain Ogres.

  * ruht: Goblin for den or house.

  * tal: Goblin unit of measurement. 1 tal = 1/2 mile.