Squib Ep.31 - Walk Like A Goblin
(Start at the beginning here)
Squib ground out a ghastly noise from the back of his throat as he leaned in to closer inspect the rotting corpse. His nose wrinkled at the stench of it, the stick in his hand prodding to see if any information might be gleaned. Judging by its look he didn't hold much hope. It seemed a corpse long dead, probably an orc, intact with no puncture wounds excepting Herule’s, perhaps having lost its footing along the pathways and being sucked to the depths of a muddy, drowning demise. What remained of its flesh was soggy, bloated, and sloshing off, held largely intact by what remained of it’s spoiled leathers. The real question was why it had risen to begin with which, powerful though his stick might be, Squib had to acknowledge was at the limitations of his tool.
“The swamp walks.” Squib stood, throwing down his stick and scanning the limits of the rainy gloom. Herule continued to wash, paying the goblin no mind, while Bandana stood at a comfortable distance still distractedly investigating the corpse with her eyes. “We should move.” Squib commented quietly. Even as he said it, out in the gloom something shifted amidst the hazy treeline. Humanoid figures slowly drifting, ghastly apparitions moving at a silent solemn pace. Squib turned, scooped up a small rock, and brushed past Bandana with a smack on the back of her leg. “Come, the Rot spreads.” He tossed the rock over his shoulder, pelting Herule and grabbing his attention.
The trio moved with a swiftness, cutting a northwesterly path to stay ahead of the encroaching undead, shambling from the east. Ahead of the Walk, the swamp had come alive in a great crawl as a whole host of creatures had rounded on an instinct and was now migrating away from the Rot. Lizards, snakes, single minded crocodiles, birds of all kinds, frogs, even turtles moved in front of the groups path, creating an interesting and sometimes dangerous cross section of activity. On more than one occasion a misplaced foot was suddenly retracted, or a sudden tumble made necessary to avoid the launching of fang, or snapping of teeth, and that was only on land. The waters seemed most treacherous, now more alive than ever with unseen creatures who’d have no qualms acting on their most basic instincts which, in spite of the peril, was assuredly how they’d operate. It went on like this for an hour, then two, until the journey became laborious and unending in it’s demand. Something which was turning into agony for the injured Bandana.
“How far, my side is killing me?” Bandana asked through labored breath. She clutched at the offending wound, half buckled, her face crimped from pain. “Will we reach it by nightfall? I don’t know if I can do this all day.”
Squib slowed, breathing hard himself. Able bodied and fleet of foot though he was, he made two strides for every one of Bandanas, and when compared to Herule’s great bounds, there was no comparison in effort between him and the rest. Squib found easy grounds for his own complaints but given the woman’s injuries thought better of it. Sparing them all the trouble he instead looked toward a tall tree and diverted his path to make an ascent. “Wait here, keep watch, not take long.” He scrambled up, swinging off branches and tearing off strips of bark as he made for the uppermost reaches. He climbed through the canopy of leaves until nothing but the bobbing expanse of assorted foliage formed the world below with the stormy gray green clouds covering the sky.
Despite the weather, the distant north held the answer he was looking for. The northern most swamp may have been largely unknown to him but he knew the swamp ended where the mountainous ridge that hemmed it began. Though the peaks disappeared beyond the rainclouds, the mighty base rose dark and jagged beyond the treetops. From his estimates it might take a day or more to reach, which to Squib’s surprise meant they were much closer to their destination than he had realised. He dropped down, sliding from branch to branch, slipping on the wet wood, sending a lurching tingle through his chest from the souls of his feet. He landed on the soft earth with an acrobatic flare. Bandana leaned wearily against the trunk of the tree while Herule kept vigil over her with his spear clutched tight.
“This is no time to be ssearching for eggs.” Herule chastised, only half minding the goblin for the threat that lay beyond.
Squib growled but forwent an explanation for the sake of prudence. “We close now, but I think Grove is to east.”
“The dead walk to the east.” Herule stated obviously.
“We’ve barely stayed ahead of them.” Bandana added. “I’m in no condition to get into a fight.”
“The woman is likely to get killed in a confrontation.” Herule said in conspiratorial tones despite Bandana being able to understand.
“I can hear you, you know.” Bandana said directly to Herule. He stared back at her blankly.
“What did sshe ssay?”
Squib felt a growing sense of irritation creeping through the back of his skull, dissatisfied with being burdened with the weight of others, another cumbersome rock in the path of his obtaining his purple powder and getting with it to his goal. He squeezed at the bridge of his nose, gathering his wits. There was only one way forward and with any luck he wouldn't get killed in the process.
“We go east,” Squib announced, “We move like Goblin move,” He pointed at Herule, “You sneak like Goblin sneak,” He pointed at Bandana, “You keep mouth shut like Goblin can,” He reached back and drew up his hood, “We not get seen, and run away if we do, just like Goblin.” And with that, Squib crept forth around the tree trunk to skulk off east under the falling rain.
(Continue to Ep.32)
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