Tuck hurried through the streets of Eastham, weaving between the taller humans and their carts and horses. The morning was cooler than normal for this time of year, and the dew on the flagstones made the streets a little slick in spots. But Tuck was pretty agile, and his big feet in his leather boots gripped the ground as he dodged this way and that toward the outer walls of the town. Tuck had three belts that crisscrossed his leather brown tunic, and they held his many pouches and satchels tight as he ran. The sun was just starting to peak through the clouds, and the morning haze would be completely driven off by mid morning. Despite the promise of a glorious day, the townsfolk all went about their business in hushed tones. There was a definite heaviness in the air. ‘Who can blame them for being nervous? There’s an entire army sitting out there waiting to get in. It’s probably the first time any of them have seen a soldier.’ Tuck thought to himself. ‘The problem with humies is that they don’t have any perspective.’
Tuck, on the other hand, had perspective in spades. He had spent most of his life around conflict of one sort or another. When he was younger his clan was constantly fighting neighboring clans for resources, riches, or at the whim of the clan chief. The fighting was always tough, but once it was over things would settle down into the same old patterns. Maybe you had a little more, maybe you had a little less, and maybe you saluted a different chief, but the days would roll along. For the commoner war was tragic. If you were lucky, it was merely inconvenient. But it hardly ever made anything better. Tuck had fought over and over again when he was younger, and he couldn’t remember a time when he had gotten anything out of it.
That all changed the day Tuck had met Mack. In all honesty, it was more like ‘When Tuck’s clan attacked Mack when he was traveling through their lands.’ Tuck and his Rabble had laid an ambush but Mack had skillfully turned the tables on his smaller foes, capturing Tuck in the process, When things had turned sour, all of Tuck’s companions got yellow bellied and ran, leaving Tuck by himself. Mack had seen how brave Tuck was, and instead of crushing him like a bug, Mack had offered Tuck a chance to join him, and make some real money. Tuck had blessed his luck every day since then. There weren’t a lot of Goblins in the world who could say they’d been given a second chance. A goblin’s life was normally violent, brutish and short. Since that day Tuck’s life had only been violent. There were definite perks to traveling with an Ogre.
Rounding a final corner, Tuck approached the outer wall. Up ahead he spied Mack, towering over the humies and the draft horses. It had taken time, but the horses were finally getting used to standing next to the Ogre. The townsfolk had been just as skittish at first. But Mack had been patient, surprisingly eloquent, and forthright with the people of Eastham, and he had earned their trust and admiration. And Tuck wasn’t like other Goblins. He just didn’t have the same vindictive and petty streak that his brethren had.
They made quite the contrast. Tuck was a typical goblin; about three feet tall, deep green skin, beady black eyes that belied a keen intelligence, and long lanky limbs with oversized hands, feet and nose. He had a leather cap with goggles, and satchels full of tools and bric-a-brac hanging off of his three belts. Mack, on the other hand, was over ten feet tall, thickly muscled, with tanned skin, a partially bald head with a ring of rough brown hair and shaggy eyebrows. All of his features were big, rough, and solid. They made an odd pair, but they had also gained a reputation as people who got things done. Mack specialize in siege warfare, and he was known as a canny thinker who could find the gap in any defenses, or make a town a tough nut to crack. Where Mack was strategic, Tuck was obsessive about the details, and he served as Mack’s runner, fixer, and part time tinker. And Mack never broke a deal, which was rare among the mercenaries and characters of the Ardovikian Plain.
Tuck ran the final stretch, deftly ducking underneath a cart that happened to rumble into his path. When he got to Mack he quickly climbed up the Ogre’s boots to his leather overcoat, finally alighting on Mack’s shoulder. The palisade was tall enough where even Mack had to stand on a pair of crates to see over the top. From this high vantage point Tuck could see the open lands around the town. He didn’t like what he saw. “That’s a lot of soldiers, Mack.”
“Not as many as we thought there would be.” rumbled Mack. He turned his giant head to look at Tuck, and gazed at him with glacial blue eyes. “What did the town council have to say?”
Tuck kept looking out on the plain. “They said that they’re good with the plan.” Mack nodded, acknowledging the news. It wouldn’t be good to have the council have cold feet now. Of course it was easier to be brave when the danger was far away.
Mack followed Tuck’s gaze out over the wall. The danger was definitely close. The Bannermen had arrived last evening, and when the sun came up this morning the town had been encircled. Small regiments of men were stationed at intervals all around the town, just out of bow shot range. They were all busy digging trenches and raising earthen redoubts. Everything was neat, orderly and efficient. The Bannermen’s command tent could barely be seen through the mist opposite the town’s main gate, at the other end of the open space, abutting the tree line. Tuck knew the Bannermen’s reputation. He’d heard the stories of the company’s ability to break in anywhere. This was going to be tough. But Mack was clever. He would use that reputation against them.
“They’ll set up their trenches over the next two days while they parley,” stated Mack. “Then they’ll do one of two things. If they have cannon they’ll bring them up and blow open a spot on the wall. And if they have cannon, I’ll handle it.” Mack patted a giant rifle that was leaning against the wall. From the tip of the muzzle to the end of the stock, the rifle came up to the ogre’s shoulder. The rifle had been specially made for Mack by dwarven artisans years ago, and it could shoot accurately at an immense distance. Hitting the cannon, or the crew, would be easy. “But I don’t think the Baron will go that route. He wants to claim the town as his own after all. So he’ll probably try to force the gates instead. They’ll attack a portion of the outer wall as a diversion, and then attack the gates after our men are engaged.”
Tuck nodded along. They had discussed this all before. Mack was just calming his nerves with all the talking. Tuck interjected, “Before you ask, the carts are loaded, and the wall traps are set at the intervals we spoke about. They’ll be in for a surprise.”
Mack smiled. “I figured.” His deep bass voice got even lower, “You think the townsfolk will hold fast? These guys are really good.”
“Nope. They’ll cave at the first real setback.” Tuck then reconsidered. “I take that back. The council will want to throw in the towel to save their skins. But the townsfolk will hold on longer because their homes are at stake. If we can bloody the Bannermen up, and keep them out for a few days after the initial assault? That will give the town hope.”
Mack nodded, “That could be asking a lot. Most of these guys haven’t seen real fighting before. But keep going.”
Tuck thought for another minute. The sound of men shouting orders, the clanging of tools and the sounds of pack horses carried over the walls. “On top of the hearth and home stuff, the Baron Rokur has a reputation as a vicious brute. If we can play that up with the Townsfolk then they’ll think three times before surrendering.”
Mack smiled approvingly. “Good idea. Start spreading some rumors about Rokur and what he intends to do with the town once he takes it over. And keep it believable. Eating babies might be too much, but taking the city’s wealth and making some of the townsfolk slaves might not be over the top.”
Tuck gave a green thumbs up at the suggestion. Sometimes you had to lie to the client to help them out. ‘They hired us for our expertise after all.’
