Editor's Note: Hiatus

Hi everyone.

It's me, Another_Poet, admitting at long last (after months of thinking "maybe I'll do a post in a week or two...") that the Coerced Adventures are on indefinite hiatus. Yep, I've officially jumped the fence from fan who gets angry at web authors who stop producing to web author who begs fans not be be angry for not producing :)

I would like to finish the story arc of Roger, but at least for now I am way too busy and my main artistic interests are elsewhere. On the other hand, last year it was the long boring winter nights that got me writing RogerDS in the first place, so there's still hope.

Sound waffly? It is. I have no idea if or when I'll be continuing the story, only that I do hope to. Many thanks to those of you who have been regular readers, and apologies especially to those of you who won the contest and haven't yet seen your NPCs show up in the story.

Until then....

AP

Day 30 Continued: Exeunt

Bad day, bad day, bad day. These were my thoughts as I raced back toward the constable's place. Gunther was next to me and between us we held Junior. Junior sort of ran on his own, but we had him by the arm bones (creepy) and whisked him along. Grens, about ten paces behind us, claimed to have him back under control but we weren't taking any chances.

A frightening wail pierced the otherwise dull mining village. There was a lot of yammering when that woman fainted and all the townspeople realised what was going on. Apparently it was her husband. He was her husband - Junior used to be. Fulmond, they said. I wish I hadn't heard his name.

When she woke up again it got worse. She grabbed on to Junior with all the anger, relief, grief, and terror that one could expect of a destitute widow seeing her husband up and walking. I don't think Junior knows her. I dont think he remembers being alive at all - at least, he didn't show any kind of human emotion. He didn't react to his old house, not really, his bones just sort of fell into their old habit of sitting outside and shaving in the morning. That's what I keep telling myself.

Whatever the reason, the reunion got us even deeper into the midden heap we'd been wallowing in since arriving at Tine Gorge. Of course Grens wanted the woman's hands off of his servant, the woman wanted Grens' magic off of her husband, and the townspeople just wanted to see some blood so they could feel like they accomplished something.

Hence the running.

Not everyone from the hostel followed us, though some were hard behind us. I think the rest were gathering together a lynch mob. I cursed with each heavy breath as I ran to our little base of operations.

The hobgoblins were all gathered in front of the contables' house. It looked like they had assembled on purpose - some less fully dressed than normal and quite a few looking sleepy, slouchy or bored. But I suspect the sudden outburst of screaming from across town had sent them the clear message that they needed to be ready. They even had their dire wolves (still hobbled) in their midst, which seemed to make some of them uneasy.

"Get those bones in the house!" I yelled to Gunther as I let go of my side of Junior. He didn't even break his pace. I set about cutting the ropes on the dire wolves' legs, paying no mind the the risks of being so close to their teeth. My gaze swung back and forth over the beast men. "Gods damn you all! Doesn't any of you speak Common?"

A hand slowly went up. The beast it belonged to didn't stand out in my memory; he wasn't one I had paid any attention to before. But he looked resolute and spoke with confident, if heavily accented Common. "I do."

"Get everyone inside now. Now! Go, go, go!" He started yelling orders. One of the veteran hobgoblins seemed to talk back to him and reached for a weapon; I suppose he wasn't used to taking orders from anyone but the chief. I was faster, though, and the DarkeSworde was at his throat before he could make good on his threats. The other veterans began to shuffle inside obediently, and after a moment I let the rebellious one go inside too.

The villagers who had chased after us stood at a slight distance from the crowd of hobgoblins, fearful but still angry. I could see more humans appearing from buildings along the main street and knew it wouldn't be long before we had the whole town crying for blood. I flashed the DarkeSworde at a couple of beast men who were bickering about the wolves. They decided teeth were safer then swords and began to lead, coax and shove the dire wolves through the open door of the constable's house. I was the last one through the door and slammed it behind me.

"Is Tallow here?" I asked.

The little guy seemed to have no problem getting through the crowd of beasts. He reached the door and nodded.

"You want to go talk to them?"

"We're gonna have to give up somebody."

"Just stall."

He nodded and opened the door enough to slip out. He was right though, they'd either want the law man's blood or all of ours. I forced the thought back while I got hobgoblins lined up at the front windows with weapons. Junior was sent to the back by the constable while I conferred with the others.

By this time the constable seemed delirious. "See that? One day without me and the place falls apart!"

"Shut up!" I barked at him. "You got a back door?"

"It look like I do?"

I darted to the cell and shoved my sword between the bars. The half-beast barely backed up in time. "Do you have a back door? A secret one? Anything?"

A little more sober, he shook his head. "No."

I looked around the room in desparation. There was an axe, but no way they'd miss the sound of us breaking out the back. We needed...

"A saw. You got a saw?" Gunther was ahead of me, apparently.

The constable pointed one out, hung from a peg near the ceiling. While I got it down I heard our new translator shouting to the hobgoblins. One by one they started to bang their weapons together - swords on shields, spears on the wood floor, even fists beating proudly against chests. And they started up some kind of war-chant I'd never heard before.

I nodded thanks to the bright beast-man as I went to work on the rear wall. Outside I imagine there was a lot of shouting by the townspeople and a lot of lofty speech from Tallow. Meanwhile, I had plenty of plaster to smash off before I could hope to start sawing through the planks of the outer wall. It was still a little country house, though, built by committee with whatever materials could be found close by. I made good progress.

Tallow stumbled back in the door under a hail of thrown stones and garbage. He bolted the door behind him and shouted over the beast men.

"They want the law man."

"Ha!" the constable barked, a look of pride on his face.

I grimaced and stepped away from the wall. "No, Tallow, that would be wrong. He must stand before a full court."

My fellows PC's stared at me, each with their own unique mixture of confusion, amusement, and outrage. I found that my demon wouldn't let me say anything else, so I just shook my head slightly and mouthed the words "not me".

They relaxed a little. "Alright," said Gunther, moving to unlock the gaol. "Tell 'em we'll send him out. Stall some more, will ya?"

Tallow grimaced. "I'll try."

So I went back to sawing furiously, the constable went back to gloating, and Tallow went back out into the rain of trash. Once I got a good start in the first plank it only took a minute to saw a long vertical line through the rest. We had one half of the outline of a doorway.

The front door, meanwhile, opened yet again. A very battered Tallow dove in. "Give 'em their man!" he moaned as he slunk to the floor. The translator hobgoblin quickly shoved the door shut so the villagers couldn't see what we were planning.

Out went the prisoner, and the shouting from outside momentarily drowned out the beast song. I stared at the would-be doorway in dismay. Not half done and we had nothing left to bargain with. I really didn't want to fight these villagers.

Gunther tapped me on the shoulder. "May I?" he asked.

I stepped aside with a slight bow as if offering him my dance partner. Setting his jaw, he bullrushed the sawed planks and, in one great crack, broke through to the outside. He stumbled along the uneven ground behind the house and quickly looked around to see if anyone had thought to watch the back. I followed him out. It was clear.

So out we went. One by one, first humans, then skeleton, then wolves, then beast men left behind our erstwhile refuge. I don't know if anyone in town heard the hobgoblin warsong peter out, or if anyone looked and saw less and less figures in the front windows. But all we heard as we left were the horrified shouts of a man who thought he'd been rescued, but found himself sentenced. And the gleeful cheers of the villagers at his expense.

For our part, we were out one prisoner, one chief, and quite a few horses. I don't think any of us cared. We crept along behind the row of houses and moved as fast as we could toward the open road.

Editor's Note: The Coerced Adventures will continue to be updated, but I can no longer commit to an every-Thursday schedule. Expect a bit more randomness throughout the summer, but one entry every 1-2 weeks. I'll announce updates in my signature at the GiantITP.com forums, or of course you can just check here.

Another_Poet Editor, The Coerced Adventures

Service to resume shortly...

Hi everyone. Sorry that the Coerced Adventures have not been updating. A new chapter should be ready by Thursday, July 24. In the meantime feel free to reply to this post with general conversation or speculation about what's going to happen next - what will Junior's fate be? The Constable? The Chief? And why does Count Yank de Frank want these hobgoblins so badly anyway?

Okay, so maybe random plot questions are no substitute for a real chapter, but they do lead to unsupported arguments about completely hypothetical ideas, and that's what the internet is all about!

:)

another_poet

Day 30, Early Morning: Everyone Deserves a Break

Last night as the hobgoblins celebrated Tallow went and hobbled their worgs. They really don't plan very far ahead; as soon as they had their chance at booze and rest they lost all thought of putting anyone on watch.

It was tempting to do the same, with a warm house and straw beds at our disposal, but we spent most of the night keeping our eyes on the town. I get the sense the townspeople don't know what to expect, but they definitely see us as the bad guys. Fair enough. It does make our stay here a lot more difficult, so we took a few precautions.

One of us stayed on watch the whole night, in addition to Junior. Junior kept vigil in the constable's house. That's where Grens was, and that's where we needed a watchful eye socket in case the law man had a secret way out. He didn't try anything, although it took half the night before he stopped bellyaching.

So that meant either me, the sneak or Gunther had to be on patrol at all times. Other than the fire and occasional catnaps it was a lot of standing around. We made sure the hobgoblins stayed all in one place. We even tried to secure them a stable to sleep in, but they were determined to stay out of doors. Some of them roamed the village but whenever we spotted them we (rather forcibly) herded them back to their bonfire.

The big worry in town is that the goblins will start looting or raping. So far all the townspeople have either holed themselves up in houses with weapons or taken off with carts and horses in the night. I don't know the town well but if I had to guess I'd say about a third of the people were gone by sunrise today. The rest are mostly concentrated in just a few buildings, staying together for safety. The hostel is one of the buildings and the people there are probably the most militant. Lucky for us, the townspeople know that if they start a fight we can let the hobgoblins loose on them. And the hobgoblins know (I think) that we can let the humans loose on them, if they misbehave. So we've had a sort of general standoff but no violence yet.

If we stay long enough to affect the food supply, I imagine that'll change. So we want to bug out as soon as we can and get these hobgoblins moving toward Frankton. The problem is, the chief's disappeared.

Suppose if we'd been smart we would've locked him up too, but hauling one dung-covered menace into the gaol was trouble enough. Besides, he'd played his part just like he said he would and we had no reason to think he was going to run off. I figured he'd be happy to be back in charge of his war band and our problem would be forcing him to come with us, not finding him. I didn't want to go wandering around town on my own with the looks the villagers were giving us, so once it was light out we decided we'd go look for him together.

Most of the hobgoblins were asleep, but it didn't mean they were off our backs. Some of them had found the hobbled worgs and were drunkenly trying to unfetter them when Tallow and I came upon them. With a lot of yelling and a tight grip on my sword hilt we got them to help push, lead, and drag the dogs into an empty stable. We barred them in there (the dogs, not the beast men) and then told the hobgoblins to get lost. I'm getting good at talking with the beasts - I just point where I want them to go, and when they start throwing a fit I find the nearest one with fresh wounds, point at his stitches and make an exploding gesture with my hands. I think they only half-believe my threat, but they shut up.

Anyway, once the worgs were squared away we got Grens and Tallow to agree to watch the gaol. Well, Grens kind of makes up his own mind on things. He was staying there whether we wanted him or not. He offered to send Junior with us, though. Sweet of him.

"Can that thing, uh, will it behave without you around?" Gunther asked nervously.

The wizard shrugged. "Can you behave without me around?"

Gunther snorted. "I ain't no skeleton."

"For now. But under the meat..." Grens trailed off as he looked back and forth between us. "He'll guard you. Just don't expect him to understand any other orders."

I sighed and headed out. Gunther and the corpse followed. Better three than two, I figured.

Well that was a mistake. We started combing the streets looking for the chief. Weren't too surprised when he didn't respond to our hollers. Tine Gorge isn't exactly a big place, not as far as towns go, but when we started going house to house I knew we were in for a long day. Every building we went into had a dozen hiding places and two or three outbuildings. Most were empty, but the fourth or fifth one was near the hostel and we found three humans inside.

"You can't come in here!" warned the mother of the family. She brandished a shortsword at us in a way that made me wonder if her family was part of the local militia. She had two boys with her, presumably her sons. One of them held a nasty looking cudgel and the other was too young to fight.

I motioned for Gunther to hang back. Junior was behind him and I was the only one looking through the door. "Seen any beast men in here, Ma'am?"

"What do you think this is, a gods-forsook taxendermer's? If a gobble walks in here you'll see it roastin' on the fire! Now get your ass on out!"

I turned back to Gunther as I closed the door. He grinned at me. "We could take her."

I stared at him. He looked dead serious. Took me a minute, and then I burst out laughing. So did Gunther.

We started toward the next house when a voice called out from across the street.

"When you takin' your beast men and leavin'?" It was a young man - old enough to be married, maybe, but just barely. He stood in the door of the hostel, leaning casually against the frame. "We don't need nothing else from that fuckin' count of yours."

Not the first time I regretted putting up that banner, and probably won't be the last. I sighed. "They're not our beast men. We're taking them in to that fucking count."

"Looks to me like you're lootin' everything you can get."

Gunther started to talk. "Hey kid, how about you shut your spell-catcher before I--"

"Whoa, whoa." I cut him off and turned to the youth. "Listen, we're just trying to find the beast chief and then we'll be leaving. We won't take anything that isn't ours."

"Yeah, like the constable's house? You look real fuckin' cozy in there, Mister." As he spoke we saw more faces appear behind him. Two men with tools came out of a second door farther down the hostel.

"That constable's a rat fucking bastard of a half-beast sellout traitor."

That sure riled up the other townspeople. One of the men, a thick guy holding a flat-bottomed shovel, piped up before I could say any more. "Constable's a good man! You shut your gob, for'gner!"

I did my best to keep my cool and counted how many there were. Two against six. Not great odds if they decided to come on all at once. Figuring I'd take a gamble, I laughed my loudest, most sarcastic laugh at the big guy.

"You think that, huh? He really had you fooled, didn't he?"

"Shut it!"

"You're telling me none of you knew? Shit, I thought he had you all in on it."

"Don't listen to 'em," a woman admonished her fellow townspeople.

Gunther knew what I was doing. "Guess he didn't want to cut you in. Fucking rat bastard."

"What're you gettin' at?" asked Shovel Man.

I shrugged. "Constable had a pretty rich little slave trade going on up north. Old abandoned mine, metal pens, hobgoblin traders... the works."

Shovel's friend Billhook shook his head and stepped toward us. "That's lies! They's liars!"

"Yeah!"

I scoffed, still trying to act incredulous. "You have to be kidding me. If we're lying, where did the walking bones come from, huh? You all saw we didn't have 'em when we came through here before. And the constable didn't want anybody to know there were beast men around."

I heard a lot of muttering. There were other ways we could've got a skeleton, but my words had a ring of truth to them. Probably because they were true.

"You got that from a slave pen?" one of them asked.

I nodded. No need to tell them it wasn't walking around when we found it. "Lucky for us our wizard can control it. Now we're taking it in as proof."

The woman objected. "That doesn't prove nothin'!"

"Aww, come on. Take a look here..." I turned to point at Junior.

He wasn't there.

After a baffled double take I looked back the way we came. Junior hadn't gone far. He was still in front of the house we'd been shooed out of. Must have been two hundred feet back.

"What's it doing?" asked Shovel.

Junior stood over a small wooden bench outside the door of the house. On the bench was a rusted metal pail and not much else. He wasn't doing anything to it, just standing there with his head tilted up as if gazing at the sky.

Nervous, I glanced up. Nothing but normal grey clouds. I started to walk toward Junior, and instinctively pulled the DarkeSworde out of its sheath. "Hey!" I shouted. The skeleton didn't turn its head or acknowledge me at all. But as I got close it dropped its spear on the ground, turned, and sat on the bench.

"Awwww shit," Gunther groaned.

"Gunther, go and get the wizard."

"But--"

"Now!" That was an order. Gunther took off running.

As I stared at him, and with the townsfolk murmuring to each other behind me, Junior reached his left hand into the pail. His hand, or finger bones or whatever, started jittering. Drops of whatever sloshed out of the bucket and he swirled his hand around in the water.

Just then, the door flew open and the woman with the shortsword burst out. She kept herself half hidden behind the door, shook her sword at me and screamed. "I told you to get lost, pig fucker! Fuck a pig if you're bored! Leave me the fuck alone!" I could hear Tallow's voice in my head as if he was right next to me: Fuck a pig? I thought you wanted me to leave! I suppressed a smile and pointed to the skeleton.

"My friend here seems to like your bench."

She peered farther around the wooden door and her eyes bulged at the sight of the visitor. "Get yer..." her mouth stayed open but the words stopped. Junior just kept swishing the water around.

Something occurred to me.

"Ma'am..." She didn't respond so I waved my hand at her and repeated myself. "Ma'am?" She looked over at me. "I don't suppose..." Shit, how do I ask this? Ah fuck it. "Have you lost anyone lately? I mean... has anyone in the house died in the last couple of years? But no body?"

She looked back at Junior.

She fainted.

We have a Winner!

Hurrah! Now that the Midsummer celebration is over I just took a look at the replies to my last post and I see that Brian_Link has successfully guessed the answer to the RogerDS contest! (The question was: What are the races, classes and levels of the four PCs in RogerDS?)

Brian offered us his reasoning:

I don't like Roger just getting combat style(the reason why I gave him fighter levels), but I also don't like Gren having access to Animate Dead only with a scroll.

But if Gren were high enough level to have Animate Dead Roger most likely would have Ranger Spells(He probably has a Wisdom 12 or above), and an animal companion. Unless they gained more than one level (conveniently placed at a time Roger considers to go 2 weapon fighting) I'm going to have to go...

Roger Human Ranger/2 Gunther Human Fighter/2 Tallow Halfling Rogue/2 Gren Human Cleric/2

Mind you that has Gren almost maxxing his CLW with the Hob's but it will have to do, even if 675GP is a lot out of a level 2's 900GP.

Well-reasoned indeed! And yes, Grens did use quite a few spell slots to nurse those hobgoblins, but remember this obscure rule: when a character is in negative hit points and dying, even 1 hp of healing - such as a Cure Minor Wounds (zero level spell) is enough to stabilise them. From there they can heal slowly by resting or wait for more cure spells. Grens likes to keep Cure Minor Wounds prepared because it's enough to save a dying ally without taking up valuable 1st level spell slots.

I should also point out that Brian's answer wouldn't have been possible without the almost-right answer from Filurmanden, who was the first to get everyone's classes correct. Therefore, in addition to Brian appearing as an NPC in a future episode, Filurmanden will also get to make a brief appearance!

Brian_Link and Filurmanden, please send me an email at DarkeSworde at gmail dot com and let me know if you have any ideas on how you'd like to appear. Traveling merchant? Hobgoblin? Working for the Count? Whatever you want! Allow about a week for me to get back to you - I'll need to put together a little outline of what's coming up so we can fit you in properly, and I have to decide how much to reveal to you in the process...

Congratulations! And thanks to everyone for reading often enough to be able to guess! :)

Happy Holidays!

Hi everyone!

I'm sorry to say I won't be able to put up a new chapter today. I'm far too busy getting ready for Midsummer (summer solstice), so it's kind of like the polytheist version of taking a week off for Christmas. I would have let you guys know sooner, but I was still optimistic about having writing time up until the very last minute today.

I'm hoping to put up at least a small entry sometime over the next week, so that my regular readers won't be too disappointed. At the vary latest I'll have something up next Thursday as usual. In the meantime I strongly encourage you to make a guess at the contest - it's been a few weeks now and it seems like people have stopped guessing. Too hard for you, or just out enjoying the summer weather? Either way I look forward to hearing more guesses!

Hope you all enjoy a beautiful June day and I'll have more for you soon!

-Another_Poet

Day 29: A Grand Entrance

So where was I? Right, I told the chief we're PC's.

Within a minute we humans were backing up, weapons out, skeleton beside us and hobgoblins surrounding us. Tallow and I both yelled at the chief, trying to get him to listen to reason. It didn't seem likely.

"Why did you not tell me this sooner, human?" he asked from atop his worg.

"Never came up!" yelled Tallow.

"And it seems like it wasn't the best thing to bring up," I added.

"You told him, Rog?" It was Gunther.

"Maybe we can talk about that later."

"Listen up," said the chief. "We agreed to travel with humans, not PC's. Our agreement is terminated."

"You don't want to do that," warned Tallow.

"Shut up," snapped the Chief.

"I'm telling you, you turn on us now and the healer will reopen all your wounds!"

"He can't do that," said the chief. But Grens broke in:

"I can do it."

The chief looked over at one of his relatives and said something in their language. The relative answered, but was interrupted by a third beast. Soon, opinions were being called out by all the veterans.

The chief raised his hand to quiet them. No sooner did their voices die out than another voice picked up. Grens began singing in an sharp, warbling voice. At first I thought he was just a terrible singer; soon I realised it was intentional. Whatever he was singing, apparently some kind of hymn, it was meant to sound ominous and haunting. Came off more like plain old creepy. But we all got the point: he was invoking his deities against these hobgoblins.

Before the hobgoblins could decide what to do about the chanting, Grens pointed his open hand at one of his former patients and clenched his fist shut. The beast spun and ran at top speed in the opposite direction. He screamed a curdling, painful scream as he disappeared into the scrubby trees. From where I was I couldn't see if his wounds really were opening up, but the hobgoblins seemed convinced. I could see spears shaking with fear in the hands of other beast men who had been wounded and healed by Grens.

"Enough!" yelled the chief. Grens simply flexed his hand as if carefully choosing his next victim.

"Maybe you should back off," I called. "Give us some breathing room and our friend here will consider leaving your men standing."

With a look of pure rage on his face, the chief ordered his troops to back off. For his own part he held his ground until everyone else had moved before urging his big wolf to edge away. Even then he didn't go far.

"What do you care if we're PCs?" I called.

The chief snorted. "How could I not care? More of my ancestors have been killed by your kind than by all the other humans put together. We have lost whole kingdoms to your filthy kind!"

I chewed my lip. I suppose it was true. I couldn't think of any heroic story that didn't involve slaughtering all manner of monsters, and PC's are supposed to be the most bloodthirsty of all heroes. Of course, they're also supposed to be the richest, and so far that hadn't come to pass either.

"Chief," Tallow said, in his most innocent voice, "I'm not going to lie to you. If we slaughtered all of you today, we could have our pick of women in any town in the County. Everyone would buy us drinks. But it wouldn't last long. You--"

The chief wasn't listening. He barked orders at his war band, who started to plod away from us. The team carrying the rex started the difficult process of turning the carcass around to head off the way we came. They were leaving.

Tallow clapped his hands together twice, loudly. "Hey! Chief! You hear me? I said it'd be good but it wouldn't last long. Because the count wants you! And if we kill you for no reason, he'll kill us! Do you hear me? We have every reason in the world to work with you!"

The chief wheeled his dog away from us. "I have no reason to work with you." He started away from us.

Tallow didn't give up. "There's only one way the count would let us live if we killed you. That's if we had a good reason - like if you refused to come see him."

Seeing that the chief wasn't coming back, Tallow chose to add one more point to his argument. He spat on the ground, drew an arrow, and loosed it. We were still pretty close range and I think he chose his shot carefully. It plunged deep and bloody into the flank of the worg.

The giant wolf's yip of pain and the chief's indignant yell were simultaneous, and overwhelming. Before we knew it he had turned the wounded-but-ready animal to bear on us and charged the distance between us.

His warriors were much farther away, and although they ran to help we had a brief moment to deal with the chief alone. I took a glancing wound from the chief's sword and Gunther lost a heavy strip of flesh to he wolf's teeth. We fought, though. I turned the flats of my blades against the chief's body as he rode into us. The new sword did nothing but the Darkesworde knocked the wind out of him. Junior didn't pull any punches, driving his spear into the chief's side while the flat of Gunther's two-hander landed across his face like a slap from an ogre. With a yell the chief was unhorsed, or undogged, and landed on his back on the trail between us. I don't know if beast men are taught how to take a fall properly, but the chief didn't. He must have been pretty dazed as we surrounded him and pressed the points of our weapons against his face.

The hobgoblins stopped their charge, and with a slurred command from the chief even his wounded worg hung back. Soon we had complete silence except for our heavy breathing, the chief's whimpering, and the birds in the distance.

"Just kill me," croaked the chief.

"Tie him up, Tallow," said Gunther.

"Just kill me now. That's what you do, right? Add to your name and glory? Do you need me alive for something? Maybe you have to display me."

"Yeah, maybe I'll gag him too," muttered Tallow as he lowered his bow and reached for the rope on the back of the burro.

"You can just show my corpse. Put me up on a pole and let people throw eggs at me. Or whatever you humans eat." He tried to spit at us, but it fell short and Gunther pushed his sword a little tighter against the beast's throat.

"You'll live," I said. "And you would've lived if you had just trusted us to start with, too."

The chief writhed and kicked as we got the ropes on him, and held him up for his tribe to see.

"Keep marching," Tallow ordered. The chief finally remained silent. I'm still unclear how many of his troops speak Common, but they got the message: follow us or we kill the chief. Surprisingly, they cared enough to follow.

At last we had a hostage again, and this time one who mattered. With him on the burro and two of us pointing weapons at him at any given minute, it looked pretty unlikely he would escape or be rescued. Some other beast took his worg and we continued on our way. Sometimes if we told him to pass on orders to the war band he refused; other times he did so obediently. No telling why.

As it got on toward evening, we approached Tine Gorge. The bridge over the gorge was abandoned - no one watching it, and no one traveling the road but us. At the edge we had a little meeting with the chief. He relayed some of our orders to his people, and then we got him gagged up so he couldn't cause any trouble for us in town. And then - this time with the count's standard flying high from Junior's spear - we made for town. The hobgoblins split into two groups, each waiting out of sight behind houses to either side of the road.

I don't know who saw us first, exactly. I know a skinny man went running like a madman the second he saw us. He'd been in the middle of sawing wood and just left his tools there on the ground. I know windows were shut, doors bolted, and children ushered inside on our approach. I know some of the tougher-looking adults of the town started to line up outside of the main buildings. We drew up opposite them, roped hobgoblin on the ass in front of us, and we waited.

I had a hard time looking at the people across from us. I didn't really recognise any of them, even though I'm sure some of them were in the pub when we were seized by the constable. I saw a lot of anger, sure, but there was also a lot of fear. We weren't just suspicious outsiders now. We were there with weapons drawn and a live hobgoblin for our trouble. They might have heard there were more on the road outside of town, if word traveled that quick and if anyone believed it. Either way, the townspeople were scared.

I was scared too, but not of them. I couldn't see the hobgoblins behind me, and I knew they weren't there voluntarily. They would gladly butcher us for taking their chief, and they would just as gladly destroy the whole town in the process. I didn't know if we could stop that. Not that we had a lot of options.

It didn't take long to get the reaction we wanted. The townspeople parted one by one and made a space for the constable to come through. He was just as ugly and mean looking as before, with a crossbow in his hands and a dirk at his side. As soon as I saw him I realised for the first time that the chief was right: this man was no human, he was maybe part-human and part-something-else. Didn't look like a goblin or hobgoblin, but something bad. The thought of it made me sick.

The constable looked back and forth over us, not a drop of fear in him. He stopped some hundred feet from us, lowered his crossbow a little, regarded our prisoner in front of us and spoke.

"Thought I told you boys to go and stay gone."

I nodded. "You also told us there were no hobgoblins."

The man shrugged. "There weren't."

"Well we got one now. You know him?"

The chief stayed perfectly quiet through this. He was gagged, and he didn't even try to speak or yell. He just sat there calmly and stared at the constable.

"Know him? I don't know beast men."

"Your mom did," Tallow muttered.

The man's jaw tightened.

"Well if you don't know him," I said, "Then I guess you might as well put him to death. Half-bottom."

His eyes snapped at me even though his head stayed still. I grinned.

"Send him over."

I lightly smacked the burro's flank and it lurched forward, carrying the awkward rider at a slow pace toward the constable.

As it approached, he took the reins and glared at us. "Now get on out."

"One more thing, Half-Bottom."

He stared at me.

"There's a place up north from here - a mine, or more of a prison, really. You ever heard of that place?"

"I said get out."

I smiled at him and gave just the slightest of bows. "Well, you heard the man," I told my companions. "Let's head on out."

I got a pair of grunts and a "Sure thing, Captain." We started walking, slowly and on guard, toward the nearest side street. This took us closer to the constable, but not much closer. It also moved us off to the side of the road.

The constable kept his eyes on us at first, and when he was sure we were just walking away he looked at the hobgoblin on the burro.

"Filthy beast," he growled, and shoved the chief off. The beast landed hard in the dirt, and the half-beast stood over him, grinding one foot into his chest. "Might as well get this over with," he said.

With that he drew his dirk. Before he could deliver the death-blow an arrow scudded in out of nowhere. It missed the chief and the half-bottom by a good yard, sticking into the ground at an angle. The constable's head snapped up.

They say beast men can see in the dark, and it looked like the law man had inherited that trait with his good looks. The twilight made it hard for us to see more than a block, but the look on the constable's face was clear. He could see the hobgoblins pouring out from behind houses at the edge of town.

He looked back and forth between us, the chief, and the war band. He lifted his crossbow almost absentmindedly and loosed a bolt at the warband, then gave a shout to the townspeople. In the second he had his eye off of us Junior went charging toward him.

At the same time Grens muttered a word and waived his had dismissively.

Suddenly, the burro's calm demeanour vanished. Sensing the approaching skeleton he went into his usual fit of bucking, kicking, pissing and projectile shitting. And I mean projectile. The constable was covered head to toe and blind. The chief got some too.

At that point it didn't take long. We closed on the constable just as the villagers saw the rush of monsters charging down the road. Humans ran every which way, none of them (wisely) toward the invaders. We pummeled all but the last living breath out of the constable, and cut the chief free.

The chief stuck to the plan we'd made on the bridge earlier, and stood up to show he was alive. With his loud war voice he reined in his warband. He had to, because we would've killed him if they started pillaging.

Soon it was the sodden constable who was tied up, and Tallow and the chief kept the hobgoblins in line while Gunther and I secured the slaver in his own gaol.

Relaxing in the constable's chair, I had some of his brandy and watched the beast men through the window. They were drunk on as much free liquor as the townspeople could be forced to surrender, which is to say all of it.

That was when I first started writing yesterday's entry. I didn't get far because my mind is all over the place. I feel good, because I fucking hate the constable and no one got killed. But I just keep thinking about everything that could've gone wrong - all the worries a military man is supposed to run through in his mind before making an attack. I keep picturing the town in ruins, smoldering, with the women raped and everyone else dead. It makes me shudder.

It's true we didn't have a lot of time to plan, but we just aren't running a straightforward operation here. We're bickering amongst ourselves, putting our trust in treacherous monsters, and relying on guile and trickery to carry the day. So far we've been lucky, but that kind of luck can't hold out forever.

Maybe good luck is the blessing that comes with being a PC, the reward for putting up with the demons. I don't think it's worth it, and I don't trust it.

. . .

Looking back at that thought now that I've taken a break to help put out a small fire, I guess I'll take the luck. Ugh.