The not-immortal Blacksmith

11th of Amsiel,

…Well bugger me. The Kittens have showed up…

-

With the soft thunder of paws, the horde of Kittens arrived at the conclave. The dire wolves snuffled and chuffed at the ground, each other, and the riders, as they were dismounted. The head of the unit bade a bee-line towards Maxwell. As he reached him, he saluted, "Sir! We are here to support movements."

Max cussed under his breath and eventually returned the salute. "Master Sergeant, I appreciate the help."

"Thank you, sir!" Sgt Velox replied. "Honestly, sir? I had been warned that you might refuse the assistance; I'm glad we don't have to hide our presence to escort you."

Max raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. "I'm not quite that bad anymore. And I really only have that reaction to officers."

"And that's why only I'm here, and not my Lt." Velox said.

"How did you… become aware of the situation out here?" Max asked, watching the Kittens slowly spread out around the perimeter. "And it looks like you have the lucky 13 squads? I thought Kittens didn't NEED luck?"

"The extra personnel were deemed more important than keeping with tradition." Velox smiled. "I believe the rule was based on something someone once said."

Max sighed and slumped. "Why does your lot take what I say and turn it into holy scripture?"

"SO that we can learn more of you, and predict what you will do." Velox replied, strait faced.

Max groaned.

-

14th of Amsiel,

The conclave, as it were, has concluded. We are moving again in the morning. I have given, what I told all the Goblins, is my Last performance. They were sad, but loved it.

16th of Amsiel,

A group of local conscripts have been encountered on the road, manning a barricade. Politics seems to have reared its ugly head again. Sigh. On the bright side, there is a plan.

-

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Max stood in front of the barricade, a rude thing made from green timber, and barely held together by twine and wooden pegs. The guard on the other side shook his rusted spear at Max and attempted to growl, "No greenskins past the gate! We don't want their kind dirtying our lands and making off with our women and cattle!"

Max glanced to the gate, then back to the man, "How about if they don't pass through your gate, but go around instead?"

"I didn't fall off the pumpkin cart yesterday." The man guffawed. "Not past. Not through. Not around. We don't want them here."

One of the Hobbs took that moment to approach the gate, "Hey Bob! How's the wife and kids?"

"Gerdak? What in the hells? I was told you were killed!" Bob the guard replied after a moment of shocked silence. "Um, Jessy will be thrilled to know you're still alive! The kids are fine, and wondering when you'll be taking them fishing again."

Max looked between the obviously old friends, then focused on Bob "Wait, who told you he was dead?"

"Sheriff Makenheart did. Said he saw the charred remnants of their camp!"

Gerdak nodded, "The sheriff? How is old Tom? Haven't seen him for a bit either."

"He's keeping on. You know how he is, especially after Betsy died."

"Yeah. I remember the funeral, and the BBQ after." Gerdak nodded. "She made the most delicious sandwiches."

A small tear in his eye, Bob replied, "Yup."

Max shook his head to clear it, "You know each other, but won't let us pass?"

Bob nodded, "There's a difference between friendship and a job. Our job," he waived to a dozen or so similarly armed folk behind him, "is to prevent greenskins from entering the territory."

"On who's orders?" Max and Gerdak asked at the same time.

"Duke Waldorf."

Max shook his head slightly, indicating he didn't know the man. On the other hand, Gerdak growled. "Worthless cow diddler. Should have known he'd try to move in on our crown granted land. All he wants is more pasture to graze his cattle on. To the hells with anyone else's rights. He's probably already putting up fences and such."

"Not quite yet." Bob said. "But he's hiring for it."

Max looked at the two, and had a spark of thought, "Why don't we all have a sit, and chat about this for a bit?"

Several hours later, the three men stood from a hastily assembled table, smiled and nodded to each other, then went their separate ways. The barricade was swiftly broken, and the caravan passed through.

-

17th of Amsiel,

Bob the Guard huffed as he trod up the steps of lord Waldorf's keep. He waived off the guard at the top, and barged into the great room. As expected, the lord was sitting on his fancy chair at the head of the room.

"My Lord!" Bob greeted as he approached. "I bring grave news. Our barricade was destroyed, and my men scattered by the Heretic and the greenskin hoard!"

18th of Amsiel,

Stupid is as stupid does.

-

Maxwell stood in front of a group of twelve knights on foot and almost 100 conscripts. At his back were two columns of Kittens and four collum of Hobs and Orcs. No one was smiling. The lead knight looked at the numbers in front of him, and swallowed hard, "I am here on behalf of Lord Waldorf, Duke of these lands." He gestured grandly at the land around them. "I have been tasked with providing you," he pointed at Max, "and your…companions, safe travel through my lords land."

Max half smiled at the knight, "So, Walnut plans to steal all the lands granted to the Goblins by the King?"

The knight began to splutter, "Wha? Why…why you…HOW DARE YOU!" He threw his gauntlet at Max, who stepped into it.

Max smiled a slow and menacing smile. "Good. Now we're getting somewhere."