Fallout:Blood and the Bull

With twenty recruits and five militia members, we began our journey northward. Heinrich and the hunters led the way, guiding us along trails they often used to navigate the forests. Marks on the trees—precise cuts in the bark—served as clear guides, even for the peasants who followed in single file, gripping the sharpened sticks they used as improvised weapons.

The forest was dense and cold, with snow gathering in its darker corners. The sunlight barely pierced through the barren branches, casting long shadows that swayed with the wind. The silence was broken only by the crunch of our footsteps on the frozen undergrowth and the occasional murmurs from the men.

Heinrich, a few steps ahead, suddenly stopped and raised his hand—a signal for everyone to halt.

"Goblin," he murmured, nodding toward a spot ahead.

I carefully stepped forward to see what he had spotted. About twenty meters away, a small, hunched figure moved between the trees. A goblin, barely visible among the underbrush, was inspecting what appeared to be a rabbit trap. Its greenish skin blended with the moss of the forest, but its clumsy movements betrayed it.

Around it, crude traps were scattered—small cages for rabbits and larger ones made of tensioned ropes and pits covered with branches. They were rudimentary but effective.

Heinrich turned to me with a faint, knowing smile that seemed to say, I told you so.

"They're hunting," he whispered. "Not uncommon this time of year. But look at this…"

He moved toward a nearby tree and pointed to a carved symbol in the bark. It was different from the hunters' marks—a goblin symbol, likely used to mark their traps or claim territory.

"This means there are more nearby," Heinrich explained. "If you see one goblin, there are usually others not far behind."

I nodded, watching the goblin as it continued checking the trap, oblivious to our presence. Behind me, the men—especially the peasants—were growing visibly tense. For many of them, this was their first real encounter with a non-human creature.

"What do we do?" one of the militia members whispered nervously.

I turned to the group, quickly assessing the situation. Attacking the goblin could alert others, but letting it go risked discovery later.

"Watch and observe," I whispered, raising a hand to ensure no one acted impulsively. I pointed at the goblin, which was now moving northward, carrying two rabbits tied with cords slung over its hunched shoulder.

The small creature appeared completely unaware of us, shuffling between the trees with clumsy but quick steps. Heinrich, crouched beside me, tracked its movements with narrowed eyes.

"It's heading back to its group," the hunter murmured. "Or at least to wherever they're preparing their hunt."

I nodded slowly. The goblin's path could lead us directly to its group—or even to the nest itself. This was a valuable opportunity to gather more information before making any decisions.

"We follow it," I said, turning to the others. "But carefully. No noise. If it notices us, we take it down before it can alert anyone."

Heinrich gave a sharp nod, and the hunters moved into position, their practiced grace evident as they slipped silently through the forest. The peasants, on the other hand, were tense and clumsy, their movements noisy in comparison.

I approached the peasants and lowered my voice. "Stay together and follow our signals. Don't spread out. If anything happens, form a line and keep your sticks ready. This isn't training. Stay calm—that's your best weapon."

Some nodded quickly, while others swallowed nervously. Fear was evident in their eyes, but so was a budding determination.

We followed the goblin with slow, deliberate steps, keeping enough distance to remain undetected. Heinrich and the hunters led the march, pointing out hidden traps along the way. There were more than we'd initially seen—rope snares, camouflaged pits, even a rudimentary alarm system made of hanging branches and stones that would clang loudly if disturbed.

The goblin moved hurriedly, weaving between the trees as if accustomed to the path. Occasionally, it stopped to scan its surroundings before continuing, but it didn't seem to notice us.

Finally, after what felt like endless minutes, we reached a clearing where the forest opened slightly. From our concealed position among the trees, we saw what lay ahead: a crude camp.

Five more goblins were in the clearing, engaged in various tasks. One was chopping branches to maintain a small fire, while another examined their captured prey—more rabbits, a small goat, and what looked like a young wolf. Two others stood near the entrance to what appeared to be a cave nestled at the base of a nearby hill. The entrance, framed by rotting wooden beams supporting a makeshift roof, was unmistakable: the abandoned copper mine.

The goblin we had been tracking entered the camp and dropped the rabbits it carried near the other captured animals. The others greeted it with short grunts and guttural sounds, communicating in their strange language.

Heinrich, crouched beside me, gestured toward the mine.

"That's the nest," he murmured. "This is just an outpost. If there are more goblins, they'll be inside."

I nodded, taking in the scene. Though the goblins in the clearing weren't numerous, it was clear they were well-organized by their standards. The traps we had encountered earlier were evidence of that, and the mine's entrance suggested their nest might be larger than we had anticipated.

"What's the plan?" one of the militia members whispered, his knuckles white from gripping his spear so tightly.

I pointed toward the dark entrance at the hill's base. "I've studied the mine's plans. It belonged to my family years ago. One entrance, one exit. They're trapped inside. And it seems they've already done us the favor of lighting fires within."

The men around me—hunters and peasants alike—listened intently. Some nodded slowly, while others exchanged nervous glances. The plan clearly unsettled them, but they had no other choice.

"The plan is simple," I continued, keeping my voice firm yet calm. "First, we'll eliminate the goblins outside. We can't let them warn the ones inside. Then we'll fill the mine with smoke. If they come out, we'll be ready. If they don't, the smoke will do the work for us."

Heinrich was the first to respond, as always. "Quick and clean," he murmured, drawing his bowstring. "The ones outside won't be a problem. But watch the noise. One of them escaping could ruin everything."

I nodded and turned to the rest. "Peasants, keep your sticks ready. Stay behind the hunters and form a line if anything comes near. Now isn't the time to hesitate. Stick to the plan, and we'll make it through."

The peasants nodded, some with fear etched into their faces, but they held their positions.

We moved carefully toward the goblin outpost, with Heinrich and the hunters leading the way. The fire near the mine's entrance faintly illuminated the goblins, who remained engrossed in their tasks. Heinrich raised a hand to halt us, pointing at three goblins near the fire.

"We'll take those first," he whispered, glancing at the hunters.

The hunters nodded, drawing their bows with precision. The air grew tense as arrows shot out in quick succession. Four goblins fell to the ground before they could make a sound.

However, one goblin, standing further away near a cluster of prey, noticed the movement and let out a high-pitched shriek before bolting toward us.

"Alert!" I shouted, raising my sword as the goblin charged straight for our position.

The small creature lunged at me with surprising ferocity, its sharp teeth aiming for my arm. I felt the impact as its jaws clamped onto the leather bracer protecting my forearm. The pain was tolerable, but the sheer force of its bite caught me off guard.

With a growl of effort, I raised my sword and plunged it into the goblin's stomach, twisting it to ensure a fatal blow. The goblin let out a piercing screech before collapsing, its body convulsing violently.

I shoved it off my arm with a sharp motion, freeing myself from its teeth. Breathing heavily, I wiped the sweat from my brow. The air was thick with the smell of fire and blood.

"Is everyone all right?" I asked, turning to the men.

"No issues," Heinrich replied, scanning the area with his bow at the ready. "The exterior is clear."

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

"Now we start the smoke," I said, gesturing to the peasants. "Bring the wood and damp branches we gathered. Stack them near the entrance but don't block it—we need the smoke to flow freely."

The men worked quickly, piling branches and leaves near the mine's entrance. Meanwhile, the hunters and militiamen positioned themselves, ready to fire or fight off any goblins that tried to escape.

Once everything was prepared, we lit an improvised torch and set the damp branches ablaze. The fire caught slowly, releasing a thick column of black smoke that began to creep into the mine like a silent predator.

"Stay sharp," I warned as the smoke began to fill the air. "We don't know how many will come out or how desperate they'll be."

And so, we waited. The tension was almost unbearable as we watched the mine's entrance, anticipating the goblins' emergence, coughing and stumbling, into their inevitable doom.

At first, the goblins trickled out one by one, coughing and with watery eyes, clearly disoriented by the smoke filling the mine. They were easy prey for the hunters' arrows. Heinrich and his group didn't miss a single shot—each arrow found its mark, and the goblins collapsed to the ground without understanding what was happening.

But soon, the goblins began to organize themselves, emerging in larger groups, shoving each other in desperation to escape the smoke. These groups charged toward us with crude weapons, but the line of peasants with their sharpened sticks was ready.

"Hold the line!" I shouted, raising my sword as the first wave of goblins slammed into us.

The first goblin to break through was immediately impaled, its body falling to the ground with a shriek. Another tried to slip around the side but was struck down by a peasant's sharp blow to the head. The formation held; the goblins couldn't get close without being struck down by the improvised spears.

After several minutes of fierce fighting, the remaining goblins seemed to lose their will to fight. Smoke continued to pour from the mine, and the creatures still inside screamed in desperation but dared not emerge. Then, from within the smoke, female goblins began to appear, clutching younglings in their arms.

For a moment, we all froze. The younglings wailed, their eyes watery and their frail bodies trembling, while the females tried to shield them. It was a grotesque sight but also an opportunity.

"Don't kill them!" I shouted, raising my hand to ensure everyone heard. The females and younglings continued to stumble out of the mine, coughing and wailing, their weak, trembling forms pitiful to behold. Yet in their desperate eyes, I saw something else: opportunity.

I stepped into the center of the clearing, sword still in hand, and addressed the men around me. The peasants, clutching their sharpened sticks, looked confused; the hunters, hardened by the brutality of the north, watched calmly, waiting for my decision.

"Don't kill them," I repeated, more firmly this time. "Capture them. As many as you can."

Heinrich raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply slung his bow over his shoulder and began instructing the other hunters to bring out the ropes. The peasants, though more hesitant, started forming a circle around the females and younglings, using their sticks to corral them while the hunters moved in to bind them.

One of the peasants, a young man named Lukas, stepped forward, his face filled with discomfort and fear.

"What will we do with them, my lord?" he asked, his voice trembling as he looked at the struggling, crying creatures.

I turned to him, ensuring my voice was steady, though I felt a slight pang of guilt deep within.

"We will sell them," I replied bluntly, meeting Lukas's gaze. "In the south, they're worth their weight in gold. These creatures are our chance to secure food, weapons, and resources. This isn't just a victory for us—it's the start of our recovery."

For a moment, silence fell over the group, broken only by the wailing of the younglings and the crunch of snow beneath our feet. Lukas nodded slowly, though his expression remained uneasy. Some of the peasants exchanged uncomfortable glances, but none dared question me.

Heinrich approached with a coil of rope, a faint smirk on his face. "You're right, young lord," he said as he tied one of the female goblins. "These things will fetch far more alive than dead."

I looked at the captured goblins—some weeping, others huddled on the ground. It was an unpleasant sight but a necessary one. The north was no place for the weak, and if I wanted to save my family, protect our lands, and provide for our people, I had to make hard decisions.

"This isn't over," I said, turning to the men. "The mines are ours now, but there's still much work to be done. This is just a small victory, but one we desperately needed. Remember this moment, for it's the first step toward a better future for Falkenstein."

The men nodded, some more enthusiastically than others, as they began moving the captured goblins toward the camp. The mines were cleared, and the creatures we had captured were a valuable prize.