In which Bodush experiences an odd sense of Deja vu...

It didn't feel right. After all, had not the latest bardic epic referred to him as 'death incarnate'? Bodush allowed himself a moment of smugness before returning to his gloomy mood. If so, what in the gloomy fog of Dis was he doing standing on behind the pallisades of a godforsaken elven outpost, with only a crossbow, a rather limited repertoire of magics and decent interpersonal skills to protect him from a raging horde of goblins that seemed very intent on getting into the outpost in order to perform some pillaging and massmurder before breakfast?

Being recruited was bad enough, some snooty elven ranger type had burst into the inn while Bodush was happily cheating at cards, demanding 'that all able-bodied elves and members of 'lesser races' were to report to the walls for military duty'. The fact that the elf looked rather agitated and already had his longsword out, prevented Bodush from making the usual sarcastic comments on elven carpentry, the appopriate semantics regarding wooden fortifications and his feelings on conscription in general.

However, all things considered, an elven prison might have been preferable to being skewered on a goblin spear. There seemed to be an awful lot of goblins approaching, in fact, Bodush could not recall ever having seen that many at once. Whoever their leader was, must have been quite the warlord, managing to subjugate so many clans. Bodush could pick out the banners of at least 5 clans from where he was standing. The bloodmoon clan were driving their worgs towards the gate, likely getting ready for the push into the town when their cousins in the Ironbreaker clan had finished getting their battering rams into place. The shock troops of the Mad Eye clan were already hoisting ladders, their thick metal armor glinting in the morning sun, while from behind the Witchdoctors of the Demoneater clan were sacrificing their thralls to Maglubiyet, chanting and shrieking, pleading for the favour of their god, blood glistening on their blackened axes.

This was not good, in fact this was almost certain to end very badly. If those goblins managed to get through the rather flimsy elven workmanship, Bodush did not consider his change of survival to be much higher than the attention span of a certain human fighter.

Ah yes, his 'friends', why did they have to go off looking for some Gnomish book of night-time stories? At least if they had been here, he might have had a chance. At least he could die fighting alongside someone who did not just stare at him blankly whenever he made a snide comment regarding the strategic abilities of the elven commander, like 'Cletus, the slackjawed elven ranger' insisted on doing whenever Bodush opened his mouth. Could elves actually be inbred? Obviously, Eolar's father had the right idea.

Silence was descending over the horde. Then the clanleaders lifted their weapons and started chanting, 'Horakus! Horakus! Horakus!'. The sea of goblins parted, and Bodush could see a large cloaked mishapen creature, mounted on a huge worg, ride down the ranks towards the outpost.
It howled, letting its hood fall back, and lifted a huge mace up against the sky. It was as if time stood still for a moment. Then, a burst of fire erupted from the tip of the goblin's mace and hurled forward, bursting against the gate with a mighty explosion. The horde roared in response and charged towards the outpost.

Somewhere, somebody yelled an order in elvish, Bodush responded mechanically, letting a bolt fly from his crossbow before he knelt down to reload. Firing again, he took a moment to look at the gate. It was still holding, obviously the elves had more than just wood to protect themselves. He hoped it was enough. He reloaded, aimed towards the goblin leader, and fired again. His elation was short-lived, as the goblin tore the bolt from his chest and roared, flames rising along the shaft of his mace. Cowering behind the battlements as the air around him exploded in flames, Bodush cursed every single god whose name he could remember.

He was well and truly doomed. He hoped that at least there would be some sort of final judgement where at least he could tell the idiot gods what he actually thought about them in person...