Druidic Rage

The old centaur had lived through most of a century in this forest. He had great knowledge of many things but what he now experienced was beyond his ability to comprehend. These overgrown goblins had come to his home before, killing and burning and cutting that which he had sworn to protect. Every time he had encountered them he had killed them and yet, they came still. Now Vantil had reached his breaking point. He was sickened and profoundly saddened to see the young stags lying headless in a heap. He was shocked at the boldness of these foul beasts, monsters that would not go away, would not leave him in peace. He felt guilt because he was unable to protect that which needed protection. He was ashamed that he had failed his deity. Mixed with all those emotions, Vantil was enraged that this, creature, showed no fear in the face of his impending doom! It just stood there calmly with an arrogant smile on its ugly face! Through the confusing morass of feelings that swirled around him the centaur stared out at that misshapen face and found strength in his next course of action. He would right what had gone wrong right here, right now.

The moon still struggled to push through the clouds overhead but there was enough light reaching the riverbank to clearly make out the goblin sneering at him not thirty paces away. He had stopped struggling against Vantil’s spell and was now standing still, firmly held in place from the waist down by the still writhing undergrowth. The druid tightened his grip on the heavy staff he carried and began slowly stalking nearer to his adversary, moving more like a hunting cat than a seven foot tall, thousand pound centaur.
“Treemother please forgive my ineptitude, yet grant me vengeance!” He hissed into the cool night air through gritted teeth. “Allow me a victory so that I may return your will to this land!”
The goblin began saying something. It was something in a tongue that was neither goblin nor orcish nor demonic. It was a language that the druid had heard only when humans were about, although he had never bothered to learn it. It did not matter what language it was in though for the intent was clear. The fool goblin had a death wish and was taunting him. With a roar that sent many nesting birds flying away from their night perches Vantil charged toward the goblin.

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“That’s right, keep coming you fool.” Olrich told the centaur, again flashing him a superior smile and daring him to attack. The ground began to shake underfoot as the massive half-equine thundered nearer. Olrich could not move if he wanted to so he stood calmly, continuing to stare down the charge of the druid. What the keeper of the forest did not see was that before succumbing to the entangling spell Olrich had shifted his position to conceal his right hand and prepared a nasty surprise. Only twenty paces away and Olrich gestured rudely with his left hand and screamed, “Keep coming dog meat, come and die!” The druid charged on eyes narrowed and a spell starting off his lips.

Only ten paces separated the entangled goblin captain and the charging druid when Olrich pulled his right hand out from behind his back and aimed a hand crossbow toward Vantil. Without hesitation Olrich pulled the trigger on his tiny bow. His aim was true and the tiny quarrel plunged feather deep into the druid’s left eye. The centaur’s spell was lost, the growled words instantly jumping into a high pitched squeal of agony. The massive druid began thrashing about, bright crimson blood gushing from his face and staining the budding green of the river bank.

Olrich smiled evilly, not only had the bolt struck a more vital area than he had hoped for, it was also coated with a particularly nasty poison. It might not kill such a large creature but it would certainly leave him incapacitated. Vantil continued thrashing about screaming curses that Olrich could not understand. The goblin captain chuckled to himself. He knew that the old druid did not have long.

As the clouds finally broke up and were chased from the sky the eastern horizon began to glow with the faint traces of sunlight. Olrich pulled up the cowl of his crimson cloak to shield his eyes from the coming rays of light and leaned hard against the crude sled’s weight trying to quicken his pace. Finally out of the forest, his progress would be unhindered to the west. A toothy smile split his face again as he felt the heavy coin purse on his belt shift. Food for my Lord and gold for me! He thought. Not bad for a week in the stinking forest, not bad at all!