Cracked Wall Goblin Camp Novels & Stories

I inhaled and moved forward. Nearing the goblins I could hear their snitches and incomprehensible words. I sealed my lips tight afraid that I let out any sounds that would possibly endanger my group mates. When I was near enough to see the flag a stalactite just an inch before me cracked and fell down. The time went slow motion for me, it was already impossible to stop the fast plunging of the stalactite. The rock made a thumping sound on the stone floor echoing all throughout the dungeon. Silence fell for a moment, the goblins slowly looked up, and I stopped breathing.

The earth we trod was all rubble and dust on treacherously uneven stone and boulders. Finally, a blinking red light told me that we were there. Mere feet away from the location we’d pinpointed. I studied the stones around me with my eyes. It only took a few seconds to see it. A cave mouth that had been walled over from the inside, with stones stacked up to seal the entrance to the natural cavern. It looked like a tomb. I inched close to inspect it. The vampires were supernaturally fast and immensely strong—they could build a wall like this in minutes, probably. But us? Dismantling such a wall would be like a Strongman competition. A brutal one.

He picked it up from the rusty ground, pocketed it, and kept moving. The eagle mount was burning, flames fueled by the lingering spirit of the dead salamander. The fire consumed the carcasses, drawing a blazing line along the front of Mad End’s Wall. Gildeon heard Ghulik’s small footsteps behind him. The goblin mumbled like a madman, spewing out a story about salamanders and sylphs losing their sanity upon contact with the wall. If that were true, then the sigilmaker would be useless to the army.

"But Kael if every day looks like today then by day four or five we are pulling from units that are not trained for wall defense." "I know," I said. "So what do we do differently tomorrow," she said. I looked at the cracked sections and thought about sixty one dead warriors and Eldric's warning about the dark magic and six catapults that had not stopped for a full day and I said "I want stone masons on those cracked sections before dawn. Whatever they can patch overnight they patch. And I want the archers doubled on the sections where the ladders are reaching. We have been letting them get too close before we open up."

I would not fail it. Then the north wall erupted. A series of sharp, concussive cracks split the night, followed by the dull roar of alchemical fire. Green smoke—thick, acrid, unnatural—billowed into the sky, staining the fading stars. Shouts rose immediately from the battlements: urgent commands, the clang of weapons, the rush of boots on stone. Our wolves moved like water—flowing north to reinforce the wall exactly as we had drilled them. I felt the trap spring.

She didn't answer. The ancient carving began to crack.A low growl emerged from inside the wall. The werewolves around us backed away. The old woman raised her staff. “Everyone out!” Nobody moved. “NOW!” Panic broke through the chamber. Children were pulled away. Warriors reached for weapons as the stone wall split. Something moved behind it. I grabbed Caelan's hand. “What's coming?” He didn't answer. His eyes remained fixed on the opening. A claw emerged through the stone and the wall collapsed.

I refuse to surrender and become a victim," I retort defiantly, my voice filled with determination. Once again, I narrowly evade their lunges and swipes. However, while dodging their attacks, my foot stumbles upon a sharp stone, causing a deep gash. Blood begins to flow instantly, staining the ground crimson. "The scent is intoxicating. We've struck gold by finding you," the smaller goblin remarks, its voice dripping with anticipation. I find myself lying on the ground, my injured foot preventing me from standing. I survey my surroundings and realize that I am cornered, trapped by these two monstrous creatures.

With the odds constantly stacked against him as a leader in this dungeon, how can he lead his team out of these floors? Goblin brutes were tougher than hobgoblins. They were physically stronger and had more stamina, even if they weren’t very smart. Goblin brutes were specialised goblins with a bloodline gift to ignore all injury and fatigue in berserker mode. They were more dangerous than regular hobgoblins because goblin brutes could take down catapults with sheer force. A group of brutes could easily break through the tough stronghold stone wall, compromising Stoneberry Keep’s defences.

He hit the far wall with a sickening thud and stopped moving. "Can Krug have some fun with the wolf-men?" Krug asked, his yellow eyes darting toward a group of wounded soldiers groaning in the dirt. He was practically vibrating with excitement. "Do as you wish," I dismissed him. I didn't have to look back to know what followed. The sounds of tearing fabric and the terrified screams of the dying filled the air as the goblin began his play. I simply sighed and turned toward the main keep. The interior of the castle was worse. The walls were painted in red. It looked as though the Angel of Death had not just visited, but had decided to move in.

They had no ropes but scaled relying on strength of limb upon the seams of the stones and faults in the workmanship, driving tiny picks into the wall for extra handholds where the construction did not provide it. Arrows soared towards us, and my dragon laughed, and breathed fire, raining the ash of the arrows upon the archers, before driving them from the wall with his flames before they could take aim again. The mud monsters were climbing the walls. There were six now, the first two having fallen beneath boiling water poured from the machicolations, the others climbing on the steaming mud. “If Daerton gets through his full array of golems,” I called out to Aurien, “our soldiers will be able