The Goblin Corps
Ari Marmell
Language: English
Pages: 552
ISBN: 1616143770
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Welcome to the Goblin Corps. May the best man lose.
Morthûl, the dreaded Charnel King, has failed. Centuries of plotting from the heart of the Iron Keep, deep within the dark lands of Kirol Syrreth--all for naught. Foiled at the last by the bumbling efforts of a laughable band of so-called heroes. Still, after uncounted centuries of survival, the Dark Lord isn't about to go down without a fight, particularly in battle against a mortal!
No, the Charnel King still has a few tricks up his putrid and tattered sleeves, and the only thing that can defeat him now may just be the inhuman soldiers on whom he's pinned his last hopes.
interference until after Queen Anne had finished with the aggravating little imp. He tried to jump out through his own snout when Katim appeared beside him, almost as silent as he himself had been. “Does it strike you as odd,” he whispered, trying to cover until his beating heart slowed, “that we just happened to show up when her ritual was going down?” “Not really,” the troll said softly back. “She probably started…when she learned we were coming, in hopes of…getting it done before we…found
was mostly because I disarmed him for you,” the orc told her—and then began hopping and cursing as Katim stamped on his foot. “Why?” Gimmol asked, frowning down at the bones. When it became clear that Cræosh was too busy to answer, Katim shrugged. “Experimentation? To see what…techniques other than swarms might…function? Perhaps, after the bombardment…there weren't enough for more than…this? Or perhaps, this is…all they needed.” “Worm-bones not do good job at stopping us,” Belrotha protested.
posturing bunch of old men and women, but putting their minds to cooperation, they can accomplish some noteworthy results. Still, the lot of them together aren't worth duMark.” Havarren pressed a finger to his chin, staring off into space. “I wonder if our half-elven friend might not be getting a tad less protective of his favorite puppet.” “From what I've learned,” Morthûl said, “the puppet's been tugging back on his strings of late. I doubt duMark would be thrilled if something unfortunate
the final pair of skeletal guards and raised his hand to knock on the mahogany door. He wasn't even slightly nonplussed when the portal swung open before his fist had fallen. Accepting the unspoken invitation, he stepped across the threshold of King Morthûl's inner sanctum. If the throne room of the Iron Keep, with its reflective floors and towering marble chair, was designed to impress, even intimidate, then this, the Charnel King's private audience chamber, must be intended to disturb. The
Gork repeated, not certain he'd heard right. “Just books?!” The bugbear exhaled in what might actually have been a sigh. “What bothering Gork now?” “We're trying to find clues to the tower, you stupid monkey! Maybe even a map! Where else are we going to find that but the library?” “What library?” “A place with books!” The kobold was actually screeching now. With a grunt, Cræosh once more lifted the little soldier by his head and plunged him facefirst into the soft mud at their feet. Gork