Reginald Takes A Ride
Wekkit looked over the palanquin with no small amount of pride. Though given little more than trash to work with, he had supervised the pile of detritus into a serviceable mode of transportation. The fact that he intended to use it for himself any chance he could get away with it only added to his desire to make it as sturdy as possible. If he was completely honest with himself, that was really the only reason. But even with himself, he felt it never paid to be completely honest.
Reginald clambered down from the boulder where he had been standing, trying to look as fearsome as he could as he gazed towards the distant farmstead. Wekkit was just glad that the boulder had been downwind. The mage began stalking around the contraption, poking and prodding it as he did so, looking for some fault. It was clear however that even basic construction principles were beyond him, so after a cursory inspection climbed onto the stump that functioned as the seat.
“Very good minions! Now scurry round, and let us be moving!”
Wekkit herded the other minions around the palanquin, three to a side, and instructed them to lift. Of course, being goblins they still managed to almost screw even that simple task up, lifting so badly out of sync that Reginald almost went flying off it to one side. At last though the six minions had it lifted shoulder high and stood ready to march him wherever he so desired.
“Yes my most fell overlord?”
“Lead the way! We are going to pillage that farm, and reap its bounty for ourselves!”
“Of course master, at once! Forward!”
It took a moment to get all six of the other goblins on the same page as to what forward meant, but once that was accomplished they began making fairly good time towards the farm.
It took a few minutes of staring up towards the clouds for Reginald to realize that something was amiss. At first he had thought himself merely gazing dramatically, as all good overlords must do from time to time to inspire their minions. But after a bit he came to realize that the goblin in the very front was at least a good foot taller than the rest, and as such he was leaning back. Compounding it was the fact that the goblin in the rear left had one leg much shorter than the other, and as such had a rather noticeable hitch in his walk.
Reginald could only compare it to the one time he had tried riding a horse that was not fully broken. It had bucked him off in a fairly similar manner.
All over Swarth.
And then he fell off.
Wekkit raced over to help his master up on his feet, holding his breath as he wiped a bit of puke and drool from the dazed face of his lord. Leaning over he discreetly wiped his hand off on one of the few un-puke-coated bits of Swarth, who stood there whimpering piteously.
“Ahh…uh yes Wekkit. I uh…I needed a bit of a rest. To plan. You know.”
Wekkit nodded sympathetically. “Of course my most fell overlord.” The goblin knew he should just keep his mouth shut, but the little bit snark that lived within him had been dying to come out and torment for hours now. So he let it. “And what do you have planned my lord?”
The mage looked around, clearly still somewhat dazed. He looked from goblin to goblin, and stared weakly at the palanquin once more. Shaking his head as though trying to clear it seemed to jar loose an idea, as he turned to face his captain with an air od decisiveness once more. “Wekkit, I desire a standard. And a standard bearer.”
“Yes my most fell overlord. At once!” Wekkit weighed his options. The palanquin looked heavy, and there was the chance of being covered by puke. The standard was an unknown quality, but it had to be better than that. “I shall bear it forth for you myself!”
Oh how quickly he would come to regret those words.