Klunx - Summer at Gran'ma Anyr's

Prologue - Let Sleeping Witches Be

It was a quiet, soft and cloudless night in The Swamps. The pools were bubbling softly while insects were casually serenading the myriad nocturnal predators hiding in the shallows and the shadows, all awaiting their time to strike for the nights meal.

The peaceful serenity of the late-night during early-summer would not last long, however. The natural swamp noises were beginning to be drowned out slowly, by the many repeated instances of clunking metal carried by loud distinctly maniacal and obnoxious laughter.

It had such a unique and truly pungent echo as it travelled everywhere, that the accumulated cacophony permeated the entire swamp like a foul odour.

Every nightly creature willingly gave up its comfort as the noise grew closer, they all knew exactly what that noise was and wanted to be as far away as possible. It was a band of Mechanical Goblin-Riders darting forward through the swamps, sitting there on top of their metal beasts, stampeding forwards with no care in the world.

This wasn't just any band of goblins though, this was the Wromtyx Gang, a gang of four goblins each specialised in a different type of Metal Beast Riding.

While the reason for their infamy would vary depending on who you ask, there were always two things everyone both in and out of the Goblin Valley could agree on about the Wromtyx Gang; other than to avoid them at all costs, of course.

The first thing that was universally agreed upon by all was that Wromtyx and his gang were really good at finding things and — for the right price —people, too.

The second thing that was well know —primarily to other goblins, granted — was that they conducted very little business in the Goblin Valley, on account of everyone avoiding them at all costs.

They were loud, they were smelly, they had little regard for others. While this was fairly common for goblins as a whole, it speaks volumes when even fellow goblins shun you for your poor manners.

They were not particularly good or evil though, by goblin standards, but to other goblins they were more of a nuisance, perhaps even an embarrassment; though you would have had to be a goblin to notice the difference.

The races for whom the Gang hunted for were themselves not goblins and so couldn't possibly have known that their behaviour was any different to that of any goblin, unless you really got to know them. This was something that most non-goblins agreed was probably not a good idea anyway.

Currently the Wromtyx Gang was heading deep into the less explored parts of The Swamps, at the edge of Goblin Valley, at behest of a mystery client. They had been tasked with finding evidence to support an old rumour that , which seemed like a pretty easy task, for which they made sure to overcharge their client significantly; as is tradition.

Their current cheery demeanour, which had alienated all wildlife as far as their laughter could be heard, was inspired by a nifty little device given by the middle-man that contacted them.

It was a small metal sphere, and though it was adorned with some symbols as well as smooth carved grooves, there didn't seem to be anything special about it otherwise. As far as anyone could tell it seemed like a single solid mass. This was because it absolutely was.

At the time the middle-man had tried to tell the goblins a little about the device before handing it over, but the goblins had not really cared to hear about it. They also took little notice of his numerous attempts to get them to refer to him by his name, which was 'Wildart.'

What Wromtyx was currently holding and looking at while riding his mechanical boar, was called a Spell Seeker, and though Wildart hadn't shared that bit of knowledge with them, he had told them exactly what it was used for: detecting and finding Mages.