Odd, Bold Fellows

Court I

In a mausoleum, between sightless, wingless angels, the black-robed Goblin Queen sat upon her four-winged throne, holding court. Her coven sisters flanked her, standing upon the dais in robes of brown. In the four corners, sat the Bone Speakers, goblin shamans who assisted the Queen in serving her amphibious subjects.

In the shaft of light from the doorway, an older human couple listened to the youngest of the coven forecast weather and predict the movement of duck in flight. The farmers however, were not there for divination. Ursula's parents were in Zera's court to bask in their own pride and accomplishment, as well as the love of their daughter. That, in the opinion of the Queen and Matron, was as it should be.

Zera sensed the powerful witch to her right was feeling sour, and they shared telepathy as Ursula finished. Monica wanted to prepare her matron for vexation. Zera's son had returned. Pog, of course, was a delight, but his friends were... not. Zera steadied herself as the most recent 'supplicants' departed.

The three women were still as Pog, K'chak, and Dirk filed in, the black goblin taking center. For just a moment, the throned woman and the goblin shared telepathic privacy, allowing the Queen to stare haughtily upon the others as human mother and goblin son shared a moment's tenderness.

Zera asked how Pog was handling himself. She wanted to know about sleep, hygiene, and feeding habits, but Zera focused on what drove her son. Pog was scared! Their last fight had almost crushed the mighty men, and his cleverness had almost failed him! Zera asked if that meant he was home to stay. No, Pog was learning so much! The Clan needed such knowledge if Man attacked the Goblin Kingdom. Zera thought that was very brave and she loved her son.

Withdrawing her thoughts back to the coven, Zera felt a bit of manna drain. Her sisters had healed the fellows, who seemed very pleased with the development. "What do you idiots want?"

Kneeling before Zera, Dirk lifted a thin, black shield, eyetooth gleaming in the scant light. "Your Grave Maliciousness, we have cleared a bandit lair and secured their ill-gotten gains. If it please Your Majesty, we submit the lioness's share to the throne."

Zara's violet eyes narrowed. "Where did you get that shield?"

Dirk stammered a bit, "I did claim it from the Warrior Pog. I felt it my duty to save the Prince from his delusions of grandeur. Admittedly, the crest is my family's, Your Royal Atrociousness."

Zera surprised Dirk. "Good. I've always hated the thing."

As they spoke, K'chak slowly lifted his eyes to the youngest witch with cornsilk hair. Her hazel-eyed gaze was hooded, though he knew it was she who had mended his jaw. Did she fear his attention, or crave it? Sometimes, the warrior knew, it looks the same. Ursula's fingers lifted to her grin as she lowered her head to hide her eyes under her hood.

With the ring of a heavy gong, a chalice bounced off K'chak's bald, black head, spilling wine over his shoulders. Lifting a large hand to his pate, he looked up angrily, but shrank back. The Goblin Queen glared with illuminated purple eyes, as the older woman behind the throne wagged a lifted finger. K'chak saw the angry look of protest the blonde one sent the old ladies, and he grinned at the floor. Warriors gladly accept great obstacles for great prizes.