He seemed larger than the others, but that might have been due to the suit of heavy bronze armor that covered him toe to throat. On his head, he wore the same dreaded hat as the others, but a brazen helm, fashioned in the likeness of a snarling boar was tucked under his arm. He turned slowly in place, taking in the goblins around him, waiting for the din to die before speaking, his voice even, calm and dripping with malice.

“Promises, my cullies. Promises. Who keeps them?” He paused, his pale eyes gleaming, searching his band. “The Lord of the Pile?”

There were hisses, angry jeers, cursing and spitting.

“The fat lord of our mud brothers, King Hob?”

More screams of dissent and several of the warriors pulled their members out and pissed in the dirt. The speaker nodded slowly, a thin satisfied smirk on his face.

“Promises…who keeps them?” He thumped his chest, his bronze gauntlet ringing on his breastplate. “Torcan?”

The Red Caps erupted, their weapons pumping with each shrieking cheer. A few began shouting over the others, “The Swine’s Wife!” and soon the cry was taken up by all, each goblin adding his voice to the call. “Swine’s Wife! Swine’s Wife! Swine’s Wife!”

The one called Torcan held out his armored hand and a goblin stepped from the throng cradling an ugly battle axe of pitted iron. Torcan took the weapon and held it aloft, the goblins surrounding him yelling madly, stomping their heavy boots. “Swine’s Wife! Swine’s Wife!” Torcan’s lips were moving, but Padric could not hear his words over the triumphal wails. The Red Caps quieted in order to listen.

“Torcan is your captain,” Torcan said, “Torcan leads you. Torcan...and his wife.” He hefted the axe onto his shoulder, leering at the blade. “She is a wanton slut, my cullies and so unfaithful…she kisses all of Torcan’s enemies.”

The goblins cackled in agreement, making rude gestures with their own weapons.

“She kisses them, but she does not love them. She lets Torcan caress her, but she does not love him. She has but one love, my ghobs. One for whom she pledges all her wet, red kisses. Her rightful lord, aye…and yours.” Torcan paused, then took a deep breath and raised his voice for the first time, his axe hitting the sky as he screamed, “His Grace, the Gaunt Prince!”

Padric winced at the goblins’ response and feared his ears would begin to bleed.

“Torcan promised to serve him! Torcan promised to fight for him! Torcan promised to see him king’d! But the mud brothers stole him away! Their dirt king and that elf slattern murdered him and on that day Torcan made a new promise! A promise to find our prince’s heirs and see them sat back on the throne! To recruit all true goblins to his cause and swell his armies once more! To free our Prince’s most trusted follower from his long imprisonment!”