Padric sat on the crags above the harbor, watching as the ship drew closer. Long and low in the water, the men aboard had taken down its sail of red and black stripes, propelling their vessel with uniform sweeps of the oars that seemed to wave effortlessly from either side of the hull. The upward curve of the prow was visible and while the ship was still too far distant to make out the details of the carving, Padric knew it would be fashioned in the likeness of a dragon’s head. It was the ninth such ship to sail into the harbor in two days, the earlier arrivals already moored in the choppy, slate grey waters near the shore. Beyond, a fertile flat plain spread away from the sea, nestled between low, boulder choked ridges. Padric’s perch was atop the highest of these ridges and home to the remnants of a shattered watch castle. Torcan had placed lookouts in what remained of the tower and Padric heard the deep peel of the signal horn sound out above him as the newest arrival came into view.

The harbor was formed by a natural curving of the rocky landscape; the sea almost fully embraced by the jutting swing of dark stones. The green hinterland swept away from the shores, accessible and inviting. Reaver’s Meadow, as it was known, had been a popular spot for the seafarers of Middangeard to make land for decades and a small community of longhouses and mead halls now dotted the field. This latest ship would bring another eighty raiders to Swinehelm’s growing force, but the amount of Middangearders was nothing compared to the horde of goblins camped in the Meadow. Even the crashing of the surf upon the rocks could not drown out the noise from the teeming swamp of Red Caps that threatened to spill over the human settlement and into the sea. From his vantage point, Padric looked down upon the greasy smoke of hundreds of cook fires, surrounded by countless bodies.

When Padric had arrived with Torcan’s retinue of some fifty goblins, only one longship was docked in the harbor. The

Middangearders had greeted Swinehelm with drunken smiles and a horn of mead, turning one of the halls over for his immediate use. Within the day, Red Caps began turning up at the Meadow. They came slowly at first, in raiding parties of no more than fifteen, but as dusk settled and night came on, they arrived in droves. The first morning saw over a thousand armed goblins marshaled, fresh from marauding and eager for battle. Now, a day later, their numbers had more than doubled, with more arriving every hour. Padric did not know where Torcan intended to unleash this force, but he hoped there was a place on the isle strong enough to repel them.