"Move it! Everyone, move it!"
"Damn it! Who are you trying to hit, putting the catapult there?"
"Which tribe is this? Why is it empty? Where is everyone?"
Eric roared in all directions from within the camp, his heart seething with frustration.
According to Dor's original instructions, all he had to do was get this batch of goblins and kobolds onto the battlefield and ensure they could launch a few organized attacks.
He had thought this expedition would be a cushy job. No quotas, no specific requirements, just the promise of glory. Wasn't that like a pie falling from the sky?
However, it turned out that there's no such thing as a free lunch.
A rabble doesn't undergo a qualitative change just because its numbers increase.
One Goblin Tribe was a pile of crap, and a group of Goblin Tribes gathered together was just a bigger pile of crap.
If he didn't still have the horn Dor had given him, Eric would have been tempted to flee.
