Roderick shivered in the light rain and glanced upward to where the great boughs of the Drakwald had grown together to form an endless green roof. Everywhere there was the sound of water as it pattered against the leaves, tumbled down the trees trunks, and splashed into small but growing pools beneath the ferns. During the day it was almost beautiful, like a giant natural cathedral worthy of Sigmar. The onset of thunder clouds and darkness only served to cloak the movements of evil things.

The small group had closed up closer together as the rainfall began to intensify until it sounded like a thousand tiny feet marching across the canopy above their heads. Even Priska had forgone her usual arrogance and come into the group, keeping as close as she could to Jurgen without making it look as though she was trying to ride in his back pocket. 

Lord Waldo, his face partially hidden beneath his hood, travelled behind the two, alternately cursing out Priska for getting in his way, and Jurgen for getting them lost in the forest. Roderick privately felt something akin to pity for Jurgen. The big man was only doing his best in what was, at its core, a forest trying to kill you. 

"She really is awful..." Maria muttered next to him, Brandt's snort of quiet laughter was a welcome sound in the gathering darkness. 

Jurgen suddenly stopped, his hand snapping up as he sank to one knee in the wet moss. Everyone else stopped, even Priska who narrowly avoided impaling herself on the tip of his Greatsword. Jurgens' head was turning slowly from side to side as he peered into the gathering darkness, rain plinking off his helmet to run in rivulets down the back of his cloak. 

Roderick didn't know what else to do and he quickly took a knee, mimicking the soldiers movements. The book banged against his hip and he winced as the metal edge struck bone. The heavy hammer was clutched in both hands as he tried to peer into the falling water. A mist, no more than waist height, had started to ooze through the woods and with it a tight ball of anxiety in his chest.

"Goblins!" Jurgen suddenly hissed. "On spiders..." 

Roderick suddenly became aware of a small collection of green heads bobbing along above the mist. They had hard sharp noses, sharp eyes and small tufts of hair coming up from the little helmets they wore. It took him a moment longer before he realized that the black rods rising and falling next to them were actually the spider legs. He could hear their skittering sound now, insect mandibles clicking together as they spoke. One of the Goblins stopped abruptly and sniffed the air, its head turning quickly back and forth. 

"We're going to have to fight." Jurgen muttered the words as quietly as he could but the Goblins' small ears, twitching toward them. 

"Fight?!" Priska squeaked the word and in an instant the Goblin was racing toward them, small spear  raised above its head. It was shrieking out a battle cry that wold have been comical if there were not so many Goblins racing in its path. 

"Useless bitch!" Maria snarled as she levelled her crossbow and pulled the trigger. There was a flat [i]thwap[/i] sound as the spring snapped forward and the bolt hurtled through the rain. It missed her intended target but hit a second goblin in the throat, sending it spinning into the brush with a squeal of pain. The goblins spidermount, suddenly free of its rider, turned to hurried away into the growing darkness. Maria said nothing as she planted her foot in the stirrup and began to crank the bow back again.

Jurgen spared her a glance of admiration before raising to his feet, Greatsword in hand. The goblins spotted him, and then the sword. Nothing lived in the Empire that did not know of the legendary greatswords a small wail of panic went up from the front runners. They tried desperately to swerve away but the huge sword cut them both down in an instant. 

Roderick had stood rooted until that moment. The sight of the greatsword cleaving the onrushing enemy in half seemed to jar himself and, for the first time since he had been blasted off the wall in Lorch, he knew what he would do. He hefted the hammer, the ugly silver head glistening with rain as he took a firm grip with both hands.

"For Sigmar!" He gave the shout, meagre in his own ears, but it caused one of the goblins to veer toward him. He swung the heavy weapon, all of his fear and rage channeled into the strike, and buried it in the moss. 

The goblin gave a gleeful shriek and thrust its small spear at his chest. He let go of the hammer in his panic and grabbed at the spear. He managed to catch it and heaved with all of his might. The goblin gave a terrified howl as it was slingshot from its mount and into a thick tangle of brush. Spear in hand, Roderick stabbed desperately at the spider, driving the point into its thick body so that it gave a hideous screech and collapsed, writhing in pain.

More goblins were rushing to the fight and Roderick managed to retrieve the heavy hammer. He hefted it again and charged the next goblin, this time managing to crush goblin and spider completely. In an instant he was lost in the struggle, oblivious to everything else around him.