With fascination, he watched a group of bouncing goblins pulling a giant, ramshackle catapult that seemed to be straining against its ropes with every turn of its mismatched wheel. Several of them were wearing incredibly dented helmets with leather chin straps. They had the crazed boss-eyed look that told Ger-Val that they were hawked up on hemlock. He genuinely couldn’t believe the level of the response to his plan. He hoped the piece of land he had picked out was going to be large enough for them all. Then he looked back at the hemlock-soaked goblins who were now throwing themselves in the paths of some of the larger heavily-armoured Trolls. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry, the likelihood was that quite a lot of them would probably be dead by the time they were done and some of them might even be killed by the enemy.
That was when he heard the sound he’d been waiting for, floating up among the cacophony. Very very soon, he would be prepared to bet that there would be much less cacophony in about five minutes.