One of the last vault managers has yet to leave, Filkrus a dark, skinned goblin reaches up with long fingers to adjust the flat-topped felt cap with golden intricate embroidery. Personally, he disliked the pointed hats that the Gringotts goblins used. Then again, he came from a small clan near Cypress. He was one of the first clan members of his clan to be actively employed at the main branch of Gringotts. It was a great honor and brought much pride to his clan.
Once satisfied, Filkrus glanced into a small mirror he kept on his desk. His pointed beard is neatly trimmed; however, his eyes are less dark and slanted than the clans of the north. His only unattractive feature was his button nose. He lacked a proper pointed goblin nose. It was a sore point of his, but their clan had a very distant nymph ancestor. Even after hundreds of years, the trait still showed up in their family. The men tended to have button noses and lighter-colored eyes, while the women tended to be born with fair-colored hair and bright-colored eyes.
Filkrus patted his robes one last time, before safely storing his small handheld mirror away. He emerges from his office into a torch-lit hallway, before shuffling down the richly carpeted floor. He was just about to turn the corner towards the floo hearth when he heard a loud cry. Cautious, he instinctively pressed himself against the wall before peeking around the corner.
The flames within the Floor hearth roar a sickly emerald green as tall, masked figures are spat out one by one in a row. The metallic masks ominously glinted in the light as he sees a masked figure ruthlessly curse Bankar. Terrified Filkrus presses himself against the wall as the cries of pain from Bankar fill the air.
Filkrus's eyes dart wildly in thought. Most of the goblins had already departed for the evening. The guards were too far away to be summoned with most of them having moved deeper into Gringotts to protect the vaults. However, there had been a late arrival earlier that evening by a returning Curse Breaker. He himself had accepted the treasure items to be evaluated on the morrow.
Rushing as quickly as Filkrus's small stature could, he hurried down the halls to the office of Ragnok. He luckily found the younger goblin still chatting with the curse breaker, Tressa Tertius. The witch had roughly cut yarrow-colored hair to her earlobes with strews of freckles from her time in the sun. She had a healthy tan from her time in the Southern hemisphere breaking a curse on an ancient hidden Inca temple. Curse breaking had become much safer ever since the block sliding technique had been introduced.
"Ragnok!" Filkrus frantically cried out as he ran towards them. "We have been betrayed! There are Death Eaters flooing inside!"
The curse breaker, Tressa Tertius instinctively reached for her wand. (She was a proud descendant from a lone line of curse breakers descended from the original Tertius, a Scottish muggleborn who began serving as a curse breaker during the 1600's. More importantly, she was no coward, and being a curse breaker is fraught with danger from ancient and deadly curses and traps to dangerous beasts, and dark wizards, and deadly rivals!)
"How many?" Ragnok urgently asked.
"There was at least half a dozen, when I left," Filkrus panted catching his breath.
"We need to summon the guards," Ragnok urgently said. "Filkrus, I need you to head down into the vaults and retrieve all the guards including the curse breakers."
"Yes," Filkrus wheezed before shuffling down the corridor towards another doorway that leads to the maze of vaults. He hadn't protested the order since the safest place right now was to be as far away as possible from the bottle. He was merely a vault manager; he was no warrior!
"Curse Breaker Tertius, what are the odds?" Ragnok grimly asked.
"If I go to meet them, I am only confident in delaying them for mere minutes if their numbers are true," Tressa Tertius grimly answered. "However, I will do my best to delay them at the main corridor."
Ragnok bowed and in Gobbledegook said, "May the Spirits of Gold and Wealth guide your path."
Tressa Tertius grimly nodded before rushing away with her brown-colored robes silently swaying behind her. The quieter she was, the less of a warning her enemies would have. This would be her toughest battle yet.
With Curse Breaker Tressa Tertius heading off in one direction, Ragnok hurries in another. As he runs, his long fingers frantically search inside his pocket, before closing upon a silver forged goblin coin. With the coin firmly in his grasp, he squeezes and casts goblin magic triggering the silver-forged gobbling coin to glow a bright red.
Instantly Goblin Clan Heads, the Goblin Elders, the Goblin Council, and other goblins of status feel a burning sensation in their pockets. They instantly react and reach for the burning silver goblin coin only to see a burning red coin. It signaled only one thing, Gringotts is under attack!
Inside the Office of Goblin Liaison, an elderly goblin with a pointed little hat and a matching pointed little white beard and a very pointed nose rushes to alert the Auror's. Gringotts is under attack! They needed aid and for the first time ever, the goblins sought out the aid of witches and wizards.
Still, within the bank inside his office, Grok Gringotts firmly rises from his desk and orders his attendants out into the hall. The attendants are rather disgruntled until they see their Goblin King retrieve a spear that hung against this wall. With grim determination, he clenched the deadly spear in hand and sealed the door to his office with goblin magic.
There would be no room for retreat not even for him. "Spears forward," Grok roared as the goblin guards standing in the doorway in a single motion move away from the wall and point their silver, deadly spears toward the front of the corridor.
Many of the goblin attendants tremble as the elderly Goblin King, Grok Gringotts coldly turns to them. "Unsheathe your blades," he gestured to the fancy daggers at their waists, "we shall live or die by the blade."
The posh attendants tremble in fear and turn quite yellow and green. A few appear as if they are going to be sick, while others are ghastly white. Regardless, they all grip their knives in fear and begin to pray in their hearts of hearts to any Spirit that would hear them.
The seconds tick away slowly, the silence lasting unbearably, impossibly long. Their pointed ears twitch at every sound until at last the sounds of many footsteps are heard. The first hooded Death Eaters appear in view and show signs of light to moderate magical injuries.
Grok Gringotts proudly tilts his head and files away the tidbit away for later. The injuries were likely from a Curse Breaker. He would need to properly reward the Curse Breaker(s) after this. That is if the Curse Breaker in question survived, (or himself for that matter of fact).
The goblins raise their spears forward and hold the line as the Death Eaters begin to cast deadly curses and hexes. The goblins do not budge despite their injuries moving in unison as the Death Eaters finally close the grounds. Their spears fly out and slash the Death Eaters, while other goblins from the back let their spears fly. More than a few Death Eaters are skewered like pigs.
The goblins that released their spears reach for their small arm shields and short swords at their sides. They press forward and move to engage the Death Eaters that continue to pour in.
A metallic scent fills the ground as the ground becomes wet and dark red. The cries of anger and pain fill the air from both sides. The corpses of the dead and wounded are merely stepped over as both sides fight for every inch of the hall. In battle, there is no room for mercy.
An attendant in livery slyly glances at the battle and back at his dagger. The attendant slowly raises their dagger when Grok Gringotts raises his spear and slashes forward slitting the throat of the unfaithful attendant.
The remaining attendants in question gasp in shock and horror. Grok Gringotts' yellow eyes darken as he darts forward and bellows, "Did you think, I would truly not notice thy stink of treachery?!" And plunging the tip of his spear into the belly of another attendant.
The attendant lets out a pig-like squeal, before falling over trying to keep his spilling innards inside. The rest of the goblin attendants in livery look even more sickly. The bolder ones grimly hold their knives and point them at the Goblin King. "We had no choice, King of Gringotts. Ye would not give us the power rightly due to as courtiers! It was you who forced us here!" They cried out in their defense.
"A traitor will always have an excuse for committing treason," Grok Gringotts snarled, before moving far too deftly for an elderly goblin of his age. The battle between the King of the Goblins and his attendants begins. Their cries to join the bloody battle cries as neither side gives up ground.