“GOROGB…?”
The abrupt roar and shock was enough for even the goblins, who spent their days in noise and uproar, to realize something was wrong.
Maybe everyone had finally gotten tired of this stupid job. Here they were, sent to these boring ruins, without so much as a female to pass the time. Granted, the place was much better than the holes in the ground where they usually made their homes, but far be it for the goblins to be satisfied with that. They were envious of the one who ordered them around for being in a nice room. They could easily imagine dragging him down off his high horse—but those imaginings were quickly replaced by what was right in front of them.
Amid dust and debris from within the ruins, they smelled a beautiful smell, a heavenly scent.
An elf!
An elf woman!!
They were like moths to a flame on a dark night.
The goblins completely forgot themselves; they set off running, more than willing to trample their companions on the way out. They would mob her and violate her, that much was certain. And each imagined himself having the greatest pleasure and privilege.
For that purpose and that purpose only, the goblins crowded the hallway into the innermost sanctum, whereupon…
“GAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN!!!!!!”
The fearsome roar of a dragon encircled them.
“Forward!”
At that single word of command, an adventurer in grimy armor burst into the open space of the ruins. Even the quickest of the goblins to recover, however, probably didn’t register him. The throwing knife took the creature’s life silently, mercilessly. It was no proper sword, but it was enough for the likes of a goblin.
“GOORGB?!?!!?”
The demise of their comrade, clawing at his throat as he choked on his own blood, finally alerted the other goblins that there was a problem.
“GOGB?!”
“GGGRGGBO?!!!?”
“Gods! I’ve seen enough goblins for a lifetime—even an elf lifetime!”
A flash of what seemed like colored wind followed the slayer of goblins into the room, scowling at the horde of greenskins within.
She moved so fast that she could hardly be seen. Three arrows ready in her bow, loosed in an eyeblink—three goblins shot dead.
“Wish we had Protection!”
“I would prefer Holy Light,” came a mechanical voice. Goblin Slayer would never let emotions get in the way of slaying goblins.
“Think about this from my perspective! An innocent maiden wants to be as physically far away from these things as possible!” The elf snorted derisively, although somehow still elegantly.
A massive lizardman and a decidedly less massive dwarf followed her in, their movements as different from hers as the clouds are from the mud. Even Goblin Slayer, who went at the head of their party, was no match for a high elf.
“Don’t get too eager, Long-Ears!” Dwarf Shaman groaned, scrambling after them. “Not all of us have long legs around here!”
“You need the exercise anyway!”
“Oh, I’m exercisin’!”
Their banter, the same as their kind had shared since the Age of the Gods, sounded pleasant in the heat of battle; Lizard Priest rolled his eyes merrily. Then he cried, “Eeeyah!” His arms, legs, tail, and fangs became living weapons as he whipped them around, slamming them into goblins as he veritably leaped forward.
“It benefits one not to lament what one was not given. Just as I have no desire to embrace a new faith!”
“A compassionate lizardman? Just the thought’s enough to make me laugh!” said High Elf Archer.
The adventuring party cut through the green horde like a sword through the grass.
Goblins’ strength, however, is not in their nasty little minds but purely in their numbers. In the dim ruins, the monsters poured out of the many branching paths. They smelled blood; they smelled an elf. They would do violence to her, trample her down, take her in victory—such was the only thing in the goblins’ heads.
“Oh, for…!” As High Elf Archer ran forward, she suddenly twisted to one side, shooting under her arm behind her.
“GBBORGB?!?!” A goblin who had been about to flank Lizard Priest was caught in midair, his spine pierced; he tumbled to the ground. Dwarf Shaman cut short the last of his twitching with a ruthless stroke of his ax. Then pressed ever forward.
“Doesn’t matter about the Earth Mother or who you’ve got on your side—there’s a lot of ’em here, Beard-cutter!”
“And today?” Goblin Slayer casually flung his dagger as he spoke, killing another goblin. “Do you not mind?”
He tossed the question out as readily as his knife, but it was aimed at no one in particular—so High Elf Archer decided to answer.
“You better believe I mind!” she practically howled—although she didn’t stop feeling in her quiver for her next bud-tipped arrow. “But today, I’ll let you have it!”
“Good.” He acted immediately, taking a small bottle from his item pouch and tossing it over his shoulder to Dwarf Shaman. “Light it.”
“Got it!” The instant the bottle was in his hands, he grabbed a flint from his bag of catalysts and intoned, “Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.”
No sooner had he spoken than a spark lit the wick that fed into the mouth of the bottle. Once it was burning, Dwarf Shaman promptly pitched it into one of the tunnels.
“GORGBB?”
“GGOBBGRGBB!!”
The first goblins to spot the bottle weren’t sure what was happening. It came tumbling from ahead of them; they merely picked it up and scoffed at it. That stupid dwarf couldn’t even throw straight!
A second later, those goblins were decorating the walls and ceiling of the passageway, and twelve of their companions were blown backward. There was a boom that the adventurers could feel in their bones, and the hallway belched dark fire and scorching wind.
“I knew it was bad news when you stocked up on fire powder!” Dwarf Shaman cried. For someone who saved up so much money, their leader, Beard-cutter, also spent liberally. Dwarf Shaman felt a mixture of annoyance and frustration—as well as a bit of joy at this rare opportunity for a nice, big explosion.
He stuck out his hand to catch the next bottle Goblin Slayer tossed to him.
“Only this plan is bad news,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod.
“All your plans are bad news!” High Elf Archer stood over a goblin that Goblin Slayer had kicked over, shooting the greenskin from point-blank range and then retrieving her arrow. Her shouting was much less elegant than her movements.
Lizard Priest chortled, baring his fangs. “A pleasure it is when supplies are in abundance!” He added that he hoped to be able to use Fusion Blast breath one day. The Earth Mother’s staff rattled in his bag—a bag for holding, of course. It was a magic bag that could hold—well, maybe not quite anything but far more than you would expect. A friendly, helpful item that most adventurers with a few quests under their belt possessed.