Jandyr fired arrow after arrow at the black-robed Goblins, his bow-arm a blur of motion. Ahead of him, Short-arse stepped around the prone forms of Trogdar and the Wizard as she fought, both of the Warriors now caught beneath the nets of the Goblin horde.
“BASTARDLY BASTARDING BASTARD!!!” shouted Trogdar as he struggled with the net. The ropes had tangled around his broken foot, sending pain shooting up his leg whenever he moved the net. A couple of Goblins stood over him, bashing him with their clubs.
The Wizard by contrast lay completely motionless, his eyes tightly screwed shut in concentration as a lone Goblin prodded his face with a club. Every now and then there was a slight twitch of the net, but not enough for the Wizard to escape.
“I fink dis un’s tryin’ ta do majik,” the Goblin said to his companions.
“Bash ‘im wiv yer sticka den,” grunted one of the others, fending off the attacks of the enraged Dwarf.
The Goblin shrugged and turned back to the immobile Wizard, raising his club above his head. As he swung the club down, he saw a silver blur and felt a whoosh of air. Continuing the motion, he was surprised to discover the club was missing, as were his arms from the elbow onwards.
He turned his head towards his compatriots, seeing in slow-motion as a figure in green with a shining white blade tore them asunder. The Elf’s movements were swift and precise, severing arteries and lopping off heads as he twirled and pirouetted through the panicking Goblins.
The hypnotic dance made the Elf look as if he were flying through mid-air, at which point the Goblin realised he was falling slowly, the momentum of his swing still carrying him forwards. He turned his head back to see the tranquil Wizard’s face approaching his own.
Time seemed to speed back up as the Goblin crashed into the Wizard’s forehead. Despite the collision, the Wizard remained perfectly still, the net continuing to rise and fall in time with his breathing.
“Right lads, I think I’ve managed to untangle meself,” said Trogdar, throwing the net off and away from his wound, “Let’s have these Gob… oh”
Trogdar looked up to see Jandyr and Short-arse finishing off the last 2 goblins. Short-arse’s axe bit deep into the neck of her opponent, spraying black blood all over the other. The survivor turned to run, but only managed a few steps before an arrow sprouted from his back, the unfortunate greenskin losing his breath and collapsing.
“Had a nice rest did you?” said Short-arse sarcastically with a mischievous grin on her face.
“Sod off!” replied Trogdar, “Let’s tie you up in a net with a bad foot and see how you do.”
“I’ll prepare some herbs,” said Jandyr, earnestly.
“Look, Elf,” said Trogdar, reaching down and pulling the net off the Wizard in one swift movement, “Me foot is broken, there’s nothing that a bit of leaf and some twigs is going to do to fix it.”
The Wizard yawned and opened his eyes. “Healing hands?”
“You can sod off as well,” mumbled Trogdar, hobbling over to an opening on an adjacent wall.
“I wouldn’t mind having a look for treasure in here as well,” said Jandyr, noticing the Barbarian’s eagerness to get on.
“Alright, alright, I was only havin’ a look,” Trogdar sniffed. As he lifted the lantern higher to reveal more of the darkened corridor beyond, a blur of green shot out of the corner towards him.
“What the..!?” said Trogdar, startled, as a tiny snotling ran up his leg and around his back. “Gerroff!” he shouted, pawing at the creature with his free hand as it ran across his outstretched arm. As it neared the lantern, it stopped and crouched, looking up into Trogdar’s eyes.
Quicker than a flash, the snotling bit deep into Trogdar’s hand, forcing him to drop the lantern in shock which the greenskin deftly caught as it dived through mid-air and ran off into the corridor beyond.
“Little git!” said Trogdar, loping off after the creature as it stopped at the far end, looking back and hopping up and down in excitement.
“Hang on, HANG ON!” said Jandyr as he watched the retreating Barbarian. He stood crestfallen as the Dwarf and Wizard also began to follow after him.
“What if there’s Gold, or a magic sword?” cried Jandyr, distraught at the thought of leaving anything of value behind.
“Then it’ll be here when we come back,” said Short-arse, “I’d rather not be left in the dark just because some little Orc wants to play a game of fetch, thank-you.”
Jandyr looked down at the broken bodies, his face a picture of frustration, before following after the group.
As the Elf left, the armless Goblin watched the last drops of light retreat from the room, unable to lift himself from the ground. “Err, can anyone give me a hand?” he spoke to the dead.