"Indeed, friends. I am, as you see, a goblin. But far more than that, I am… Goblin Adventurer!"

Several other Adventurers had clustered around the small green-skinned creature wearing a cavalier hat with a huge pink feather, riding boots and a tabard in blue and white. A slim rapier hung from the belt at its hip. While assuredly comical to find a goblin dressed as such, the way it held itself and the polished manner in which it spoke lent an air of validation to this otherwise absurd spectacle.

"While the majority of my kind are indeed wastrels and knaves, I am the lone exception." Goblin Adventurer swept off his plumed hat and gave a courtly bow, one booted foot extended toe-first before him. "Born an anomaly, with no love of wanton pillaging, I have devoted myself to learning the tongues of Men, and can now converse as well as anyone. My heart compels me to defend the helpless, even if it means taking up arms against my own race. Being but an Emerald level Adventurer now, I hope through my exploits to in some small way make up for the flagrant injustices done by goblins worldwide. By setting an example, it is my fondest wish that perhaps, someday, we too can take our place among the other Races with Words."

The people listening looked to one another and murmured in surprise. It certainly did make one think.

Having just arrived at the Guild Hall, High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman and Lizardman Priest stood at the entrance frozen in utmost horror, mouths hanging open and eyes bulging from their heads.

"Holy spit!" the Elf managed to gasp. "Orcbolg's gonna flip his BRICKS when he sees this!"

"Sees what?"

All three spun about. Their comrades Goblin Slayer and Priestess stood outside behind them.

"Nothing!" Dwarf Shaman squeaked, then burst into nervous laughter. "Nothing, Beard-Cutter! Nothing at all! Say, why don't we stop by the tavern for a bit, eh? Adventuring is thirsty work!"

"But we haven't collected our reward yet," he replied, and moved to brush by.

"Milord Goblin Slayer!" Lizardman Priest hastily sought to impose himself between the sight that lay before them. "Perhaps you should not enter! There is… an issue here which you might find to be… beyond the pale…!"

Goblin Slayer marched around him, and all three felt their hearts grow cold. They turned to watch, mute witnesses to what would undoubtedly soon become a sensational murder trial for the local town criers to report upon.

The armored warrior entered the hall with Priestess trailing in his wake. They all saw his helm turn to take in the sight of Goblin Adventurer surrounded by curious admirers. The trio almost wanted to shout a warning. Alas, it was too late, for Goblin Slayer had already…!

…walked right on by without saying a word.

His comrades stood blinking. They looked to one another in great confusion. Did that really just happen?

Goblin Slayer marched through the press straight to the receptionist desk. They saw him converse with Guild Gal, who listened attentively and promptly handed him a large sack of coins. Rather than leave with their reward, however, he instead turned and presented the bag to Priestess. Some words were exchanged between them.

Looking uncertain, the young woman nonetheless nodded before heading over to the stairs. She climbed up to the first landing, and as her companions watched, mystified, Priestess turned back to the room at large, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and suddenly yelled…

"F… FREE MONEY!"

With that she tossed the bag of coins up into the air. Gold and silver came raining down.

Anyone who knows Adventurers can guess what happened next. It was a free-for-all. Men and women reacted instinctively to the allure of unclaimed wealth, falling to scoop up as much as they could whilst fighting to ward off potential thieves. Shouts and curses filled the air. Any sense of camaraderie evaporated in the face of common avarice. Melee Gladiatrix kneed Heavy Fighter in the groin with her metal kneepad so hard his name changed to Fairy Warbler. Rookie Warrior flailed on the floor as Barbarian Amazon held his head in a scissor-lock. "Say it!" she crowed gleefully while his face turned purple between her meaty thighs. "SAY IT, GIRLY-BOY!" Female Knight danced through the chaos like a breeze, snatching up gold coins without any of the others being aware of it.

The non-human trio watched this greedy brawl in disbelief. Suddenly Lizardman turned his head. "Whatever became of the Goblin Adventurer?"

They all looked over. Sure enough, the tiny enigma had vanished.

Glances were exchanged. Puzzled, they looked all around, wondering if perhaps he was somewhere in that mass of crazy squabbling mercs.

Then as one, it came to their attention that Goblin Slayer was not involved in the brawl. A few seconds later they spotted him, sitting on a small barrel against the wall with arms crossed. He appeared to be observing the commotion.

Approaching him, High Elf Archer asked, "Orcbolg, do you know what happened to the Goblin Adventurer?"

His helm tilted to one side. "Who?"

She looked at her companions as though seeking assurance. "The little green fellow with the big hat? Do you know where he went?"

"I don't know what you mean. There was no goblin. I've been sitting here the whole time."

"But you must have seen him!" the Ranger declared indignantly. "You, of all people, would surely notice an Adventurer who happened to be a GOBLIN!"

That faceless helmet remained unmoved. "Are you not feeling well? Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down."

"What? I don't need to lie down, I'm trying to find out what–!"

All of a sudden his leather-gloved hand reached up to trace a finger around her ear. High Elf Archer stiffened with a gasp.

"You have pointy ears," Goblin Slayer mused as she shuddered beneath his touch. He then leaned closer until his visor slits were only an inch from her nose. "Like a goblin!"

The Elf's eyes grew very wide.

Fast as lightning she leapt away. Passing over the howling mob, High Elf Archer crested the stairs in a single bound, raced down the landing so fast she blurred, entered their room and slammed the door shut behind her.

The other two exchanged uneasy glances. Finally Dwarf Shaman coughed. "*Ahem*. Beard-Cutter? I'm not sure you–"

"You're short…" Goblin Slayer growled.

The stout tunnel-dweller drew up short, blinking.

"…like a goblin!"

Dwarf Shaman stared at him.

Then quick as his stumpy legs could carry him, he scuttled across the room, up the stairs and followed the Archer into the room. The door closed with a resounding bang.

Alone, Lizardman Priest's eyes darted from one side to another. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if there was any aspect of his appearance which might lead one to suspect he could be a…

"GRE-E-E-E-EN…" a menacing voice rumbled.

In a flash the swamp-dweller dropped to all fours and scurried, deceptively quick as a crocodile on dry land, to rejoin his comrades. "LET ME IN!" he screamed upon finding the latch had been drawn. "IT'S ME, LET ME IN, LET ME IN!"

They did so.

Goblin Slayer remained where he was, watching.

From the barrel beneath him a scratching sound came. Without looking, he casually kicked it with his heel, and the scratching stopped.

On her way into town, Cow Girl noticed Goblin Slayer standing off by himself. With a smile she left the wagon and trotted over to join him. "Hey!" she called.

He twisted his head to acknowledge her. "Hello."

"What are you doing over here?"

Goblin Slayer turned back to his pursuits. "Work."

She peered closer. Her childhood friend was staring at what looked to be a large rain barrel filled with runoff from yesterday's storm. Inside of this was yet another barrel, but smaller. The curvaceous farmhand regarded this arrangement curiously. Was he checking to make sure it was waterproof or something? Maybe it was one of his supplies.

"There are air bubbles coming out of it," she noted.

"Yes," he nodded in turn.

Nothing more was said between them. After a while, Cow Girl decided to leave him be. "Well, I'm going over to buy some grist at the mill. I'll see you later, okay?" With that she retrieved her cart and went cheerfully on into town.

Goblin Slayer watched her go. He took note of her destination, the great wheel turning outside, within which a huge stone was used to crush grain and seeds.

"Hmmm…"

"Listen here," the Miller groused, "I can't let you just crush anything in there, I've got to know what it is! People eat what comes off of that grist-wheel and…!"

THUMP! A large bag of coins was dropped on the counter.

"…and you go right ahead, sir! Please take your time!"

Goblin Slayer maneuvered the barrel onto the round track. He checked its position, calculating, and finally decided this would indeed work. The donkey-powered contraption turned on its course slow and inexorable as the moon in the sky. The barrel rotated with it, drawing closer and closer to a great grinding stone which pulverized everything it came across. Goblin Slayer watched the procedure dispassionately. If one listened hard, one might convince themselves they could hear a faint, muffled screaming.

The wheel turned.

WHUMP!

"Careful, you clumsy idiot!"

Goblin Slayer glanced over. A few paces off the Miller was furiously berating some of his underlings who had been engaged in tossing sacks of crushed corn down from the attic. One of them had failed to catch a bag, and now it lay burst open upon the floor, its contents spilled everywhere from the force of its landing.

"Hmmm…"

"Thank you for the ride."

The farmers waved goodbye as their horse-drawn wagon went on its way. Once they were well down the road, Goblin Slayer hoisted the barrel over his shoulder and got walking. It was a short trip along a path up to the top of the cliffs, the highest in all the land. The promontory he selected jutted out over a dizzying drop so deep there were clouds floating below. Upon reaching its furthermost tip, Goblin Slayer settled down his burden and peered over the edge. Birds flew in circles below. Far down, a mighty river appeared less than the width of a vein in his arm, the forests and hills surrounding it rendered mere smudges of green and brown.

Satisfied, he rolled the barrel into position. No further noises came from it. He drew back a pace and waited. Nothing. No movement. No sound.

He coughed.

Immediately the barrel started to jostle and rock from side to side, a terrible sound like a gagged man trying to scream accompanying this frenzy.

With casual assurance, Goblin Slayer lifted his foot and kicked the barrel off the cliff.

He bent to one knee right at the edge and looked down. In moments the twirling coffin was lost to sight.

Then, very faintly, his sharp ears heard a small… SMACK.

With that, Goblin Slayer turned away and began the long walk home.

The large, heavy cabinet scraped across the floor and came to a halt.

"Alright!" High Elf Archer stood back, panting and winded. She surveyed their work critically. With the help of Dwarf and Lizardman, they had managed to maneuver virtually every piece of furniture in the room in front of the door to form a barricade. There was absolutely no way anyone was getting in here. She wiped sweat from her brow, trembling from the strenuous exercise and a fear that still hadn't abated. The other two looked just as unnerved as they examined the makeshift barricade together. Tables, chairs, the shutters off the windows, and now the dresser. "Do we need anything else?" she asked.

"How about the bed?" a familiar voice spoke behind them.

All three froze. As one, they all revolved mechanically around and stared.

Goblin Slayer sat on the bed against the wall.

None of them spoke. Without any hurry, that eerie figure stood up and crossed the room. They parted before him. He came to a halt right in front of the dresser. His helm turned from side to side, taking note of their clear distress.

"You should rest," he told them. "Tomorrow there will be more goblins to kill."

Collectively, a trio of gulps filled the room.

"I'll let you know when we're ready." With that, Goblin Slayer reached up and opened the drawers of the dresser. He crouched down to step inside. Turning about, hunched over like a gray gargoyle, the living genocide looked at his inhuman allies. "Until then…"

Reaching up, he grasped the doors and slowly began to close them.

"…pleasant dreams."

With a soft click, the dresser shut.

They stared. High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman looked quickly at each other. Then both sprang forward and wrenched the dresser open.

Before them, the wooden cabinet stood empty.

"WHAT THE HECK?!" she screamed. "WHERE IN FREYA'S NAME DID HE GO?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he shouted back. "QUICK, TEAR UP THE BOTTOM! THERE MUST BE A TRAPDOOR!"

"YES, IT'S THE ONLY SANE SOLUTION!"

Their reason had flown by this point as they began dismantling the luckless piece of furniture. For his part, Lizardman Priest resolved to say his prayers and get some sleep. One thing was certain about tomorrow; there would indeed be goblins to hunt. And he did not like to think what unpleasant fate might befall this crew were Goblin Slayer to find any of them wanting.

FIN.