Rollplay (in written form)

Beleaguered gnomes bustle about the brimming tavern, toting tankards of ale for their thirsty guests. A portly innkeeper rests behind the bar, polishing glasses with a greasy rag. The tavern is teeming with travelers seeking sanctuary from the autumn chill. They rest near the roaring fire of the tavern, that illuminates the room, casting heavy shadows onto the walls. An Elven woman dances slowly in the corner, captivating her crowd of drunken colleagues.

A naturally nervous gnome scurries his way through the disorderly drunkards only to have his tankard of ale taken from his grasp. He turns to face this ale-stealing fiend, only to find in its place, an oversized half ogre, with his back turned towards him. The gnome sighs sorrowfully, and embarks once again on his journey back to the bar.

The half-ogre sits at the table,dawning pink boots, scratching his Mohawk, and drenching his black braided beard in ale, as he devours it. The half-ogre was large, as ogres usually are, towering over his comrades. A necklace is draped over his neck with a long, worn brown string. The necklace holds the symbol of Jexal, god of luck. The ogre is a cleric, and while this occupation is strange for an orc, it is not the strangest thing about the green skinned being.

Next to the ogre resides a battle-worn warrior. He is not drinking, like the rest of his companions. Blond hair covers his head, very thick as to not see his scalp. His hair though, did not cover the thin scars over his face. The warrior is sharpening his sword, wearing his full suit of armor, as well as a multitude of weapons, seemingly ignoring his surroundings.

Across from the warrior, sits an innocent-looking elf, with long blonde hair, and fiery red eyes. A satchel is strapped to her side, one could see a small moving bulge within the leather skinned pack. The young girl eyes dashes from person to person, looking at pouches, jewelry, and other expensive items with glee.

And seated next to her is a tall, ruggedly handsome elf with short blonde hair, and pale green eyes. A bow is strapped to his back, a sword strapped to the quiver. While the elf is called handsome, he is quite thin, almost sickly thin. He holds an aura of power and charisma round him.

“Hey, Tudabug, grab me one of those,” the female elf points at the tankard of ale in the half-ogre’s hand.

Tudagub lowers the tankard to the table, and stares blankly at Abigael, before slowly returning it to his mouth, and engorging it once again.

Abigael stares angrily at Tudagub, and then comments to the other elf in Elvish, about the selfishness of the chubby ogre.

Bregor smiles, in amusement, as he stands up from the seat next to Abigail and approaches the portly innkeeper. “Would you happen to have any Elvish wine?” he inquires as he leans against the bar.

The heavy-set innkeeper disappears beneath the bar for a brief moment, and returns with a bottle in hand. Bregor hands the man some silver, and makes his way back to the table.

Vincent Longborn, while sharpening his sword, looks at the barkeeper, and back at his half-ogre companion, “Hey Tubagut, the barkeeper is shaped just like you. Maybe you are so similarly shaped, because you are all related. or from all of the drinking.”

Tudagub releases a large belch, and places one of his hands on his gut, “There could just be a lot of muscle under here, for all you know.” He belches again, “A lot of muscle,” and raises the tankard to his mouth once more.

Before Bregor takes his seat at the table with his companions, an older man, with graying hair and bright red robes burst in the door of the tavern, and walks towards the innkeeper. Bregor’s companions notice that something has caught their Elf companion’s attention, and turn their heads, to see for themselves what has captured his attention. The group looks on as the man speaks with the innkeeper. After a couple of seconds, the barkeeper points in the direction of the group. The man in the red robe peers at the group, then looks back to the innkeeper. The innkeeper nods, and the red-robed man shakes his hand, and makes his way towards the group.

Bregor takes his seat among his friends.

The man in the red robe approaches the group. With a puzzled look on his face, the man motions towards the group and asks, “Might I be correct in assuming, that you four are swords for hire?”

Tudagub stares at the man silently, then turns and searches the crowd for a tankard of ale floating through the crowds. He sees one within reach, and plucks it from the tiny hands of another gnome. He glares at Bregor, and then begins devouring the ale once again. Bregor looks at the group, and then back at the man, “We may be, if the price is right.”

The man sort of stumbles backwards and begins, “Well, recently my family home in the hills was attacked by a pack of goblins. They have- they have taken everything from me. I was hoping I could persuade you to get it back.”

Vincent takes a moment from sharpening his sword. He looks at Bregor and nods his head, his eyes conveys his agreement. Bregor returns the notion, and Vincent returns to the task of sharpening his sword. Bregor asks the man, “How much would you be willing to give us for our troubles?”

“Well, umm, you can have whatever money you find on them. Whether it was mine, or someone else’s, you can have it. They stole a lot from our house, and whatever they took you can have, but I would like the actual possessions back, you can keep the money.”

Tudagub removes the tankard from his lips, and belches in the direction of the man. Bregor steps between the man and Tudagub, “Forgive his rudeness...”

The man, clearly flustered, points at Tudagub, “Well, well, wel... they took all of my stuff, and money. That’s why I am here, asking you to get it back. I can pay you with all of the money they have stolen from me.”

Tudagub addresses the man, “When you say ‘stuff’ what exactly do you mean? What items did they take from you?” The man jolts when being addressed by the half-ogre. The man seems quite nervous when faced with the gruff voice of Tudagub.

The man in the red robes replied, turning his gaze to Bregor, “Well, they took a couple family heirlooms, a sword, and an old crystal ball. I don’t know what it does, but its been passed from generation to generation in my family you see. They took all kinds of silverware...”

Bregor turns to Tudagub, leaning in and whispered, “Just look at his robes you drunkard. He is obviously somewhat wealthy. We might be able to make some decent coin from this.”

The man continues to list off the items stolen from his household, and Tudagub interrupts, “The ball. The crystal ball. I want it. Give it to us if we find it.”

The man, a bit taken back by what the ogre has suggested. The man continues on stammering, “No. No no no no no. No. That is one of the items I want you to get back for me the most. I...”

Tudagub simply sighs, “You don’t even know what it does.”

“It’s been in my family for 300 generations. It’s mine and I want it.” The man crosses his arms and glares at the massive drunk ogre, no longer nervous, but now looking cross.

“Well, can I at least see it? When we find it can I take a look at it?” Tudagub offers.

The man throws his arms in the air, and in exasperation replies, “Well, you would definitely see it at some point, between finding it and bringing it to me, will you not?”

Tudagub rubs his chin. After a brief moment he nods, and returns to drinking on his ale. His companions all nod in agreement, and accept the man’s proposal. The man gives them any ideas he has as to where the goblins might be holed up.

“Well, I’ll see you all back here in four, maybe five days?”

Tudagrub lets out another belch, and follows it with a big smile. 

“Excellent.” The man replies as he waves a hand in front of his nose.The man in the red robes leave reluctantly, constantly looking back at the group. He continues to shake his head, and talk to himself as he leaves the tavern, looking back occasionally at the group of companions.

The companions sit at the table, discussing their newly accepted mission. Vincent, takes a break from sharpening his sword, and sheaths it. He then stands up, and begins walking towards the dancing elf. He approaches her, as as much charm as he can muster and says to the girl, “You’re pretty. Would you like to have sex?.” He raises one his eyebrows, and gives a half smile as he slowly nods his head.

While this is going on, his companions, including the drunk halfogre, begin laughing loudly at their table. They all stare at Vincent, and the dancing girl, anxious to see how this turns out for their friend.

The girl blushes, and smiles back at Vincent. “I get off soon.”

“Oh, you will, I assure you.” He winks at the girl, and hands her a key to his room. He then struts his way back to the table where his friends are seated.

Abigael interrogates him as he takes his seat next to Tudagub, “Do you think this is wise? We are going on a quest tomorrow. Don’t you need your rest?”

“Some things are more invigorating than sleep. Don’t you worry about me.” Vincent pulls out his sword again, and prepares to begin sharpening it once again, when Tudagub gives him a fist bump. Tudagub then rises out of his chair, and stumbles his way up the stairs and into his room, passing out almost immediately. Vincent returns all of his focus to sharpening his sword.

After an hour, Vincent notices, as several other men approach the dancing girl, and carry on conversations with her. He notices her smiling, as well as the resemblance between their interactions to his initial interaction with her. He approaches the dancing girl once again, “Are you ready to go upstairs?”

She blushes and responds to Vincent, “Well there are some people I still need to talk to, give me a bit of time, and your room number, and I’ll meet you up there shortly.”

Vincent nods and turns towards the stairs. He trudges up the stairs and into his room.

Noticing that Vincent was going upstairs and to bed, Abigael turns to Bregor and asks, “So, do you think you are going to be turning in any time soon?”

In elvish he responds, “Steal whatever you want. I don’t care, in fact I’ll even try to help.”

Abigael blushes at Bregor’s recognition of what was going on in her mind.In elvish she asks him, “Well, do you see anything that you think I could steal?”

“Actually, there is a dwarven merchant over there. He has something gold in his hands, and he keeps turning it over and 
over. Maybe you should try to get that?”

“Well how can we distract him so that I...”

Bregor interrupts her, “We? I think you and the ferret can handle this,” and he motions at Mr. Muggwuggles, Abigael’s ferret.

“Alright Mr. Muggwuggles, any suggestions?” she addresses her ferret who is standing on the table in front of her. In response, he raises one of his front paws. “Let’s try it,” she affirms. She then rises from her seat and grabs Mr. Muggwuggles from the table and slowly approaches the dwarven merchant. “Hello, would you like to high-five my ferret?”

“Get that filthy disgusting creature away from me before it gets me sick!” he scoffs at her.

Abigael begins to slowly backpedal away from the dwarven merchant, as he stares at her suspiciously and tightens his grip on the golden object in his hands.

Abigael sits back down at her seat next to Bregor, “Maybe next time,” with her head bowed in shame.

“That was a pretty lame attempt,” Bregor laughs as he speaks in elvish to his companion. “Well, as entertaining as that was, I am ready for some sleep, have anymore brilliant plans?”

Abigael rises from her seat and trudges her way up the stairs and into her room, all the while her head still bowed in shame.

Bregor follows her up the stairs, and walks to his own room.

All of the companions sleep in their beds, and after a couple of hours have passed, Abigael rises from her bed, and creeps towards her room’s door. She slowly opens the door and peeks her head out, scanning the halls for any people. Once she thinks the coast is clear, she slowly makes her way back to the bottom of the stairs. Once she gets there she notices the innkeeper is still awake, and is reading a parchment by candle light near the bar.

Abigael slowly begins creeping her way towards the shelves behind and underneath the bar. She steps as lightly as she can, and sticks to the shadows as much as possible, trying her hardest to be as stealthy as she can. The entire time she is making her way there, all her mind keeps focusing on are the unlikeliness of her success. Her mind torments her with endless thoughts of being caught, but no matter how conflicted she is, she cannot fight her kleptomaniacal tendencies. When she is only feet away from the bar, she opens up the pouch she carries, and Mr. Muggwuggles jumps out of the pouch and onto the ground. Mr. Mugwuggles then makes a dash towards the rear side of the bar, but is noticed by the innkeeper, who grabes a knife from the top of the bar, and begins to chase the ferret shouting, “VERMIN!”
Abigael’s eyes open wide, and she slowly creeps back to the top of the stairs. Once she reaches the stop, she begins stomping her feet, and then walks as loudly as possible down the stairs into the main hall of the tavern, “Oh my god, my ferret escaped my room! I am so sorry!” and she runs over and scoops up Mr. Muggwuggles who dives back into the pouch hanging from her shoulders.

“This..this is your filthy creature?” he demands as he waves the knife at Abigael.

“Yes, he escaped my room. I guess I did not close the door very well.” she responds with her voice shaking.

The innkeeper shakes his head, “Well take that thing back upstairs, and make sure your room is closed up right this time!”

Abigael turns and trudges up the stairs once more, her head bowed in shame again at her failure. She walks into her room, and closes the door tightly. She lies down and falls asleep.

Several hours later, the sun has risen, and with it our heroes. They all make their way down the stairs and into the main hall, where they all enjoy a portion of breakfast, except for the hal-fogre who helps himself to four portions, as well as an entire flask of wine.

After breakfast, and a brief discussion of what happened the night before, the adventurers begin their trek to where the red robed man hinted that the goblins might be. As they trek towards the goblin hideout, they notice a small child running towards all of them. Tudagub, takes another drink from one of his flasks of wine, and continues walking, completely ignoring the small child running towards the party. Bregor looks at Abigael and jokingly remarks, “Hey, maybe you can finally steal something?” and Vincent takes this time to unsheath his sword and begin sharpening it once more.

The small child, panting and out of breath addresses the two elfs and Vincent, “Where are you all going?”

Abigael takes a step towards the gasping child, “Why does it matter where we are going?”

The boy takes a step backwards and motions towards the town, “The guards. The guards asked me to ask you why you were headed this way.”

Vincent looks up from sharpening his sword, “State your business kid, or scram!”

The child’s face lights up, and he begins to stutter when Bregor steps in, “We are travelers, and it is time that we move on.”

The child steps away from Vincent and towards Bregor, “B,b,but its dangerous that way. There are goblins about.”
Vincent sheaths his sword, and begins to follow behind the half-ogre. In the distance he sees Tudagub raise a flask of wine, and motion his arm like he is saying something to him.

Bregor then turns and follows Vincent. 

Abigael removes Mr. Muggwuggles from his pouch and holds him out to the small child, “High five my ferret!”

The child, with mouth agape, obliges.

Abigael then turns and follows the rest of her companions as they trek farther away from the town.

After a couple of hours of the party traveling, they come to the opening of some sort of cave. In front of the cave, they see two goblins, presumably standing guard. As soon as the group catches sight of the goblins, Vincent immediately draws a dagger from his pack, and attempts to throw it at the goblins. Before he can follow through with the throw, he feels his arm being held back. He turns to see Bregor holding his arm back. Vincent looks at Bregor with a confused look.

Bregor addresses the group, “I think, maybe we should all prepare, and launch our attacks simul...” 

While Bregor addresses the group, Tudagub plops onto the ground, and removes a new flask of wine from his belt.

Bregor continues, “except Tudagub, because he doesn’t have any attacks he can launch from here.”

Week 1 Episode 2

Vincent and Abigael both agreed, and prepared for their attack Vincent placed the throwing dagger back into his pack, and armed himself with his sword and shield. Bregor and Abigael both pulled out their bows, and an arrow from their quivers.

While pulling out his bow, Bregor mutters to himself. “Is it better to have a bow for my arrows or, an arrow for my bows?” Smiling at his own joke, Bregor focuses on the task at hand.

Abigael, while taking an arrow from her quiver, “Maybe we should try to get behind them, and gain even more advantage?” Abigael asks nervously, deflating silently as she realized her plan would not work.

Vincent shook his head, replying with a slight tone of sarcasm, “Well they are standing in front of the door, so how exactly do you plan on getting behind them?”

Abigael glared at Vincent, she didn't need him to rub it in. “I am just saying, it would be advantageous,” and she murmurs something in elvish. She took aim on the goblins with her bow and arrow. Vincent Longborn stood in front, with sword and shield, prepared to charge the goblins. Abigael and Bregor stood behind him, both with bows drawn, ready to release their fury into the cave guarding goblins.

Tudagub, plopped on the floor behind them, “Hey, can you guys just attack already? I’m getting bored.”

Bregor, arrow pulled back, says to Abigael, “I’ll shoot the one on the right, you get the one on the left.” She silently nods. Bregor nods, and within a moment each of them fire their arrows at the goblins in front of the cave. Abigael’s arrow misses, landing feet short of the goblin. The female elf sighs, giggling with a slight resignation at her pitifial shot. While both goblins stare at the arrow before them, not realizing what it actually meant, Bregor’s arrow connects with one with them, driving it through the right goblin's eye. The arrow's head embeds into the hill, a small chunk of red meat, barely attached to the metal, slides slowly down the shaft of the arrow. The goblin drops dead instantly, the hole in its head bleeds profusely on the grass, staining the hillside.

Upon hearing the dead goblin crash to the floor, Tudagub stands up. “Good shot. Now it’s my turn,” the half-ogre grunts. Standing up, allowing his muscles to push against the chainmail, the cleric draws his mallet from his back Swinging it around once in the air, he places it on his shoulder, using only one hand. Smiling thirstily, whether it be for wine or blood, the ogre started forward towards the remaining goblin, slowly, taking his time.

Vincent following the lead of his comrade rises up. He taps his shield once with his sword in a salute to the good shot of Bregor and follows after Tudagub. Twisting his wrists, Vincent loosens the muscles in his hand that had been clenched in anticipation. He spun so fast that the wind started to whistle at the speed of his blade.

The goblin, still staring down at the corpse of his comrade, looks up and sees the eight foot half-ogre, holding a gigantic mallet with only one hand, and the six foot warrior slowly walking towards him, spinning a large blade with blurring speed. He lets out a yelp, and turns to the door. He begins yelling at the top of his lungs, pounding on the door desperately.

Tudagub upon seeing this, sighs deeply, and turns his face so that Bregor can see him. The cleric raises an eye brow and nods his head towards the goblin. The ranger only smirks, nodding at the request. Taking a small breath, Bergor's arm snaps up at the goblin. Reaching back, the elf notches a bow and lets loose without hesitation.

Bregor’s arrow pierces the goblin in the chest. The goblin's scream stop as it is replaced with a small gasp. The future goblin corpse slumps against the door, the arrow still lodged into its chest, its mouth and eyes wide open in past shock and fear.

Tudagrub grunts, and proceeds towards the corpses of the goblins. He bends down and begins searching the goblins’ bodies, finding only useless clothings and spears “And you guys complain that I stink,” Tudagub shakes his head as he checks to see if the stench of the goblins has infected his hands. Wiping them on Vincent's armor, to the warrior's annoyance, Tudagub turns to the door. It is a small door, obviously intended for goblins.

Turning towards his companion, Tudagub then looks to Vincent, “You go first?”

Vincent takes only a moment to realize what and why his half-ogre was saying. He nods in agreement and steps closer to the small door.

Tudagub raises his foot, preparing to kick the flimsy door, when an rock flies past him and hits just above the door. He nearly loses his balance, but places his foot back on the ground and looks back at Bregor, who is slowly approaching the door.

“If you want to hit the door be my guest, but at least we should know if this one's screams.” Bregor nudged the cooling corpse on the ground, “alerted them.”

Tudagub snorts. “And what do you want to hear? Nothing at all or scrapes and sounds in tongues you don't know?”

Bregor rolls his eyes. “Better to know than not to know.”

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “I that a qoute.”

Bregor smirks. “From me.”

Tudagub just sighs and waves his hand at the door. “Fine.”

Bregor leans against the door, pressing the side of his face against it, “I hear noises, sounds like footsteps.” Standing up, looking at the largest being. “Well now we know, and now you can smash as you like.”

Tudagub raises his leg again, “Sounds good.” Bregor quickly steps out of the way, while Tudagub attempts to kick the door in. As Tudagub raises his leg to kick the door, he loses his balance, and kicks the side of the hill, missing the door entirely. Bregor spits out spittle in a poor attempt to hide his laughter. Vincent simply palms his face, trying to stop the smile invading his mouth. The door suddenly flies open, and four goblins rush out of the door past the ogre. Tudagub ignores them, and as if committing himself to self punishment the cleric hangs his head in shame.

The goblins use the suprise to their advantage. Two of the goblins try to stab at the ogre, still hanging his head. And as if by luck or some idiocacy, the goblins miss the eight foot tall half ogre who is standing still. On the other hand, Vincent was not paying attention to the door opening and could not raise his guard in time to properly defend. And while the other goblins could not find a way to hit a large target that was standing still, these goblins manage to pierce Vincent's hasty guard and chainmail armor, stabbing him in the gut.

Tudagrub, motions at the small, fresh wound on Vincent Longborn and smirks. The heroes, acting together with some telekinetic sense, moved as one. Raising his club, the half-ogre swings at the nearest goblin. Bregor begins walking backwards, away from the hill and launches another arrow, aiming at Vincent's attackers. Abigael fires an arrow from her position in the bushes. Vincent raises his sword, and slashes at the nearest goblin.

Tudagub's swing was quite high for a goblin, and missed it cleanly.

Abigael, while firing her arrow, saw this and cried out from her position, “You miss a goblin?”

Tudagub merely replies, sighing exasperatedly, “Next time, I’ll aim at an elf.”

Bregor’s arrow connects with one of the goblins, hitting him in the neck. The goblin clutches his neck with both hands, trying to breath but only gurgling as blood fills his windpipe. It falls to the ground, twitching in desperate hope for a not life, but a faster death. Abigael’s arrow connects with another goblin, hitting him cleanly in the chest. The goblin lets out a yelp, as it is lifted off its feet and crumples to the ground. Vincent Longborn slashes at the remaining goblin, but grunts as the wound as his gut causes him to miss ever so slightly.

Seeing both of the elves hit, while the melee part of the group miss, Tudagub quicly shoots his compatriot a look of disbelief. Vincent raises his shoulders and eyebrows while he readies his shield.

Three more goblins rush out of the door, crowding around Tudagub and Sir Vincent. Two of them take swings at the large half-ogre, but are quite shaken by the brutish appearance of the man nearly twice their height, so their feeble attempts miss completely.

Tudagub seeing that he is outnumbered lowers his mace and begins backing away from the tunnel entrance. Holding out his mace in front of him with one hand, the half-ogre removes a flask of his wine, and takes a swig as he backpedals away. Bregor and Abigael both prepare and launch another set of arrows. Bregor’s arrow flies over the top of the pack of goblins, crashing into the hill behind them. Abigael’s arrow connects with one of the goblins in the shoulder. He stumbles backwards, but regains his balance. Vincent, shakes his head at the ogre's antics and takes another slash at the nearest goblin. Vincent’s slash connects with one of the goblins, slicing open his gut. He grips it and cringes, but remains on his feet.

The four goblins, two of which are grunting in pain from their fresh wounds, surround the shield bearing warrior. Tudagub from a distance, clearly drunk, points and laugh at his surrounded comrade. The goblin in front of Vincent stabs at him. Ready for the strike, Vincent allows the spear to harmlessly strike his shield. The Goblin to his left stabs at the warrior's throat. Vincent leans back, allowing the spear to miss him within inches. The goblin behind Vincent stabs at the warrior, easily hitting him. Vincent grunts at the wound, more annoyed that he was unprepared for it rather than hurt.

“Vincent, do you require assistance? Or can I finish this flask first?” the drunken half-ogre blurts out.

Vincent keeps his eyes fixated on the goblins surrounding him, “Get over here you worthless drunk!”

Tudagub stumbles towards Vincent, sighing as he walks over, and reaches over the goblins, placing his hand on Vincent’s shoulder. The wounds on Vincent’s chest and back heal immediately.

Bregor pulls out his long-sword from his back, and runs at the wounded goblin with the arrow stuck in his shoulder. The sword pierces through the goblin, and he falls to the ground, dead. Abigael attempts to sneak up on the goblin that stabbed Vincent in the back, but closes her eyes and leans back as she swings, missing the goblin by large margin. Tudagub begins to chuckle, and Abigael places one hand over her face, “Silence, worthless drunk.”

Tudagub continues troubling. “A healing drunk, little elf.”

Vincent swings over the heads of one of the goblins, barely missing the top of his head.

The goblin nearest the door shouts something, and then disappears through the door into the tunnel. The other two goblins begin shuffling towards the door, keeping their spears pointed at Vincent, but before they can dash in, Tudagub steps in front of it, facing the two remaining goblins. The goblins swing frantically at Tudagub, who holds them at arm’s length and laughs in their faces. Bregor swings at the goblin further from the door, but the goblin manages to frantically stumble out of the way. Abigael swings at the goblin still clutching his stomach, and manages to cleave him in two, separated him at the spot of his wound inflicted earlier. She cackles victoriously over his corpse. Vincent swings at the last remaining goblin outside the cave, slicing down his back. The goblin shrieks in pain but manages to stay on his feet.

The goblin inside the tunnel, behind Tudagub takes a swing at the massive half-ogre blocking the door, stabbing him in the back of the leg, the spear lodges itself within Tudagub's chainmail. Tudagub seems unphased by the blow, rather he gives a hearty laugh. Tudagub looks at the rest of the group motions with his hand at the goblins.

The remaining goblin outside, with blood pouring down his back drops his spear to the ground, and throws his arms into the air, wincing from the pain, and crying out in goblin to the party.

Tudagub turns to face the goblin in the tunnel, he reaches his arm out towards the goblin, while doing so the goblin stabs at his arm, slicing open his forearm. Tudagrub winces in pain, but forcefully pins the goblin against the wall, gripping him at his throat.

Bregor raises his sword, and swings at the surrendering goblin, but misses. Abigael takes a reluctant swing at the surrendering goblin, feeling plagued by her conscience, and is relieved when she opens her eyes to realize she has missed the hopeless creature.

Vincent, with burning vengeance in his mind, removes all of the flasks of wine from the belt and pack of Tudagub. Tudagub begins shouting, “Wha..what are you doing? Stop! Vincent! What are you doing... stop.” Vincent ignores the panicked cries of the ogre, and begins pouring the wine into the goblin’s mouth and down his throat. Tudagub sobs, “Stop, stop it Vincent! My wine! Stop!” Vincent ignores Tudagub and continues to pour more and more wine down the throat of the goblin.

Tudagub, staring at Vincent, mouth agape, releases the goblin and begins stomping away from the cave, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He occasionally looks back at Vincent, and gives a menacing look as he shakes his head and continues to walk away.

The surrendering goblin, realizing his fate, begins to sprint away from the cave, trying to flee the party. Tudagub, without even turning his head, “He’s fleeing, someone should get that.”

Bregor drops his sword, and fires an arrow at the fleeing goblin. Bregor fires the arrow clearly above the head of the goblin, and shakes his head. Abigael drops her sword and fires an arrow at the fleeing goblin. The arrow pierces him the back of his leg, he stumbles to the ground and shrieks in pain, but he manages to pick himself back up and continues to flee, at a slower pace. “Tough little bugger,” Abigael shakes her fist at the fleeing goblin.

The goblin in the tunnel, covered in wine, grabs his spear from the floor and stabs it into the gut of Sir Vincent. Vincent, in a fit of rage, breaks the spear stuck in his gut in half, and begins stabbing the goblin with the splintered staff of his own spear. He pierces the goblins face repeatedly with the spear, and releases the goblin from his grip. The goblin’s mutilated and bloody corpse falls to the ground at Vincent’s feet. He grunts at the dead goblin, and throws the shaft of the spear on top of it.

Bregor and Abigael each grab another arrow from their quiver, and shoot at the fleeing goblin. Both have judged the distance incorrectly, and both arrows fall 20 feet short of the fleeing goblin.

Vincent kicks the dead corpse of the goblin, and then spits on it.

Bregor then quickly releases another arrow, and pierces the goblin through the back of his skull, and pins him to the ground.

Tudagub emerges from behind a tree and begins walking towards the group, with a grin on his face, stumbling and humming to himself.

Vincent removes the rest of the spear from his stomach, and adds it to the bloody pile at his feet. He then struts out of the tunnel towards the party, and removes his sword once more. He kneels to the ground, and pulls out his whetstone, and begins sharpening it once more.