Hank was ecstatic. The rest of his fellow Thistletop goblins were busy raiding sandpoint, but he had hit the jackpot: the sandpoint pound. He looked around at all the helpless dogs and puppies just looking back at him. YES, his bloodlust said. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. Hank started around the room with his dogslicer, chopping up every manner of poodle, pug and pomeranian. Blood was everywhere. He laughed hysterically. Through all the chaos, he didn’t even notice the soft footsteps, the creaking of hinges.
He drank the blood of bloodhounds and tore through the terriers. He chopped chihuahuas to chunks and ripped retreievers to ribbons. He pulverized the pointers and eviscerated the vizslas. This was too good to be true! Never had any goblin killed so many of these miserable creatures at once. Hank would go down in Thistletop history! Or wait. . . . was it really too good to be true?
Hank fought hard as reality slipped back. He didn’t want to let go of this fantasy. But the smell of pickle juice started to replace the smell of dog blood. He slipped out of the dream, and was back to the watchtower on Thistletop. He opened his eyes.
Standing in front of him was a brawny, brown human welding a hammer bigger than Hank’s head.
He didn’t even feel the blow crack down on his skull.
Ripnugget sat on top of Charlene, his riding gecko. He delighted at watching his favorite warriors battle illusory humans. Of course, real humans would be better, but until they could launch another raid on Sandpoint, this would have to do. He shouted over to Wiggy the warchanter “give them something really challenging!”
Just then, a Hyena appeared in front of Commander Putnam. “Clever, Wiggy. How did you think of a Hyena?”
Putnam screamed in agony. "What in the hell?? Wiggy, your Illusion bit me you hunk of horses#’
Something was wrong and Ripnugget knew it. He scanned the room – the main door was slightly ajar. “Hey, who’s out there? Come on in!” he said.
“It’s probably just Sawsage” said putnam, obviously too stupid to realize the situation.
Just then a brute of a human bust through the door, brandishing two swords. He quickly dispatched one of the commanders. Ripnugget’s blood began to boil Real humans just as I asked. Lamashtu be praised. He bellowed out from deep within his bones “LONGSHAAAAAAAANKSS!” and smacked Charlene into action. Quickly, another human (this one very short and a bit odd looking), and ancient elf and a heavily armored glowy-looking human charged in the door. Putnam and the Barfwhip held most of them off but the short human and his dumb cat approached the throne. Ripnugget charged across the room, nearly slicing the weaking human in half with his short sword.
The cowardly brown-skinned human, obviously scared of Ripnuggets ferocity, tried to attack Charlene instead. Ripnugget easily reared her back and landed another blow on the human. The pathetic weakling looked almost dead already. This will be too easy, he thought.
But when he turned again, the Brute was right in front of him. The small human ran away, so Ripnugget focused his attention on this more worthy foe. Ripnugget and the brute traded blows but ripnugget had trouble penatrating the brute’s armor. Just then he felt a leathery hand grab his arm. The touch sent chills down his spine – then a piercing shock rattled his body. It was enough to distract him. He saw the twin blades of the brute come down and new he was finished.
Ripnugget fell off Charlene onto the dirt floor. Blood dripped out his mouth. He tried to pull himself up, but he had barely reached his knees when Charlene, slain, fell on top of him, crushing his spine. He could do nothing but lie on the ground and bleed. As his life started to flee him, he watched his fellow goblins fall one by one. First Barfwhip fell, then Wiggy. Then the other goblins rushed in and one by one were cut down by the intruders. Brent, Ib-bin, even Sawsage. He watched them all die. He muttered one final curse, and closed his eyes for good.