After a feast that had lasted three days and three nights, the goblins were most satisfied.
The remains of their prey littered the floor of what had once been an opulent hall, now defiled with excrement and stench and corpses. Before, they had made only one scrawny catch, but now they had four fresh prey.
Four women, no less. Humans, of course, but also an elf and a rhea. The goblins were naturally elated about this, and their celebration was altogether without restraint-as if goblins ever showed restraint.
The girls were wildly outnumbered by the goblins, encircled, then completely surrounded by them... What happened next hardly bears repeating.
But these were not run-of-the-mill country girls. The exposed bodies, clothes brutally torn away, were each different, but all showed the effects of long training.
Their skin was sunbaked, with scars that spoke of old wounds, and each time they were played with, hardened muscles were visible through a layer of supple fat.
And in the corner of the room, thrust aside like so much garbage, was a pile of stolen armor and helmets, swords, and shields.
These women were adventurers of the eighth rank, Steel-or rather, had been.
Now, not one of them was breathing. How did this happen? That was the last thought to go through the mind of the noble daughter who had been the party's leader.
Had they been so wrong to take on this adventure, gripped by righteous indignation upon hearing about a village girl's kidnapping and wanting to set her free?
It wasn't precisely pride that had led to their destruction. They had snuck in at noon, hoping to catch the goblins as they slept.
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The mountain fortress had been built of ancient trees by the elves, and it was a place unknown to the adventurers, a maze through which they had no guide.
So they never let down their guard. They prepared as well as they could in the small village, knowing full well many goblins awaited them. They simply knew they had to rescue the girl.
These were not fresh-faced beginners; they had been on a number of adventures and had a good deal of training and skill. In front, their armored leader held her weapon at the ready, and a ranger watched the area like a hawk.
Guarding their rear, a wizard was prepared with her spells, and a monk prayed for miracles. They had kept in formation, stayed alert, and checked every inch of ground.
They had made no mistakes. The cold, hard truth was they'd simply had bad luck.
First, the fortress-as was common in such structures-was full of booby traps. The traps the elves had once set to fend off goblins now, ironically, served to keep the goblins safe.
