Chapter 15: Home

After extracting their revenge on the blue wizards, the four goblins dared not travel during the day. They knew that an angry wizard was a dangerous creature, and the memories of lost goblin warriors haunted their minds. The sun's unforgiving glare was not a risk they were willing to take, so they became shadows of the night, skirting the edges of danger as they journeyed beneath the cloak of darkness.

For five nights, they traveled swiftly, the thrill of their earlier triumph propelling them forward. Their hearts pounded with the exhilaration of freedom, but they remained cautious. Several times, they spotted blue wizards gliding through the sky, their broomsticks casting long shadows over the land. Each sighting sent chills through their spines, reminding them of the power their enemies wielded. But by the dawn of the fifth day, the wizards were no more, leaving behind only whispers of fear in the hearts of the goblins.

The landscape shifted from open ground to a well-worn path—the Carival Pass—a road they knew too well. This was a place filled with the tales of goblin lore, a route lined with memories of mischief and encounters both terrible and amusing. The air was thick with the scents of earth and the distant echoes of travelers. As the moon hung high above, they crept along the path, peering into the lives of those who journeyed this way.

In the shadowy corners, they spotted an imp puffing on a pipe, the acrid smoke curling into the night air like a wisp of mischief. Goblins loathed the fey folk, those glittering do-gooders flitting about like annoying sparks of light. They were creatures of magic and whimsy, best left alone unless one fancied an ill-fated encounter.

Then came a purple wizard, draped in robes that shimmered like the twilight sky. Shookle, unable to contain himself, let loose a few arrows from his trusty bow, a glee bubbling within him at the thought of hitting a wizard once more. But, alas, the arrows flew wide, rebounding off some magical barrier. With a yelp, the goblins scurried into the underbrush, narrowly avoiding the wizard’s gaze as he turned, puzzled but ultimately uninterested.

As they continued along the road, a farmer with a laden wagon passed by. With practiced stealth, the goblins darted in and out of the shadows, like whispers of wind, grabbing handfuls of his crops—squash, potatoes, and even a few apples. Their fingers were deft and quick, filling their pockets with the bounty of stolen goods. A satisfying smirk spread across Giblet’s face, a fleeting reminder that even the lowliest of goblins could partake in the spoils of others.

Finally, they crested a hill, and there it was: Goblin Town sprawled before them like a festering wound in the earth. The stinking grey haze hung in the air, a familiar aroma that spoke of home—an amalgamation of mud, decay, and the unmistakable scent of goblin life. Their hearts swelled with a mix of relief and joy, the weariness of their odyssey lifting like a heavy fog.

As they descended into the heart of Goblin Town, laughter and chaos surrounded them. The raucous sounds of their kin welcomed them back, the clamor of goblin life echoing through the night. They had journeyed far, faced the horrors of wizards, and now, with the dust of adventure settling on their shoulders, the four goblins knew they were finally home. The walls of their town, crude yet comforting, loomed before them, promising the warmth of familiar chaos and the chance for new mischiefs to come.

Entered by: 0x712b…E85C