“It only means we can’t get caught.” —One-eyed Tosk, Hobgoblin Weaponsmith Jig stood in the main cavern, burping up snake and watching the satiated goblins. As a rule, goblins with full stomachs were slightly less dangerous than hungry goblins. He had no doubt they would still kill him if he dropped his guard, probably even if he didn’t, but maybe now they wouldn’t be quite so brutal about it. He remembered how foolish Veka had looked with her cloak and staff, trying to be a wizard. Jig’s pre...tense at being chief was even more absurd. One look and anyone would know Jig was no chief. His sheath once again covered his sword, but with the blade broken, the end of the sheath flopped limply along the ground. He had already stepped on the end twice, nearly tripping himself as he walked. His clothes had been so saturated with blood and filth there was nothing to do but burn them. Even his favorite boots were scuffed and scratched. The pixies would pay for that.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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