Goblin Slayer 01-12 -

The party had been confident. A young swordsman eager for glory. A martial artist who cracked her knuckles. A scout with a quick smile and quicker hands. They had laughed at the simple job: clear a few caves, collect the bounty, earn a name for themselves.

“The goblins are dead.”

That was Priestess’s first lesson: Goblins were not the punchline of a tavern joke. They were the punch. Goblin Slayer—for that was all the name he answered to—lived in a barn. Not a stable. A barn. The hay had been cleared for a simple bed, a workbench, and a rack of weapons so varied it looked like an armory’s rejected pile: short swords, torches, nets, a ladder, vials of strange liquids, a hammer meant for breaking locks. Everything was stained. Everything smelled of smoke and iron. Goblin Slayer 01-12

Priestess cast Protection . A shimmering wall of divine light held the horde at bay for three breaths. Then the shaman came. Ugly little thing, draped in stolen fetishes, and it disbelieved her miracle. The barrier shattered like spun glass. The party had been confident

Instead, a can of burning oil arced over her head. A scout with a quick smile and quicker hands

He did not introduce himself. He did not ask if she was hurt. He simply asked, “Are those all of them?”