An arrow graced my back.

Another goblin struck from my side.

He was met with a dagger to the throat.

Choking on his blood and clinching at his neck, it died.

Taking a look at the rest of the party held nothing uplifting.

This could easily turn into a whipe.

It might just be if it wasn't for him.

At the front of the onslaught, he stood.

His armor is crimson and reverberating power.

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Shouting and drawing more than anyone should.

It would have been breathtaking in any other situation other than battle.

Men around him, who were once cowards, drew strength by merely being near.

Being a new hire, I was given the flank.

A death sentence.

But it was merely a goblin raid.

Nothing like the deep of the wild.

Another two rushed me.

They screamed in frantic exuberance; they smelled of wild berries, the ones that make you mad.

Eyes riddled with veins, mouths drenched in foam, they leaped without fear.

I slew them without mercy.

After a capricious hour, the battle was over.

Goblins lay scattered like leaves in autumn.

In total, we had lost 5 men.

It could have been worse.

It could always be worse.