Tired Of Death

Gurg picked his nose and examined the recovered contents. Deciding it wasn't worth eating he wiped it on the back of Buggle.

"Hey! Stop that!" his fellow goblin complained.

"I'm bored!" Gurg answered by way of response. "Why do we have to be guarding this stupid place anyway?" He indicated the entrance. "It's too close to outside, something might come along."

"Well, we won't have to worry too much about that," Buggle spat back. "Not with all these other guardians hanging about. Someone said that robe fellow was a lich, and that Beholder isn't something I would want to mess with."

"Is not a lich. We don't have any liches," argued Gurg.

"Do so."

"Don't so."

"Do so."

"Don't…"

The philosophical debate was interrupted by a shout from a troll, who pointed at a small figure zipping through the air towards them.

"Help me!" the flying form cried.

"Help?" asked the troll.

"They're over there." The Fearie pointed back towards a clump of rotting bushes some distance away.

"Who are?" The troll was still catching up.

"The ones you are after!" shouted Smudge, rolling her eyes. "I convinced them to let me loose. Hurry up! They're getting away!"

"Let's us put an end to these traitorous vermin," the cloaked figure, who might or might not have been a lich, hissed. It glided forward over the damp ground, heading towards the area indicated.

"Finally," Gurg said, picking up his spear, "some action!"

The monsters charged forward, the Fearie directing the way. "Over there! Come on! Move faster!"

The beholder swooped ahead, dodging branches. The trolls simply crashed through the undergrowth, and the maybe-lich seemed to fade in and out. The goblins had to jump over debris and around bushes much larger than they were, and hence started to fall behind.

"Hey! Wait up!" Gurg cried, tripping over a rock.

Buggle fell on top of him, squashing him into a patch of dubious looking soil.

"Get off me! We're losing them," Gurg complained.

"Ah, forget it," his fellow goblin said, sitting on a nearby stump. "They're too far ahead. We'll never catch up."

They looked forlornly on as the posse disappeared from view, charging after the outlaws with wild glee.

"Come on," said Buggle. "Let's go back to the entrance and wait for them. Maybe the trolls left something we can steal."

Gurg brightened at this suggestion. "Good idea!"

The two scurried back towards the entrance, just as a couple of other figures arrived.

"You couldn't keep up too?" asked Gurg, as they drew close.

"Actually, we're just passing through," said the nearest one cheerfully.

"Wait a minute!" Gurg put a finger to his lips. "I know you! You're the zombie that ate our princess a while back. Hey! You're the group we're watching for!!"

He started to shout, but a dull pain stopped him. Looking down he saw the tip of a black sword protruding from his stomach, intestines oozed from the wound it had caused, and dark blood dripped down his front. The sword hummed.

A voice from behind him spoke. "Sorry about this, nothing personal you understand, but we can't afford to have any witnesses."

The blade was removed, leaving a cold feeling in his insides. As the light started to fade, Gurg thought he heard the zombie speaking.

"How was I supposed to know she was a princess?"