You look around you for something to stab the goblin with. Unfortunately, you are not a mercenary, a hunter or a chef. You are not a fighter, nor a writer and you were never a reiter. The point being – you do not have your own sharp implement.
The waggon you are on is filled with food and there is not a swordfish to be seen.
This means, unfortunately, you cannot find anything sharp in time before the cleaver lands a shallow hit into your shoulder. Ouch! [gain flag 3].
The goblin cackles as it sees you bleed. It then licks its lips as it pulls the cleaver up. You reflexively flinch but suddenly the goblin stiffens as a sword pierces it.
A tall blonde-haired woman grabs the goblin and tosses it off her blade. She wears the plate of a knight and cradles you as she lifts you out of the waggon, “Sorry about this.”
She leaves you outside of the waggon and waves over a man holding a needle and thread. He nods and slowly starts sewing up the wound in your shoulder. As he does, he passes you a bottle and smiles, “Drink”.
Do you drink it?
- Yes
- No
The Treasure at Castle Drakenholf 