As the ash and fires consumed the bodies a inconspicuous green mass was smothered by ash. Its once green exterior was now a hue of gray and green, forming a mossy stone like appearance. As the corpses surrounding this mass were consumed in flame more and more ash came down from above, cementing this mass in a coffin of ash. This goblin was somehow different, somehow greater.
This goblin endured and endured. Its organs hardening and its lungs strengthening. Its skin became thicker and broader as it increased in size. Born was a rare breed of Goblin, the ash goblin. As the fires died, the adventurers had long since retreated, this goblin using its last ounces of strength it tore and bore, bit and clawed, through its ashy prison. It was successful in its escape. Undoubtedly today, a new legend would be formed.
Well, if the other mass hadn't already matured and immediately killed the other goblin with a flurry of powerful slams and kicks. This was the other green mass that was left. Why would it kill a member of it's own kind? Simple. The hunger.