"Impossible!" The goblin chief groaned, slumping to the ground.
Sorrin straightened, pulling his sword from the humanoid monster's chest. Droplets of blood slid off the blade as he flicked it to the side and sheathed it in one smooth motion. The other goblin corpses dotted the cavern entrance, split by blades, skewered by arrows, or scorched by magic. Their blood painted the floor red, making for slick, treacherous footing.
I ran over to the prisoners, dropping to my knees beside them. There were four of them, a couple and two children, all pale as sheets and eyes wide with terror. Shoddy iron manacles bound their hands and feet, and filthy rags had been stuffed between their lips. They were Deerkin, the male having three-point antlers, and the woman and two little girls covered in soft, downy fur.
