"Gots ta go! Gots ta go fastest! Now!"…was all Gurt the goblinoid could think as his feet barely took a step back. His eyes were wide and he felt…what was that feeling? Terror? No, he felt that every day under the cruel hand of Blogg. 'Lookette sheeps, Gurt!', followed by a drunken backhand that always hit. Gurt had learned his lesson about dodging out of the way…that only enraged the fat ogre, so Gurt learned to take his lumps. But this wasn't exactly terror.
Staring at a group of humans, armed ones, some with armor, and at least one vile Witch (Gurt, like a lot of monsters, could sense magic in those who could wield it…the more powerful the caster, the easier it was to sense), he was certain, but he couldn't figure out who. It didn't matter. He needed to run. Now! If the humans were coming out the front entrance, that could only mean that they were either sent by Blogg to kill him, or that they had killed Blogg. And any group of humans that could kill something as massive and strong as Blogg wouldn't break a sweat killing poor Gurt the sheepherder, Gurt the cook, Gurt the punching bag.
Surprised joy! That was the feeling! Gurt had forgotten what being happy felt like, it had been so long. Blogg was…dead? Maybe? Blogg was dead. Blog was DEAD! Finally his feet and legs caught up with the rest of his mind and Gurt spun around and ran like ol Bei'thor himself was after him!
"Gots ta run! Gots ta run! Gots ta run!"…Gurt muttered to himself through pained panting as he lay on the forest floor somewhere miles and miles away. It was night time now, but he was too exhausted to get up. His eyes closed, a smile crept across his mouth, and Gurt the Goblinoid had a good, nights, rest.