Goblin Diaries, Vol 24: Demon Warrior
From the October 23, 2025 newsletter:
The following is a corrected post from a month ago, taking into account a corrected translation from the High Elven in the original journal:
12th
Day of Snow Moon, 1219th Year, Human Age of Magic …
I’m alive. Whether or not that is
fortunate, I cannot say.
I should not have ignored my nose when I
detected the scent of hyena before leaving the safety of my cave. Indeed, the
beasts were concealed nearby. I’d gone no more than a dozen longspaces from the
cave entrance when they came out of hiding and surrounded me.
I managed to stun the alpha female with a
throwing stone, and for a moment I thought I might escape. However, weakened
from days without food or water, my legs gave way when I tried to run. I
stumbled, and the beasts were on me in an instant.
I tried to fight, but there were too many.
I was about to be torn to shreds and eaten piece-by-piece when a fierce war cry
rose from somewhere outside my field of vision. Suddenly, there was a crossbow
bolt embedded in the skull of one of the beasts tearing at me, and it fell dead
at once.
Feathered bolts began to rain down amongst
my attackers as, one-by-one, they immediately succumbed to death or began
writhing on the ground in its throes. Those unscathed fled the scene like the
wind.
The last thing I remember as the cries of
the beasts faded into the distance was the freckled face of a demon warrior
haloed in fiery red hair bending over me and frowning. I awoke a few days ago
in a large cave, covered in splints and bandages, knowing I was alive from the
pain I felt when I tried to move, straining against the ropes that bound me to
a makeshift rack of some sort.
The demon warrior, a human female, has fed
me thrice daily since then. The gruel she spoons into my mouth—my jaw isn’t
working well enough to chew anything—isn’t half bad, for human food. But I
can’t tell if I’m being cared for or if she is fattening me up to eat me. Of
course, she may be trying to nurse me back to health so she can deliver me back
to Mazuom and collect some sort of reward.
When she’s not out hunting, she spends
most of her time brooding over the fire and talking to herself in low tones.
She’s not tried to communicate with me, and I’ve been afraid to let her see how
fast I’ve been recovering—we goblins heal quickly—lest she follow through on
whatever nefarious plan she has for me. Whatever those plans are, I must escape
before she has a chance to carry them out.
A few minutes ago, she left the cave to
hunt and gather food. I was able to wriggle free of the bonds to my hands and
summon my journal from the ether to make this entry. I feel like I may be well
enough soon to walk, and if I can unbind myself from this rack, I’ll try to get
out of here.
