A/N: So once again I decided to ignore my set schedule of stories I intended on writing and instead wrote this in about two and a half weeks, because it was glued in my mind. And just like The Green Wanderer, Help Not Wanted is another entry in the Legatum series I've been working on. Similar to previous entries in the Legatum universe, there's no need to read The Green Wanderer or Smirvlak's Stone to understand who these characters are or what the plot revolves around; this story is (mostly) self-contained.

Anyways. This particular story focuses on a small group of goblins who are desperately seeking money. Knowing that stealing money is out of the question, they all decided to take various jobs around town, and ultimately participate in one contract that may be more than they can handle.

Story contains M/M sexual content.

And now that that's out of the way, enjoy the story. :)

Flies. That was always the first sound that woke him up. No matter where he went or where he and the other goblins slept, it always seemed to be the flies that woke him up. The greenish-gray-skinned goblin's eyes gradually opened up, and he slowly moaned as he moved his arms and legs. After hearing the rustling and feeling the sludge around his feet, the goblin looked down and could see a few watery black bags. When he wiped some of the sleep from his eyes and slowly woke himself up, he realized that he was sleeping around a few garbage bags. Even better, someone nonchalantly dumped leftover food all over him. Which would've been fine, if it hadn't rained last night. The goblin moaned as he gradually stood up, his legs shaking as his short, three-and-a-half-foot-tall body moved around the bags. He slowly opened his large mouth and yawned, showing off his nasty yellow teeth and his slobbery tongue inside. The naked goblin grunted after stretching and set his arms at his side, moments before he looked to his left and spotted another goblin who was a full four feet tall standing near a wall and squatting a bit.

It wasn't until he looked down behind the goblin, and at the goblin's large buttocks, that he realized he was defecating. The taller goblin exhaled after finishing, before he reached backwards and slapped his right buttock so hard it jiggled slightly. Then he looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

The shorter goblin just grimaced. After the taller goblin finished, he chuckled and turned around, walking towards the smaller one. The shorter goblin blinked as he stared at him, gazing at the black hairs spread around his chiseled chest. The muscles in his arms and legs were a lot more noticeable and bulky compared to other goblins, most of whom were either skinny or fat from overeating. His chin was covered in fuzzy black hair, but he was nearly bald-headed. The only portion of hair on his scalp was a short patch of black hair that vertically ran along the center of his scalp. The shorter goblin reached up and felt his hair too, still remembering that he had the exact same kind of hairstyle. It wasn't until the taller goblin was standing in front of the shorter one, with his abs in his face, the scent of his musk flaring his nostrils, and his flaccid penis dangling between his knees, that the shorter goblin felt emasculated.

"Had a good sleep mate?" the taller one asked.

"Groshlar, we're in a pile of trash," the shorter one responded.

The tall one laughed and scratched at his chest. "That we are, mate! That we are! Ain't like it's the first time though!"

The shorter goblin rubbed his eyes. "Fuck happened last night?"

"Hehe, we had lots of fun is what happened! Saw ya gettin' spit-roasted by the fire, squealing like a goddamn hog!"

The shorter goblin snorted and scowled. "Yeah. And I heard you cryin' like a li'l bitch when that minotaur shoved his cock up your ass. What, your ass not wide enough to handle a bovine?"

Groshlar snarled as he leaned down and got in the shorter goblin's face. "Fuck do you know?"

The short goblin groaned and backed away, scowling. "Augh, I know your breath stinks! Damn—we're surrounded by all this trash and I can still smell it!"

Groshlar grinned. "Not like yours smells any better. 'Sides, this just goes to show how 'potent' it is! Eventually you'll get so used to it that you're gonna be begging to kiss me one day!"

Before the short goblin could move back further, Groshlar opened his mouth and exhaled again, prompting the shorter beast to roughly shove Groshlar away. He laughed jovially while the short goblin groaned.

"Go wake up the others while I go, err, find my clothes. Maybe you can use that breath of yours to do it."

Groshlar smirked at the shorter goblin before he turned around and walked over to three other goblins who were sleeping in the trash. One of them had bright green skin and was snoring noisily, his mouth wide open as saliva gradually dribbled down his mouth. Groshlar kicked him in the side of his head, and the goblin snorted and sniffled as he opened his eyes.

"Agh…fuck you want, mate?"

"Get up."

Groshlar didn't wait for a reply; he headed over to the next goblin, a chubby yellow-skinned creature who was cuddling up next to a giant trash bag. Groshlar kicked him in the head too, and the beast shouted and immediately sat up.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up—we gettin' attacked by humans again? S'goin' on?"

"Nothin'. Just get your fat ass up and get dressed."

As the yellow goblin grunted and got to his feet, Groshlar came across the final goblin, another light-skinned green beast who had a red beard and red sideburns on his face. Groshlar smirked to himself as he crouched down, looking at the goblin sleeping silently. Then he reached over and pinched his long, pointy nose, closing off his air supply. The red-bearded goblin snorted several times before his eyes shot open and he erratically thrashed his arms in the air. When Groshlar knew he was awake, he took his hand away, and the goblin sat up gasping for air.

"Good, you're up. Now get dressed."

The red-bearded goblin snarled as he looked at Groshlar. "The fuck, Groshlar?! You couldn't just snap your fingers or something?!"

Groshlar shrugged. "Was either that or I use my breath like Grovmar wanted. Figured the latter option would knock you back out though."

Shortly after Groshlar woke up the last goblin, Grovmar returned, now clad in a pair of ripped dark blue trousers held up by a single string and a brown wool shirt. He huffed as he stepped around the garbage and swatted some flies away before he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Shit…shit! Goddamn it—think I lost all my coins," he exclaimed, looking around frantically. "Everyone check your pockets. You got any coins on ya?"

The chubby yellow goblin finished putting on his beige trousers, grunting as he tried to tie his string without his corpulent gut getting in the way. After he did, the goblin looked within his trousers, only pulling out lint.

"Sorry. Got nothing."

"What about you, Groshlar?"

Groshlar grunted as he bent down and grabbed his dark gray sleeveless vest. He slid it on his body and left it open before he looked at his black trousers and moved his hands through his pockets.

"Got a dead beetle. Think we could buy some rum with that?"

Grovmar groaned and rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers and pointing at the light green goblin with a scar on his face.

"Thurrgar. You got some silver on you, right?"

The scarred goblin scratched his face before he straightened out his red shirt and searched the pockets of his baggy gray pants. "No, I don't. Them minotaur fags ain't cheap, y'know. Surprised they didn't bite our cocks off when we told 'em we ran outta coins."

Grovmar swallowed before he sheepishly looked over at the red-bearded goblin. He wore a stained white shirt with no sleeves on it, and a pair of dark blue shorts made of wool.

"Hey, don't look at me. They were serving stilio ale there; you know I had to buy us all a pint!"

Grovmar groaned and smacked his forehead. "So we got no coins on us?"

"Why do you think we slept outside in the garbage? We couldn't afford to rent out any beds!" Thurrgar pointed out.

"So—" Grovmar grunted as he swatted away a few more flies. "Wonderful. No food, no place to stay, and no coins."

Groshlar shrugged. "Least we can still suck each other's cocks off."

Grovmar glared at Groshlar as the taller, bearded goblin laughed. He exhaled with a huff as he stomped his way out of the garbage and back onto the main road, wiping some of the crud off his clothing.

"C'mon, let's head to the forest. Guess we're eating nuts 'n' berries for dinner."

The red-bearded goblin groaned and frowned. "Damn it…I wanted flapjacks drizzled in honey."

"Yeah? Well, you should've thought about that before you bought that scorching beer last night, Krumvell."

Krumvell smirked. "You mean before it burned your tongue and had you screamin' hysterically?"

Grovmar listened as the four other goblins laughed at him. He just snarled with frustration and continued to stomp down the road, not waiting for his fellow goblin companions to follow him.

Whether they liked it or not, the five goblins chose to stick together. As soon as Grovmar disappeared into the woods, the other four goblins' stomachs began to growl. And after a failed attempt at chasing down and killing a stray dog so they could feast on its flesh, the four short creatures hurried into the woods and eventually picked up on Grovmar's tracks. Once the five of them were together, they arrived around a series of giant trees that were growing pecans, many of which had already fallen to the ground. The five goblins were busy rummaging around the trees, picking up an assortment of pecans and cracking the shells open to extract the kernel from within. Groshlar, however, was picking up any of the pecans he saw and immediately shoving them into his mouth, crunching noisily on the shells.

"Grosh," said Grovmar. "You're supposed to break the shells first."

"You're supposed to break the shells first," Groshlar repeated, in a nasally mocking voice. "It's food. I can eat this shit however the fuck I want."

As Groshlar started crunching on another pecan, he shouted and felt something in his mouth dislodging. He rolled his tongue around his cheeks for a moment before spitting on the ground and grimacing.

"Fuckin' hell. That's the third time this month!" he shouted.

Grovmar glared at the splotch of spit on the ground and blinked. "Well. Maybe if you ate properly, you wouldn't keep chipping your teeth. Give it a couple years; you'll have a mouth no different from all those old farts who can't even piss right."

Thurrgar could sense the hostility growing between Groshlar and Grovmar. Rolling his eyes, the light green goblin exhaled as he bent down next to a tree and picked up a mushroom from the ground.

"Look, it's early in the morning; you two are just cranky and tired. Grovmar and the rest of us will eat the pecans. Groshlar, you can eat all these mushrooms."

"Fuck shrooms," Groshlar snarled, before turning and looking at the fungus in Thurrgar's hand. "And I ain't puttin' that in my mouth!"

"Why not?"

Grovmar slowly approached Thurrgar and squinted as he gazed at the fungus he was holding. It looked like a standard mushroom cap, but there were blue spots all over the cap, and the stem was purple.

"Err…Thurrgar? Where did you get that?"

"On the ground, by that tree over there. Why?"

"You just randomly picked up a mushroom off the ground?"

Thurrgar raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…s'a mushroom. Those are edible, right?"

"Not all of them! Just lookit that thing; I'm getting a rash already!"

"No, Grovmar. That rash is a result of never bathing. We all got one."

"Thurrgar, you're not eating that. You're gonna get sick!"

"I agree," Groshlar added. "I'm not sleepin' next to you if you're gonna whine all night about how you can't stop squirtin' bloody, runny feces all over your legs."

Thurrgar exhaled. "It's a fuckin' mushroom! Nothing—look, I'll show you."

Before Groshlar or Grovmar could stop him, Thurrgar shoveled the odd-looking shroom into his mouth and started to chew. He swallowed the fungus after crushing it with his teeth and exhaled.

"See? You did all that whining—"

Thurrgar coughed twice with his mouth wide open. He sniffed and shook his head, shortly before he coughed again in the same tone, sounding as if he was trying to expel the mushroom from his gullet. Thurrgar grunted and rubbed his throat a bit, seconds before he broke out into a violent coughing fit. Groshlar and Grovmar backed away as Thurrgar fell to his knees. Mere seconds later, his eyes turned red. Thurrgar tried to speak, but his throat abruptly started to close, and he found it hard to breathe. Small blue spots started to form all over Thurrgar's head, and he emitted wheezing, whimpering noises.

"Okay, so what have we learned today?" Grovmar asked, as he stood in front of Thurrgar's makeshift grave.

The remaining three goblins all looked down at the grave sheepishly, timidly kicking at the soil and averting Grovmar's stern eyes. Groshlar eventually looked up at Grovmar and scratched at his beard.

"Don't eat random shit off the ground?"


Grovmar exhaled with frustration as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his giant nose. He shook his head slowly, while Krumvell pushed the tips of his index fingers together and blinked a few times. As Grovmar opened his eyes, Krumvell raised his left hand.

"What if it's on the floor?"

Grovmar glared at Krumvell. And then smacked him so hard he shouted and fell down.

"Y'see him?" Grovmar asked.

Groshlar nodded and cracked his knuckles. "I got this, Grov. Y'all wait here; I'll be back shortly."

"So what are we gonna do? Just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" asked the chubby yellow goblin.

Groshlar smirked. "No, Bunng. I expect you to sit here with your tongue in your asses."

Bunng scoffed after hearing Groshlar's comment, and the muscular goblin eventually wandered out into the middle of the road and began to follow his target. As Groshlar moved down the road, he gazed around the town just to ensure that no one was watching him. The area that the goblins were in wasn't very large, especially compared to other towns or even cities within the country. Groshlar could see several houses all lined up next to one another; some were made of wood, stone, or even bricks, and packed with all sorts of humans and other individuals. Others were mainly small shanties, some of which were packed with goblins of his size. Groshlar even spotted a few large boxes on the ground between alleys that goblins or stilios were crammed inside. In the center of town, which was where the target was heading, everything seemed to thrive. Various traveling merchants had their own booths where they sold special merchandise from out of town. Some trolls, elves, and humans alike were teaming up to sell off various knick-knacks found in cities clear across the ocean. Independent merchants aside, the center of town consisted of shops that were built around each other in a half-circle, and a stone statue that had been placed in the center of said half-circle.

Groshlar gazed at the statue for a moment, frowning when he saw what seemed to be a bearded human wearing armor and a cape, looking rather majestic. Gripped firmly between the artificial hands was a long, heavy broadsword—one that people said was used to slay some vile monsters. Groshlar just snorted at the statue before he continued moving forward. The stilio he was following looked like all the rest: a tall, scaly, bipedal reptilian beast who wore clothing like various other races in the world. Groshlar stared at the yellow-scaled, barefooted reptile wearing only blue trousers and listened to him hiss and stomp around. The greenish-gray goblin squinted, wondering where the target was. And then it occurred to him that the goblin would have to be a bit more direct. Smirking, Groshlar hurried forward, and squeezed the creature's right buttock. He yelped and immediately turned around, panting as his slit-like pupils beamed down on him.

"Fuck you doin'?!" the lizard asked, his voice watery and raspy.

The hairy goblin looked up at the stilio and chuckled as he curled the fingers on his right hand. "Got a real toned ass back there, lizard-boy! Heh, you wanna go somewhere more private?"

"I'm not a faggot you twat!"

Groshlar chuckled as he walked forward and groped the lizard again, this time vigorously moving his big hands around the area between the lizard's thighs and around his waistline.

"Oh, it's all right; no one's gotta know. I can keep a secret."

Groshlar shouted when the stilio punched him to the ground, and immediately afterwards kicked him in his stomach. As Groshlar curled up in the soil groaning, the stilio spat against Groshlar's oversized, pointy left ear and stomped away.

"Fuckin' faggot," he hissed, loud enough for Groshlar to hear.

After Groshlar overcame the pain, he coughed a few times and sniffled, shaking his head. When the goblin stood up, he looked down in his right hand and smirked, now carrying a small brown bag that rattled when he shook it. Groshlar strutted his way over to the other three goblins and grinned as he held up the bag.

"You got it?" Grovmar asked.

"Course I got it. Got ta feel how thick his cock was too, so it's a win for everybody!"

"Good. Let's head to the inn 'fore all the flapjacks are gone."

The four goblins all sat down on separate stools within the tavern, their feet dangling and not touching the floor. Groshlar removed the sack of coins from his pocket while the red-bearded goblin looked around the inn checking for suspicious characters. Some knights were eating at a booth with their helmets off, mumbling to themselves as they chewed on their delicious meals. An elven archer was sitting across from a hooded figure whose face was hidden; she seemed more interested in chatting with the individual as opposed to consuming the plate full of veggies and meat in front of her. A yellow-skinned orc sat alone near one of the windows, slurping and chewing cacophonously as he devoured a colossal plate full of ribs from different creatures. There were all sorts of shady, possibly threatening individuals inside of the inn. But Krumvell didn't care, because they were all too busy devouring delectable food that he wanted to cram into his mouth as well. After merely glancing at the people occupying the inn, Krumvell turned back around and found himself looking at one of the bartenders, a human being with a large brown moustache and beard wearing an apron.

"So. Dining together?"

Groshlar nodded before he smirked and held up the small pouch of money. "And I'm paying!"

"Gotcha. So what'll it be for you four?"

"Uhhhh…" Bunng scratched his chin as he smelled all of the food being made in the kitchen. "I'll have the—"

"FLAPJACKS!" Krumvell shouted. "Don't care what you put in 'em or how they're made. Just give us all a tall stack of flapjacks! And drizzle 'em in honey."

The human being nodded. "No problem. Heh, didn't know you goblins had a sweet tooth. You know the drill: money up front."

Groshlar untied the pouch and tilted it upside-down onto the bar, dumping out the contents. After all the contents came out, Groshlar shoved the coins forward with his hands and lifted them up. The bartender looked down at the coins before he frowned and looked back up at Groshlar.



"There's eight coins here."

The four goblins frowned nearly in unison. Groshlar examined the coins again and stammered. "Wh—only eight? I thought I stole—err, um, well…that's still sufficient, right?"

"Yes, but these coins are all copper, sir," the bartender said, before he lifted one coin and nonchalantly snapped it in half. "And from the looks of it, they're so rusted and brittle that their currency is essentially useless now."

Krumvell whined, his ears lowering a bit. Grovmar smacked his hand against his forehead. Bunng slammed his head against the bar and groaned in a muffled tone.

"But…but I wanted flapjacks," Krumvell whined.

"I can't serve you flapjacks if you pay me with broken coins," the bartender explained.



Groshlar stammered. "Ah—forget the flapjacks, Krum! Look, sir, you gotta give us something. We're starving here, and we're actually giving you the decency to pay for our meal, as opposed to sneaking around the back and stealing it."

"Only because everyone in this town knows that if you steal, we hack off your hand."

Groshlar was very glad that the stilio never found out that he stole his money from him. Then again, now that Groshlar knew how much money he had, he could see why he didn't bother trying to reclaim it.

"This has to pay for something, right? We'll settle for a fried egg sandwich at this point."

The bartender nodded. "Oh yeah, this'll pay for something."

Everyone sat outside the inn with scowls on their faces, chewing and grumbling to themselves as they held their spoons and bowls in front of them. Grovmar sniffed as he looked inside his bowl, staring at the grayish, chunky contents and a few cubic pieces of starchy vegetable that wasn't even mashed or sliced. It seemed like the chef merely tossed all the vegetable chunks inside and handed the food over to the goblins and told them to leave.

"So…y'all enjoying your, um…" Groshlar picked up a spoon full of the grayish contents. Then he sighed as he tilted the spoon over, dumping the contents back out into his bowl. "Plain, butter-less porridge with potato chunks thrown in?"

"I don't taste any honey," Krumvell grumbled.

"Yes, you've made that clear. Now shut your ass and keep eating."

The group of goblins ate in silence, occasionally coughing or grumbling as they tried to shovel the tasteless meal down their throats. After the four of them finished, they casually tossed the bowls and spoons into the same pile of trash bags they were sleeping in earlier, as opposed to returning the bowls back to the inn. Bunng wiped his mouth off before belching and exhaling.

"So. What now? We're outta money again and we're gonna be hungry in another few hours."

"May as well steal our next meal. Maybe travel to a new town if we get caught," Krumvell suggested.

"Good idea! Maybe we'll visit that one restaurant—"

"We're not stealing anything else!" Grovmar shouted.

Krumvell blinked. "Why not?"

"Did you not just hear what that human said? If we get caught stealing shit, they're gonna cut our hands off! Or kill us for all we know!"

"Then we won't let 'em catch us," Groshlar smirked.

"That's not the point! How many times have we gotten in trouble over doing reckless shit? How many times have we almost died because we did something stupid?"

"Thurrgar did die this morning because he ate a bad mushroom off the ground," Bunng pointed out.

"THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING! Gods—it won't be long 'fore we end up in a grave too if we keep this up! Is that seriously what all of you want? To end up like Thurrgar, dying because you did something idiotic that easily could've been avoided?"

"We're goblins, Grov. S'how our lives work," Groshlar pointed out.

"Sure, yeah, fine. We'll just keep doin' the same shit every day 'til we die and do nothing of value with our lives. Great idea, Grosh."

Grov huffed and kicked at a rock, watching as the small pebble flew through the air and clonked against a gaslight. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away from the group, heading over to an abandoned alley so he could have some time to himself. Groshlar looked back over at Bunng and Krumvell and held up a hand to them.

"Just stay here. I'll get him."

Krumvell and Bunng leaned against one of the unlit gaslights and waited patiently for the greenish-gray goblins to return. When Groshlar entered the alley, he spotted Grovmar leaning against the brick wall, kicking against the dirt multiple times and scowling. Groshlar approached the shorter goblin and exhaled as he stuck his hands in his pockets too.

"Look, why are you like this? Didn't we have a good time last night? Didn't you enjoy what we did last night? I didn't hear you whining when two werewolves were ramming their cocks into you simultaneously."

"Yes, Grosh, I enjoyed last night. I enjoyed one night over the last several weeks."

"Shouldn't you be grateful for that night? We finally caught a break; there's nothing to complain about!"

"We spent one night getting intoxicated and participating in an orgy. The very next day, we woke up in trash, and Thurrgar died."

Groshlar blinked. "Okay, well, if you wanna look at it from a whiner's perspective, sure. And we've only known Thurrgar for three weeks; who gives a shit?"

"Groshlar, I'm tired. I'm tired of other people looking down on us. I'm tired of just wandering around to various towns, stealing food, and hoping that no one or nothing kills us."

Groshlar shrugged. "S'called life, Grov."

"No, that's called just barely surviving. How much longer you think it's gonna be before our bodies finally give out? If we all died today, you really want to die knowing you spent your last day doing, what? Eating plain porridge? Sleeping in rancid garbage? Watching one of your friends die because he ate something he knew he shouldn't have eaten?"

Groshlar huffed. "Obviously my opinion doesn't matter, and neither does Krumvell or Bunng's opinions. So please continue to stand here and whine about what you want."

"I just…I just want us to do better, Groshlar. That's what our parents wanted. Isn't that what you want too?"

"I want my brother to stop bitching about everything not going his way in life."

Grovmar didn't say anything. He just blinked and slowly looked back down at the ground, while Groshlar scoffed.

"I'll be waiting alongside Bunng and Krumvell. Feel free to go on your own since you're so much better than us."

The brothers paused for a moment and glared at each other, moments before Groshlar inevitably turned around and walked over to the two other goblins. Grovmar, knowing he had nowhere else to go, followed him, and regrouped with Bunng and Krumvell. Once he was back with the group, Krumvell scratched his head and cleared his throat.

"Soooooo, you two good?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's fine," Groshlar answered, before Grovmar had time to open his mouth.

"Great. Y'know, we could always head back in the woods and look for some travelers. Hell, if we're lucky we'll come across some corpses so we don't gotta worry about 'stealing' and getting caught."

Grovmar shrugged. "Sure, okay," he responded, sounding uninterested.

"Wonderful! With any luck, maybe they'll have some food on 'em they can 'share' with us."

Bunng and Groshlar chuckled after listening to Krumvell's words, and shortly after they followed the red-bearded goblin down the road. Grovmar exhaled in a melancholic tone and went after them, knowing full well he had no other place to go. He spent most of his time looking down at the ground, wondering why his dirty feet kept moving forward when his brain was telling him to ditch all of these goblins so he could live a better life. Unfortunately, Grovmar also wasn't paying attention to what was ahead of him, and he grunted when he ran into someone nailing a flyer to a giant wooden board positioned not far from the town square.

"Bah, sorry! Sorry 'bout that."

The woman wearing a dark green tunic looked down at the goblin and sniffed. "No worries. S'long as you didn't steal from me. …You didn't, right?"

Grovmar shook his head.


After the woman walked away, Grovmar looked up at the large wooden board and saw dozens of sheets of paper pinned onto it. Curious, he reached up and snatched off one of the sheets, and he gradually skimmed all the text to see what the paper said. After he read the message, his eyes widened, and he immediately sprinted over to the group.

"GUYS! I found something!" Grovmar shouted.

"Coins or food?" Krumvell asked.

"Neither. But I know how to get both! See this?"

Groshlar shrugged. "S'a piece of paper. So what?"

"No, no, not just a paper. It's a contract! Someone posted a buncha these on that giant board over there. There's random people scattered around the town and in the forest who are offering rewards in exchange for helping them out with specific tasks. D'you know what this means?"

"It means we have to work in order to get food," Groshlar concluded.

"Helping other people for a reward? How does that sound bad?! Why would you not want to do that?!"

"Because it's work, Grovmar!"

"Fuck's sake—this is the only option we have here. We can't keep stealing; someone's gonna catch us and either hack off our arms or kill us. None of us know how to cook properly, and two of us aren't smart enough to read or write. We're not gonna last in this town surviving on pecans and porridge, and you all know it."

Krumvell raised his hand. "If we do this contract, does this mean we get more food?"


The red-bearded goblin turned and glared at Groshlar. "Grosh, we're doing this."

"NO! We can't—Bunng, this plan is stupid; you know that right? What if this contract is some-some sort of trap? What if we end up getting kidnapped and sold as sex slaves?"

Bunng glared at Groshlar and blinked. "You are complaining about turning into a sex slave?"

"Yes! Because sex slaves never get what they want. So our masters are gonna make us fuck females! You really wanna be forced to lick some bitch's cunt every night?"

Bunng scratched his big belly before turning to look at Grovmar. "He's got a point there. I don't think it's worth taking the risk."

"It says the reward is a diamond," Grovmar pointed out.

"Grosh, it's worth taking the risk."

Bunng, Krumvell, and Grovmar all looked at Groshlar with folded arms and scowled at him, waiting for his response. Groshlar groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Does it say when we get paid?"

"As soon as the contract is finished. And there are multiple contracts up here, Grosh. As soon as we finish, we do another one, get even more rewards! Eventually we won't ever have to worry about running out of money or coins or anything!"

Krumvell cleared his throat. "It's three to one. So you can't even say that Grov is trying to make all of us do what he wants to do either."

Groshlar exhaled and rubbed his forehead, grumbling. "Fuck it then. Let's do this one contract, see what happens."

"Good!" Grovmar exclaimed, before slapping the paper. "We follow the instructions the contractor listed, and nothing will go wrong."

"That's what people say before something goes wrong."