A/N: Been focusing a lot on Reasoning and The Road to Hell... recently. Decided to take a break from that and work on something new! Initially I had no intention of making this story, but I recently got the four main goblin characters from this sub-series drawn, and they've been on my mind a lot lately. And I thought about doing something for Pride Month and told myself, "Oh yeah. All them goblin dudes are homosexual. Perfect." :p

Like many other entries in the Legatum universe, there's no need to read stuff like The Green Wanderer or Smirvlak's Stone or The Road to Hell... to understand who these characters are or what the plot revolves around; this story is (mostly) self-contained. There will be references to certain events and certain characters, but nothing that makes it impossible for one to understand the overall plot of this particular story. That being said, since this takes place after the first Help Not Wanted, it would be wise to read that first-although it's not absolutely necessary. And despite the title, no, I've no intention of making this sub-series as convoluted as Kingdom Hearts is. And yes, I will be releasing Help Not Wanted 2 within a month of so...even though it's gonna be the third story in said sub-series, not the second.

Anywaaaaaaaysssss. This story takes place two months after the events of the first Help Not Wanted, where the same four goblins-Grovmar Grollear, his older brother Groshlar, and their two friends Bunng and Krumvell-are all trying to make money and cool off during the summer. After coming across a contract regarding the death of an orc chieftain's son, the four goblins decide to investigate, not knowing how deadly the conspiracy may be.

Story contains M/M sexual content and some violence.

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


The greenish-gray goblin groaned as he leaned against the bed. He was sitting down on the floor, naked and covered in sweat. As he blinked and felt the fluids dripping down his face, the three-and-a-half-foot-tall creature grumbled as he looked around the bedroom and saw his companions.

"Bunng?" he asked weakly.

The greenish-gray goblin shut his eyes and rubbed his head for a moment, feeling the slick bead of sweat that got all over his grimy hand. He grimaced as he looked at the particles glistening on his fingers before running his fingers through the patch of black hair vertically growing along the center of his scalp. The goblin groaned as he leaned over a bit, seeing the chubby yellow goblin lying face down on the floor.



"…Come dump water on me."

The yellow goblin aimlessly moved his right hand around the floor for a minute, grasping a canteen filled with water. He tossed it in the other goblin's direction, hitting him right against his oversized noggin.



"Grovmar, if your whiny ass is so hot, then just spit all over yourself. It's summer—of course it's gonna be hot in this town! May as well try to do something about it 'sides being a li'l bitch about it," said a burly goblin with a similar hairstyle and skin tone as Grovmar.

Grovmar looked at the brawny goblin who towered above the rest by six inches. Like everyone else, he was naked too, shamelessly showing off his hairy, bulky body and muscular frame for Grovmar to see. Grovmar squeezed his eyes with two fingers and grumbled.

"There's a difference between 'hot' and 'melting,' Groshlar. Your nasty breath is hot. But walking outside is like walking into a fuckin' furnace. I do not feel like getting baked alive."


Groshlar smirked as he walked over to Grovmar and scratched his testicles. "So you're really hot, eh?"

"That's right."

"Hold still."

Grovmar blinked twice when Groshlar stood directly in front of him. He raised an eyebrow when Groshlar grabbed his penis and pointed it at him.

"What're you doing?"

"Imma pee on you."


Grovmar immediately threw himself to the left and rolled out of the way just as Groshlar laughed.

"What the hell, Grosh?!"

"You said you wanted to cool down. So I was gonna give you a shower."


"I dunno ," Groshlar said, smirking as he looked at Grovmar's muscular body. "You seem like it to me."


Groshlar chuckled as he looked down at the floorboards and started to urinate. "Relax, Grov. You know I don't think that way about you."

"Only cause you're sober."

"This is not inaccurate."


Grovmar stood up and rubbed his forehead as he walked over to the light-green goblin who was standing near the wall banging his head into the foundation.

"Krum, stop that. You're gonna give yourself brain damage."

"SHHHH! My theory is working…"

"What theory, Krumvell?"

"Okay, so I figured, we're hot, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So the body responds to the more prevalent forms of pain, right?"

"Uh…I guess?"

"Good! So that means if I give myself enough head trauma, then I should be able to focus more on my major injury instead of how hot I am!"

"Um, no? That-that's not how that works!"


"Krum, stop!"

"SHUSHES!" Krumvell said, holding up a hand in Grovmar's face. "I got this—I got this!"

Krumvell took two deep breaths and inhaled sharply. He veered his head backwards while gritting his teeth before he promptly smashed it into the wall. Grovmar grimaced as he heard a crack, seconds before Krumvell collapsed to the floor. Groshlar finished urinating and walked over to the light-green goblin resting on the floor.

"Fuck. Is he dead?" Groshlar asked.

Grovmar bent down and checked his pulse, shortly before he heard faint breaths coming from Krumvell's nostrils.

"No, he's fine. I mean, not fine, but not dead."

Groshlar rolled his eyes and slapped his hands against his sides. "Guess we gotta take him to a doctor now."

"Or we could bury him out back. The sun isn't fully up yet; no one would see us."

"I'll get the shovel."

Krumvell sat inside of the doctor's office, which was nothing more than a few chairs and a long, padded table for patients to sit upon. Groshlar, Grovmar, and Bunng were all standing inside of the office, only wearing a pair of shorts due to how hot it was in town. The doctor inspected Krumvell's head, gazing at the swollen bruise and small bits of wood that were embedded into his green skin. Then he looked at the goblin's scruffy red beard and sideburns, scowling once he noticed all the dirt nestled into the hair. When he looked at the rest of Krumvell's body, he saw that various patches of his skin had been soiled with dirt. The doctor raised an eyebrow and backed away.

"And just how did you get so much dirt on you?"

"Yes," Krumvell said, before turning and glaring at his companions. "How in the world did that shit happen?"

"We're goblins, doctor. Does it look like we care about hygiene?" Bunng explained.

"Yes, well. While I won't exactly question your hygiene, I would like for you all to explain how this whole injury occurred."

Krumvell stared at the doctor in front of him, taking note of the white coat and dusty white pants he wore. The humanoid feline was covered in bright orange fur, with rosettes scattered around his body. The red-bearded goblin listened to the doctor growl with his maw closed and tried not to look at the beast's deadly green eyes and long, feline muzzle.

"Uh, well, you're an onca, doctor. So I'm sure someone of your stature would know that we tend to have…accidents of sorts. Just like how your species is prone to finding your tongue around your crotch."

"You are confusing me with a werewolf," the doctor said, before lifting his left paw and unsheathing his claws. "We oncas are known for our claws finding their way into goblins' eye sockets."

"Yes, right—" Krumvell stammered as he rubbed his left arm. "Okay, so it's actually very easy to summarize what happened! I was attacked."

"By what exactly? Did someone bludgeon you?"

"Indeed! It was a wall."

"A wall?"

"A wall."

"A non-sentient item that has no pulse or any form of life within its structure attacked you?"


The onca doctor sighed. "So what, did it strike you with a hammer?"

"It did!"

"Mm. 'Scuse me a sec."

The doctor walked over to the office's door, opened it up, and stepped outside. After shutting the door, Grovmar shut his eyes and covered his face with his hand. Krumvell let his legs dangle from the table for a moment before his ears very slowly lowered and he frowned.

"He's not coming back, is he?"

"No," said Groshlar, Grovmar, and Bunng in unison.

The four goblins dragged their tired feet across the hot soil of Layric Town, panting and struggling to find some form of shade or some way to keep themselves cool as the sun shined brightly in the sky. All around the town, the goblins could see that other civilians were in the same predicament. A fiscian was lying on the ground, wheezing and panting, the gills on his neck vibrating as he tried to breathe in fresh, clean air. Two stilios were lounging outside wearing nothing but shorts, taking in the sun's rays whilst also taking note of how dry their mouths were. A crew of humans and elves who were working on building a new cabin towards the southern entrance were all either shirtless or only clad in their underwear or loincloths. Krumvell spat into his hand twice and rubbed his saliva against the bruise on his forehead, while Groshlar looked down at his chest, wincing when he poked at the wound he received when he took an arrow to his left breast.

"Don't poke at it," Grovmar warned.

"It itches," Grosh snarled. "All this fuckin' heat and sweat ain't helping."

After scratching at the arrow wound on his chest, Groshlar winced when he felt a sudden pain in his left arm. Frustrated, Groshlar sat down against one of the giant boulders on the ground and folded his arms.

"I got an idea: let's go kill someone," Groshlar said.

"No!" Grovmar exclaimed. "We can't just kill someone cause we're upset over how hot it is!"

"It's okay if they're evil though," Bunng pointed out.

"No! That's…okay, yes, but—"

"Okay good; let's find a lawbreaker and murder them," Groshlar said, interrupting his brother.

Groshlar let his nostrils flare as he looked around the small town. He spotted an elf blowing his nose into a ratty handkerchief. After releasing snot onto the piece of cloth, the elf mindlessly tossed the handkerchief onto the ground, contaminating it with his filth. Eyes widened, Groshlar approached the elf as he started to walk away, seconds before he tackled him from behind, rushing him at his legs and toppling him over. The elf screamed as he fell onto the ground, and Groshlar immediately pinned him down and wrapped his burly left arm around his throat.


The elf gagged and coughed as Groshlar tightened his grip. His three companions rushed over to the downed elf as he tried to stand up.

"Grosh, get off him," Grovmar said flatly.


"Didn't you pee on the floor of a motel room?" Krumvell pointed out.

Groshlar looked at his friends' irritated faces and snorted at them. Eventually he removed his arm and got off the elf, who proceeded to stand up and kick Groshlar between his thighs. As Groshlar shouted and grabbed his crotch, the elf spat at them and straightened out his smooth, silky white hair.

"Fuckin' goblins," he snarled before stomping away in a huff.

Pouting, Groshlar folded his arms as he sat on the ground, while Grovmar kicked dirt at the goblin.

"We're not doing that anymore. We're supposed to be heroes, not mass murderers who kill people over petty reasons," Grovmar explained.

"To be fair, elves are condescending. I'm pretty sure that asshole is gonna spend the rest of his life using impressive, condescending vernacular and holding his nose whenever he smells some creature that doesn't bathe every week like he does," Bunng said.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Grovmar grumbled, rolling his eyes, "but, c'mon. We saved nine people two months ago! And since then we helped Svollard kill those mercenaries in Tovvol and saved that sorcerer who was trapped beneath cyclops waste!"

"Let us not talk about that incident," Bunng said, shutting his eyes and holding the bridge of his nose.

"To be fair, that cyclops said it was an accident. He was over thirty feet tall; how was he supposed to know a puny-ass sorcerer was standing beneath his fat ass?" Krumvell said, defending the cyclops.

"All I know," Groshlar said, breathing deeply, "is that if this heat don't fuckin' stop, or we don't find a way to cool ourselves down, I'm gonna fuckin' kill someone!"

"It's summer. Even if it rains, that'll just make the weather humid," Bunng said.


Grovmar looked at his brother and the other two goblins, all of whom looked very agitated or were pouting and sweating because of the blazing hot sun. Grovmar used his left hand as a shield for his eyes and looked up at the sky, squinting when he saw the rays shining down right into his face. After gazing at the sun, Grovmar looked at the center of town where most of the trading and other activity occurred. Human beings were instructing three different trolls with rocky gray bodies how to construct a new building beyond the trading center; a stilio that looked like a bipedal komodo dragon was stalking another stilio with blue scales, eyeing her money greedily; two shirtless orcs were in the center of a makeshift ring wrestling each other in the mud, all while two dozen people of many races screamed at them and cheered them on; not far from the makeshift ring was a goblin wearing a cloak and ratty shorts smirking as various customers paid him coins, as if it were some kind of betting match. Grovmar grimaced, glad that nobody was outright killing each other, but worried that his brother or two friends would disrupt the town's tranquility. Just as the goblin debated on what to do, he spotted a minotaur walking over to the town's Help Board and placing new ads on the hunk of flat wood.

"Oh look, there's more requests on the Help Board!"

"People got two hands and feet. Them bitches can go help themselves," Groshlar growled.

Krumvell smacked Groshlar upside his head and scowled. "You know damn well some people on this planet don't got hands and/or feet. Besides, maybe someone's offering to bring winter about sooner than later!"

"You keep living onto that fantasy, Krum," Bunng stated.

When Grovmar, Krumvell, and Bunng all walked over towards the Help Board, Groshlar grumbled with frustration as he stood up and begrudgingly followed his friends and brother. Once they were at the board, Grovmar crouched down and sprang off the ground, snatching one of the papers off the board and looking at its contents.

"Look at the job first," Groshlar snapped.


"If it involves manual labor out in this heat or it doesn't involve killing someone, then fuck it."

"'Job: Need help building a cabin out in the woods,'" Grovmar said as he read the sheet.

"OOH! Maybe the reward is that we can live in it!" Krumvell said, smiling widely.

"I ain't working to live in my own damn house. Put it back," Grosh said.

"Yeah, that's too tiring," Grovmar said, setting the paper back up.

"Awww," Krumvell whined, his ears drooping.

Without asking, Groshlar shoved Bunng out of his way before climbing on top of Grovmar's shoulders. The younger of the two brothers yelped and held onto Groshlar's legs, struggling to stand up due to Groshlar's burly frame nearly breaking him down. Groshlar snatched a page from the top of the board and handed it over to Bunng to read.

"What's that say?" he asked, stepping off Grovmar's body.

As Grovmar wiped his brother's slimy foot sweat from his shoulders, Bunng looked at the message and began to read.

"Huh…this don't seem all that bad. 'Name: Serrin Arkon. Race: Stilio. Job: Need assistance with fishing. Location: Cabin just south of Layric Lake. Payment: 600 gold coins.'"

"That seems doable. Besides, we even get to eat lotsa fish afterwards!" Krumvell said.

"So to be clear, we're gonna all be clogged up together in a small-ass boat, with nothing to shield us from the sun, breathing in everyone's hot breath, sweaty armpits, and nasty farts?" Groshlar said.

"You don't gotta be so negative, mate! 'Sides, that's what we do every night when we sleep together; wouldn't be nothing new."

Groshlar snatched the paper from Bunng's hands and crumbled it up, tossing it to the ground. Seconds later, Groshlar groaned when Bunng suddenly wrapped his hefty arm around his neck.

"ACK! Bunng, what the hell?!"

"You littered. You're ruining the beauty of this town," the overweight goblin said, mocking Groshlar's voice.

As Krumvell and Grovmar snickered, Groshlar leaned his head forward before thrusting it backwards, banging it against Bunng's nose and causing him to shout and fall down. As Bunng lied on the ground holding his nostrils, Groshlar bellowed as he snatched one of the papers off the board so violently that he ripped a portion of it with his long nails. Afterwards, he shoved the paper into Grovmar's face, causing his brother to grunt as he stumbled backwards.

"That better be something good!" he snapped.

Grovmar removed the page from his face and exhaled as he read the messages on the piece of paper. "Calm down for fuck's sake…all right, hold on. 'Name: Cornox Vullosh. Race: Orc. Job: Need help finding the murderer of my chieftain's son. Location: Ghoul Woods. Payment: Negotiable. Whether it's coins or weapons, whatever you require, my tribe will probably have it.'"

Krumvell gritted his teeth as he inhaled sharply. "Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhhh, I'm not sure about that one…"

"I don't see a problem with it. This orc needs us to find a killer. Means we get to kill said killer. Sounds acceptable to me," Groshlar said.

Bunng sniffled and wiggled his nose as he stood up and wiped dirt off his beige shorts. "Hey, orcs. Nothing better than being surrounded by an entire tribe of sweaty, muscular, chunky orcs who live out in the wild," he said, smirking.

"Yeah, but it's in Ghoul Woods! These orcs built their tribe in the center of a forest known for having unholy monsters in it! And again…orcs. They were just going around raping and razing every country and village they could get their grubby hands on!"

"King Chorn Torgash is dead, Krum," Bunng stated. "Everything in Kosslivo is back to normal ever since the Uprising happened. They got a new set of rulers and everything."

"And what if these orcs are Torgash loyalists? Then what?"

Grovmar shrugged. "We'll blend in, say we used to work for Torgash, got outta Kosslivo before everything went to shit."

"I know, but…" Krumvell nervously pressed his index fingers together. "What if…"

"Krum. Food."


"You ever tried orc beer?"

"Yeah. I'm more than confident that orcs just pissed in a stein and called it a drink."

"Okay, but have you tried roasted mutton smothered in garlic butter sauce with artichokes on the side?"


"Are you aware of the taste of roast beef cooked medium with horseradish-dill sauce smothered onto the meat, giving it that succulent, creamy flavor?"


"You ever sampled grilled portobello mushrooms stuffed with sausage and cheese, with chopped chives sprinkled on top of it?"

Krumvell's stomach growled as his eyes dilated. "N-no…"

"What about—"


"Thought so," Grovmar said, grinning toothily.

"And on that note," Bunng said, feeling his own belly churning, "best we get something to eat 'fore we head out."

"Definitely," Krum agreed.

Bunng and Krumvell both walked towards one of the taverns in Layric Town, while Groshlar stayed and kept staring at the board as sweat glistened on his forehead. Grovmar walked behind his brother and smacked him upside his head, causing him to snarl and turn around.

"Fuck was that for?!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? You're sitting here about to kill someone because they threw some tissue on the ground!"

"Tch! He was an elf. Uppity bastard would be better off dead."

"You didn't even know that guy! For all you fuckin' know, he could be one of the elves who's trying to help goblins like us!"

"Oh that's funny, an elf giving a shit about a goblin."

"Even if he is an asshole, you can't fuckin' kill him in broad daylight."

"I could if he did something horrible."

Grovmar let out a long breath and shook his head. "It don't work like that and you know it."

"Yes, it does. The four of us got an ogre killed. We took someone's life."

"Yes, and we'll just ignore the two or three…or five other innocent people we killed before that happened. Because that's just okay, right?"

"All I'm saying, brother, is that we saved nine innocent people from those caves. So that cancels out the other innocent ones who got killed cause of us. And because of us, other sinless people won't ever have to worry about Ogrell Syn'Gorrsh ever again. We did something terrible to a terrible person and because of that, something good came out of it."

"So what, that makes us valiant white knights or something?"

"We did something the world frowns upon whenever we do it. But after what we did in those caves, we got praised for it. And that does not bother me whatsoever. The thought of being rewarded for killing people, for being a mercenary?"

Groshlar sucked on his teeth. "I'm fine with that. Much as you don't wanna admit it, skunks have their place in this world, even if everyone holds their nose the second they see one."

Grovmar stared at his brother for a moment as he pondered what he said. Groshlar punched Grovmar in his left shoulder as he walked past him and headed for the tavern.

"Let's go eat 'fore Krumvell takes all the flapjacks again!"

"Sure," Grovmar said, turning around and chasing after his brother. "…Sure."

All four goblins were inside of a popular tavern within Layric Town eating their breakfast before their journey. The tavern itself was relatively clean, having gotten a new set of workers to clear out the messes that customers would make whenever they went inside. A set of booths had been built near the windows, while a small bar was stationed at the north side of the building where an onca was busy looking at a set of alcoholic beverages to serve.

"You all want the cordial, right?" the humanoid feline asked.

"Damn straight we do! You got the elderberry one in yet, Dorae?" Krum asked.

"Nah, just peach again."


All the goblins sat on the stool waiting for the onca to fill up their empty steins. She found a bottle of said cordial and filled all four glasses, seconds before sealing up the bottle and setting it back in position. Krumvell stared at the bipedal creature who resembled an ocelot. Her stomach had a creamy hue to it, while the rest of her body was covered in black stripes, spots and streaks, all of which was mixed in with tawny, yellowish-tan fur. Krumvell glanced up at Dorae's muzzle and yellow eyes, knowing how easily the onca could turn into a predator if she wanted to.

"Something else?"

"Uhhhh…" Krumvell looked at his plate, seeing that he only had one large, round flapjack left that was soaked in maple syrup, butter, and his own saliva. "Can you make me more flapjacks?"

Dorae grinned, splaying her needle-like teeth. "Can you pay me more coins?"

"NO," Grovmar said, reaching over and covering Krumvell's mouth. "No, we're fine. We gotta head out soon anyway."


Bunng grabbed his final slice of bacon and shoveled it into his mouth, his fingers coated with grease. The only portion of food left on his plate was an egg sandwich that was almost gone. After swallowing the bacon, he crammed the toast and fried egg into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open as crumbs spilled down his chin.

"Trying ta find a killer," Bunng explained, before swallowing deeply. "Some orc chieftain's son got murdered. Apparently his tribe needs outside help looking into it."

"That sounds fun," Dorae said, wagging her tail. "Couple a' tiny goblins wandering around a bunch of burly, sweaty orcs in the middle of a heat wave. No wonder why you guys took it."

"Doraaaaaaeeeee, c'mon now. Being surrounded by lots of orcs is supplementary! It's just a 'bonus' to the thought of giving this chieftain some form of closure over his son's death," Grovmar explained.

"I see. So you're not going to have sex with any of them."

"I did not say those words."

The ocelot-looking creature chuckled as she turned around and grabbed another bottle from her stash. "Yeah, thought so."

Dorae slid a bottle of grog over to a stilio with only one eye. The bipedal lizard creature with blue scales took out a platinum coin and slid it over to Dorae, seconds before he opened the bottle and quaffed its contents. Groshlar, meanwhile, had chugged his stein of cordial seconds after Dorae filled it. He set his glass down and belched heartily before wiping his mouth off.

"You gonna send us some leftovers for our travels?" Groshlar asked.

"Can't. It's still summer, and we've been getting even more customers than usual. Not gonna be able to slip y'all any scraps 'til later."

"Damn it."

"It's not like y'all should have any trouble. Lotta orcs are very fond of meaty dishes; the villagers in the tribe should be able to feed you guys."

"How would you know?"

"Used to have an orc mate a while ago. She introduced me to one of the tribes during one of their annual celebrations."

"What else are orcs 'fond' of?"

Dorae smirked. "You talking about orgies, Grosh?"

Groshlar laughed and scratched around his ears. "Weeeeeeellllllll, since you brought it up…"

The onca giggled and folded her arms. "Oh yeah, it's wonderful. Sheshka and I had loads of fun with those. Y'know, squeezing her tits, having her lick my cunt, the two of us rubbing our cunts together, just grinding—"

Bunng, Grovmar, and Groshlar all started groaning with disgust, with Grovmar shutting his eyes and turning away, while Krumvell shut his eyes and set his head down on the bar, covering his ears.

"Hey, hey—stop that shit! We don't wanna hear all that; we do not need the details!" Groshlar shouted.

"Oh?" Dorae said, lowering her arms. "Really?"


"So what you're saying is that you find it vulgar and obnoxious to listen to someone nonchalantly brag about their very disgusting and private sex life?"

Groshlar shut his mouth as Krumvell lifted his head. Bunng and Grovmar looked away shyly and twiddled their thumbs, while Krumvell coughed a few times and tapped his fingers against the bar.

"Okay, to be fair, we don't do that all the time," Groshlar said softly.

"Oh, so you only do it around females. Nice," Dorae said, lifting up a thumb.

"No! That's not what I fuckin'—"

"Stop talkin'," Grovmar growled, interrupting Groshlar.

Sighing, Grovmar wiped his face before looking at Dorae again. "What else are orcs fond of?"

"I'm guessing killing and raping, right?" Krumvell suggested.

Dorae looked at the red-bearded goblin and growled. "Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Judge other people based on what you heard."

"I didn't say anything," Krumvell said innocently.

"That's the problem though. Can't go 'round silently thinking the worst of someone based on what you assume either."

"I'm just…you know, wondering if we should be worried about this tribe."

"Look, y'all know who King Chorn Torgash used to be, I'm sure."

"Yeah, so?" Bunng asked.

"Great. So you know that one asshole orc who tries to turn other orcs into assholes like him doesn't make the rest of the orcs assholes."

"All us goblins are sociopaths though. Heh, least that's what everyone says about us," Groshlar stated.

"Then you get what I'm saying," Dorae added. "Just don't…this orc tribe—don't piss 'em off. Only thing orcs love 'sides eating meat and fuckin' is fighting."

"Fantastic," Grovmar said, sighing heavily. "Look, thanks for the info."

"And the food!" Krumvell shouted.

"Yes, that. All goes well, we'll be back in a week or two."

"Great. Be safe out there!" Dorae shouted.

"We good?" Grovmar asked after walking outside of a blacksmith's shop.

"Yeah, but, uh, how come all we got are these puny-ass daggers?" Krumvell asked.

"What, you wanted the axe that was taller than you, Krum? You know we can't wield that. 'Sides I doubt you know how to use an axe properly."

"But it's big and thick," Krumvell whined.

"He's got a point," Groshlar said, grinning.

"No. We got daggers—that's good enough. And on top of that, you still got Ogrell's crossbow, Grosh; we might even be able to hunt with that thing if need be. We'll make this simple: gonna head to Ghoul Woods, gonna find this tribe, talk to Vullosh, find out who killed that tribe's son, get paid," said Grovmar.

"And we talk about what kind of payment we receive," Bunng added.

"And we kill the fucker who murdered this chieftain's son. Should be simple," Groshlar growled.

"And then we destroy the sun!" Krumvell said.

Grovmar chuckled as he tossed his dagger up and down. "One thing at a time, mate. C'mon, let's go."

The four goblins walked away from the blacksmith's shop and made their way out of Layric Town with their supplies, fully ready to encounter whatever dangers they might run into.