Four days later

Pleck wiped the sweat off his brow. The sun beat down on the duo as they trained back at Blem's cave. Although Pleck would never admit it he was trying to run Blem off. First he thought the Goblin was all talk. Instead Blem proved to be annoyingly difficult to dissuade. Second he thought the goblin wasn't capable. Yet even as Pleck threw Blem through the wringer he still kept going despite being too tired to draw his bow string. Lastly, Pleck tried to test Blem's heart by training at his cave. Instead of backing off, the move seemed to steel Blem's resolve and he trained with a fervor that Pleck didn't think was possible for the goblin.

Pleck watched the Goblin repeatedly practice his shot; the arrows that he found seemed to be doing the trick for Blem. Blem's aim wasn't perfect, but he was an above average archer. He got winded rather easily however, which made training Blem an exercise in tedium as their lessons were often punctuated with bursts of activity between long periods of rest. Pleck hoped the little goblin's stamina would improve, otherwise they'd be both wasting their time.

"Alright Blem enough! Come rest awhile."

The little goblin dutifully put his bow away as he stumbled back to the cave. Blem looked ragged and tired, yet still wore that eager determined look that never seemed to fade of waver. Pleck admired it. He wished he had recruits with have as much spirit back in the day. Still Blem was untested, and for all his eagerness now only real combat could definitively prove if Blem had a backbone to match his gumption. They drank the tea that Pleck had been preparing in the shadown of the cave. They didn't talk much during the resting periods. Sometimes Blem would ask a good question, like what to do if his bowstring snapped or if he broke his leg. But beyond that the awkward silence between the pair persisted.

It would seem to stay that way until they both heard something scramble out of the bushes. Pleck flew off his chair and drew his bow, to which Blem followed suit."Is that a human?" Blem asked.

Pleck squinted, "No, ears are too pointy." Pleck eased up on his draw, whereas Blem undrew his arrow completely. "What do you wanna do Blem?"

The elf woman tumbled just as she entered the grassy field. "What do you mean 'what do I wanna do' you're the expert here?" Blem protested.

Plecked looked at Blem dumbfounded, "How can you claim to be a champion of our god if you can't show a little initiative?!"

Blem glared at Pleck, "I ain't claiming a damn thing! How can I act if I know nothing!?"

Pleck glanced between Blem and the elf woman who was staggering towards them. "How are you going to know anything if you're gonna refuse to act?! You don't take action, you don't learn! Simple as."

Blem clucked his tongue incredulously, "Well...what do I do?"

Pleck shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know Blem but you best figure it out."

Before Blem could come up with his own rebuttal, the elf woman crashed right at the mouth of the cave. "I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe..." she quietly reassured herself. Her self soothing came to immediate end the instant she locked eyes with Blem. Elf and goblin stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Blem worked up the gumption to break the staring contest by looking at Pleck. Much to his chagrin Pleck shrugged and waited on Blem.

"Ahem," hobgoblin and elf paid very careful attention, "...hi." Pleck pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hi?" the elf replied incredulously. Blem looked triumphantly at Pleck. Pleck asked Blem to act, he just wished he specified how he should act. While the two goblins took their eyes off of the elf girl she tried reaching for one of the knives strapped to Blem's leg. Before she could lay a finger on one she heard the draw of a bow.

"Easy there girl, the little one may be careless but I ain't." Pleck kept his bow trained on her.

The woman shot Pleck a defiant glare, "Kill me and get it over with, I don't have time for this nonsense."

Pleck drew his bow a littler tighter. The elf's eyes were like sapphire daggers with how piercing they were, gazing straight into Pleck's very being. The tense staredown was broken when Blem undid one of the locks around her ankles. "What are you doing?" Pleck asked.

"She looks like she needs help. So I'm helping her. You wanted me to act, this is how I choose to act." Blem undid another lock. Soon enough the elf girl was free from her restraints. Pleck and the elf exchanged surprised glances with each other as they looked Blem undoing each lock with seemingly expert knowledge. "Don't act surprised," Blem chuckled, "you get tied up or harassed long enough you'd learn how to undo a lock too."

"Why are you helping me?" the elf asked.

"You looked like you needed help," Blem replied. "I'm Blem," the little goblin held out his hand.

"Elia," the elf girl replied as she cautiously took Blem's hand.

Pleck loosened his draw as he looked the girl over. Golden hairthat was messy, an athletic build that had been diminished with whatever gruel the slaves were feeding her. Pleck had a feeling that once she recovered she'd be strong, maybe even a warrior. She shot a scornful look at Pleck. "Name's Pleck," was all he had to say.

Before they could hash it out any further, more rustling came from the forest edge, opposite of the field. Pleck could see what was chasing her now. Slavers, five in total. Each man look ragged and rough, each clad in leathers and all wielding falchions¹A falchion is a single edged sword. Sometimes they look like machetes that have crossguards but they can also look fancy like straightened scimitars or sabres. These thugs however don't have the fancy falchions or axes. Their leader, a man wearing a horned iron helmet was a head taller than the rest, and slung a greataxe on his shoulder. "There she is," one of the slavers called out. They stopped in the field halfway between the cave and the forest. "The woman, hand her over!"

"Why should we?" Blem defiantly drew his bow. Elia felt a cold fury well up in her chest as she plucked a long dagger off Blem's back.

"Come on you little green tosser she ain't worth the fight," the ragged slaver boss spoke. The other men readied their weapons

"Blem..." Pleck pleaded, "What if she isn't worth the fight?"

Elia glanced angrily at Pleck before glancing pleadingly at Blem. "Please," was all she whispered.

One of the minions started chuckling, "Hey boss isn't this goblin from all the stories, the one where they always wail on him." Blem looked mortified at his legacy and he seemed to shrink away, his arrow unreadied.

"So it is," the helmeted man spoke. "I'll tell you what goblin, hand the woman over, and we won't beat you...this time." The men's chuckling erupted into full blown laughter

Blem looked away from everyone and he closed his eyes. He glanced at the elf woman. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Disappointment? Pleck wasn't sure how he'd describe the feeling. He didn't want to get into a scrape but he expected something more. Elia looked betrayed at Blem before turning a defiant eye towards the slavers. Blem turned away and walked towards Pleck... or so it seemed.

Before anyone else could act Blem spun on the ball of his heel and loosed and arrow so quickly Pleck didn't even register the arrow sailing through the air. The boss's greataxe was like an anvil when it hit the ground. His hands clasped his throat fruitlessly. Time seemed to slow as he fell. To Pleck he seemed like less of a man, and more like a monument to his doubts about Blem's willingness to fight collapsing before his very eyes. Now Pleck had his answer. "Alright we're doing this," Pleck said under his breath.

Pleck loosed his arrow. It struck a slaver, who a moment prior had been staring in slack jawed awe at his dead boss. The arrow pierced the man's side, and by Pleck guess got his lung. Elia, with stunning speed, bolted from the cave and tackled one her hunters before savaging him with her dagger. Pleck knocked another arrow while he looked for Blem and realized he couldn't see him anywhere. This lapse in attention was almost enough for one of the men to nail Pleck with a thrown axe. "Not today," Pleck said as he fired an arrow in retaliation.

Off to the side Elia squared off with another slaver. The man swung wildly, yet despite her malnourished state she managed to keep pace with him. What the savage swinging slaver didn't count on was Blem coming up from behind and slashing at his ankles. The man buckled, which gave Elia the opening she needed to driver he dagger deep into his chest. All that was left now was the lone surviving slaver who was now nursing three arrow wounds. He looked around at the mess. Four of his friends were dead, and he had no inclination to be next.

Before he could make his escape Blem and Pleck unloaded on him. To Pleck it didn't matter which arrow was the killing blow. For the goblins it was a matter of easing pressure. For Elia she found it cathartic that her persuers went through all the trouble just to die ignobly in a field. To a pair of goblins no less.

When their adrenaline wore off Elia collapsed. Blem followed suit, leaving Pleck the only one standing strong. "Heh, maybe there's something special about you after all..."