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"Good morning," he shouted to the elf, then filled his
lungs, let loose another battle howl, and headed back up
the slope. The elf was right behind him.
The slope above was a confusion of goblins - most of
them dead or dying, but some still very much alive. For a
moment some of these scrambled, clawing upward, try-
ing to climb the slope. But one, a creature slightly larger
than the others and heavily armored, shouted guttural
orders and regrouped them.
Going uphill was far slower than coming down had
been, and now Wingover and the elf found themselves
facing a ready enemy who held the higher ground.
Darts and thrown stones landed about them.
Wingover held the lead, wielding his shield to deflect
what he could. But a dart scored the human's leg, leaving
a bloody gash. Two goblins hoisted a huge stone between
them, raising it above their heads.
Behind Wingover, the elf said, "Drop."
He dropped, half-covered by his shield, and the elf
loosed an arrow. It took a goblin full in the throat. The
second one staggered back under the sudden weight of
the stone, and fell.
With a hiss, the goblin leader lifted the fallen creature
to his feet and gripped the back of his neck with one
strong hand. In the other he held a heavy broadaxe
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