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. He was watching the
minotaur, who was casually breaking off tree limbs as thick
as a grown man's arm, then dropping them or hurling them
away. The kender would use them for firewood later.
"Tell me story, why you here now," said the goblin,
sitting down on a rock. He was relaxed even though he
didn't have his machete or spear. He knew he wouldn't need
them.
The elf was silent. He looked down at his clenched
hands.
"No story, eh?" said the goblin in mock
disappointment. "Maybe tell good story about magic sword.
Make no matter now. Sword gone. Humans got it. Tell
about sword. Good to hear story, start day."
The elf unclenched his hands. "It was just a sword," he
said without looking up.
The goblin grinned mirthlessly. "Just sword, eh?" he
said. "Dirty sword, no good? You sure you wear white
robes?"
Stung, the elf flushed, but still did not look up. "It was
a gift for a friend," he said. "It ... had a lot of personal value
for me, too."
"Hmmm," said the goblin, after a minute had passed in
silence. "Not much story, eh. We find you, shoot humans,
save life, fix you up, and you have no story. Eh! Wizards
all alike." He made a gesture with his hands, resigned to the
ingratitude of the universe
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