Ah, splendid. Just as it seemed that the destruction of the inn had finally given pause to these assembled savages' murderous tendencies, a new monster, apparently angrier yet than all of the previous ones collectively, had appeared. Not only this, but the goblin had, in a display of suicidal foolhardiness which drove Khri'zhatt to vigorously strike himself upon the snout, to both provoke it and stir the orc's momentarily sedated drunken bloodlust once again. And to say that the goblin had at first seemed to him the comparatively least insane member of the group who still physically had a head over his shoulders... At least the two brutes were, for the moment, focusing on the instigator of this new degeneration, who, it seemed, had not even been prepared for a retaliation to his taunting.

Noticing that the goblin, caught in the orc's grip, had begun to panickedly fiddle with his equipment in a manner which surely betokened no good, and had an overwhelming likelihood of ending in a large explosion of flames, scraps, fried green flesh and bones, Khri'zhatt himself began to grow rather alarmed. Knowing the green pests as he did, it was doubtless a matter of seconds before this one condemned to a fiery death everyone in the immediate vicinity - which happened to include him, Khri'zhatt. This was not at all a satisfactory turn of events; in fact, perishing to a goblin's machinations, however involuntary, was one of the last things he was planning to do that week, or at all, for that matter.

He hurriedly began to look about for some means of protection. Scurrying away swiftly enough was out of the question due to the wound inflicted by the orc's chain-hook (now, seeing [i]him[/i] explode would have been far more enjoyable). Ordering Thrik to crouch over him would not do, either, as, besides there being a substantial chance of the lumbering beast crushing him, he was not certain the umber hulk's carapace was strong enough to withstand what would come flying out of the sizzling pile of metal. The only apparent solution was to find something to cover himself with. Pity that the inn's doors had all been either destroyed or buried under the rubble... Just then, his eye fell on the elf's still headless corpse. It might not have been of much use in the case of a large detonation, but it was soft enough for stray shrapnel to embed itself in it, and besides, had the elf not already shown himself willing to take blows for him? [color=saddlebrown]"Thrik, fetch!"[/color] he commanded. The umber hulk reached over with its horridly long arms and, seizing the corpse, held it as a shield before itself (or as much of itself as the relatively diminutive form could cover, at least) and its master, bracing for the presumedly incoming blast.