[right][h3]The Old Priory[/h3][/right]

Harold watched the other goblin flee towards the door and stab the moon elf as it passed by. He also watched as the guardsmen fired at the goblin and failed to injure it. 

“I thought you lot were trained to use those things!” he jeered, nocking another arrow and firing it. His aim was true,  and as the goblin shielded his head he took the half-elf’s arrow to the gut, falling to the stone floor.

Outside, Luna moved along the side of the church to gain line of sight on the hall connecting the church to the secondary building. There she found a door, leading from the hall to the courtyard. With a quick whisper to the leylines, a wall formed in front of the door. A goblin, passing quickly and without thought, might be fooled into believing some solid impasse had been conjured before him, but in the truth the illusion had no such solid matter to constitute it. The only wall would be in the eye of the beholder.

Back inside, the goblin captain moved with incredible alacrity. He shouted an order in Or’cat and made for the door, bounding up the steps to the altar and hurtling over it, length wise, and touching down on the floor again. He side stepped his most recently fallen comrade, pulled the door on the right of the church open, and slipped through, leaving the battle behind.

Snarling in pain at the blow he had received, Naraug raised his hammer a second time and swung at the goblin with reckless brutality. Yet, though he struck with all the tremendous force of hi sarm and bulk, rage darkened his eyes, and the weapon’s arc was wide and predictable. Once again it was deflected by a swift motion of the goblin’s shield-arm and sent plunging downwards, its fearsome weight now more an encumbrance than else. 

If the half-orc felt fear as the goblin swung the blade, a true strike that would take him in the throat, it was quickly put to rest. A bolt of flame caught the goblin in the head, and the greenskin stumbled back, reeling and shrieking, until he fell to the floor, expired. 

Tayronus had paused when he felt the earth tremor beneath his feet, looking around to see if anyone felt it. He had been about to ask a question when he saw Naraug’s peril. He mumbled a hurried incantation, his hand weaving over the right, and within moments threw a bolt of fire at the goblin’s face. His aim was true, and his fire fierce.

“Captive down!” Vanguard shouted. The goblin responsible for stabbing the moon elf was taken by an arrow as soon as the words left his mouth. Vanguard caught sight of the fleeing goblin captain and moved with him. Holding his maul by the top of its haft, Vanguard gave chase, drawing his crossbow and firing a wild shot off at the bow goblin he’d wounded as he moved. His shot was not near enough to kill it, however, and the bolt whistled past the goblin’s ear without causing harm. Vanguard made it to the doors the goblin captain had entered, threw them open, and found the hall empty. At the opposite end, the door to the secondary building swung shut. 

The corridor was lined with stain glass windows. Images depicted a story, though the meaning of it would have to wait. To the right and left, two doors to two courtyards, one to the north, the other south. The southern door was blocked by a massive slab of concrete. The other was guarded by two goblins, each armored in leather and bearing scimitars and shields, who were moving for the door to engage him.

The warforged readied himself for battle.

Inside the church, his exit cut off and his comrades dead, the last goblin, bleeding from the head, threw down his bow and fell to his knees, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. 

Emmanuel Harrad and his guardsmen entered the room, crossbows up. 

"Check for survivors," the captain ordered, keeping his own crossbow trained on the surrendered goblin.