Thomas got the binoculars from his half-brother Greg and quickly glanced through them to see just what the hell all the uproar was over. What he saw would be seared into his memory forever. The green- skinned beasts were massacring the people in the house. The axes hewed limb from limb easier than sliding a hot knife through butter, and the crudely fashioned clubs broke bones and mangled flesh with sickening ease. And the worst part was that Thomas knew exactly what these things were, and it was impossible. Goblins didn’t exist. Tom remembered sitting on a porch swing with his grandmother and listening to her stories of fantastical monsters and horrifying beasts. Some distant part of his mind told him that the Team had to leave, and soon, but Tom was transfixed by the macabre scene before him. Then the training kicked in. He didn’t go through years of training to freeze the first time something didn’t make sense to him.

“Greg, Sarge, I’ve got some Intel on the situation! I know what those things are,” called Thomas. The Sergeant First Class whipped around and levelled a fierce glare in Tom’s direction.

 “Alucan! If you have good Intel, you share it immediately! You got me?! Just because you’re our recon specialist, doesn’t mean you can wait till you feel like it to give us information.”

“No sir! It just occurred to me what these things are. It doesn’t make sense, but they’re goblins; straight out of folklore. According to folklore, Gobs are fiercely territorial and savage in combat. They have even been known to feast on the flesh of their victims whilst they still live. Gobs have tremendous strength which, along with their sheer numbers, greatly offset their crude weapons.” Tom was slightly shaking by the time he finished speaking, and took a few seconds to breathe slowly. The Sergeant’s face was slowly becoming a rather interesting shade of purple in his rage. Before he could speak, however, a shout from one of the assembled Delta Force members drew the attention of the three men. A small group of Gobs had noticed the group and decided that where they were was also Gob territory. Eight of the beasts were currently charging the soldiers and brandishing their weapons wildly. From this range, Tom could pick out various bits of the Gob’s previous victims still staining the edges. He drew his pistols, a M9 semi-automatic pistol and a Smith & Wesson Model 19 Revolver, and shouted to his brothers-in-arms, “Delta Force, engage the enemy!”

 The rattles and clicks of weapons being cocked and safeties turned off were music to his ears. He knew that his brethren were just as startled and frightened as him, but by God, they were Delta Force and these bastards were going down!