" I don't want to burn" said Percival from just outside the front door. "Can I come too?" He asked as a matter of habit--for some reason people didn't often appreciate goblins tagging along with them. That didn't stop Percival. No indeed. He just needed to know if he should hide from the speaker. He could be a stowaway. A stowaway on a G.O.A.T. Wouldn't that make the grand story to tell all the ladies. Maybe he would hide anyway. 

He looked down at the flagon of beer in his hand and frowned. He couldn't remember why he had it do he did the natural thing and downed it in one gulp. 

"BRAAAAP" he belched in the face of another goblin who was racing out the front door. Goblins were used to farts and belches and nasty smells of all sorts. Nevertheless Percival's belch floored the other goblin. Percival stared at the felled goblin, raided his pockets, then looked around. Where was that funny goat?

He spotted the goat weaving through the panicked masses and quickly ran to catch up, nimbly dodging bodies, weapons, rampaging goblins, and the occasional flying piece of banana bread. When he caught up to the goat he realized he had no place to hide. He needed to hide to be a stowaway. 

Spotting the kobold he attempted to hide in the kobolds shadow. He creeped along silently as he could hoping the kobold or the goat would not turn around.