Quite a few words could be used to describe Quintin prior to his abduction. Hardy, determined, and never-the-less partially blind. Though stealthy was never one of them—until now, apparently. Never did he imagine that so many would die in his hands without notice; having no issue killing a sentry, a goblin on patrol, and the ten that slept in the first house.

It was surreal to think about how quiet he could be when he put his mind to it. He thought about his [Dex.] stat, his [Battle-Robe of many Tumbles], and other semi-related skills, none of which seemed a hundred percent right.

Could it be a combination of two or more synergistic qualities? Not that I'm going to complain, my plan was merely to thin them out as much as possible. Thank you, mystery [Silence].

Having checked two of the houses, he was now en route to the third. However, progress wasn't always a one-sided affair. While the [Goblins] around the fires squabbled, those out on patrol gave him serious competition at times.

He ducked behind a stalagmite column just before a [Goblin] scanned his previous position with evident wariness. As he idled there, a peculiar sensation pulsed through his [Sinisphere], originating from many different places throughout the ruins. A majority of the pulses came from beside the firepits, some came from in front of the houses. Even more of them flashed vibrantly for a few moments before blinkering out behind debris or other rocky outcrops.

Quintin saw exactly what was happening. The heads on pikes were gyrating as they scanned the surroundings with a pale red beam of light from within previously slackened, murky eyes. It mattered not which one or whom, all intelligence was the same in those lax, drippy facial-features spinning around, and around.

The [Goblins] noticed them moving but did not pay it any particular mind. It was clearly a sign that this was something they were very aware of. They laughed just a little bit louder, ate just a bit more ravenously; as though the turning heads were the locked doors that protected their carefree attitude.

Quintin had a dilemma on his hands. He was currently situated behind a stalagmite half-way to the third house, but there was no way to remain hidden from the heads if he continued on the current path. For the moment he was stuck—thick rope taut in mud, ready to fray from the tension.

His ears were tickled by the dull sound of lapping waves, reminding him of a potential workaround. There was a way to get to the water's edge by using the sight-line cancelling blockage of debris to his side. To make himself smaller he lowered his posture and sneakily hoofed it over. Of course, one doesn't just cannon-ball in, and Quintin was no different as he slowly, quietly, slid himself in.

The new route had no new enemies he could sense. Even still, he felt the presence of the Headbearer amongst those vigilant, rotating faces. His plan to check out the two remaining houses could still be accomplished, he just needed to get behind the tight surveillance in the central portion of ruins.

The weakly sloshing current galloped on his chin as he swam through the water. All the while he kept tabs on the [Goblins]. They maintained their unalarmed state, but clearly the Headbearer had been spooked. Ahead of him, a cave wall faintly presented itself, which he planned to follow as he pulled himself out and onto the cavern floor.

Apparently, [Magical] clothing dried fast. However, that did nothing for his common clothing underneath. So, he quickly ducked behind some cover to change into one of his spare outfits before continuing. It was more than a little dark in this area, away as he was from the bonfires and noise by quite a bit now. Quintin pressed his hand against the wall as he followed it along, and grumble-wondered if he couldn't have just fought in the open without all this assassin business.

Stupid Goblins. Stupid Headbearer. Why are there so many? I don't know how much is too much to take on! I do know one thing though; I very nearly got my butt kicked by just one Hobgoblin, and there are two here, at least.

He walked on and soon came to a stop when he saw the darkened shape of the third building in the short distance ahead.

He came up to the windowsill and saw some fifteen [Goblins] asleep inside with the help of [Envision]. While proceeding in much the same way as the first house, the sound of laughter and chatter reverberated a stark contrast to his grim tidings.

With his work done, and fifteen more [Goblin Ears], he saddled himself over and out from the windowsill.

It's one thing to fight a lucid opponent, much another to take them out with nary a whimper. My fights in the future must be with open eyes, hearts, and minds. I now fully understand why assassins are so detestable.

Quintin was a bit depressed, but he didn't feel bad per se. To him, it was important to fight while wide awake and true to oneself. Though, this situation was a situation he saw no other recourse for, no matter how much he found it unpalatable.

The fourth house was close to the third. He went unnoticed using the same back wall but found it entirely empty when he got there.

No new [Goblins] presented themselves up til now, so he made his final preparations for battle. The fifteen [Goblins], two Hobs, and the Headbearer were his targets. Ahead, gathered in a circle around a bonfire, sat nine familiar shapes. His first true opponents bickered with gestures and primitive sound, against the flaming foreground of his mind. One of the [Hobs] took up the majority of a side to itself. Quintin made sure he had its back.

He loomed out surreptitiously from the corner of the stone house. His eye shrank with focus before he leapt out from cover, towards the [Hob's] back. Halfway into his sprint a [Goblin] shrieked and pointed out Quintin in alarm. The others instantly began to clamber to their feet to meet him with their hastily grabbed weapons.

The [Hob] was fast to its feet and bellowed a challenge just when Quintin came into striking distance. His hand reached out, the [Hob] swept out at the same time, but, in the end, its sword was clumsy and lacked full preparedness. Quintin slid underneath the arc while pressurized forces propelled him forward. His palm and fingers scooped into its side like butter and ripped out a large chunk of muscle and sinew from up under its sword-arm armpit.

Its arm hung limply to the frame as Quintin rolled behind it and pressure-kicked the [Hob's] knee out. The sickening crack signalling the end of its defiance as it collapsed onto the ground. He added a quick foot-to-head to finish it off.

The [Goblins] dashed forward, but most still had to move around the bonfire. The closest ones though were already lunging at Quintin even as he attempted to pivot away from the dead [Hob]. However, one still caught him in the side with its dagger and pain flooded in from the deep slash.

[Slashing Damage has been calculated.

-45HP

HP: 372/417]

Quintin's arm came down from above with a [Grip] that crushed its head. He amplified the pressure in his lower arms to quickly, and violently throw it into the bonfire, scattering ash and embers onto some of the slower [Goblins]. Those ones screamed out in pain with an ample amount of embers going down in-between their crude outfits.

The faint smell of burning flesh lingered in the closely shared air. Quintin could see activity coming from around the other bonfires now, they were moving towards the battle.

There weren't many more, after all, he had started with the largest group of nine. It also helped that they were scattered, with no sense of uniformity.

He grinned widely, welcoming the challenge to come.