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You hesitate. Just as the wekt is compelled to observe certain vows, you have obligations of your own and they demand that you do something about this pathetic creature bleeding at your feet. Your decision is swift and final. You press your point into the nape of its neck and thrust.
It is with the greatest astonishment that you find yourself gripped again by a filthy goblin hand, this time at the blade, mere inches before it could penetrate. You try and free yourself, but the grip tightens. The goblin is not as near to death as you had imagined, and seems intent on taking you with him if he is to die.
"Release me, cretin!" you say, but it is the language of your ancient makers, incomprehensible to his lesser kind.
Meanwhile, the wekt has found his legs and is beginning to advance. It has no weapon on hand, but there is no weapon you can fear more than its touch. You try once more to wrest yourself from the goblin's fist, only to be gripped a second time by his other hand. Enough! Putting your foot on his stomach, you do not pull away, but rather thrust your point into his chest. He convulses as black blood spills out of his mouth and nose. You quickly unstick yourself but lose your balance--you are simply too heavy for your feeble goblin's strength--and as you go flying upward, as if readying an overhead swing, you are caught by the wekt.
The touch is brief, for the wekt is surprised by the sudden appearance of a half-dozen more goblins, one of which has dared to throw a stone at its head, but it is enough to drain you of a great deal of your powers. Not enough to relinquish your possession, but enough that a second possession will be impossible--at least, without a full day's respite.
Still, you are free again. You bound across the flagstones before the crypt to join the goblins at the arched entrance. Seeing the wekt follow, they flee in turn, as fast as their little legs can carry them. One of them trips and falls and is left behind. When you pause to grab him, another goblin, with long cropped ears, pulls on your arm and urges you onward. You watch as the wekt picks up the poor fellow by his neck and a silvery smoke passes from the goblin's mouth into the wekt's blue hollows. When at last the goblin is thrown away, its body is no more than a husk, twisted and dry like the dead leaves of autumn.
The goblins pick up their pace after that, but soon they come to a fork in the path. The goblins are going left, having come in that way, But the long-eared goblin who pulled you along earlier is slinking toward the right, perhaps to escape by a secret passage known to him alone. He gestures for you to follow.
>What do you do?
>Go with the bigger party, there's safety in numbers, and you trust a goblin about as far as you can throw them.
>Go with the long-eared goblin, the wekt is more likely to follow the crowd with all the noise they're making
>Don't go with either of them, find somewhere to hide and then wait.
>Write-in
