The goblin mother woke me at the end of her watch and collapsed next to her son. She drew him in closer to her and turned to face the fire. I collected up some more under-growth and dead branches and put them on the fire. I looked over at the mother and child sleeping next to each other, the younger sleeping as any child might, the elder looking as if she were dead. I was tempted to poke her to make sure she hadn't died, but I didn't want to risk an angry goblin attacking me. I thought back to something that the human had told me, "they both didn't have long for the world" or something to that effect. Maybe she was deathly ill?
I stopped myself from thinking about it, I needed to be on guard. Then I thought of something, if anything attacked I would be almost completely unarmed. I looked over to the goblin mother. She still had her sword on her belt. Maybe I could slip it off her person without her waking up and trying to kill me. I snuck as silently as I could over to them. I crouched down and reached carefully and slowly across their bodies. I grasped the sword, holding my breath. She didn't move. Careful, careful... I thought to myself. I inched the sword out of its sheath, the sound painfully loud and the progress astonishingly slow.
She did not move. I wondered what might have happened to them if I had been some roaming monster. At last with a dull shhing of metal on metal, the blade was free! I began to examine it by firelight when something grabbed my arm. I looked down in horror to see the goblin's face twisted into a cruel mask of fury. She twisted my arm sharply, nearly dislocating the shoulder as well as causing me to grimace in pain. She rolled over and made a move to stand, giving me opportunity to break her grip. I was already several steps away when she got up. I dropped the sword and kicked it over to her, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender.
She looked down at the sword, then back at me, with no diminished anger. She clenched her fists and began walking toward me. I continued backstepping, trying as best I could to make note of where I was going without taking my eyes off the goblin for more than a second. She rushed me and before I was able to dodge or escape I was tackled to the ground. She began to pummel me with her fists, me blocking my head and taking the blows to the ribs mostly. I tried to get her off of me, shoving her away, but I wasn't quick enough getting up to escape.
She grabbed me by the bruised torso and pulled me back in for more punishment. I tried grabbing her fist, but she just used the opening to land a crippling punch to the jaw. I don't quite remember what happened next, but I know I fought back. It might have been hours or just minutes but we continued our non-verbal discussion about sword theft for quite a while. I dodged and threw the goblin mostly, but she was quick and would often be able to close in and continue her onslaught. I was shocked at the ferocity of it. I don't know when or how I noticed when she began to tire, it was as if someone had highlighted the symptoms for me. Labored breathing, slight slowing of movement, slackening of the muscles in the neck and shoulder, even her eyes changed a little.
I took this opportunity to counter-attack. Acting on some sort of blind-instinct I swept her left leg from beneath her with a low kick and then with a polite shove on the shoulder, I brought her to the ground. I fell on top of her, grabbing her wrists in each hand. Using my dwarven strength I was able to keep her from freeing her arms. However, her legs were engaged in repeatedly kneeing me in the gut. I could feel the bruises forming and an overwhelming nausea. This goblin just didn't want to quit. She continued to struggle, nearly breaking my grip several times, but I held her firm.
She began to calm down after quite some time. When she completely stopped resisting, which was quite some time after, I released her. I tried to get up but collapsed into the ground like dwarven jelly. She got up and brushed herself off, then walked back toward the campfire. I turned my head and followed her motion. Then I noticed something... The goblin boy was watching wide-eyed while all of this went on, clutching his femur bone. I thought of how horrible it must be for him, he was so young, obviously terrified... Yet he did not cry or make any sound whatsoever. Was every young child like that in this world? Or just the goblin children?
As it turns out, I should have been paying attention to his mother. She crouched down and retrieved her sword then returned to stick the point of it in my neck through my new, dwarven beard. I couldn't have moved even if I had wanted to. She seemed ready to plunge the sword into my throat and kill me, she even stepped on my chest to keep me still. At that point I had had enough and spit up blood, followed by vomiting, then spitting up some more blood, then retching until I passed out.