The horns sounded as the goblin army crested the hill to swarm down over the town of Tometower.
The residents and guests of the tavern locked and barred the doors just in time as the wave of evil crashed down upon them. One fool blundered into the frustrated invaders and his blood was promptly spilt all over the doors as he pleaded to be let in. Those inside could only cower and wait for it to end.
Meanwhile the rest of the population stampeded up the hill to take shelter in the bunker for the second time that year, only the brave dwarves of the militia headed the other way, charging down from their clifftop perch to assault the invaders below.
In twos and threes they split to charge down their enemies one by one, axes cleaving goblin flesh wherever they swung.
Alas brave Urist, freshly recruited after the savannah titan attack of mere months prior, paid for his inexperience in this, his first and last real battle. The rest of the force regrouped, for a final assault on the goblin archers positioned on the ridge above them. Courageously they charged into a storm of arrows, trusting in their shields and their brothers to defend them. And so it was, the goblin menace was overrun and routed, the day once again saved by these brave few beards to whom we all owe our lives many times over.
Seriously this one guy, despite a civilian alert
and the doors to the tavern being locked decided to waltz on down for some socializing.