Allow me to set the scene:
Goblins are invading my fort! Nearly a hundred of the foul creatures and a dozen of their hideous trolls are marching towards the gates of my outpost, as they have regularly over the past six years. I have dozens of traps set up in my entrance hall, and behind that a series of retracting bridges set up over a spike pit, which is further guarded by a masterwork ballista and the finest siege operator this dwarf has ever known. No goblin has ever made it past these defenses. And before today, the 6th of Moonstone in the year 131, no goblin ever had.
Yet one has done so today.
So here I was, confident that my traps would succeed, and this goblin, wielding a heavily decorated spear, just waltzes past my traps. The sea of blood and the hundreds of liberated goblin weapons in the traps meant nothing to her, and the ballista was something she could dodge in her sleep. So just when I thought that I would have to send in my army, the other goblins panic and run, and she gets bored and turns around. Right into the spike pit that my fellow dwarves finally pulled the lever for. Bam.
A two story fall and a nasty surprise at the bottom severely injures and stuns the goblin, so I thought, "Hey, why not send in some guys to practice beating her up?" It turns out that elite goblins don't die -that- easy. Even with a compound fracture and bleeding lungs, it takes -hours- of them hitting her with silver war hammers for the goblin to finally die. There was not a single bone -left- to break by the time she decided to die, and the remains could be more easily described as an oozing pile of broken flesh than as a goblin. And you know what was the worst part? The bitch goblin died of a damn broken ankle.
This brings back memories of the elephants.
*Drinks himself into unconsciousness*.