Seeing its comrades slain, the last remaining goblin turned to flee. Before the cowardly brute could take more than a few steps Goblin Slayer pounced, his sword cleaving it from neck to hip.

"Fifteen," he breathed, rising from the remains to scan his environs. All around, crimson blood and green carcasses stained once pristine snow. The marauding goblins had been camped out here for a while when his party swooped in to finish them. A small reduction of forces for when it came time to face the larger group. Every little bit helps.

Still, this altercation proved passing strange in his experience. For some reason he got the impression that these goblins had not put up much of a fight. In truth they seemed almost… glad to die.

What could this mean?

"Beard-cutter!"

Dwarf Shaman came sliding down a snowbank. The party leader turned to regard him. "Are there more?" he breathed, ready to recommence the slaughter at a moment's notice.

"We found survivors," his stout ally huffed upon catching up to him. "They had them in a sort of pen not far off. Looks like some of the members of that party what came before us."

Goblin Slayer considered this. "If they are not severely injured, we might want to treat them here. Their aid could prove helpful when we assault the main band."

"Actually…"

Even someone not socially conscious like Goblin Slayer could pick up on his party member's distress. "What?"

Dwarf Shaman tucked his hands beneath his armpits and glanced aside. "Think you better see for yourself," he grumbled.

The two of them made their way back to the camp. A fire still smoldered in a pit, with feathered and mutilated goblins lying in heaps. Lizardman Priest and High Elf Archer were stacking the corpses like logs. Both went about their work so intently it was obvious they considered this grisly business preferable to… well, something else.

It didn't take Goblin Slayer long to determine what.

They found Priestess attending to a young woman who matched the description of the Adventurer they had been sent to find. She was suffering from exposure to the cold, and had clearly been treated horribly, but the fact she remained alive was testament to her strength of will. Yet he could not consider what this development meant to their ongoing mission. For upon arriving at the crude livestock pen, it became perfectly obvious what caused his comrades such concern.

"SO YOU BROUGHT MORE? IT MATTERS NOT! I SHALL TAKE YOU ALL AT ONCE! VILE GOBLINS, YOU'LL NOT HARM MY LADY! NOT WHEN YOU CAN HAVE ME INSTEAD!"

"Interesting," Goblin Slayer mused as they stood outside the low wooden wall. "I've never seen one of these in the wild before."

"ALL AT ONCE! STUFF IT IN! I'LL NOT REST 'TIL THE LOT OF YOU HAVE SLAKED YOUR LOATHSOME LIBIDO TO ITS FULL, DO YOU HEAR?!"

"What is it?" The Shaman shuddered at the stomach-churning sight. Goblin Slayer looked at him, then back at the creature itself.

"It's a Goblin Slut," he pronounced.

The naked man continued to froth and rant while tugging at the rope around his neck. He was filthy, covered in scratches and bruises, dirty yellow hair and beard caked with blood and other stuff best not mentioned. Mad red-rimmed eyes darted from one of them to the other as he hopped around on all fours in a way that only added to the utterly dehumanizing display, restricted by a short leash attached to a stake.

"Can anything be done for him?" Dwarf Shaman asked in a sickly croak.

"Once you go GS, there's no coming back." Goblin Slayer considered the matter. "I don't use them myself. They're creepy. But a fresh Goblin Slut can fetch a high price on the open market. They're useful for first-time Adventurers."

Aghast, the Dwarf turned to regard him. "Are you seriously suggesting…?"

The armored man crossed his arms and nodded in approval. "We're taking it with us."

"MORE! MORE! GO FULL IN! PLUG EVERY ORIFICE! I DEMAND IT!"

They headed back down the mountain. Upon overhearing his plan, at High Elf Archer's furious insistence Goblin Slayer was forced to walk well behind the rest holding the Goblin Slut's leash. This proved to be little solace overall.

"IN MY EYESOCKETS! CRAM MY CRANIUM WITH YOUR CREAM UNTIL IT CRACKS! GO AHEAD! I SHAN'T BE OUTDONE BY THE LIKES OF YOU! FOR MILADY!"

The creature made no attempt to escape. It seemed intent on remaining with the rescued girl in order to ensure she was not subjected to further indignity. From what they could determine the former human was so devoted to his leader that he offered himself to the goblins' depredations for her benefit. Goblin Slayer noted that, professionally speaking, a man of this obviously masculine build and age should have been of no interest to the horny green horde. But somehow, perhaps through sheer dogged determination and refusal to be swayed by any threats or violence, he had forced the goblins to have their way with him. Almost as if he had broken their wills.

Such devotion would normally have been admirable… but nothing could be further from the truth in this case.

The goblin-slaying party decided to bed down for the night. The mood around the campfire was notably more subdued than usual. Their other rescued hostage had mutely refused a suggestion to try and get some sleep in the tent. Now all five of them were seated around the campfire preparing a meal while cold winter stars twinkled high overhead. It was a beautiful night with not even a breeze blowing, and only the gentle sound of accumulated snow sloughing off pine branches to break the silence.

Unless of course you counted…

"WE SHALL SETTLE THIS IN THE OLD NAVY WAY… WITH BUGGERY! FIRST MAN TO CALL OUT FOR MORE… WINS! HAVE AT ME!"

In a somewhat misguided show of compassion, Priestess had convinced them to permit the Goblin Slut to share in their fire rather than being tied to a tree like an animal. She insisted that while there might be nothing that could be done for him, treating him badly would only do injury to their own souls and certainly prove displeasing to the Earth Mother. Perhaps out of shared guilt, all agreed that this would be the most humane course of action.

Of course, that was then. And this…

"YOU SHALL ALL HAVE MADE SPORT OF ME BEFORE THE NIGHT IS DONE! MY DEVOTION IS SO STRONG, IT CANNOT BE MATCHED! WHIP IT OUT, I SAY!"

High Elf Archer flinched. Acute hearing presumably made this ordeal more telling for her than the others. Flippin' Priestess and her softhearted ways… Of course, judging by the tic developing in the human girl's left eye, she might be regretting her saintly show of compassion as well. Guess that counts for something.

"I AM NOTHING MORE THAN A LIVING WANK SOCK! TAKE THAT TREMENDOUS COCK OF YOURS AND SHOVE IT DEEP INTO MY MOST SACRED SPOT! LEAVE NO PART OF ME UNPLUMBED, YOU LOATHSOME GREEN FILTH!"

Lizardman Priest did his level best to ignore the madman aggressively displaying his upturned anus. By the laws of the Lizard Tribe such an unholy abomination should by all rights be taken out to the nearest swamp and sunk in the bog like so much peat. But he had vowed to respect the customs and traditions of his fellows, and so chose to absorb himself in preparing what would hopefully be a simple yet satisfying meal.

"WANT SOMETHING TO DRINK?! TAKE A SWIG OF THIS, YOU SWINE!"

About to enjoy a much-needed mug of mulled wine, Dwarf Shaman found himself rather rudely interrupted by a gaping golden-haired bunghole thrust into his face. He remained frozen with the cup poised in midair, mouth open and eyebrows contracting into a very menacing scowl. Slowly he upended the cup and poured its precious contents into the snow.

"DEEPER! HARDER! FASTER! LONGER! I'LL DRAIN YOU DRY! YOU'LL NOT LAY A SINGLE SOLITARY FINGER ON MILADY!"

Goblin Slayer ignored this and instead took a drink. A few moments later he had another. And another. It was becoming somewhat clearer to him why none of those goblins back there seemed interested in living another day.

Oh, well.

And he took another shot.

"SHOWER ME WITH TORRENTS OF GUT-BURSTING GOBLIN SPUNK! FESTOON ME WITH THE HOT, STICKY MASS OF YOUR COLLECTIVE CLIMAX! I KNOW NO LIMITS!"

At this point the other freed hostage sagged forward and began to heave wretched sobs. All of them, Priestess included, decided enough was enough, and so while they ushered the poor thing into the tent to get some rest, Goblin Slayer was made to lead the Goblin Slut a distance from camp and tie it up. When he came back they resumed their meal.

"… DOWN THE HATCH! DESPOIL MY TENDER PINK…!

Lizardman Priest stared at a chicken breast garnished with delicious savory shredded cheese, and could not bring himself to take a bite. He put his head in his hands, heartbroken.

"… FORCE YOUR WAY IN! LET NOTHING STOP YOU! BLOW YOUR WAD DEEP IN MY…!"

Mumbling something about needing her beauty sleep, Priestess went into the tent.

"… MILADY, HAVE NO FEAR! EVEN SHOULD I PUKE SO HARD IT COMES OUT MY NOSE, I RESOLVE TO…"

Dwarf Shaman's teeth were grinding together so hard it was audible. He pounded the packed snow behind him with slow, repetitive ferocity.

"… POUND ME IN THE…!"

Goblin Slayer got a refill.

"… WALLOW AND SWALLOW! WALLOW AND SWALLOW! WALLOW AND…!"

"THAT'S… IT!"

Heads turned as High Elf Archer shot upright. She spun around and went stomping out of the circle of firelight, snagging her bow and quiver as she did. Moments later they all heard very clearly the sound of a bowstring being drawn taut. Several of them held their breaths in hushed anticipation as the Goblin Slut proclaimed, "HAH! GREEN-HAIRED MONSTER, COULD NOT STAY AWAY A MOMENT LONGER, EH? WELL, GO AHEAD! FOR I…!"

TWANG!

THOCK!

Blessed silence followed. Soon after the Archer returned and flopped down in her seat to gaze moodily into the flames.

Seated on her right, Goblin Slayer turned his head over one shoulder for a moment, then looked back at her.

"You killed my Goblin Slut," he said.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out. "Yup."

He continued to stare at the Elf.

"That was worth a lot of money," he pointed out.

"I'll pay you back!" High Elf Archer snarled, wrapping her cape more tightly around her.

He regarded his remorseless ally for a while longer before finally returning his attention to the fire. Goblin Slayer had another sip of his drink.

Then, when no one had spoken for about a minute, under his breath he muttered, "Could'a killed a lot of goblins with that…"

Once again the sound of a bowstring being strung got his attention, and when he turned his head it was to find a sharp arrowhead hovering before his helmet. The face behind that shaft held not an ounce of hesitation.

Slowly, so as not to provoke any accidents, Goblin Slayer turned away. "Like I said, they're creepy." And he took a drink.

The others all made sounds of agreement. High Elf Archer put away her bow, and the party settled themselves in for a well-deserved meal.

FIN.