Eventually, the nervous aftershocks of the kobold attack wore off.  You’d been caught off guard by them.  You’d been walking away from the pile of dead kobolds and your hands had just started shaking for no reason you could determine.  At first, you’d worried that you’d been injured and not realized it, that they had poisoned you, and that had made the shaking worse.  After searching frantically all over your body, you’d realized you were fine and things had settled down.

Naturally, just as you were replaying your victory and rebuilding your confidence, cackling erupted around you.  Belatedly, you realized you had wandered into an open field, which, with adventuring instincts you didn’t realize you had, you now saw was the perfect place for an ambush.

Down from the trees they came, little goblins, all gnarled, twisted, and holding rusty knives that looked like they’d been raided from abandoned kitchens.  One dropped down right on top of you and scratched your cheek on the way down.  Sharpened rusty kitchen knives, it seemed.  This adventure was turning out to be quite… adventurous.  And maybe a bit more dangerous than you’d imagined.

The one that had scratched you jumped at you again and you kicked him, sending him flying into a tree with a sickening crack.  Goblins, you realized, weren’t much brighter than kobolds, as about half the crowd, five of them, went to investigate and stood around, poking the body with their blades, which surely wasn’t helpful if it was still alive.  The other four did keep an eye on you, however.  One stepped forward and jabbed at you with the knife, not quite reaching you, as it was trying to stay out of reach of your kicking foot.  You jabbed back… with your sword.  It squealed and fell over, melodramatically clutching the hole you made with the point of your sword.  Legs kicking, it fell still.  Two more of the remaining goblins started investigating the new body, and one wandered over from the one that had been kicked into the tree.  The poking with knives routine started up.

Experimentally, you reached out with your sword and struck at the neck of the nearest goblin, the one still watching you.  The head fell with a sickening thud to the ground.  Swallowing thickly to avoid throwing up, you began dispatching the rest, who were all more interested in poking their dead comrades, or, in the case of one enterprising goblin, looting their bodies, than in fighting you.

Victory was again yours, and, prepared for the shakes this time, you set out, though with a few wistful thoughts of your soft, safe bed at home.