Nearest to Kre were Kersath and Beleg. They also knew the goblin’s intent from the murderous look that crossed its face, practiced as they were in the ways of battle and knowing these creatures as they did. The dark elf reacted by smoothly nocking the arrow he had in hand while the large warrior reached to grab at Kre’s shoulder from behind, in hopes of pulling him out of the way while he took the brunt of the creature’s assault.
If any of the others were moving to act, Kre couldn’t see them. For his part, he had immediately dropped to a low crouch and lunged forward and slightly to the left. This is exactly what Cooter had taught him when they were handling the rabid ram.
As large as the rams were, and as quickly as they could change directions with their deadly headbutts, the only safe place to be was low enough to avoid its horns altogether. By moving in low, Cooter explained, one could avoid the danger of the horns, while taking the shepherd’s crook against the creature’s legs, causing it to collapse and removing its mobility as a part of what made it dangerous.
Though the goblin was no ram, it was an almost instinctual move by Kre given how impactful Cooter had been when expressing the proper actions and how to apply them. In hindsight, Kre could see how the maneuver against the brain-addled and dangerous ram could have emerged from battle tactics that the older man had learned at the Citadel. Cooter had been insistent that Kre understand the why of the maneuver as much as the what, and he stopped short of having Kre practice the move against a shadow opponent before sending him in against the sick and enraged sheep.
Had Kre remembered exactly how that event had played out, he likely wouldn’t have tried it against such a dangerous foe as the goblin… but all he recalled from that day on the farm was that when he regained consciousness, the ram had been put down and Cooter congratulating him for a job “mostly serviceable and not at all embarrassing.” He also faintly recalled the smell of sheep manure, but for the most part, the memory was fairly fuzzy from that day.
Still, he executed the move exactly as Cooter had described with the alacrity and determination that would have made the old man proud if he could see it. Kre moved so quickly, in fact, that Beleg’s grasping hand missed its mark, and the look of shock that crossed his face would have been one to remember for all time, had Kre seen it. Kersath cursed as his point-blank shot was fouled by Kre’s engagement with the goblin, forcing him to undraw the bow by half though he kept his aim towards the melee in case an opening presenting itself.
The goblin, for its part, suddenly found itself without a target, having not noticed Kre’s low lunge being as blind with rage as it was and not expecting that such a weak little thing could act in such a manner.
Kre held the tyrfang with both hands and, as he passed underneath the goblin’s body, he twisted. This brought the blade to cut deeply across the goblin’s chest all the way down to its hip, spilling blood that smelled as foul as its breath, if such a thing was possible. By the time that the goblin made contact with Beleg’s swinging arm, it was already dead.
Kre lay on his back, his red blade and entire lower half covered in the goblin’s foul blood. Though his eyes were open, and his chest rose and fell in rapid, heavy breathing, he was completely lost in another world, unresponsive to the party surrounding him in congratulations for his kill.