Thunderous Flash.

Suddenly, Gawain felt an energy build up inside him, the hair on his arm stood on end as a static charge seemed to build up within him. A sudden swell of immense energy burned within him as his eyes sparked with blue energy, the same energy crackling along his arm and blade.

He opened his eyes, a look of shock on his face as the Black Hob slowed, trying to stop it's momentum and dodge, but it was too late.

Suddenly, with a thunderous flash, lighting arc out of Gawain's outstretched hand, a horrifically powerful and untamed energy that slammed into the chest of the Black Hob. Smoke and burnt skin exploded out of the beasts chest as it was sent scraping along the ground, crashing through tent and goblin alike before its back slammed into the bonfire at the centre of camp.

With wide eyes Gawain stared at his shaking hand, he couldn't believe what had just happened, neither did the dozen goblins that stood staring at him, heads swivelling between him and their downed champion who was struggling to rise to his feet.

"I CAN USE MAGIC?!?!?" He suddenly screamed unsure of what to make of this sudden development. He looked up and watched as already nearly a third of the goblins who saw the scene were fleeing for the hills, but the Hob Goblins were rapidly advancing, half to protect their chieftain, half to take revenge on Gawain.

Feeling renewed Gawain wasted no time, a small smile on his lips as he clenched his fist, held his sword in both hands as it crackled with electricity, and charged.

His steps felt lighter, his body felt stronger. Moving with newfound strength he dived under one Hobgoblins blade slashing it's chainmail apart with his charged blade, dodged a goblin dagger, dashing past another and piercing his sword through its back, carving a bloody path through the crowd of lesser creatures with more ease than he should have. But he put that to this strange power that he had within him.

Soon he stood upon the edge of the centre of the camp. A dozen dead goblins, and three dead hobs behind him. Blade and armour soaked in black blood, the same blood smattering his face giving him a fierce, determined look as the Black Hob rose from the fire, hair burning, pure, unadulterated rage emblazoned on its face.

"Die!" It suddenly shouted in the common tongue, and leapt forward. But Gawain was ready this time.

Gawain stepped forward, planting his right foot down, holding his sword behind his left leg he burst forth with astounding speed. Leaping into the air to match the Hob, lighting burning on his blade and in his eyes he roared. Roaring away the last vestiges of fear that clung to his heart, roaring in triumphant glory.

Blade met maul with a resounding boom of lightning and thunder that blasted the bonfire behind them, the sudden influx of oxygen causing the roaring flame to burst into an inferno and wash over the camp behind the two champions.

And this time it was the Black Hob who was knocked back.

The creature crashed into the ground, kicking up dirt all around it, its maul shattering into a thousand shards as its compatriots burned and fled, only the Hob's left behind .

Landing with a heavy thud, taking the impact on one knee, Gawain rose slowly, walking over to the dazed and confused Black Hob.

It stared up at the monster approaching it, unable to move, it's back shattered by the force of its impact, blood trickling from its mouth. It couldn't help but feel fear, a cold, icy hand that had clenched around its very soul, as those glowing blue eyes arcing with the fury of the heavens approached him. The creatures own eyes wavering as it struggled to breath.

"P-please..." It moaned, one hand rising up as Gawain stood before it blade aimed over its heart.

"You fought well, but this is the end of your journey" He said softly, eyes closed as he stabbed forward.

It was quick, and as painless as he could make it. The Black Hob lay defeated.

Gawain stood up straight, running a bloody hand through his hair as he suddenly felt a rush of intense tiredness wash over him, the crackling lighting in his blue eyes fading, and flickering away from his blade as well. His own breathing was heavy, he hadn't expected to be so drained from using magic for that long, but he wanted to win... he wanted to win.

Sudden realisation rippled across his face. Peter and Elariel hadn't come.

"Peter! Elariel!" He roared, and ran as fast as he could towards the large tent, throwing open the curtain as panic overwhelmed his exhausted body.

But he was not expecting what he saw.

Elariel removed her blade from the chest of a final dead hob, the Shaman lay headless behind her, and two other goblins were dead at her feet. She looked tired, and the interior of the tent was an utter mess, carnage had ripped through it. Her eyes flicked up to Gawain, expecting another enemy, but the relief was clear in her face when she saw it was her fool knight. So too was the very real surprise in her eyes.

Peter however, was in a much more difficult to explain situation.

The boy stood over the dead body of the Chieftain, a frail looking old goblin with a well maintained sabre held loose in its cold dead hands, another three much larger hobs dead at his feet, longsword running thick with black blood, and a heavy wound on his arm and chest bleeding his own life force out onto his battered armour. But the boy was frozen, eyes wide as he stared at the Goblin in front of him.

Gawain followed his eyes, as Elariel approached Peter. In front of the squire stood a young goblin girl. She was short, only coming up to Peter's chest, but she was pretty all the same Gawain thought. Long silky black hair that was braided, and an interestingly unique dark yellow dress that hung and clung to her every curve, it came up over her neck, and ended at her mid calf with a slit up its thigh, her arms were bare, she had perky breasts that filled the hand, a peachy bottom that pulled the thin yellow fabric tight across her light olive green skin. Her plump lips were pulled into a sad snarl, long canines on display as her large almond shaped eyes flooded with tears, nothing but pain emanating from her orange iris'.

But Gawain had to focus on the shaky dagger she held in her hand as he too, approached Peter.

"Peter, what is..." he began, before the goblin girl interrupted.

"Just leave us alone! Leave us alone you monsters!" She sobbed, shaking her dagger at them, "You humans can't get enough can you! Always hunting us! Always hurting us! And for what! We tried to live peacefully, we tried to talk, but you wouldn't listen! And now you've come to murder us..."

Gawain frowned, looking between her and Peter, but his expression softened when he saw the hollow look in Peter’s eyes, the weight of remorse on his face. His blade was shaking in his hand.

The girl suddenly fell to her knees, choking sobs wracking her body as the dagger clattered off her chieftains blade, falling from her hands as they sank into the blood stained furs.

Without a word Elariel stepped forward, unclipping her cloak and covering the girl with it, making the young thing flinch as her eyes looked up in fear at the Elf.

“IS THIS WHAT BEING A KNIGHT MEANS!” Peter suddenly roared, whirling on Gawain and grabbing the collar of his armour, eyes wild with sudden rage.

“Shattering families! Murdering people who can’t defend themselves! Is this what it means to you!” He screamed, shaking Gawain back and forth in his armour as Gawain grabbed the boys forearms.

“You said you wanted to be a Hero! This isn’t what Hero’s do!”

“Peter I-“

“I can’t Gawain! I can’t do this! I can’t kill people who weren’t doin anything wrong!”

“Peter stop, I need-“

“Why! Why did we have to kill them! Why couldn’t we have talked to them!”

“PETER! ENOUGH!” Gawain suddenly roared, his own anger flaring as an mailed hand slapped the boy in the face, sending him to the floor.

Peter hit the ground hard, longsword flying from his hand with a dull thud as he looked up at his lord. He was angry, but more than angry he was filled with sorrow, the true reality of what it means to wield a sword, to take a life flooding the inexperience boy, tears gathering in his eyes.

Gawain seemed to tower over the boy, black blood over his face, his armour, even the blade in his hand was still slick with the life essence fallen goblins.

“You will not forget who I am, Peter Von Anhalt.” Gawain’s voice was flat, but authoritative, a voice he had used rarely, but one that commanded respect all the same. It was all Elariel and the goblin girl could do but stare at him with wide eyes, Elariel hugging the girl under her cloak to comfort her.

“Put your hands on me again, and I will be forced to take action” Peter swallowed at Gawain’s words, nodding silently in understanding, “We had a job to do. We did the best we could to see it through, and minimise the casualties on both sides. However this did not go to plan. I will solely take the blame for whatever slight you think I have caused you, but it is time to grow up Peter Von Anhalt. Adventures are not like the story books, they are dirty, gritty, messy. And not everyone comes back from them. Be thankful you have.” With a smooth motion Gawain knelt down, cleaning the blood off of his bastard sword on the fur rug before sheathing it and standing once more.

He turned his gaze on the goblin girl.

“You can speak the common tongue. So answer me this, if we leave you here will you live?” His voice was never raised, never wavering, that same flat authoritative tone throughout.

“I- I- no... there will be fighting... beasts...” she stammered in a small voice, looking away from Gawain’s eyes in fear.

“Then you are now the charge of Peter Vin Anhalt. He will be responsible for your safety, and your care. Gather your things, we leave soon.”

The three watched as Gawain turned around without another word, and strode from the tent, silhouetted by the dying inferno of the goblin camp. Peter in shock, the girl in fear, Elariel though, she looked pensive, as if considering his words carefully as she spoke in soft words to the girl in her arms.

Outside Gawain strode to the edge of the camp, rage on his face as he approached the entrance, roaring in anger he slammed his plated fist into the palisade, cracking the thick log as his shoulders heaved with his wrath.

He didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Dissapointment? Anger? Pain? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.