The small room he was in wasn’t very big. The lack of a door and bars on the window was a good sign. He was wearing his cloths and still had his dagger. In a corner he saw his backpack. The bed was only a couple of feet off the ground and set in the middle of the room. As he turned around, he saw an old goblin sitting on a bench behind him.
“Oh a goblin, figures,” Thermosa Elric Jorgerson Nauften the third said.
“Oh, a racist human. how quaint,” the old goblin replied in a mocking version of Thermosa’s voice. They both looked at each other in silence for a minute.
Thermosa or Elric as he preferred to be called closed his eyes and sighed. Slowly he pulled his dagger from it…