Welcome challenger to the final contest here in the home of Elouan’s chosen. You may battle wills with them in any way you choose. You may not retreat from this contest.

I may choose the battle? Perhaps the system will let me choose something that plays to my strengths. Right what strengths have we got? We have a longsword with some rudimentary skill and understanding. We have a ring that protects us against arcane damage, and some other magic items, or potentially magic items. We have no idea what they are or what they do. Come on brain, what else do we have access to? We have no other notable skills, items or abilities. We have no boots. All we have is an abnormally large LUCK stat for our level.

In front of Jarrod there was a bowl in the forest clearing. As if a giant had taken a large scoop of soil away at some time long in the past, and then some creatures had created a wall of stone to hold the soil back. This was further surrounded by stone benches arranged in tiers providing an arena of sorts. There in the middle of an otherwise abandoned arena stood three goblins. The one to the left, looked similar to the Champion encountered previously, except he (and very clearly a he) was naked all over, had a large double crescent bladed axe on the ground to his side. His face covered with a spiralling red tattoo which travelled from his forehead, down both shoulders and his left arm, covering the left-hand side of his chest as well.

[Elite Goblin Berserker] [Level ???]

To the right stood a young lithe female goblin. One that looked barely on the cusp of maturity, long red hair in a double braid cascaded down her back. The goblin was wearing a skin-tight leather outfit, clearly of much superior construction to his own leather armour. On her hips she wore a deadly looking rapier and paired parrying dagger on her other hip. She unlike the berserker stood at ease, arms folded across her chest whilst watching Jarrod with a coy smile caressing her lips.

[Elite Goblin Femme Fatale] [Level ???]

Then in the centre, sat rather than standing was the oldest looking creature Jarrod had ever seen. This was clearly the goblin in charge of everything. It was sat on the most ostentatious, ornate chair he had ever seen. It was carved from a heavy dense wood that had its own shine in the grain, had gilding along the edges which could possibly have been made from some small amount of gold. The create was definitely a goblin, it had all the same features as the other goblins Jarrod had seen, but its skin was a washed out green, very definitely leaning towards grey. Its head had started to shrivel, and what little hair it had were wisps of white fluff. Its eyes milky with cataracts, and where other goblins had sharp teeth for tearing out flesh, this one had at best stumps and at worst gums. It wore a set of ratty midnight blue robes, moth eaten through with the threads fraying. In his arms were cradled a large ornate sceptre of brass, topped with what appeared to be a huge ruby. As Jarrod took a step into the clearing, its true size became more obvious, the depression alone easily stretched over 200 metres across the middle and was a perfect circle from what he could see. Watching him make his way to the edge of the arena, the ancient goblin levered himself to his feet, holding onto the arms of his throne.

[Goblin Archmagi] [Level ???]

“Greeting’s challenger. It has been many cycles since any dared challenge the gauntlet Elouan had laid down. Ample are the rewards if you are to overcome us in this, your final challenge. It has been so long that I am the only one of the three of us who remembers the last challenger. A young imperious elf who thought himself our superiors and was taught the utter folly of his ways. It was in fact so long ago, that of the three standing before you, I was the only one alive to witness the act. Standing to my sides are Kyauta, our master of strength and battle. If you are to choose the trial by combat, he will be your foe. The young lady you see is Kulicke, master of guile. If you are to choose the trial of speed and cunning, it will be her you face. Finally, if you will forgive an old one his grandstanding, I am Lecuippius, primate, Archmagi, master of fire and wielder of the final flame of Elouan. If you choose the trial of spirit and magic, it will be me that you face.

Now that you have seen all three of us, heard our names, judged our worthiness, I must ask challenger. What challenge do you wish to partake of?”

Jarrod took his time, considering the elder creatures’ words. He was eloquent, surprisingly so. Hmm, this old bugger had better conversation than 90% of Woodend. How the hell have they been here on the outskirts of our village, and no one knew?

“Tell me, Lecu, how is it that a village of so many of your kind exists so close to human lands, without any of us knowing?”

“The land is not close young one. We are over a week’s journey into the forest now, it is by the grace and power of the Gods that you stand before me. But enough pontification, you are here to choose a challenge. Choose a challenge you shall”

“I was reliably informed that I may choose a challenge of my own devising, not that they would all be laid out before me. I do not think I could even put up a challenge against of your experts, or you yourself.

In addition – once I have chosen a challenge, may I choose whom to challenge? For example - if I were to desire a footrace, could I choose you Lecu as my opponent?”

The goblin stood, stock still, a shocked look coming across his face before roaring, spittle flying from his mouth, eyes wide with rage and slowly rolling back till only the whites showed.

“HOW DARE YOU. The sacred challenge is one tradition long honoured by all of His Chosen. How dare you defile it and twist it to your own ends. Whilst it is true aeons past that the challenger could create their own challenge, never have you been able to select your opponent. You have also just forfeited that right, whether you choose a challenge of your own, or whether you choose one of the three laid out before you. It will now be me that you challenge, and it will be me that smites you down.”

Jarrod took a staggered step back, surprised at the vehemence the elderly goblin had responded with. Resisting the urge to reply flippantly, he may be slightly impulsive, he certainly didn’t have a death wish.

“So be it, I challenge you Lecuippius, to a game”

“A game?” was the incredulous reply “You would denigrate our most holy of rites to something decided by chance, with no skill involved?”

Smiling and nodding Jarrod’s simple reply was

“Yup. Come on, it’s the only real chance I would have. You are all clearly masters in combat, honed to within an inch of what perfection currently could be. I would have such a tiny infinitesimal chance that it’s not even funny. This way at least, there’s no way for either of us to be prepared.”

With that, Jarrod drew 5 coins from his goblin made satchel, waved them towards the elderly goblin and strode down the stairs to the centre of the amphitheatre.

“Well? Shall we?”