Goblin Quest

Among other public matches and certain towers, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most matches, great or small: to wit, a goblin hut; and in this a goblin was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the clash at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter. After a long match it was released into this world of spells and traps, by the parish electro wizard, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the baby goblin would survive to live to see a deck; in which case it is somewhat

‘Oh king bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had a goblin gang of her own, and all on ‘em dead except two, and them in the wurkus with me, she’ll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart! Think what it is to be a mother, there’s a dear young lamb do.’
Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother’s prospects failed in producing its due effect. The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the baby goblin. The electro wizard deposited it in her arms. She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back—and the match was over for her. The time had run out and they all knew it was the end. Moments passed and then they decided it was time to take her out of the battle deck.
‘It’s all over, Mrs. Arrow goblin’ said the electro wizard at last.
‘Ah, poor dear, so it is!’ said the nurse goblin, picking up the cork of the elixir collector, which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child. ‘Poor