We feel grief in our hearts, ache in our bones, but mostly hunger in our stomachs because he used to fix us food...

We remember the day so clearly, he was happily running out onto the field, or perhaps fleeing from the Troll, when the opposing players weight buried the little greenish body, deep into the grass.

As the Orcish Blitzers gathered around the torn little thing, they could do nothing but to shead a tear, punch a little, and get on with the game.

The Troll, a gentle poet wrote this minutes after The Goblins passing:

*A poet by The Troll "Servant", dedicated to Nicolas The Goblins undying memory*

Quote:

You little funny green...
Feel sad Troll does.
Iam sorry I ate your spleen...
You dead, thats a loss.

Your hand looks like cookie... Must taste very good...

*The poem continues on a 500page memorial text. It mostly includes various ways of eating the Goblin*