[ WP ] Armed with only a quarterstaff , you defend your home from a horde of goblins .

Damned antimagic fields. 
 
 Somehow, my enemies had tricked me. Me! Archmage Aeryndil, High Wizard of the Council of Seven, Master Abjurer, Ultimate Magus, Champion of the Arcane. I would eat my well-enchanted hat if there was n't some sort of betrayal or trickery going on that led to this. But that was besides the point, now. They had me trapped, and though one of my Simulacrums could probably break me out, they were mere shadows of my full power - if these fiends managed to trap me, they certainly could best my weaker copies. 
 
 Cursing, I faced my opponents. A horde of goblins, bearing crude, rusted weapons and makeshift hides for armor, stomped towards me, only a few dozen feet away. I hefted my staff, a priceless artifact, reduced to a quarterstaff with fancy gems in this gods-forsaken antimagic field, and considered my options. True, I could probably take on quite a few of the horde. Centuries of experience meant I was at least somewhat skilled at essentially every craft under the sun, including hand-to-hand combat. But there were too many enemies - hundreds, perhaps thousands. Some would get lucky and slip past my fine mithril chain. Eventually, without any way to heal or cast a spell, I would fall. 
 
 However, I would not let my illustrious life end in such an inelegant way. Even as my death approached, my mind raced as I broke down my observations. There was no way these goblins were behind such a well-planned trap - so why were they here? Looking deep into the eyes of the first in line, even as he closed the gap from thirty feet to twenty, I twitched my left hand. Watched his reactions. A tinge of fear. Slightly bloodshot, baggy eyes. A snarl, not out of battle rage, but out of some other anger... At what? Traces of tears - could be from exposure, could be... Ah. They do n't want this any more than I do. 
 
 Acting quickly before the horde's momentum carried them into me, I dropped my staff and raised my arms wide. I shouted in Goblin, searching for words in their violent, utilitarian language to convey a desire for peace, of misunderstanding that did not deserve bloodshed. This, too, was a skill I had learned many years ago on a whim, but I was glad I had mastered it in the end. My voice carried the force of my will, rippling through the air, halting the goblins as they stumbled and slid, trying to stop and hear my glorious words, dropping to the ground in tears. 
 
 In an instant, the roar of battle became nothing but a pure silence. I walked before the horde, picking up my staff as I passed and smiled faintly, until I reached the edge of the antimagic field. `` Well, that was interesting. Goodbye.'' 
 
 The instant the magic surged back into my fingertips, I was gone. As were the goblins, the antimagic field around them, and the sanctums of my enemies. I would n't give them another chance. 
 
 It's good being an evil overlord.
