[ WP ] You suddenly find yourself transported to a campaign you were a dungeon master of . You 're not a player character however but a lowly goblin . Using your knowledge you must survive against a group of very high level and very murderous adventurers .

I looked over my sheets. 
 
 It was nearly done. 
 
 Months of planning, hours of play, and the final confrontation was finally in sight. All that was left was to scatter some throw away mobs around the dungeon for pacing. I smirked digging out the monster ’ s handbook, dog eared and battered. My heroes had encountered and slain almost every monster in my arsenal… Angels, Rakshasas, Shadows and Manticores… They had encountered and eventually conquered all the challenges I had put in their way. I flipped through the familiar pages, stopping on G, for Goblin. Small Stupid things and the first enemy they had ever encountered. They wouldn ’ t notice, but as an homage I placed a few down near the entrance of the great citadel. Simple creatures Goblins, always ending up where they shouldn ’ t be. Wouldn ’ t take too much explaining, but my party would just cleave through them without a second thought. 
 
 I put the book down with the rest of my notes. Tomorrow would be the day. A brief glance at the clock promptly informed me that no, today would be the day. A long sigh as all of the weariness that had been pushed out of my mind while I was working struck back with a vengeance. Quick check to make sure my phone ’ s alarms where set before I flopped into bed, clothes and all. Sleep came almost as quick as my head hit the pillow. 
 
 I woke up to shouting. 
 
 “ Grog? GROG! WAKE UP! ” 
 
 “ wa-… ” I mumbled. 
 
 “ GROG PEOPLE! ” 
 
 “ I ’ m not.. ” My eyes adjusted to the light. One of the first things I noticed is that I am not in my room, but some weird tent thing…and that a small green man is yelling at me.. I sat up, which is a lot less up then I was expecting being 6 ’ 1 ”. 
 
 “ GROG! TAKE! ” The little man yells at me holding out a short sword to me. Upon examination he looks just like one of my figures, a goblin in cobbled together leather armor torn use and armed with a battle hammer. Even has that small chip in his ear from when we lost the model to the cat ( 1 ). 
 
 I reached out for the sword but my arms don ’ t quite reach…and are green. Containing panic I leaned in and take the sword. 
 
 Goblins…. always ending up where they shouldn ’ t be…. 
 
 1: Which was forever referred to as a battle scar with a displacer beast. 
 
 Um... So this is the first one I've ever Written to a prompt and it really shows rereading it. Honestly I love reading these and just really liked this prompt. Please any criticism or comments! I'd love to improve my writing.
