《Monster King: A Goblin's Journey》 Prologue - The Fallen King Loss. Some would say that beyond the aching, agonising void it creates within us, there hides within it a sense of liberty. One less invisible chain holding us back, restraining us from opening our wings and soaring into the world. What if, however, loss weighs us down instead of freeing us; reaching out and latching onto our body with tremendous force, compelling us to stay, to finish what we have started?
He had been known by many names in the past: the Undefeatable, the Slave, the Commander, the Chieftain, the King. And yet, he now realised he would give each and every one of those monikers away without a second thought, just to be called that one last time. He glanced at the dark corner of the small cave he had called home for the last handful of years, where a makeshift bed of leaves and moss rested. His heart ached. He looked outside, observing the swaying trees with tired, sunken eyes. Their usual spark had been extinguished, leaving behind an empty, lifeless void.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. His green hand, covered in fading tribal tattoos, tightened around the dagger''s worn, smooth handle, slightly shaking as he raised the well-maintained blade. He placed the weapon gently against his green neck, drawing crimson blood, which ran down his bare chest in glistening rivers of red. His eyes wandered for what he thought would be their very last time, taking in every little detail of the lived-in gloomy room ¨C when his gaze suddenly froze. The trusty wooden chair he had built himself two winters ago creaked and groaned as he stood up, his feet slowly taking him to the cave¡¯s other corner. On a shelf carved directly into the rock face stood a primitive crown made of short sticks, woven together with vine. He picked it up with his other hand, turning it left and right as he examined the crude craftsmanship with newfound interest. Still engrossed in the object before him, he turned and sat back on his chair, exhaling softly. Carefully, as if he held a crown of gold adorned with priceless jewels, he lifted it upwards, placing it gently onto his head. He leaned back, sheathing his dagger with the practised ease of a seasoned warrior, and turned his gaze to the forest before him once more. A new flicker could be sensed in the deepest parts of the monster¡¯s eyes ¨C a barely noticeable glimmer of pure, unfiltered thirst for revenge, growing relentlessly with each passing moment. He liked the crown¡¯s feel. It suited him. 1 - Gromp The Goblin Goblins. Sly, two-legged creatures, most often green in colour, regarded by most other ''two leggers'' ¨C especially the tall, lanky pink coloured fellows ¨C as nothing more than vermin. Though not particularly strong, or bright for that matter, these monsters seemingly exist in every nook and cranny of the world. Be it the harsh deserts of the South, the freezing expanses at the far corners of the North, or the maze-like sewer systems of the elven-made cities, you will, like it or not, find them just about everywhere. Some philosophers, key word some, have even labelled goblins as one of the three constants of nature itself. ''Dirt, water, and goblins!'' Preached Alvaro The Bright, an intellectual still cited in books written centuries after his time. That being said, he ended up being burnt at a stake for allegedly conspiring against the Crown, so the verifiability of his statements is quite debatable. Be that as it may, his untimely death did happen around the time when any unlucky soul that even thought of disagreeing with the king or his family got charged with good ol'' conspiring, a fact the followers and students of his strange works do not forget to mention. Ever. None of this, however, concerned a certain young, energetic goblin currently crouched behind a rather large bush. His eyes were bloodshot, darting around in search of even the slightest movement. In his trembling hands, the youngling clutched a poorly crafted arrow, nocked on an even cruder bow. The goblin and the bush, both dark-green in colour, were stationed at the edge of a small riverbank. Behind them stretched a seemingly endless forest, a forest which many animals, beasts and monsters proudly called their home. Said riverbank was a popular drinking spot for a plethora of these wild animals. And yet, not even one of the forest''s residents came by on this particular sunny day. In fact, the young goblin''s eyes hadn''t seen much of anything in the last three days combined. The adolescent goblin¡¯s name was Gromp¡ªa fitting example of his kind''s infamous naming prowess. And in this very moment, Gromp was, for the lack of a better word, fucked. You see, as many before him and many after, his time had come to complete the Coming of age ceremony, or ¡®¡¯Kafka¡¯¡¯ as his tribe called it. The ceremony''s objective was simple. One must hunt an animal in the span of three days, upon which they bring their hard-earned spoils back to their tribe''s chief. The bigger, and more impressive their catch is, the more respect and power they gain within their little community. The little ones brought back rabbits, larger fish, or even wild boars if they were lucky. Not even once, however, in the short history of the Chipped Ear Tribe as it was called, had a goblin come back empty-handed. Never. Not even once. The little goblin''s head churned for a way out of this mess. He needed a plan, and he needed a plan fast. Unfortunately, his head was not exactly used to this much thinking, and quickly started to ache. Gromp, as most of his fellow goblins, preferred to do instead of think. In spite of this, his brain managed to spit out a final idea, before finally giving out. What if I just steal someone else''s prey? After all, I''m not the only one doing the ceremony! A wild grin spread across his face. Gromp, in the five years he had spent among the living, had yet to lose a single fight. It is what had kept him alive so far, yet also what had kept getting him in trouble for as long as he could remember. He sucked at everything else ¨C whether it be setting snares, gathering fruits, or crafting weapons and tools he always, without exception, found a way to disappoint. Now, however, it was his time to shine. He snorted in self-approvement of his brilliant idea, and stood up to stretch his aching body. He turned, bones creaking, when suddenly something caught his eye. Across the river, the usually still forest stirred with movement. His spirit invigorated once again, he ducked right back behind the bush he had grown so familiar with, instantly discarding his previous plan. As his breathing grew quicker, he brought the bow up with his trembling hands, as slowly as he could muster. He finally saw a chance, and he wasn''t about to let it go. Approximately thirty pounding heartbeats later, the goblin¡¯s future prey stepped out of the foliage on the other side of the shallow river. But contrary to his expectations, his prey was no animal.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Well, that would depend on who you asked, as some called them half-pigs. Most simply called them orcs, however, since the previous name would suggest these monsters are also half something else, and even the idea of sharing fifty percent of their body with an orc simply did not sit right with most of the ''''enlightened'''' races. Gromp silently observed the orc as he slowly nocked his arrow, trying his very best to avoid any sudden movements. Upon greater inspection he realised that the orc, unlike himself, was not currently in the process of hunting. He lacked a bow or any other long range weapon as far as Gromp could see, not to mention the fact that they were both quite deep in the Chipped ear tribe''s territory. The young goblin smelled trouble. He scrunched up his eyebrows, momentarily losing himself in his thoughts, staring off into the distance. Are the orcs preparing for war? Again? But then, why would there be only one? The young goblin could not make sense of the situation, and his brain, already tired from the previous abuse, was not of much help either. And so he decided to stop all of the useless thinking and instead to simply kill the intruder. As far as he knew, bringing back the head of an orc would greatly please his chief. Hopefully. By the time the goblin snapped out of his daydream, the orc was already well on his way across the river. In the winter, heavy downpours would greet this forest and the mind-bogglingly large mountain range from which the river flew, making passing the river nearly impossible. There were parts of the stream where giant rocks were neatly arranged to allow for crossing, however very few goblins dared to cross it as the boulders were far apart and rather slippery. At this time of the year though, the river was not very deep and flew at a leisurely pace. Gromp squinted and tilted his head forwards, attempting to inspect the orc in further detail. His adversary was trodding through the river with a steady pace with tattered sandals in one hand and a stone hatchet in the other. He winced with every step, as the river''s floor was covered in small, surprisingly sharp rocks flown down from the mountain range. The orc was at least a head taller than him, not to mention considerably wider. He wore only a loincloth, and as most of his brethren depended on his kind''s thick hide for defence. The goblin nervously licked his lips. The more he tried to calm his hands, the more they trembled. As the orc neared the shore, he slowly drew his bow, the arrow threatening to slip out of his sweaty hands. He took aim, licked his lips once again, exhaled deeply as his fellow tribesmen taught him¡­ and shot. As the arrow sailed through the air, time seemed to slow down for the young goblin. Suddenly, he was hit with a joyous realisation. It''s going to hit. It''s fucking going to hit! With an audible *THUNK*, the crooked arrow embedded itself in the right side of the orc''s chest, the momentum coupled with the sudden shock causing him to fall on his back. Crimson blood dyed the river, as it had many times before. ¡®''I did it! I fucking did it!''¡¯ Laughed out Gromp, throwing his hands up in the air. He ecstatically jogged out from the bushes, before stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. The orc, grunting with every movement, astonishingly rose back up. His cold, unwavering gaze traveled up and down Gromp¡¯s body before settling on his eyes. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he picked up his hatchet and broke off the arrow''s shaft, throwing the now useless piece of wood behind him. He exploded forward. The enemy''s movement woke Gromp from his daze. He quickly unsheathed his trusty dagger and dropped into a fighting stance. I coated that arrow with paralysing venom! How the hell can he still move? Refusing to overthink, Gromp shut off his brain and sprung into action. He closed the distance in a flash, cutting off the orc''s advance before he could reach the shore. Howling with rage, the orc drew back his rear leg and swung his axe in a powerful arc, aiming to split Gromp¡¯s skull. But his blade found only air. Gromp snickered ¨C the winner was already decided. He sidestepped the orc''s wide swing with ease, before swiping his hind leg from under him, sending the boar tumbling backwards. He fell and unceremoniously smashed his head against the rocks, light leaving his beady eyes, even more blood dirtying the calm waters.
*THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.* As the deadline of the ceremony swiftly approached, Gromp merrily walked back to his tribe. He almost felt like running, if not for the orc''s corpse we were dragging by one leg. These monsters were just about as heavy as they seemed, so Gromp quickly abandoned the idea of somehow carrying him back. Nevertheless, he was adamant about bringing back his whole body, as the orcs'' meat was considered as nothing less than a delicacy that was sure to please the chief and the elders. *THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.* How did this guy get so fat, anyway? *THUMP. THUMP. THU-* Just as the dead orc''s head was about to hit yet another protruding root, Gromp finally arrived at a grand cave entrance. One did not need to be a specialist on monster communities and the like to recognise this cave to be the goblins'' territory. Around the entrance lay various carapaces¡ªanimal and otherwise¡ªrotting in different stages of decay, alongside broken or rusted human-made weapons and tools. Nonetheless, the most striking aspect of the cave entrance were two wooden poles, one on each side of its gloomy opening. Both were adorned with a skull, and one would in fact need to be specialised in monsters and the like to know that, surprisingly enough, they both belonged to goblins. As it turns out these creatures love war, and if they cannot find it outside the tribe, they simply start fighting amongst themselves. Gromp took a deep breath, pushed his chest forward, and straightened his posture. As a final touch he also adopted a smug smile, before striding into the cave with rejuvenated enthusiasm. Firstly, he made his way across a giant cavern, in which most of his fellow goblins resided. He glanced to the far left side of the dark room, where his meagre belongings lay scattered. Only flies buzzed around as he walked through, with no green skin in sight. Figures. They must have already started. Before he realised it, he was already standing at the end of the first cavern. Before him stood the entryway leading to the next room, only a dirty bear hide separating the two rooms. He could hear many muffled voices on the other side, some of which he immediately recognised even if he could not make out the exact words that flew from their mouths. He straightened his posture once again ¨C it had already reverted to his usual slouch in the brief couple of moments he took his mind off of it ¨C and stepped forward. He swatted away the leather separating the caverns, bright lights instantly assaulting his vision. His time had come. 2 - The Chief As Gromp entered the room, the attention of all the ninety-odd goblins spread across it instantly condensed on him. The voices of the tribesmen slowly subsided, the only ones still chattering being the elders seated at a long table. The old wooden desk, most likely looted from one of the human villages, was stationed to face the cavern''s entrance. Various meats and fruits were spread across it ¨C glossy red berries, smoked rabbit legs, and a whole roasted boar ¨C all having been caught or gathered by the ceremony¡¯s participants. However, even their voices gradually died out as the chief, obviously sitting in the middle of the table, raised his hand. Only echoes remained, but even those faded after a few fleeting moments. The silence was deafening. ¡®¡®About fucking time you showed up, kid,¡¯¡¯ finally spoke the chieftain in an irritated tone. ¡®¡¯All of your friends have already brought their spoils long ago!¡¯¡¯ Gromp gulped. His confident demeanor was slowly but surely breaking under the boss goblin''s gaze. He broke eye contact and lowered into a half-bow. ¡®''M-My bad chief. I''ve brought back some good stuff though, I''m sure you will like it!''¡¯ He chuckled and skittered out of the way as he said his piece, the orc''s corpse left out for all to see. Silence fell upon the cavern yet again. The chief, too, seemed to be at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing again and again, unsure of how to react. Finally, an already slightly intoxicated goblin whose old head had just processed what the hell he was seeing, decided to play hero and break the hush. ¡®''Well cut off my nose and call me an elf, is that a motherfuckin'' orc I see?''¡¯ He remarked with a hearty laugh, nearly falling from the rock he was sitting on in the process. Excitement spread among the goblins in the blink of an eye, the cavern growing even more noisy than it was before Gromp''s arrival. Many sat up and stepped closer to the corpse, trying to get a better view of it and before long, a half-circle formed around it. Veins protruded along the chief''s neck. He was losing control of the very monsters he was supposed to command. Slowly, with deliberate movement, the chief raised his hand. The frequency with which he had to deploy the cool gesture made the chief even angrier; he had planned to only use it once in a while, for he knew that scarcity would give it weight. Sadly for him though, his nonchalant, stylish hand raise did little to calm his tribesmen. Truth be told, nobody even batted an eye at him as this was the first time they had seen one of the orcs since the two tribes¡¯ last clash. Nevertheless, the chief did not give up that easily. Opting for a change of tactics, he changed his approach for a verbal one and cleared his throat, rather audibly at that. This was not the best move, as the sound quickly dissipated, drowned among his subjects¡¯ excited chatting and yelling. This innovative approach did reach the elders, sitting by his side though, and the shamaness who sat on his right side decided to take up the opportunity and rose up. The shamaness was, ironically, the only actual elder among their numbers, as well as the only woman sitting at the table. The others were simply the chief''s old friends from back when he was the tribe¡¯s main hunter, young men who had helped him usurp the previous leader and his followers. Only four winters had passed since that bloodshed, the memories of it still fresh in the withered shamaness¡¯ mind. She looked down at the youngling ¨C now a full-fledged goblin, who had brought down an orc all by himself. Didn''t they kill your father as well, child? To bow your head before your daddy''s killer¡­ She snorted as she looked down at the clansmen below her, the memories of her old tribe resurfacing from the depths of her old mind. Almost every goblin was now gathered in one spot, pushing each other out of the way. She took a deep breath - perhaps she was getting too old for this. ''SILEEENCE!!'' She roared at the top of her lungs, the sound piercing through the large cavern like a lightning bolt. The rowdy goblins finally settled down, startled by her sudden howl, and the shamaness spoke once again. ¡®''The chief shall speak now.''¡¯ She added and with a satisfied grunt, plopped her behind right back on the chair. Seeing their chief''s glare the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving Gromp to be the centre of attention once anew. ''¡¯Did you bring down this orc with your own hands?''¡¯ Questioned the chief, the underlying frustration still evident in his voice. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡®¡¯And if you did -¨C¡¯¡¯ he swiftly added, ¡®¡¯how?''¡¯ Gromp fiddled with his hands, finding the more than one hundred eyes converged on him slightly overbearing. ¡®''Err¡­ bow and arrow, chief! Had to bash his skull against the rocks to finish him off. He was quite tough!''¡¯ He stammered, anxiously giggling. The chief leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight, and stared off into the ceiling as if he was in deep thought. Shortly thereafter his gaze focused back on Gromp and after a well-deserved sip of red wine, he voiced his thoughts. ¡®''Let''s presume I believe you, kid, but that still leaves many questions unanswered.¡¯¡¯ The boss goblin carefully articulated. ¡®¡¯And the one that really keeps bothering me is, what the fuck was an orc doing sneaking around on our territory ¨C on MY territory.¡¯¡¯ ''¡¯Did he carry a weapon?''¡¯ Chimed in Elder Kuro as he feasted on freshly roasted rabbit. ¡®''Yes. Yes, he did.¡¯¡¯ Answered Gromp, further intimidated by the sudden interrogation. ¡®¡¯Just a stone hatchet, but I left it behind.¡¯¡¯ ¡®''So, let me get this straight. An orc, with no armour as far as I can tell, and armed only with a fucking stone hatchet, came all the way to¡­ where did you fight him again?''¡¯ Kuro inquired. ¡®''At the river, boss.¡¯¡¯ ¡®''All the way to the river, then, with no hunting gear. Is that correct?''¡¯ Gromp fervently nodded. Kuro and the chief looked at each other, some of the other elders also slowly catching on. A wide smile spread across the chief¡¯s face as he was unable to conceal his emotions. The chief could not resist chuckling to himself. ¡®''Sounds like a scout.''¡¯ He glanced at the shamaness, as memories from four years ago flashed before his eyes. ''We cannot be sure,'' spoke up elder Zakk, head of the goblin scouts, ''I mean, the orc could have just been-'' ¡®''Doesn''t matter.''¡¯ The chief swiftly cut him off. ¡®''We will not make the same mistake as Chief Apo, whose trust cost him his life, and give them the benefit of the doubt, will we? We simply can''t allow ourselves to be caught off guard again.''¡¯ The goblin leader stood up, towering over the others due to his huge build. ''¡¯All warriors, prepare for battle!'' He hollered as a sinister sneer spread across his face ¡®¡¯The orcs want war? Then we will bring the war to them!''¡¯
As the first rays of light peeked at the goblin den, its residents were already well on their feet and enthusiastically skittering from one place to another. Despite their yesterday''s party being cut short, not one goblin seemed to be gloomy or depressed. An attack force of exactly forty-two goblins, led by the chief and the shamaness by his side, was in the midst of preparation. It was mostly composed of younger males, although there was also the odd female or grandpa donning their trusty fighting gear. Those lucky few with families to speak of were saying their goodbyes; their words were full of excitement however, for if they were to perform well in battle or manage to loot any expensive item it would bring great fortune to them and their close ones. This was in great opposition to the dull armies of Man, which rarely failed to be as depressing and gloomy as they could physically muster. Gromp, now just barely an adult himself, was obviously part of the army as well. He stood a few paces away from most of the others, seeing that some of the older goblins were not too opposed to starting the fight sooner rather than later ¨C not that he thought he would lose to any of them, but even he realised that this was not the time to stir up trouble. In his lanky dark green arms, he held a spear ¨C elder Kuro had handed it out to him, as the only weapon Gromp had to his name was a flimsy bow and a rather skillfully crafted dagger that had belonged to his now deceased father. As most others, he wore only a loincloth to conceal his private parts as he had not been able to get his hands on the nicer human clothes the more influential greenskins wore. Gromp thrust the spear a couple of times, getting a feel for its weight. He smiled as the razor-sharp bone spearhead cut through the air with a satisfying sound. ''¡¯Yo, orc slayer!''¡¯ Someone shouted, the sarcastic comment clearly aimed at him. Instantly woken up from his daze, Gromp looked around in search of the voice''s owner. He sighed as his eyes landed on a particularly ugly mug, moving closer and closer to him. ¡®''What''s up, Tarek?''¡¯ Gromp sighed, slouching as he felt all his energy leave his body. Fuck, I hate this bastard. Too bad I can¡¯t smash his face in, not with who his daddy is. ¡®''Oh, don''t look at me like that!¡¯¡¯ Snickered the shorter goblin, playfully hitting Gromp in his chest. ¡®¡¯My father told me to come fetch you, I didn¡¯t come all the way here just to mess with you. Come on, let''s go!''¡¯ With a tired groan, Gromp trudged after his obnoxious peer, his legs feeling heavier with each and every step. They maintained a safe distance as they made their way through the mighty Chipped ear tribe''s ''''army'''', before finally, after a healthy dose of pushing and shoving, the two goblins arrived at the other side of the large group. There, elder Turak, Tarek''s father, awaited them, with an orderly line of eight young goblins standing by his side. As Gromp silently joined them, the elder began speaking. ¡®''Now. You must be wondering why I called for you all, correct?''¡¯ He probed, giving each of the younglings a quick look over. A wave of nodding, reinforced with a tasteful touch of murmuring confirmed the elder''s well-placed guess. ¡®''You see,¡¯¡¯ continued the elder with an ever more engaging voice, ¡®¡¯the great chief has decided to pass upon you all a great opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you might even say.''¡¯ The young goblins, all between the ages of five and eight, looked at each other. Smiles crept up, and eyes gleamed at the mention of this golden chance the elder spoke of. ¡®''You nine have been granted the opportunity to lead the attack on the orcs ¨C to stand on the very forefront of battle!''¡¯ Declared elder Turak, pointing at the group with his index finger as he talked. The smiles toned down a notch, and eyes grew cold. This sounded dangerous. ¡®''Now, now. I understand, the risk is big.¡¯¡¯ Reluctantly admitted Tarek¡¯s father, apologetically raising his hands in the air. ¡®¡¯You must realise, however, that the rewards are even higher!''¡¯ The elder wiped his sweaty hands and leaned in towards the younger goblins as he quickly glanced left and right to ensure no bystanders were listening. ¡®''By the great chief''s word,¡¯¡¯ he resumed in a barely audible whisper, placing his right hand over his heart, ¡®¡¯if someone among you nine manages to achieve great things during this battle ¨C and you must not, under any circumstance, mention this to anybody ¨C he will grant you his only daughter''s hand.''¡¯ Gromp and the others nearly started jumping in excitement ¨C this really was a once in a lifetime chance! Nonetheless, only one of the goblins, standing right at the edge of the group, did not seem happy with the current situation. The youngling bit his lip as he wordlessly glared at the elder. I see right through you, disgusting bastards. I''ll make sure to kill you myself. 3 - Throg Nine young goblins, bonded through what appeared to be just a whim of the Chipped Ear Tribe''s great chief, now walked side by side. With excited voices, they whispered excitedly about the promised reward, assuring one another that they and only they would be the one to get their hands on the grand prize in the end. Even still, one of the goblins distanced himself from the group, seemingly lost in thought. This particular gob was seven years of age, wore a pair of green human-made trousers, and at least for goblin standards, was quite the handsome individual. One of the less depressed and also less good looking goblins out of the group named Krakka came over to check up on him. Whether he did so out of goodwill, or rather to make him feel even more miserable is most definitely up for debate. ''¡¯Why are you so gloomy, Throg?¡¯¡¯ snickered Krakka as he walked right up to him. ¡®¡¯I guess you already gave up on the reward, considering your competition!¡¯¡¯ Throg, ever the buzzkill, sighed while running his dirty fingers through his somehow not-dirty hair. The goblin''s amber eyes unstuck themselves from the blue sky and slowly wandered towards his disruptor. His mouth hung open for a while before he spoke. ''¡¯Tell the others to come here. I have something to tell you all.''¡¯ Krakka narrowed his eyes and looked the slightly taller goblin up and down. Though he appeared to be unbothered by his squadmate¡¯s arrogant demeanour, he fumed in anger behind his calm facade. Who the fuck does he think he is? Shit, you can¡¯t let him get on my nerves like this! You¡¯ve got to stay cool. ¡®''Pfft. Do it yourself, pretty boy.''¡¯ Krakka chuckled and turned to leave, muttering to himself as he twirled around the dagger he held in his hands. Throg clicked his tongue in frustration. Idiots. God knows how they''ve even survived until now. I probably can''t carry out this plan by myself because of that old hag, though - I guess I''ll just have to grit my teeth and do everything myself. !! Taking a deep breath and putting on his most serious expression, he strode over to the cheery group. ¡®''Hey, y¡¯all!''¡¯ He called out. No fucks were given. ¡®''HEY, Y¡¯ALL!''¡¯ Still no response. The group''s attention was gathered on the new celebrity of the tribe, Gromp, who was waving his lanky arms around and explaining something with great vigour. Shit, not this guy. He must be a decent fighter if he had truly brought down an orc one on one¡­ but that isn''t enough to make up for his enormous stupidity. Marching into the main cavern with the corpse of an orc ¨C had the chief''s mood been just a little different, his head might have been cut off then and there for starting a war. ''Will you guys fucking listen to me!?'' He yelled out once more, now thoroughly irritated. Krakka, standing closest to him, turned around with disdain in his eyes. ''¡¯Can''t you see Gromp''s talking? Show a little fucking respect and wait for him to finish!''¡¯ He spat out, poking him in the chest with his finger to further accentuate his message. The two goblins glared at each other as Throg repeatedly clenched his jaw. ''¡¯And don''t look at me with those fucking psychotic eyes of yours, either.''¡¯ Added Krakka, still twirling the dagger in his hand. As they both grew silent, Gromp''s loud, eager voice reached them. ''¡¯¡­ and then, the one who collects the grand prize can appoint the rest as elders, and we all win!''¡¯ He laughed, his voice so loud it reached many tribesmen it probably should not. The rest of the ragtag group of young goblins looked at each other, seeking to tell who agreed with Gromp''s new bright idea. ¡®''Shit, sounds like a good plan to me!''¡¯ One of the goblins finally said, patting their impromptu leader on his back. A few more moments of nodding and looking at each other passed before the group started to collectively agree on following the genius plan. ''¡¯Damn Gromp, I always thought you were as dumb as a rock, but I guess I might''ve been wrong!¡¯'' Spoke up another youngling, snickering to himself. Throg watched as Gromp basked in the compliments, either ignoring or completely missing the not-so-subtle jabs at his lacking intelligence. He slowly turned and walked away from his brethren. His face turned cold as he relaxed his previously clenching hands. Moving even further from his team than before, he walked forward in complete silence, tilting his head up towards the heavens like before.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Unknowingly, the young goblins had made a crucial mistake. Throg no longer looked at them as brothers ¨C he looked at them with pity, as if looking down at an animal struggling to survive. I have decided. I will not help them. I won''t tell them anything. In fact, I will watch as they helplessly die at the hands of the one they call chief. Throg spat on the ground, and fell back into deep thought.
As night fell upon the forest and its varying inhabitants, the day-long march finally came to a halt. The tired tribesmen unpacked and sat down to recover their lost energy. No fires were lit, for they were already in close proximity to the orc territory, and as such, most of the goblins merely took out the modest amount of dried meat or fruits they had brought with them. Additionally, since it only took about a day and a half to reach the orc tribe''s base, no tents were being put up. Except one. ''¡¯So you''re saying they ate all that shit up?¡¯'' the chief asked, holding his stomach from laughing too hard. He was sitting on a rather comfy rock some of his underlings found in the forest, while the elders'' behinds had to be satisfied with good ol'' dirt and leaves. ''¡¯Yup.''¡¯ Elder Taruk answered. ¡®''I even had one of my guys listen in on their conversation today, and they suspect nothing.''¡¯ The goblin upper class were drinking wine, eating food from a giant plate dominating the centre of the tent, and smoking herbs from pipes too masterfully crafted to be made by goblins. So much for a strategy meeting. A wicked smile spread across the chief''s face as he finally calmed down, massaging his abdominal muscles. ¡®''Fucking idiots. Just like their fathers, I guess.''¡¯ He stated, reaching for his drink. He took a sip of wine from his gourd and looked at every single goblin in the room, one by one. His eyes stopped at the shamaness. ¡®''We''ve pretty much won already. Our only weakness was that we had no one dumb enough to lead the attack on that village of theirs. But now, even that is taken care of. Other than that¡­ you will make sure to cut down those flimsy walls of theirs, won''t you, Yaga?''¡¯ He probed, gently leaning forward. The old shamaness looked away, breaking eye contact. ¡®¡¯You really think I can''t break down a wall made by orcs?¡¯¡¯ She snorted, thick smoke billowing from her nostrils. ¡®''Whatever you say. I''m just checking.¡¯¡¯ The chief affirmed her, flashing a court smile. He continued to gaze at her for a moment or two more, before he turned back to the rest of the elders and raised his drink. ¡®''To victory, ay?''¡¯
Gromp watched as the elders'' silhouettes danced around on the fabric of the tent. Most of the goblins had already gone to sleep, but his pounding heart stubbornly refused him the needed shut-eye. He looked at his hands, illuminated by the bright full moon. They were shaking. ¡®''My first battle, huh?''¡¯ He whispered to himself as he clenched them in resolve. ¡®''It''s very likely it will be your last, as well.''¡¯ Unambiguously declared a voice from behind Gromp¡¯s back. He sprung to his feet, turning around and unsheathing his dagger in one smooth motion. The moonlight glinted off its sharp edge. Throg chuckled. ''¡¯Calm down, it''s me.''¡¯ ''¡¯What the fuck are you doing? I could''ve stabbed you just now!''¡¯ Shouted Gromp in distress as he lowered his weapon. The slightly shorter goblin pressed the tip of his fingers against his lips. ¡®''Don''t talk so loudly. You might wake them up.''¡¯ He whispered, tilting his head in the direction of the pile made of sleeping goblins. The front liners seemed awfully unbothered by their role tomorrow, slumbering without a care in the world. Krakka smiled in his sleep, perhaps dreaming of the promised reward. ''¡¯Follow me,¡¯¡¯ said Throg. ¡®¡¯I have something important to tell you.''¡¯ ¡®''How important? I''m quite sleepy, you know?'' Gromp shot back, narrowing his eyes. He still had not sheathed his dagger. Throg gave him a deadpan stare, before unenthusiastically replying to the lanky goblin¡¯s provocation. ¡®''It''s a matter of life and death. Feel free to stay here and ignore me, but do not expect to live beyond tomorrow.''¡¯ Gromp raised one of his eyebrows, his playful smile gradually disappearing. ¡®''Lead the way.¡¯'' He replied with an uncharacteristic amount of certainty in his voice, slowly tucking away his blade. I''m absolutely certain I can kill this guy in a one-on-one, anyway. It wouldn''t hurt to listen to him. He followed closely behind the older goblin, making sure to not step on any twigs or branches as it was more than possible some would think of them as deserters, sneaking away in the middle of the night like this. The moon cast blue light on the forest, giving a mysterious yet calming effect to their surroundings. Finally, after about five minutes of walking, Throg judged they were far enough from the others and stopped by an old oak tree. ''¡¯The chief is trying to kill us.''¡¯ He bluntly stated with a steady tone of voice. ¡®''Fucking straight to the point, huh?''¡¯ Gromp quipped with a laugh, unsure whether to take his brethren seriously or not. Throg wasn''t amused. ''¡¯This is serious, Gromp. We¡¯re talking about our lives here.''¡¯ He groaned, stretching his tired legs. ¡®''Alright, alright.''¡¯ Gromp sighed as he waved his hand around. ¡®''Explain.''¡¯ With a grunt, Throg sat down on a nearby log to rest. He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on his hands. ''¡¯Tell me this. What do I, you, and every single member of this group elder Turak put together have in common?''¡¯ He intently questioned. ¡®''All of our asses are green, I guess?''¡¯ Came the sarcastic reply. ¡®''Please, Gromp.''¡¯ Throg said, massaging his forehead with one of his hands. ¡®''I want you to really think about this. It''s very obvious and frankly, I am amazed that not a single one of you idiots figured this out yet.''¡¯ The two stared at each other for a little while, before Gromp sighed in defeat. He leaned on the old tree, and let his gaze wander across the starry night sky. They stayed like that for quite a long while before Gromp slowly recognised that the other goblin truly intended to wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. Shortly, Gromp switched from pretending to think to actively trying to actually solve the puzzle presented to him, and shortly, his mind had quite the worrying realisation. ''¡¯Oh, Fuck.''¡¯ The leaning goblin muttered. ''¡¯What''s that supposed to mean? Did you figure it out?''¡¯ Gromp muttered in a yawn, nearly having fallen asleep. ¡®¡¯Your¡­ your dad was Big Throg, right? Old chief Apo''s right-hand man?¡¯¡¯ He asked. ¡®''That''s right.''¡¯ Swiftly arrived the response. ¡®''And that guy Krakka¡­ his old man used to craft all of those spears, arrows and stuff right?¡¯¡¯ Gromp continued. ¡®''Yeah. Elder Kuzza.''¡¯ Throg responded. ¡®''Right, right. Yeah, his name was Kuzza. Remember that cool tattoo he had?''¡¯ The taller goblin gently laughed. ''Yeah, on his right arm right? Some kind of dragon or something.'' ''¡¯That''s right, it was a dragon.¡¯¡¯ Reminisced Gromp. ¡®¡¯I think I remember when he let me touch it back when we were little kids. Great times.''¡¯ The two enjoyed the silence for a brief while. ¡®''You think something like that would look good on me?''¡¯ Finally remarked Gromp, flashing a toothy grin. ¡®''The dragon would look like it''s starving on those lanky arms of yours.''¡¯ Answered Throg, barely containing his laugh. The two playfully cursed each other out for a brief while before staring off into the distance once again. Gromp relaxed his left hand, which had been unknowingly gripping the dagger''s handle ever since Throg suddenly approached him. He repeatedly tapped his foot on the ground as he tried to find something to say, the gravity of the situation gradually settling upon him. He took a deep breath and looked down at his friend who was observing the constellations watching over them. ¡®''We''re fucked, aren''t we?''¡¯ He finally dared to say as he scratched his chin. Throg softly chuckled before looking directly into his new friend¡¯s eyes with a burning passion. ''¡¯You''ve got that right. But I''ve got a plan.''¡¯ 4 - Scouting Business The first rays of light, sheepishly peeking from behind the distant mountains, protruded through the trees and branches before giving their warmly embracing a particular group of sleeping goblins. They only skipped over the one named Krakka, choosing to avoid making contact with that ugly face of his. That being said, not everyone was as content with letting him sleep. ¡®''Hey, everyone, wake up!''¡¯ Krakka, abruptly woken up by Gromp the orc slayer, peeked through his eyelashes to see what was going on. After seeing that the others had yet to wake up and after a moment of hesitation, he chose to close his eyes and pretend to be sleeping. This was a rather bad move. Gromp rammed his right leg directly into the poor goblin''s stomach, sending him wailing on the ground and consequently waking the others as well. The kick was so effective that it roused goblins from other squads as well. Gromp''s face scrunched up as he scrambled to calm down his squadmate. ''¡¯Take it easy, I didn''t mean to kick you that hard.''¡¯ He regretfully expressed, patting the squirming goblin on his back. A few of the older goblins scattered around the group, forcefully woken up and yet to take their morning piss, began to unsheathe their weapons angrily. It seemed like they were ready to sacrifice a tribesman or two in exchange for a few more minutes of peaceful sleep. Gromp looked around, nervously smiled and muttered a few quick apologies before crouching down and leaning in towards Krakka who was crying loudly while clutching his stomach. ¡®''Shut the fuck up before I kick you again, alright!?''¡¯ He threatened through his clenched teeth. Krakka slowly raised his head up, devoid of any and all tears, and cracked a nervous smile after seeing all the hostility emanating from the nearby squads. He patted himself downwhile making sure that as many little rocks and leaves as possible flew towards Gromp. ¡®''Whatever you say, boss.''¡¯
After further convincing and threatening from the self-assumed squad leader, the youngsters finally gave up on catching additional shut eye and agreed to follow him. The group made their way through the somewhat dense woodland, the trees¡¯ intertwining canopies shielding them from the sun, and stopped before a small cliff. The trees below made it impossible to accurately gauge its height, but the drop couldn''t have been more than six goblins deep. ¡®''So¡­ why did you bring us here?''¡¯ One of the goblins challenged with menace permeating his voice. ¡®¡¯You woke me up in the middle of a dream about the chief¡¯s daughter, you know?¡¯¡¯ The orc slayer rolled his eyes at the unwanted comment, deciding to ignore the goblin completely. ¡®''You see that?''¡¯ He asked, pointing towards one of the many branches of the tree below them. A green piece of torn cloth hung from the branch, swaying in the wind. ¡®''Throg fell down there last night, drunk as a skunk. He said he stole some wine from behind the elder''s tent. That''s a piece of those fancy pants of his.''¡¯ He stiffly declared to the small crowd. Krakka made his way to the front with a cynical smile on his face, deciding to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room. ¡®''Did he survive?''¡¯ He asked in a strange tone of voice. Gromp simply shrugged. ¡®''I don''t know. I followed him around to make sure he didn''t create any trouble with our superiors, but I didn''t expect him to fall down here. I called for him, but he didn''t respond.''¡¯ ''So he''s dead, huh?'' Piped up one of the gobs. Gromp could not think of anything to say, wisely choosing to stay silent and look ahead with a neutral expression. They shared a moment of silence. The moment didn''t last long. ¡®''About time, am I right?''¡¯ Krakka blurted out, looking around him for affirmation. The goblins shared a cheerful laugh, some even going as far as to slap their knees as they snickered. Only the death of a mutually hated tribesman could bring together and bond a group of monsters to such a high degree.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡®''However,''¡¯ Gromp added, raising a finger into the air and mimicking the words he had rehearsed with Throg last night, ¡®''some problems might arise from this situation.''¡¯ He started to get immersed into the role he was playing, acknowledging that acting might just be one of his very few talents given how he had apparently fooled everybody up until now. ¡®''You see, if we do not report this to the elders, they will very likely notice that he is missing. Throg was quite the character, after all.''¡¯ He joked, mostly to himself. He gradually started to enjoy himself and gave his words extra weight by using hand gestures and raising and lowering his voice¡¯s intonation like the chief liked to do. He just barely held back from laughing after seeing his squadmates'' serious expressions. ''¡¯They might think we have a deserter on our team, or that we killed him ourselves. We might get punished for no reason.''¡¯ He asserted with a distressed tone. The others nodded, having no choice but to agree with his words. ¡®''On the other hand, if we report this directly to the elders, they might give us trouble for reporting something so insignificant, or maybe think that we''re covering for him!''¡¯ He clarified further. ¡®''So, what do you say we should do?''¡¯ Asked Gido, the leftmost goblin holding proudly in his hands a short spear. All of the goblins looked at Gromp for the answer. ¡®''I Think,'' he said, slapping his chest with his palm, ''that we should report this only and exclusively to elder Turak.''¡¯ The goblins continued looking at Gromp, waiting for him to continue. He was stunned. What the fuck? I had a whole speech prepared for when they would question me and ask me to explain, but they all just went with it! ¡­Am I really that amazing at acting?
Elder Turak paced around with an uneven stride, as only his right foot had the privilege of being comfortably nested inside a warm leather boot. Hence, his right foot was in a higher position in comparison to the left one when coming in contact with the ground. Thus, again, his stride was uneven. On the other hand, in contrast to his way of walking, his thoughts were uniform ¨C straight as an arrow. A group of kids barely old enough to fight, or more specifically the couple of younglings the chief personally picked to be sent to their deaths had come to him moments before, just as he was donning his stolen boots. These were the same kids he had been mocking the night before, although, slightly surprising even himself, he did not feel any guilt or remorse. Truthfully, the situation was quite funny to him. They had told him about the unfortunate death of Throg, a youngster who was part of their group and based on their jubilant expressions, not exactly the most popular goblin in this forest. To an outsider, it might seem Turak was pacing in search of ideas, solutions to the current predicament. That was not the case. Having finally unstuck his balls, the elder turned towards the group. ¡®''Yeah, I don''t give a fuck.¡¯¡¯ Turak yawned dismissively. ¡®¡¯Go get ready, we have a long march ahead of us.''¡¯ He commanded with a yawn as he turned his second boot upside down, watching as small pebbles and pieces of dirt fell from it. He chuckled, before turning his focus back towards equipping all of the fighting gear he had lying on the ground before him, something only an elder would dare to do. Damn, these kids are good at their job. They''re dropping off like flies, even without my intervention. Well, we still need them for tomorrow, but a single goblin shouldn''t make a difference. The group of goblins stood there with blank faces, quite stunned by the elder''s response. Some even pondered why the hell they hadn''t killed that annoying Throg earlier if it had been this easy. Only Gromp had a slight smirk on his face, as he failed to completely suppress his emotions. In disbelief that the plan had actually worked, he thought back to Throg''s words the night before.
¡®''I''m planning to desert, Gromp. I refuse to die a meaningless death for some shit my old man did years ago. But I will need you to help me out.''¡¯ Asserted Throg in a solemn voice. At that time, Gromp didn''t say anything. He simply gestured for Throg to go on, growing more and more interested in his words. ¡®''The problem is that old bat, Yaga,¡¯¡¯ Throg muttered, anxiously scratching his arm. ¡®¡¯I have no clue what kind of witchcraft that crazy woman uses, but I know for a fact that she can track anybody down. That''s how they caught elder Kuzza.''¡¯ ¡®¡¯Fucking outsider piece of shit!¡¯¡¯ He quickly followed up, pursing his lips. Throg took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing. ¡®''That''s why I need you to convince the others that I passed away in an accident. That way they won''t try to find me.''¡¯ He elaborated, restlessly fiddling with his fingers. ¡®''Sure, that makes sense.''¡¯ Gromp finally spoke up. ¡®''But what about me?''¡¯ Throg stood up from the tree trunk, brushing the dirt from his pants with quick, deliberate motions. ¡®''You, my friend, will make use of a different strategy. These orcs, given they sent scouts into our tribe''s territory, must be preparing for war. And unless their chief is a total dumbass, they must have increased patrols near their lair.''¡¯ He claimed as his eyes darted around, contrasting his confident manner of speech. He sat back down just as fast as he had risen, playing around with some moss that grew on the trunk¡¯s backside. ¡®''Our chief, too, isn''t dumb.''¡¯ He spoke after a long pause, his eyes now resting on Gromp¡¯s feet. ¡®''He''s a crazy, disgusting piece of shit alright, but when it comes to killing, pillaging and destroying the efforts of others, he''s the man for the job.¡¯¡¯ He joked and smiled, though only with his mouth. ¡®¡¯That''s why I''m sure he will construct a couple of small teams to take the enemy patrols out. From that point on, it''s simple ¨C you should volunteer to join one of these groups, and once you''re deep in the woods, either wait for the other to slaughter each other or run away as fast as you can while the others aren¡¯t looking. They will think you got dispatched by those orcs¡­ hopefully.''¡¯
Throg had hit the nail right on the head. Once the impromptu army geared up and gathered, the chief addressed his underlings, announcing that those experienced in tracking and stealthily moving about in the woods will gather by the tribe''s best scout, elder Zakk, and eliminate the adversary tribe''s patrols. Surprise surprise, there was a shortage of troops. As always, where there were no rewards to be taken, there were no goblins. Altogether, less than ten of them gathered around Zakk. They all knew each other, being veterans who scouted and did all their scouting stuff that scouts do in many battles before. Their ¡®¡¯occupation¡¯¡¯ was also reflected in their personalities, as very non stereotypically, the old friends simply shared a handshake while saying very few words. Despite these goblins'' alleged excellence and their abundance of experience, there simply were not enough of them to cover all of the orc tribe¡¯s surroundings. ¡®''Any volunteers?''¡¯ The chief said with a tired voice, once again having to rely on the more bloodthirsty idiots in his tribe, those who were always itching for a fight no matter the circumstances. As expected, some highly questionable characters raised their hands as the chief silently prayed for them to not create unwanted trouble. He swiftly gave a meaningful look to Zakk, who instantly understood his chieftain¡¯s intention, preparing himself to be blamed for any little mistake they will commit. Gromp, as well, proudly raised his hand, fitting in seamlessly with the other battle-crazy volunteers. Damn, this plan is perfect. It''s all going so smoothly. Just as he thought that, another hand shot up, its owner surprisingly standing quite close to Gromp. The lanky goblin immediately recognised the bracelets hanging from the arm''s wrist. He turned, and Krakka''s cold smile greeted him. As it turns out, no plan is perfect. 5 - Krakka The Sly Gromp panted heavily, clutching his dagger as hard as he could. He stumbled, luckily managing to catch himself on a tree trunk with trembling hands. He tried to refocus his vision to the best of his efforts, but to no avail, as a blurry green figure slowly crept closer. He looked down. Crimson blood gushed from his stomach in an unending stream. He looked up. Red droplets slid off the figure¡¯s blade, glistening in the dim light. ¡®''Krakka. What have you done?''¡¯
An hour ago, the scouts had entered the forest, moving ahead of the main force to uncover the enemy¡¯s positions. Zakk had placed all the murderous idiots on two teams, sending them to walk in directions least likely to encounter opposition. Nonetheless, Gromp and Krakka''s team had gotten quite a bit of action. Their team, which counted four goblins in total, had stumbled upon two orcs who were even worse at this scouting business than they were. The two older goblins immediately sprang forward, completely ruining the chances of a coordinated sneak attack. To much surprise though, the two orcs had apparently been placed there for a reason. They fought with great coordination, quickly managing to isolate one of the goblins before skewering him with their short spears. Krakka, too, joined the melee, evening the battlefield with his presence. Gromp deliberately took all the time in the world to help, and by the time he arrived, only Krakka and one of the orcs still stood. He briefly considered stabbing Krakka in the back or bolting away as fast as he could, but he decided against both, as neither option seemed too exciting. The chaotic skirmish quickened his pulse, stirring a reckless desire to join the fray. Instead, with a playful expression, he circled around the two tired combatants, stalking through the lush undergrowth like a proper scout. Upon arriving behind the orc, who had many small gashes and cuts littering his green skin, he lunged forward like a ravenous wolf, slicing the opposing tribe combatant¡¯s throat before he could even turn around. Before the now-dead orc even made contact with the ground, a piercing pain shot up from Gromp¡¯s stomach. Reflexively, Gromp darted away, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the unforeseen threat, feeling confused and frightened.
And that brings us back to the present. As the aggressor moved closer and closer, Gromp desperately tried to stall for the time he so badly needed. ¡®''Why the fuck would you do this? I thought we were friends!''¡¯ he croaked, his voice barely rising above the agony. The blurry figure laughed. ¡®''Are those the words of the same person that kicked me like some whore this morning, huh?¡¯¡¯ The figure retorted, its unattractive visage gradually entering Gromp¡¯s view. Krakka now stood only a few steps away. ¡®''I heard you two talk last night, you know? You and Throg.''¡¯ The aggressor continued. He took another step forward. Gromp racked his brain, trying his best to find a solution. *THUMP* Krakka kicked Gromp with all his might, purposely aiming right at his wound, consequently turning his vision even worse than it was. Tears streamed down his face as unbearable pain wracked his body. Krakka delivered kick after kick, each strike accompanied by a guttural grunt of satisfaction. He tried to cover the wound with his hands, yet bright red blood still poured out without stopping. Just when he was about to give up, to let go, his barely functioning eyes picked up something. He saw a second figure, a second silhouette slowly emerging from behind his former ally. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could, and slowly raised his hands, drenched in his very own blood, before slowly opening his trembling mouth. ¡®''I¡­ I never planned to do as he said! You have to trust me!''¡¯ He pleaded to his kin, all arrogance he might have had before vanishing under the weight of death. The green figure slowly raised its right hand, the blood from the dagger it held dripping down in small crimson droplets, mixing with the tears on Gromp¡¯s face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! What should I say, WHAT SHOULD I SAY!? ¡®''If I wanted to follow his plan, then why didn''t I stab you in the back before? Please, fuck, please think about it!''¡¯ He cried out, hands shaking uncontrollably.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The hand and the dagger reached their highest point. Gromp looked at the blade, and for a moment, saw his own pitiful reflection. ¡®''Stop! STOP! I SAID STOP!''¡¯ He yelled at the top of his lungs, begging like never before. The hand swung down. *SHIK* Gromp slowly opened his trembling eyes, his hands still hanging in the air. An iron spear was impaled in Krakka''s stomach, the tip of the spearhead only a hair''s breadth away from his own head. He scrambled away on all fours as fast as his heavy limbs could carry him, grass and little sticks sticking to his bloody hands. In a swift motion, the spear suddenly retracted and Krakka, his eyes now staring into the distance, collapsed. A bulky figure stood upright behind the corpse, spear in hand ¨C he was one of the two orcs. His left arm was missing, and various other wounds covered nearly every inch of his large frame. And yet, he still stood. He gazed down at Gromp and slowly reached behind his back, taking out a short dagger of his own. Gromp braced himself once again, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst to come, only to hear the sound of fabric being ripped. Struggling with his one good hand, the orc ripped a strip of fabric from his trousers and tossed it to Gromp. The goblin watched, blinking his eyes repeatedly as if to make sure he was not hallucinating. The orc, his movements getting more sluggish by the second, moved over to the nearest tree and slowly slid down its trunk, leaving a trail of blood behind. Once seated, a tired sigh escaped his dry lips. Gromp, on the other hand, summoned every last bit of his sapping strength to wrap the cloth around his wound. He tore off a piece of his loincloth too, and after applying as much pressure as he could muster, blood mostly stopped escaping his body. The young goblin fought to stay awake, biting his lips to the point they bled to shake off the drowsiness. It didn''t do much, as the pain felt more and more distant. His eyes began to close, blood flowing once again through the gaps of his fingers as he failed to put enough pressure on the wound. ¡®''Hey.''¡¯ A voice said in a weird accent, snapping Gromp out of his daze. He grunted as he put pressure back on his wound which started to hurt again, even more than before. He slowly turned his head and looked at the orc, leaning on the tree trunk. The warrior was looking up, past the tree branches into the clear blue sky above. He had taken off his many necklaces and was holding them with his remaining hand before him as in prayer. The dying orc wordlessly placed all but one of the necklaces on the ground with gentle precision. Without moving his eyes, he extended his hand to Gromp, and let the final necklace slip through his fingers, softly falling into Gromp''s lap. He finally turned his head, looking at the goblin¡¯s face for the first time. The orc''s gaze was powerful, holding eye contact without blinking even once. He opened his parched mouth, and with a deep, quiet voice uttered a single word. ¡®''Survive.''¡¯ The orc leaned his head against the rough tree bark and closed his eyes, letting eternal rest take him.
The goblin army, slightly fewer in number than at the start of the march, was gathered at the edge of the forest they called home, tall mountains looming over them from ahead. Past the final few trees stretched a large clearing, where tall grass swayed in the gentle wind. The night sky stood on the goblin army''s side, as thin clouds covered the bright moon, making them almost invisible, coupled with their natural camouflage. The goblin troops were itching to fight, most of them tapping their feet on the ground or twirling their weapons in anticipation. Throg and Gromp''s previous squadmates stood at the very forefront, minutes away from experiencing what leading a charge truly meant. They were waiting for the shamaness and some others who knew a thing or two about medicine to finish patching up the wounded scouts who had engaged in combat, by a stroke of luck somehow managing to win every skirmish. After the old and wrinkly shamaness concluded her work on the last patient, a young goblin with quite a horrible stab wound on his stomach, she made her way to the very front of the group of rowdy goblins. She could feel her chief''s gaze on her back as he peered at her from the tail end of the army. With a sharp look in his eyes and hands held behind his back, he looked over the soon-to-be battlefield expectantly. Yaga snorted, silently chuckling to herself. As if you could control goblins. Stop playing general and grow up, little chief. Despite the shamaness'' scrutinising thoughts, she knew the Chipped Ear tribe''s chief was no fool. In fact, he had intentionally decided against employing any complicated tactics in the coming battle, instead ordering each of the elders to pass down the chain of command a very clear, short order that even the biggest morons could understand: ¡®''Wait for Yaga to blow shit up, and rush in after those dumb kids take the lead.''¡¯ The shamaness turned around, making eye contact with the chief. He looked at her momentarily with an unreadable expression, before giving her a simple thumbs-up. Yaga spun around again, this time facing the grass plains and the giant cliff that loomed over them. At the very bottom of the rock face stood a wooden wall, built in a half circle and thus effectively protecting the orc tribe within. Bright lights shone from behind it, gently illuminating the nearby grass, though luckily for her, she knew she didn''t have to get that close to the wall. It was constructed from large wooden stakes, built from the logs of old trees that once proudly stood there. If examined from a smaller distance, one could see many cuts and burn marks decorating the old wood. The reason for this were the many attempted raids on this orc village, most of which were carried out by the Chipped Ear Tribe¡¯s ancestors throughout the two tribes'' bloody history. In contrast to their forefathers, though, this generation had an ace up their sleeve ¨C a hidden weapon if you will, in the form of Yaga. She was the chief''s key to breaching the orc tribe''s unbreachable defences, the key to uniting almost half of the forest under one single green goblin. The shamaness walked forward, hunching over because of her old age rather than to conceal herself. The clouds helped her greatly, as in better lightning, she might have been spotted by the orc guards who stood on small wooden platforms attached to the wall, unenthusiastically observing the rustling grass. Once she stood close enough to make out the guards'' faces, she halted. ¡®''Alright, you can do this.''¡¯ She muttered, psyching herself up for the first time in years. She straightened her posture and rose to her full height, her back cracking in protest. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs to the brim with refreshing night air. A foreign, chilling energy slowly began to gather around her ¨C mana, or ra'' as the goblins called it. The power to make something out of nothing, to change your surroundings according to your thought. The power everybody sought. The energy around Yaga swelled and bubbled, forming a sort of vortex as it flooded into her old body. Her legs buckled as the mana condensed within her, writhing about with a mind of its own. She tensed her every muscle as she brought it under her control, and with a primal roar, she swung her wrinkled hand towards the wall in a grand arch. One of the orc guards nearly fell from his platform as the scream roused him from irresponsible sleep. He turned his head to the darkness, his eyes anxiously darting around in search of his disruptor. He reached for his bow just in time for a giant wind scythe, as tall as the wooden wall itself, to cleave him in half like he was made of butter before crashing into the houses behind him with a thunderous noise. A thin, at first only barely visible line of red formed right in the middle of his pink body. Blood violently spurted out from his insides, his nearly identical halves separating as he fell to the hard ground together with the two stakes that held the platform up. The battle had begun. 6 - Minor Setback I Gromp lethargically opened his eyes. He was awakened by an incomparably annoying sound, one that he was very familiar with. Fucking mosquitoes. He traced the aggravating creature with his eyes and lost it momentarily before he felt it land on his stomach. Instinctively, his hand reacted. *SMACK* Horrible pain erupted from his abdomen as he accidentally whacked his wound, igniting a sensation of a thousand wasps stinging him in the same exact spot. The goblin mustered every ounce of his will not to scream aloud, silently weeping and squeezing his fists so hard his sharp fingernails drew blood. The pain cleared up his thoughts, and he soon realised that he was staring at dark tree branches above him, rather than his home cave''s boring stone ceiling. He took in his surroundings, noticing a few other wounded goblins next to him, all of them fellow scouts. I''ve got to find Throg, fast! Gromp thought. The two had agreed to meet up shortly after dusk, and his internal clock told him that the sun was moments away from greeting the forest. He clenched his teeth and slowly stood up. He limped away from the makeshift camp as fast as he could, before suddenly stopping. His long ears picked up on the sounds of battle ¨C the sounds of metal clashing, bones breaking, both goblins and orcs screaming as they fought for their lives. His heartbeat quickened as the weight of his dagger tucked in his loincloth was seemingly greater than ever before. He looked over his shoulder, instantly getting lost in the striking view. Dozens of goblins, mere green specks when seen from this distance squeezed and pushed to fit through a small hole in the wall, previously thought to be impenetrable. Giant fires raged from behind the fortifications, some big enough that their peaks danced even higher than the wooden stakes. Some goblins were using daggers and axes to climb over them, while others tried their luck, blindly shooting arrows and hoping they hit something ¨C even a goblin ¨C on the other side. *SLAP* Gromp forced himself out of his daze, this time slapping his cheek rather than his wound. He turned to the dark forest and readied himself to move once again, before realising something of rather great importance. He had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to go. Did Throg ever even mention where we would meet up? His mind raced, thinking back to their long talk the night before, trying to remember every word the two exchanged. He thought, perhaps longer than he should have, given where was at the moment, but simply could not recall this very key piece of information. Did he forget to tell me? His eyes wandered downwards, eventually(?) settling on the white cloth that bandaged his wound. Did he trick me? Now that he paid attention to it, the agonising pain that was constantly bothering him at the back of his mind grew ever more intense, overtaking all his senses. The world spun around Gromp, as he barely kept himself from falling on the cold dirt. HE FUCKING TRICKED ME! Tears welled up inside his eyes as he staggered to the nearest tree. He squeezed his fist and brought up his shivering arm, but couldn''t find the strength inside him to punch the bark. Instead, he turned and leaned on the tree for support, sobbing uncontrollably. His legs gave out, and he slowly slid down the tree trunk scraping his back bloody in the process. ¡®¡¯He deceived me! Throg deceived me!¡¯¡¯ He sobbed, snot and tears dirtying his face. He banged the back of his head on the tree again and again and scraped his skin as he whined, completely missing the many loud footsteps that approached from deeper inside the woods. The footsteps were heavy like those of the orcs, and metallic clangs accompanied each step, unmistakably signifying the presence of armour. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Gromp, completely devastated and clutching the orcish necklace with his green hands, noticed the sounds of the many armed creatures when they were just a couple of steps away. With haste he peered over his shoulder, and from the depths of darkness saw the only living beings which could make his day worse.
The chief''s face scrunched up as he scratched his head, his racing mind unable to piece together the reason behind the orcs¡¯ overwhelming might and vigour. The fight was in a stalemate as his adversaries successfully built and maintained a half-circle formation around the broken part of the wall, effectively keeping most of the goblins from invading the deeper parts of their village and wreaking havoc among the non-combatants. They should have less than half the number of our warriors, not to mention I have been purposefully limiting their hunting grounds. Why and how do they have so much energy? He forced his way to the front of the battlefield, shoving away his underlings with ease due to his giant frame. Fuck it, I will kill these pigs myself if I have to. The goblins¡¯ spirits invigorated from their chief''s presence on the front line, they finally started to push the orcs back. The goblin chief suddenly froze as he noticed a certain orc, slightly fatter than the others, standing at the back of the enemy''s formation. The slimmer chieftain smirked as he saw the orc''s agitated gaze, and just as he was about to join the skirmish once again, something at the edge of his vision caught his attention. His eyes locked on a pile of white bones, sitting serenely by a poorly constructed hut made out of sticks and mud. Now, bones of all shapes and sizes were a classic part of any monster tribe. Some used them as decoration, others created tools, weapons, and jewelry from the material while others used them to craft primitive instruments. The presence of bones alone did not strike the chief as anything out of the ordinary. No, the predicament here was their peculiar shape. The chief glances at the skull standing on the very top of the pile in confusion ¨C Its skull was slightly too large to be that of a goblin, yet its jaw wasn''t large enough to belong to an orc. A shiver ran up the chief''s spine as a sense of powerlessness like he had not tasted in decades spread throughout his body. His head snapped back to the orc chief. Everybody and everything else seemed to fade away into the background, light shining only on the two commanders. ¡®''Ighor, what the fuck have you done?!''¡¯ He hoarsely shouted in desperation.
Humans. Sly, two-legged creatures, most often pink in colour, regarded by most other ''''two leggers'''' ¨C especially those self-important dwarves and elves ¨C as nothing more than vermin. Though not particularly strong, or bright for that matter, these creatures seemingly exist in every nook and cranny of the world. Sadly, that is not completely true ¨C at least not anymore. Long ago, in the Age of Fragmented Lands, when dwarves dominated the underground and elves held control of the ancient forests, most of the folk belonging to one of these two humanoid races truly held the humans in low regard. After all, they were just one of the many groups that fought for control of the ground territories, much like the beastkin or lizardmen. As it would seem, the fruit-eating long-ears and the alcoholic midgets should have paid more attention to these rather uninteresting fellows. With the help of various technological advances, they quickly expanded their influence, pressuring all the other ground dwellers into occupying less bountiful lands. Their shorter lifespans, although still longer than those of goblins, proved to be a blessing in disguise as they lived with a depressing sense of urgency knowing their end was relatively near. The humans and their numerous kingdoms, monarchies, and all the other ruling systems they made up now cover most of the known world and are by far the most numerous humanoid race. That being said, while humans own most of the land, they most definitely do not control every inch of territory within their constantly changing borders. Their villages and towns are many, but they are mere specks of civilised land surrounded by the near-endless wilderness. These unexplored lands, predominantly owned by humans are inhabited by monsters, humanoid races which are less advanced mostly on account of luck rather than intellect as the ''''enlightened'''' races believe, which formed various tribes with their respective chieftains and elders, who are the real land owners instead of some spoiled, conceited king whose name these monsters most likely have not even heard of before in their lives. None of this held true for the Chipped Ear tribe and the forest they resided in. This particular medium-sized goblin tribe had the misfortune of being nestled near the border of two predominantly human kingdoms. This imaginary boundary between them runs along the sharp peaks of the giant mountain range and at least until a couple of decades ago, the two nations, aside from a small scuffle or two, had no interest in these lands and as such did little do develop them, or to exterminate the monster tribes which roamed this forested terrain. All of this changed when a giant landslide destroyed a small isolated village located in a valley, deep inside the mountain range. Back then, a young farmer, lucky to have been working in the fields when his settlement was buried, ran back to his small wooden house, finding it had been completely and utterly destroyed. He collapsed onto his knees, seeing his whole world turned upside down, when something unusual caught his eye. With his calloused hands, he dug out a strange green rock from underneath the dirt and cleaned it the best he could with his torn trousers. An emerald, of extremely high purity, glinted beautifully in the sun. Needless to say, soldiers were quick to arrive, both from one kingdom and the other. Needless to say, they started fighting. The various scholars and analysts quickly judged the shiny rocks incomparably more valuable than the lives sacrificed to obtain them, and a war broke out. The human generals were not stupid and quickly began clearing out all monster tribes in the vicinity, whether provoked or unprovoked. The Chipped Ear Tribe had been lucky to have been residing in the southern part of the forest, but the monsters that lived up north back then, mostly gnolls, were wiped out in the blink of an eye by the human soldiers. Ever since then, all tribes within the forest have abided by an unspoken rule to never, no matter the situation at hand, evoke the rage of the humans. And after many, many years, Ighor of the orc was the first one to break these shackles and provide some much-needed food for his starving people. As it turns out, those shackles were placed upon the monsters to protect them rather than restrict them.
The grating, resonant sound of a war horn spread throughout the large clearing as more than a hundred of armour clad soldiers marched out from under the green canopies, the dawn''s first light illuminating them in all of their glory. Their chins were held high and chests puffed outwards, not a single one of them showing signs of nervousness. They awaited their commander''s signal in eerie silence. A middle-aged, short-statured human made his way to the front of the human combatants. His piercing blue eyes scanned over the battlefield, and although he was shorter than even many of the goblins, he seemingly looked down upon them like they were mere summer ants. Wordlessly he drew his sword, and with practised and methodical movements, he swung his dwarven-made blade forward, the early sun¡¯s rays glimmering off of its sharp edge- The humans charged.