Goblins
Surrounding a circle was the whole tribe: this included everyone from the very few elderly goblins to the very many still young goblins. However unlike the last meeting there were no tall muscular goblins creating an inner circle, after all how could they do that when they were so few of them left alive? 7 of the goblins that had gone had died, 10 if counted the pack carriers. This meant only 5 had made it out alive out of the original 15: Withil, Roger, Raraak, Damon and another pack carrier. This was the largest setback faced by the tribe so far, and yet instead of frowns, all the goblins were wearing smiles and talking excitedly. How could you be sad when a new chieftain was to be chosen in front of them through battle?
They were expecting a large fight, after all the two fighting were the tribe’s superpowers: Withil and Raraak. To their ignorance, it was merely a façade meant to cover up Raraak’s rise to chieftain, since Withil would certainly die under his feet.
At the centre of the circle was a massive goblin squatting. His limbs were muscled to a t as he looked almost like a Greek god. It was a pity that the fur-like-hair over his body ruined it, nevertheless his frightening face. Before his evolution his face had been normal albeit a bit big, but now it looked like the face of a giant as all his features had been exaggerated, creating a face inciting fear.
In front of him rested a massive stone hammer, weighing at least 70kg and rising as high as 1m. Fearsome was too light of a word as the hammer was in essence an extremely tough, thick rod of wood attached to a monstrously sized rock. Both the materials had been chosen for their light weight and high strength, and yet it still weighed 70kg…
The giant didn’t worry, he didn’t have to! The goblin he was to face was a goblin he had always respected, albeit also mixed with a bit of loathing. And now he would crush that goblin as it was weakened, giving him too much of an advantage to lose with.
The clatter of noises suddenly hushed as one side split apart, revealing a small group of not-so-distant goblins. At the vanguard was a goblin all knew, Withil, and he walked with his chest held high without the cast on, revealing the ghastly arm that looked like it was diseased and broken.
The current aged chieftain choked a bit on his chuckle as he watched the proud goblin walk over, walking over to his death that was. Following Withil was Withil’s warriors who hadn’t gone on the bear mission, walking alongside Roger.
Though this skipped all’s minds as they watched an average warrior-sized goblin walk behind. The goblin did not hold his chest high, nor was he followed by a group of warriors; rather he was following. But he incited awe but also fear in to the audience’s hearts since his skin was coloured a dirty red. His body slender, unlike Raraak’s and yet all the goblins there knew that this goblin was evolved, after all the very feeling they got watching him was different to when looking at each other. He gave the feeling of strength, a feeling that they could follow this goblin, a feeling of leadership…
Arriving just on time, Withil told his warriors to join Raraak’s, barely creating a wide enough inner circle.
Raraak didn’t stand but rather called out, “Withil, are you ready to face death?”
His voice was much deeper and louder than before, and yet Withil responded with no loss in confidence.
“Of course I am ready. I am ready to show the tribe the truly worthy leader. But it is a pity that it won’t be you Raraak.”
“HAHAHAHHA. You need to beat me to win the chair Withil, tell me how you will do that with a dead arm? Just learn your position and swear your allegiance to me; I will not treat you unfairly as long as you do that NOW!”
A smile creeped upon Withil’s face before it infected all his warriors alike as they laughed in unison, as if Raraak was a joke before them. Clearly disturbed, Raraak was about to shout out once again just before Withil interrupted him, this time speaking with vigour and volume that he hadn’t had before.
“I will show you what a leader is Raraak. A leader is a person who leads, he does not need to be the strongest, just the smartest. Dare you tell me you are better than me to lead! I was willing to let you live, but that mistake will cost you your life.
After all I won’t be fighting you my bad friend. Instead it will be my champion doing it in my place, Damon!”
Almost as if rehearsed, Damon walked into the circle as Withil said his name, allowing no time for Raraak to respond. Words seemed to get stuck in Raraak’s mouth as he almost wanted to taunt Withil for using such a young child as a champion, but gave up as he sensed the power from Damon. He exuded a feeling of strength, both reassuring the goblins surrounding them but also frightening them.
The current chieftain interrupted at this moment, his voice sounding out as he said “Withil, you only have one chance at this. If your champion loses, so do you. Do you understand?”
Nodding swiftly, Withil returned his eyes to Damon’s back. This 3 year old carried his life on his back, something he would not have believed if he had heard it a week ago. And yet it was so real now…
Needing no words, Raraak stood up, towering over all his surroundings including Damon. The beast-like goblin stood at 2.2m tall, growing 30cm from his evolution, though he seemed to weigh a lot more than before, as his steps upon the ground left footprints on the rough ground. Lifting off the ground the hammer swung into Raraak’s arm as he held it firmly, using the now-bulging veins on his arms to intimidate Damon.
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Almost as if juxtaposition to the scene, the chieftain softly said the word all had been waiting for:
“Go”.
Springing into action, Raraak leapt of the ground, rising into the air before landing right in front of where Damon had been. What followed was his hammer, smashing into the rough ground, creating many cracks. Damon had already leapt away in response to Raraak’s jump but struggled to find time to think after that as Raraak followed up his singular strike with many more alike. Even one would crush the bones of a normal goblin and would most likely disable Damon.
It was alike to watching a struggle between an ogre and a panther as neither could find the opportunity to hurt each other due to their opposing strengths cancelling the others’. Raraak created cracks all across the ground, spreading dust all over the arena. The dust only further pained the audience as they already struggled to hold view of Damon as he leapt from space to space, disappearing from a spot just before a crack formed over it.
…
After seeing a chance, Raraak immediately once again charged Damon, hammer swinging in front as he attempted to make contact. Almost like swapping pleasantries, Damon repeated his action of jumping away. It was his pity though as Raraak felt compulsion to break formality, since what followed the swing was actually a throw: the 70kg hammer blasting towards Damon. It was like an eclipse, since dark completely filled Damon’s vision, though he no longer flustered as he done with bear. Instead he stopped his leap short by falling onto the ground with his arms first, before rolling past the overhead hammer.
His hand proceeded to slide into his waist satchel, flashing out a deadly looking knife before flicking towards Raraak. He had used 60% of his strength at this mana density to do so, and it showed as the knife slid through Raraak as if he was melted butter. You could only see the wooden handle sticking out of Raraak’s left arm since the whole blade had slid their way into his flesh.
Screaming in a combination of pain and anger, Raraak firmly grasped the knife before ripping it out of his wound, blood splattering over the ground . Before Damon could respond, Raraak had already thrown it at him with all his force. It was a pity that Raraak never really practiced knife throwing, as instead the knife went into the chest of a warrior goblin, making him collapse upon contact.
Raraak then charged Damon in a tackle, though he missed by quite a margin. This was fine as he instead gained the opportunity to pick up his fallen hammer, only not before another knife stabbed into his thick back. What followed was an enraged beast attempt to catch an agile mouse, as 3 other warrior goblins were injured as knives and hammers were thrown.
Having exhausted his whole knife collection, Damon took out his thick short sword. The weight seemed perfect in his arm as he eyed the red monster in front of him. Dyed in red now was Raraak, due to the blood both inside and outside him: inside as blood bubbled in rage, creating a red flush to his skin which was , to his bad luck, overpowered by the red crimson blood that now painted his whole body. His skin was pierced in 7 occurrences with 3 knives still in while 4 holes bled out, creating a bloody trail.
All the pain seemed to disappear as he saw Damon take out the sword, finally it was going to be a fair fight! Once again his hammer flew into the air as he rushed Damon who alike did the same. The scene seemed a joke as an earth encompassing hammer met a small sword, though the outcome was even more of a joke as Raraak felt a strong sting flow through his arms. Although he wasn’t alone on this as Damon also felt the strain of his arms go over the limit: Raraak was still stronger than him, even in this bloody state.
Knowing he would only be in a disadvantage if he let Raraak make all the strikes, Damon thrusted forward with his short sword. Responding in time, Raraak rose the hammer’s rod to block the strike, though not much use as another quick flick of the sword followed up, tearing through his shoulder muscle. Dropping the hammer in pain, Raraak once again attempted to pick it up before his shoulder muscle tore even more under the strain, earning him a full swing of the sword into his core as he roared in pain.
His knees felt weak as he kneeled forwards, head facing the ground now stained with blood. His legs had been stabbed long ago and now felt weaker than ever as his body began to lose hope.
Feeling a compulsion for a strong ending, Damon decided to use all of his strength possible as he dashed towards Raraak’s head quicker than nearly all eyes could follow him. Within one second was a kneeling giant and dashing demon, within the next was a motionless demon holding up the whole head of the giant.
He had been executed under a single strike…
Silence stilled the forest as if the whole world had frozen, no goblin willing to move or make noise as they watched the demon raise the bloody head, still frothing at the mouth. The beautiful dusk sun over the forest created a daunting image, something fully worthy to be in a nightmare. What followed though was thunderous applause, cheering and breakdowns…
Sounds loud enough to crack one’s eardrums surrounded the singular living goblin. It was all for him.
Warriors he had once respected and looked up to now applauded for him while others lost the strength in their knees as they collapsed like Raraak. It was all for him.
He watched as Withil roared in joy, quick to be congratulated by his surroundings. It was all for him, or had been and should have been!
He had been the star of the show: he had been all powerful and yet this other goblin earned praise for nothing. He didn’t feel the senseless jealously building up within him as he was drunk on power, unwilling to accept any as worthy as him.
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Unbeknownst to him, another evolved goblin watched from a distance, sneering as he saw the champion get jealous. It had been a decent fight, earning a 3 out of 5 from him but he held no true interest in it. Who cared who became chieftain? You needed power to hold that position, and if you used a hound for that, you needed enough power to control that hound. Otherwise…
The evolved goblin got up, walking away once more away from the village. He did not know for certain what would follow this event but nor did he particularly care; his personal strength was enough for him…
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Withil walked over to Damon, all smiles and cheer. His face seemed much in difference with his ghastly arm, diseased looking while his face beamed in joy. Squinting his eyes, Damon watched Withil come over. It made sense since he was Withil’s champion but it didn’t…
Why did he deserve the prize when he did fuckall? Why did he deserve such a position of power when his own power was insufficient?! Withil outreached his hand towards Raraak’s bleeding head, unable to see the wrath building up deep inside Damon…
He could kill Withil right here just like he had done to Raraak, a single slice with his sword and Withil’s head would also be off. Then in his hands he would hold the heads of two tyrants, neither able to contest with him in strength. He could be the chieftain, fuck that, he could be king. The closer the arm got, the stronger his wrath became as his mind toiled on a decision, still drunk on power.
Should he execute Withil, right here right now?