As the goblins continued to argue and fight over the ownership of the stick, the lone goblin by the lake found herself lost in thought, trying to make sense of the strange behavior of the fish and the unsettling feeling that had taken hold of her heart.

As the goblins fought fiercely over the possession of the powerful stick, one curious goblin slipped away from the chaos, her mind preoccupied with the strange state of the motionless fish in the lake. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, and she was determined to investigate further.

The goblin's thoughts turned to the tiny birds she had encountered in the nest earlier. She wondered if they might hold the key to understanding the peculiar situation with the fish. With a sense of purpose, she scampered off into the forest, retracing her steps to the location of the nest.

As she approached the tree, the goblin's keen sense of smell picked up an unfamiliar and unsettling odor. She climbed the tree with agility, her curiosity propelling her upward. When she reached the nest, a horrifying sight greeted her. The tiny birds lay lifeless, their bodies covered in a writhing mass of flies and maggots.

The goblin's mind raced with a flurry of simple thoughts, each one vying for attention. However, one particular notion pushed its way to the forefront, demanding to be acknowledged. In a moment of morbid curiosity, the goblin plucked one of the deceased birds from the nest and brought it to her mouth. She hesitated for a brief instant before taking a tentative bite.

The taste that flooded her senses was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was unique, but not entirely pleasant. The goblin's face contorted in a mixture of intrigue and disgust as she chewed the unusual morsel. While it wasn't exactly to her liking, the novelty of the flavor piqued her interest.

With this new experience fresh in her mind, the goblin descended from the tree and made her way back to the lakeside. As she approached, she noticed that the fight over the stick had nearly reached its conclusion. Only the two strongest goblins remained, locked in a fierce battle for supremacy.

The goblin's attention, however, was drawn to the fish that had drifted closer to the shore. The memory of the tiny birds and their peculiar taste lingered in her thoughts. Her face scrunched up in contemplation as she considered the fish, her curiosity once again taking hold.

Unable to resist the temptation, the goblin reached out and grabbed one of the fish. She brought it to her mouth and took a cautious bite. To her surprise, the taste was delightful. It was different from the birds, but in a much more enjoyable way. A sense of satisfaction washed over her as she savored the flavor.

At that precise moment, the fight between the two remaining goblins came to an end. The victor, still clutching the coveted stick, noticed the curious goblin consuming something unfamiliar. Intrigued by the sight of this new "fruit," the goblin leader approached her.

Without warning, the leader swung the stick, striking the curious goblin on the head with a resounding thud. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as the leader snatched the half-eaten fish from her grasp.

The leader examined the strange object, perplexed by its appearance. Wasn't this the evil thing that had been devouring the water spirit's offering? Despite his reservations, the leader's curiosity got the better of him. He took a tentative bite of the fish, and a smile slowly crept across his face. It was delicious.

The leader quickly finished the remaining portion of the fish before grabbing the other one that lay nearby. Without hesitation, he scarfed it down, relishing the newfound taste sensation.

As the goblin leader savored the last bits of the delectable fish, a craving for more consumed his thoughts. However, the fish were already gone, leaving him unsatisfied.

With his godly stick in hand, he set out to find a comfortable spot to rest, his mind still lingering on the tantalizing taste of his newfound delicacy.

From that day forward, an unspoken fear gripped the hearts of the other goblins. They couldn't help but notice the power and authority that the holder of the stick wielded.

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It was as if an invisible force compelled them to submit to his every whim.

As the sixth month began, the goblin leader reveled in his newfound status. The other goblins, driven by an innate fear, began to offer him portions of their own food without any prompting.

They followed his commands obediently, never daring to question his authority. Even the most desirable sleeping spots were left vacant for him, as no goblin dared to challenge his claim.

The leader relished in this newfound power, basking in the adoration and subservience of his fellow goblins. However, there was one goblin who refused to conform to this new order - a female goblin, the very same one he had knocked unconscious on that fateful day.

Unlike the others, she never offered him any food or showed any signs of deference. Instead, she would often appear with peculiar, fuzzy-looking fruits, which she kept to herself, never sharing them with the leader.

This blatant disregard for his authority irked the goblin leader. Who did she think she was, defying him in such a manner? He was the holder of the stick, the supreme ruler of their group.

Determined to teach her a lesson, he approached her with a menacing stride.

Without warning, he swung the stick, striking her on the head with the same force he had used before. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious once more, as the fruit tumbled from her grasp.

The leader picked up the strange fruit, examining it closely. It resembled the fluffy creatures that always managed to evade their grasp, darting away with incredible speed. Though he didn't know it by name, it was a rabbit.

Shrugging his shoulders, the leader took a bite of the fruit, and his taste buds exploded with delight. It was indeed delicious, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. As he savored the succulent meat, he glanced down at the unconscious goblin, a smirk playing on his lips.

With a final kick to her motionless body, the leader turned away, ready to continue asserting his dominance over the other goblins. He had tasted power, and he was determined to maintain his iron grip on the group, one way or another.

As the night descended upon the forest, the female goblin stirred from her unconscious state. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, a painful reminder of the recent events that had transpired. She gingerly touched the tender spot on her skull, wincing as her fingers made contact with the swollen bump.

Confusion and anger swirled within her as she searched for her hard-earned prey, the rabbit she had spent the better part of the day hunting. It was nowhere to be found, and the realization that it had been taken from her only fueled the rage that burned in her chest.

Her eyes darted around the camp, seeking the culprit responsible for her current state. They settled on the sleeping form of the goblin leader, the stick clutched tightly in his grasp as he rested upon a moss-covered rock. The sight of him, the one who had struck her down and stolen her prize, ignited a fierce determination within her.

She knew she was the weakest of the group, unable to challenge the leader directly. But as her gaze lingered on the stick, a twisted grin slowly crept across her face. A plan began to take shape in her mind, a means to exact her revenge and claim what she believed was rightfully hers.

With a quiet chuckle, she crept closer to the sleeping goblin, her movements precise and calculated. She reached out, her fingers trembling with anticipation as they closed around the stick. Slowly, carefully, she extracted it from the leader's grasp, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

As she raised the stick above her head, a single thought consumed her mind: "Sleepy sleepy time for the Great Holder." Images of the tiny birds, the fish, and the countless creatures she had hunted flashed before her eyes. She focused all her anger, all her resentment, on the vulnerable form of the sleeping goblin.

With a primal scream, she brought the stick down with all her might. The first strike connected with a sickening crunch, eliciting a squeal of pain from the former leader. But she didn't stop there. She continued to rain blows upon him, targeting his arms, legs, ribs, and skull with a frenzied intensity.

Blood splattered across the rock and covered the female goblin, painting her in a gruesome shade of crimson. The camp erupted into chaos as the other goblins awoke to the incessant noises and the mad laughter that echoed through the night.

They watched in horror as the female goblin, now the Holder of the Stick, unleashed her fury upon their former leader. Paralyzed with a fear they had never known before, they cowered in the shadows, unable to intervene or comprehend the brutality unfolding before their eyes.

The female goblin reveled in her newfound power, her face contorted in a twisted expression of excitement and bloodlust. She had claimed the stick, and with it, the title of leader.

Back in the core space, Fable stared at the incoming prompts, his eyes glazed over in a mixture of shock and disbelief. The vivid descriptions of the goblins' brutal behavior and the gruesome scene that had unfolded left him feeling numb. He shook his head, trying to process the information that flooded his mind.

"System, what the f*ck..." Fable muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't comprehend how things had escalated so quickly, how the goblins he had summoned had become so violent and ruthless.

The Dungeon Master System, ever-present and impassive, responded in its robotic tone, [It was the host's choice to choose monster goblins. Please take responsibility for your own decisions.]