Napper collapsed after what felt like hours of running at a full sprint. The humans had descended on his small tribe in the night, killed the Hob that they had called chieftain, and any Goblins they could get ahold of. They had been nine Goblins and a Hobgoblin, but he didn’t know how many were left alive. He shot to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps and moved to hide in the brush.
Instead of the humans that had attacked, he saw another Goblin run into the clearing and stop to catch his breath. Napper caught his eye and waved, and the Goblin made his way over to him. The wild was a dangerous place for a Goblin on its own, not even taking into account attacks from bands of humans. Over the next hour the pair found two more Goblins recuperating in the woods, warily eying the trees around them for any threats.
Napper decided that he was done looking for the remnants of his tribe. They’d spent hours searching since they had found the last Goblin to join them, and he hadn’t found so much as a scent trail indicating that others had escaped. He began to dig a burrow under the root of a tree to sleep for the night when one of the others attempted to stop him, and told him that they all had to keep looking.
He scoffed at the Goblin.
“The sun sets. Four small Goblins traversing the woods at night? We’d find ourselves prey,” The other Goblin growled at Napper for the challenge to his authority, and he growled back despite feeling his hackles raise. Napper had hoped it would be longer before whatever remnants of the tribe he managed to find would start vying for power, but he hadn’t been hopeful. He knew from experience that groups of Goblins tended to get very little done until a pecking order had been established, and he wasn’t about to follow some fool that wanted to traipse off into the woods at night and get them all killed put himself at the top of the hierarchy.
As the other Goblin eyed him, hoping to get his measure, Napper struck as a whirlwind of claws and teeth. In short order the Goblin was kneeling in a supplicating gesture, looking at the ground rather than meeting Napper’s eyes and continuing his challenge, and Napper, now the chieftain of what was perhaps the sorriest tribe of Goblins he had ever seen, continued to dig his burrow and told the rest of the Goblins to make sleeping arrangements of their own, and that they were done for the night.
Napper was the last to wake, which was standard fare for him. He’d though he had beaten the others to it when he saw how early it was, dawn had yet to claim the skies, but he had been mistaken.
He began to tell his tribe that they would be securing a food source when he trailed off. He was a poor counter, but at such low numbers, even one was easy to spot, and unless he was off mark their party was two up from what it had been the night before.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the trespassers, but they mimicked the supplication of the Goblin who had challenged him the night before, kneeling and avoiding his eyes. Napper preened slightly, they didn’t look like much, but at least they knew who was in charge.
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Napper the benevolent decided to let the stragglers join him. They seemed to have no desire to challenge him, and the wild was full of things that would be too much for the stringy duo to handle, though he wasn’t sure how much six would tip the scales in their favor.
He had his subordinates gather reeds, which they were soon making twine from. The Goblins that had been in his tribe before the attack were familiar with the process, but the two that had joined from the wild had to be taught. They were slow to pick up the process, but Napper hadn’t actually expected them to know how to make it, but he wouldn’t have slackers in his tribe, and them doing what he told them to, successfully or not, helped to solidify his position of leadership. If somebody decided to question his authority and chose to challenge him, it would likely end with one or the other dead, and either of those would be bad for Napper and his new tribe.
Once enough rope had been made, Napper had one Goblin dig a pit back at camp, one collect firewood, and the rest follow him into the woods. He sniffed out animal trails and set snares. Before long they were back at camp, and Napper was using an edged stone he kept on his loincloth to sharpen the end of a relatively straight stick that was just barely taller than he was.
That night, there were two rabbits in the snares that they had made. He had a Goblin set them back up while he brought the kills back to the camp and cleaned them while another Goblin started the fire. He set the pelt aside to be tanned, maybe if he sewed a couple of them together he would come away with a half decent blanket.
Once the rabbits were cooked Napper came and got his meal, and then sat back. Two of the other Goblins approached the food next, one of which had been the one to challenge him the day before, and fought to decide who would get the second pick. Napper watched with satisfaction as the Goblin who challenged him lost yet another fight. The last two, who had been the ones to sneak into the camp in the night, approached at the same time as each other, but did not fight to decide who got their choice of the meat, instead taking a roughly even split and returning to their spots around the fire. Napper decided that they were either mates, or that one had established dominance over the other while the two were scavenging in the wild.
The next day, Napper led his tribe, all of whom were enviously eyeing his pointy stick, to a den of foxes he had caught the scent of while scouting for animal trails the day before. His new weapon made the hunt a quick and decisive one, and when the rest of the foxes had seen. him standing over their slain kin with it, Goblin’s formed up on either side of him, they had decided to flee rather than fight.
He was holding his makeshift spear over his head in triumph when he heard the growl, and watched the figures emerge from the trees. There were about a dozen of them. Most were the same shape and build as him and his tribe, but one was noticeably larger, a young Hob who’s territory they probably accidentally moved into while fleeing the carnage that ended their tribe.
The Hob, at the front of his group of Goblins pointed to the foxes and let out a series of grunt. They spoke slightly differently than Napper and his tribe did, but his meaning was clear. ‘Leave the food and run, or die,’