Dear diary, I’ve just come back from the Dead’s Pit.

You don’t know what it is, but it’s easy to guess: where did all the bodies from yesterday go? Yes Dead’s Pit.

One funny thing, Dead’s Pit is also where gobbos are made: they go just to return shortly after. The voice says I should explain better. Don’t worry, I’ll do it.

As I told you before: Cunnin' called me, and we went for a walk. He said that my job is to direct the idiots below me: all apart from the shamans and the Big Boss.

He was looking around, and then, after seeing nobody, he took me to a tunnel I rarely saw before.

I could hear goblins and gobbos working. They were digging in many directions, and sometimes one of them took a blue glowing stone and put it in a giant sack in the middle of the tunnel.

What could that be?

“It’s a wild mana core.” Said the voice in my head.

It’s all clear now.

I would have liked to say, but I still have no clue about what a mana core really is.

Anyway Cunnin' said that if they didn't find at least seventy of 'em before he returned, my head would be up on a long pole before the end of the day.

Maybe that's the first time I didn't wish to be taller.

So I asked him: "How can I control 'em?"

"Like this." He said before beating a gobbo on the head with his staff.

"Just bonk 'em" he continued.

Anyway, that was my job for today: controlling the miners goblins and gobbos.

They are one of the outcast groups who aren't into fighting, for some reasons. Miners and stinkies are workers because they don’t want to fight, because they are too afraid or too lazy.

Goblin society has one rule. If you are a problem for others you die.

Outcasts are simply the ones who aren't in the lines of the walker gobbos and goblins, the group directly below the Big Boss.

The Voice said: “Inclusion is possible, only if the ones included are below the ones accepting them.”

So, there I was, remembering to the miners how well they can feel accepted below me.

Until Cunnin' was away that is. Then I felt screwed.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

All goblins and gobbos left their tools and came to me.

One asked:

"You, da Boss?"

So I responded:

"Me, da Boss. You no work, me bonk you. Understand?"

These cockroaches wouldn't understand if I didn't speak like 'em. Idiots.

"Really? You short for goblins."

"Me shaman, shamans shorter."

"Mmmh." He mumbled.

Then I bonked him. And he returned to his work. Then I understood, all I had to do was bonking ‘em.

Bonk to the right, bonk to the left. Gobbos and goblins.

Miners are workers, and workers don’t fight back, so it was like hitting moles back to their holes, I thought.

And then the Voice exclaimed in my head: “Ahahahah: Whac-A-Mole, how fun would it be to play that!”

This was the first time I heard the Voice being happy. After all the moles were back to digging the blue mana, I asked to the voice: “What’s that Whac-A-Mole you spoke of?”

“An old game. I…”

“ Aaargh. I can’t remember…”

“ What am I?”

“What are you? You are the Voice, isn’t that right?”

“Mmmh… I don’t know…”

“ Maybe. I need time, perhaps I’ll remember something.”

Then the Voice went quiet.

In the meantime, one of the goblins had discovered one giant mana core: it was almost ten times larger than the others.

I waited till Cunnin’ came back, and the sack with the blue glowing stones was almost full.

I counted the cores: there were 69, what an unlucky number, it must be the Hat’s and Stuff’s fault that I missed just one of ‘em.

As I’m writing, the Voice has regained the ability to speak, and just now is saying that it was a blessed number. And the Voice is right, because Gab brought me directly to the Big Boss.

We entered The Big Tent, and placed all the cores one the floor made of bones.

At first they admired the biggest mana core, but after a while the Big Boss said: “It’s not the one we are searching. The right one is glowing purple.” And then he broke the stone into two.

It reformed into two separated cores. And there I was, with my seventy little ones.

I love ‘em. Sparkling gems, the air is fresh around ‘em, unlike around the Big Boss.

But there I was, bringing ‘em to the Dead’s Pit. Because Cunnin’ ordered me.

I would, more than willingly, throw many goblins into the Dead’s Pit. But my precious cores, I don’t even know what they do, and I want ‘em to be mine.

But there I was, throwing ‘em into the Pit.

The positive aspect of the Pit is that there are stairs to the side that lead to its bottom, so, maybe, I could have recovered ‘em.

Still, Gab ordered me to return tomorrow, after he was done with something.

And I went to my tent.

Now, here I am, dear Diary, writing.

I can’t sleep, thinking of my little ones.The glowing blue cores.

Oh, and as I said, the Voice has regained the ability to speak. But before that, my belly glowed faintly for a moment. Guess the color?

Purple. I don’t remember eating a purple stone. Now I’m perplexed. And the Voice is perplexed.

Dear Diary are you perplexed too?

Or do you have any guesses, and can be useful for at least one time.

With love. Maybe not.

Gob