Goblins

Withil’s arm was essentially on top of Raraak’s head as Damon felt the anger inside of him bubble over. His body could no longer hold the anger in as he squeezed the flesh of the head so much that the flesh he held tore off, the head falling to the bloody ground.

Surprised by the sudden event, Withil looked up to see Damon smiling back at him, even if the smile looked a little strange. Still in the ecstasy of winning, Withil linked Damon’s weird actions to him being tired after the fight and instead refocused his attention on the head as picked it up, and raised it overhead for all of the audience to see.

To his side stood Damon melting in cold sweat as his jealously induced anger ended, bringing him back to sobriety. He opened up his clenched fist, only to find up a flattened piece of bloody flesh.

The rest of the coronation for the new chieftain went almost like an ordeal for Damon, as he desperately searched for a chance to appropriately leave. It was to his bad luck that he was actually the main benefactor of Withil becoming chieftain and thus was wanted throughout most of the event. It wasn’t until an hour after the fight had finished that Damon received his freedom, and desperately made an escape from the village within seconds.

After running as fast as he could for what seemed like a long time, Damon came to 5km away from the village. He collapsed upon a tree, using it as support as he rested both his mind and body. To be honest, he wasn’t feeling very tired since the fight truly hadn’t taken much out of him. But what he almost did while drunk on power tore at his mind, and he found no answers within him why he had wanted to do such a thing.

In fairness he hadn’t been with Withil for long but Withil had always treated him well during that time. He had made the first move to invite Damon under his banner and yet Damon had felt a deep desire to kill him the second he felt powerful.

That would have been a stupid decision no matter which way you looked at it from. If he had killed Withil, he would have become chieftain but for what? He had no particular desire to when he was sober and he certainly would butcher the job if he did get it, after all he was only 3 years old and still very inexperienced in many things other than fighting.

Damon began to calm his mind; yes he had only thought such an idea because he was naïve and was lost in the power for a moment. There was no underlying motive behind that, none at all. He felt as if he was shoving horse shit down his throat but it was fine for him since he could feel himself calming down.

Feeling his body once again become truly his, he opened up his clenched fists only to find the dried up blood on his palm. It paled in comparison to his dirty red skin but was still very apparent due to the very nature of the substance: it was blood, he had taken the life of another goblin.

At other times he would have found such a situation humorous, after all he had taken the lives of many other goblins without batting an eye, for whatever reason he had. And yet this impacted him so deeply in this moment of mental weakness as he continued to lean on the tree, staring directly at the bloodstain on his hand.

It felt like an eternity as he found the topic on his mind suddenly shift to another and another… It continued onwards over things he had done today, and last week and over his life. In the end his mind ended at one place, what did he want to do?

He vaguely knew he was still very naïve about the world and yet on the other hand he felt wise coming up to such a conclusion by himself. In fact he felt proud deep in his heart that he had managed to break out of his anger-induced mind frame just before the climax of his stupidity. But that was left behind as the past as he looked at his own life in the current.

On the one hand he wanted to go and explore the world. He had felt this ever since evolving, he had felt so good breaking out of that shackling shell he had worn before and felt so liberated in his new one. He also knew that he would most likely not find any chances to evolve further if he stayed here without waiting to age to his elder years , after all the area of the great forest they were in was the outskirts region where the monsters were tier 3 at max.

And yet on the other hand he felt a duty to stay with the tribe, after all they were the people he was the champion of! This feeling was much stronger than the wanderlust he felt, and would have won easily any other day but it felt lacking today. He felt disappointment at the tribe: this wasn’t because he felt a little stronger than the other goblins, but rather because Raraak and Withil had been the strongest in the village, they had been the peak! And yet one had died under his blade without much effort while the other visibly acknowledged him as much stronger. The feeling he got before was of looking after his tribe in which he fitted in with, but now it felt more like he was an adult taking care of children.

It wasn’t an easy choice at all to make since the night had fallen and yet Damon was still by the tree. However in the end his dedication to the tribe seemed to win, as he walked back to the village with a firm resolve. Nevertheless seeds of deserting had already been planted within him … and would only continue to grow as time went on…

The day after his coronation, Withil came out with a few radical changes. He would first halve the 12 remaining warriors, although this included none of the strongest warriors who now occupied higher positions within the village or more likely dead. Half of the warriors would continue doing what they had done before, which was hunting food for the village, only at double the speed they had done before. The other half would starting teaching the normal goblins how to fight.

This might seem obvious to do but it was actually something that had not been done before, since goblins rather focused on their immediate kin rather than the whole community. In fact the retired chieftain laughed at what Withil was doing: he saw no point in changing ways when there was nothing wrong with the tried and tested route.

Hard was a word too easy for the training the normal goblins were put through, and it seemed to all that Withil was trying to evolve all the other goblins by speeding up their growth. Each warrior focused on teaching their strengths, leaving Damon to teach the normal goblins how to throw knives well.

In truth Damon was already strong enough to start throwing axes effectively like Gregal had done before but he chose not to after judging the strengths and weaknesses of the two weapons. Axes might pack a bigger punch but that came at the cost of ease of transport, after all Damon could only carry 2-3 throwing axes on him at once while he could carry 8-9 knives.

The training would last from morning till noon. Another big change Withil made was a specialisation in terms of occupation. Before each goblin lived their own lives, meaning their whole life was managed and controlled by them. But now each goblin had a specified occupation, meaning they were specialised in one thing which improved efficiency at a massive rate. The drawbacks of this method was that the goblins didn’t really like having to specialise in one thing and would rather do everything in their day by themselves, although this was quickly fixed after a few deaths caused by “mishaps”.

At first the ordinary goblins lived under the fear of their leader, though over time they would come to love and glorify him as they saw the effectiveness of this system, whether it be in fighting strength or the rate of advancement as a village. Within a few short years, the goblins would distinguish themselves in the area as the powerhouse.

The Trolls- ????

The giant continued to grind his teeth together as he finished up his meal: the skull of the elder troll. Blood, gore and splinters of bone was spewed all over the arena, disgusting and scaring the audience into silence as they just watched the giant much onwards.

Finished with his meal, the giant began to look around for another challenger. Seeing none challenging him, he started to feel awfully sleepy as his mind seemed to shut down. At the back of his mind was his alter ego, screaming at what it had seen as it came back in control. Last time it had been unconscious while its anger had taken over and yet for some reason it wasn’t the same this time. Instead throughout the whole fight it had felt almost as if it was in the passenger seat, watching an awful horror movie occur right in front of him. The only twist was that the horror was all caused by him…

He had long noticed his anger even as a child, only then it had been a dumb anger which was disadvantageous for him. For a long time that anger had slept after his mind had realised that the anger wasn’t any use in a fight. That had also been the reason why the towering troll had gone meeker as he had grown older, using more of his brain in fights. In fact he hadn’t fought any other troll in such a long time, mainly because all the others were terrified by his massive size and strength.

Perhaps that was what it had been, his meek personality had already began getting cockier deep within as he had seen none dared to fight him as he grew bigger than the rest. After all Trolls loved to fight but they weren’t suicidal or dumb. If he had time to think, he would guess that this cockiness deep inside him had begun to revive his anger. It was a pity that in his fight with the hound his ego had been triggered: how dare such a low down troll in the society attempt to kill such a figure like him?! It had triggered his anger, and it had been a mistake…

The anger had only fought twice since its awakening but it had won both times with extremely tyrannical strength. Furthermore he could only feel the anger growing, growing as personality as it began to take more life from him. Perhaps the only sanctuary he could be thankful for was that the anger was only triggered by fighting, it would lose all its power when its battle-high was over.

Thank goodness for that, the giant decided he would withdraw from this competition. Yes it was true he could become chieftain if he carried on with his heinous methods but it would be at the cost of his very own life, since the anger would become him while he would become just a deep feeling inside the anger than could get triggered into a moment of rationality and softness.

Last time it had been like waking up: not knowing what had happened in his sleep and being awoken abruptly. But this time it was more like he was already up and had already seen everything, he just needed enough strength to retake control of his body. And he was gaining that very strength.

He could feel the body become his as he clenched his fists in front of him, just to check his control. Good, it was all his! What followed next was the giant staring at all the carnage under and around him, it had been like watching a battlefield on a screen only to find it so much more terrifying when at it in person. He felt disgust and fear at his alter ego as he looked around, each piece of flesh telling their own story. It was no surprise that his eyes soon found themselves on the elder’s headless body, its spine violently detached at the neck. Within the next second he felt sick as he heaved all the contents of his stomach out, the contents of course being the head of elder.

This was quite a scene for the trolls in the audience, as one second the beast had been eating their own brethren while in the next he was visibly sick at what he had done. It also seemed to shock some of the trolls out of their fear induced stupor as their minds finally recovered.

One such person was elder Nargo, the oldest elder in the audience. He had been the strongest under the old chieftain and favourite to win, in fact this whole competition was just a trick of the light for him to kill some of the other trolls who wielded power in the tribe without gathering too much hate for it. Right now he felt intense anger building up inside of him, the trolls meant to die in this competition was his competitors and yet the brain that had just been retched out belonged to his supporter…

Before he had been shocked silly by the giant’s cruelty but unable to stop him as such a demonstration of tyrannical power disabled his feet from moving. But he got the opposite feeling as he watched the giant heaving out the brain of his supporter: the giant was in a moment of weakness. What elder Nargo would do next would be something he would forever regret in his little remaining time, something all the trolls would regret not stopping but most importantly something that the giant would regret ever hearing. After all it would cause his death, causing him to become little less than a bitter memory for his dominating anger…

“YOU EEEEEVVVVVVILDOER!”

The whole audience, including the mountain turned to face elder Nargo as he waited for effect.

“HOW DDDDAAAAAARE YOU EAT A FELLOW TROLL?! THIS MIGHT BE A FIGHT TO THE DDDEEATH BUT WE ARE NOT CANIBALS!!”

Elder Nargo was now shaking in anger as he proceeded to pick up his war axe, stepping out of the audience, into the arena.

“YOU ARE A BACKSTABBER. YOU ARE HENIOUS. YOU ARE NOT A TTTRRROLLLL, YOU ARE A DDDEEEVIL!!!”

Now standing 10m away from the giant, elder Nargo finished his soliloquy.

“I WILL END YOU MONSTER, WHO CRAWLED UNDER ONE OF OURS’ SKIN TO RUIN US ALL! YOU SHALL DIE UNDER MY FEET TODAY!!!”

The giant felt himself die, only not underneath elder Nargo’s feet but under his own alter ego. It was like a crazed demon let out of its cage, shaking and roaring in delight as it anticipated what was to come. The mountain tried to fight, he truly did for his life but he held no resistance before his own anger once it was triggered…

The giant began violently twitching, gritting his teeth and clenching his nails as hard as he could as cold sweat dribbled down his head. But it was ok, within the next second he was liberated… from the world.

The anger raised both arms spontaneously, breathed in as hard as possible before roaring out the call of insanity.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

Elder Nargo was prepared this time for the scream as he moved forwards regardless the terrifying roar, axe pulled back overhead in preparation for a strike. It was a pity that he never got the chance since Anger moved too quick, dashing forwards towards the elder Nargo before strongly gripping the pole of the axe with both hands.

Only the audience could see the terrifying strength of the giant as veins bulged over his arms, almost as if they were moving. Not one to be left out, Nargo would hear the strength milliseconds later as the pole snapped under the crushing pressure, creating a loud crunch sound. Nevertheless his mind never got the chance to register the sound as within the next second was a kiss between a tree-trunk like knee and his face.

Blood exploded out from Nargo’s face as his crushed nose began to cry out rivers of blood. But there was no rest for the righteous as Nargo was then picked up by his shoulders, only to come face to face with the giant who firmly gripped him on both sides.

The face was something that was only worthy of being in the worst of nightmares due to the red-shot eyes, the bulging blue nose just above the monstrously sized yellow teeth but worst of all the skin coloured red by the amount of blood and gore splattered over it.

“WWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!”

Spittle shot onto elder Nargo’s face as the giant screamed the song of devils.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH”

Tears mixed with the spittle, only causing Nargo’s face to melt under all the fluid on his face.

“GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRAGGGHHGHHH”

Not waiting for Nargo, the giant began to pull apart Nargo’s body, using each side of the ribcage as handles.

“MRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAHHH”

It was impossible for Nargo to feel any pain at this point as he had already fainted, and yet his body resisted through erratic convulsions and violent spasms.

“WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH”

The song of the devils was closing to an end as the previously invisible line of red soon became very prominent down Nargo’s body.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

The giant’s whole body became red as Nargo’s body split open, releasing with it explosions of red and gore which splattered over the audience who stood 9m away.

…

Within giant’s mind, he could feel his alter ego trying to reclaim control. It was a pity that it was too late as the anger felt in true control for once as he brushed his weakling alter ego off, left to die in the depths of his mind.

Instead Anger started walking, walking off the arena onto the podium at the end of the arena left for the winner. Slow heavy steps echoed in all of the trolls’ ears as they watched the giant climb atop his throne.

It was the first time that any of them heard the anger speak, his voice as different as could to his alter ego’s as what they heard wasn’t deep or nasally but rather soft and yet filled with insanity since the pitch erratically changed.

“I am troll king. I am your king. I AM KIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG! None shall refer to me as any less and none shall regard me as any less!”

Every word was followed by a short pause before the next one, creating a sense of command as the trolls watched their new king with terrible fear.

He followed up his introduction asking the mandatory question, “Does anyone think else?!”

But it looked like he had convinced the audience with his elaborate and silky speech as no troll dared to question him, nevertheless challenge him. Rather each one of them were so convinced by him that they felt weak at the knees which in turn was nothing compared to the nightmare their mind felt.

The nightmare they feared in their hearts then would become the nightmare they would live, until death did them apart from their King…