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It was done. They had actually succeeded…

In front of them was a battle. No, if it was anything, it was a war; a fully-fledged war between two species, a war unlike any other where winning was only proved through the survival of the species.

An idea, that was all it had been in a single mind, and yet it had grown and manifested in all their minds, taking root to only grow and spread. And here was their masterpiece in action.

Goblin Warrior

“WARRGHH”

An ear shattering roar was bellowed out, not like anything he had heard before. What followed was a guttural cacophony as the same deafening roar was echoed by the warriors around him.

“GRAGGHH”

Losing control of his own body, his hands began to tremble as a harrowing scream emanated from the enemy ranks, shaking him to his core. It wasn’t much louder than his brethren’s, nor was it particularly shrill but the meaning behind it was so much more terrifying. After all it was a challenge to his life, a bone chilling screech that stated they were about to play a deadly game of life, where “Game Over” meant one more existence had been snuffed out. His heart rate surged as he fully succumbed to the murderous emotions of his brethren, his fear turning to anger and finally bloodlust…

The sounds meant nothing anymore, all his brain could register were the Trolls in front of him. Only God would know who moved first and truly only God would care, but the intimidation and posturing came to an end. What followed was a crazed charge: a one way ticket to the afterlife, since both sides were largely unarmoured and unprepared for the chaos of the pitched battle. Perhaps the only blessing the Goblins had was that the Trolls lived in the same forest, as it meant that they had the same frayed garbage for protection.

And they met…

Legs slipping, skulls splitting and blood splattering was now the formality. A beautiful finale to the build-up only to the sickest of minds as hundreds of lives tainted the ground below them, creating a bloody bog which served only to swallow more…

Taking his first step forward: his grip on the shoddy axe tightened exponentially as his fist clenched around the haft.

Second step: His legs nearly slipped out from under him; grime and gore now completely covering his lower half, as his green skin was continuously splattered with explosions of red and flicks of brown.

Third step: All thought stopped as the ugly fucker came into view, a 1.7m tall muscular monster. Its blue skin was barely visible through the dense coating of mud clinging to his body, though its unorthodox fashion choice did little to deter his gaze from its head. The head in question housed two protruding tusks, both crooked, just like the beady yellow eyes that equally appraised him in return.

Acting first, the Troll dashed in before smashing its whole body into him, closely followed by a quick swing of its’ own makeshift axe. He hadn’t expected the Troll to act so fast and was completely dumbstruck as it charged him, leaving him even more dazed than before. Nevertheless good habits prevented his approaching demise as he reacted to the shiny gleam of the blade that entered his view, buckling down before he fastened his arms around the Troll’s waist and pushed with all his might. This time it was the Troll’s turn to be surprised as it felt a figure built like a small tree smash into its abs, though its’ grip didn’t slip as the axe still followed the arc downwards into the Goblin’s back.

In fact such a strike would have been harmless if it had been made in a proper fight, but this wasn’t a fight; it was a war where breathing space was limited, never mind space to allow free range of motion. The Goblin felt an immense pain as the axe made contact, biting into his muscled back.

As a heady rush of adrenaline dulled the pain, he pushed the Troll down while unfastening his arms from around its waist. He raised his arm towards the sky, feeling the warm wind… Warm wind but no axe, which he had inconspicuously dropped during the initial contact.

Moving onto plan B, he jumped on the felled Troll, though it was well out of its daze by then, already quickly moving its arm to obstruct the Goblin’s dive onto its body. But not quick enough as the Goblin safely landed on the Troll’s chest, although not without his back taking another blow of the axe within the next second. His mouth opening wide to expose two large fangs which buried themselves deep within the Troll’s neck. Very deep, a burning metallic taste of acrid blood quickly filling up his mouth, though he instantly spewed it into the Troll’s open mouth in shock as his brain finally registered the last axe wound.

Hardening his will, the Goblin had barely had any time to properly recover as he forced himself to wrestle the axe out of the Troll’s twitching arms. The Troll was squirming violently as it tried to clear its mouth of the bloody fluid blocking its ability to effectively breathe. It was met with little success though, due to the fact that it was lying on its back, pinned down by a Goblin.

The Goblin raised the now-stolen axe to the sky, the sun glinting off its bloodied blade, just as the Troll fully pushed itself off the floor. The desperation in its face was beautiful as the axe smashed into the Troll’s head, cracking through the skull to leave the axe embedded in its brain.

The Goblin’s subconscious must have determined him to be out of immediate danger as the rush of adrenaline dissipated ever so slightly, only to have the Goblin whimper from the avalanche of released pain. The fight he had was special, but nothing unique to the battlefield, as Trolls’ and Goblins’ corpses littered the place. In fact this particular Goblin was one of the survivors who were in better shape, as most of them had been crushed by the reciprocated destruction that they called battle.

In response, his body once again increased his adrenaline. The pain seemed to subside as the bloodlust once again grew… It was a sickening feeling to say the least and yet the only feeling that made any sense in a bloody hell like this.

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been better if he had never gotten back up…

“WWRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!”

The screech was as primal as one could get, fully guttural and yet as loud as the sky itself crashing down into the Earth. It felt like the air itself was against him as he felt the scream rob him of his balance as he staggered backwards. They were like black rising suns in the background of his vision, and yet they approached so quickly. They were clearly Trolls, with blue skin covering their bodies while a pair of thick tusks imposed themselves on the world through their mouths. But they weren’t simply Trolls; these monsters were around 2.3m tall but scarier than they should be because of how muscular they were. The behemoths’ bodies were literal bodies of blue flesh and muscle bulging outwards.

Perhaps it was pain, perhaps it was fear, and perhaps someone had even stabbed him while he was watching. He stood dazedly but his body could no longer handle the mental and physical stress put on it. His body crumpled down, collapsing onto the troll as the open wounds on his back bled onto it.

Some people say your life flashes in front of your eyes just as you are about to die. How is that possible when you are faced with such debilitating fear?

Instead all that came out were tears, hot streams that quickly ran down his face. It wasn’t a long wait before it all came out, the constant roars of the newcomers had completely broken his will to fight, though he doubted his body’s ability to move even if he had wanted to.

It was a big foot. Being trampled was a pathetic and humiliating way to die but it was another thing when you were crushed to death by a single foot. It found its home on his chest as it crushed downwards, easily shattering his ribcage while mushing his organs into paste before it continued along its path.

He never even saw the face of his killer; all he had seen was a foot…

The battle had taken place in a big clearing in the forest, though now it was a dump full of dead bodies. To the north was the Troll’s home while to the east of the clearing was the Goblin’s home. To the West was only forest. Dark green covered all the surfaces here, whether it be through leaves or moss. Barely any sunlight got through to the forest floor, meaning all the undergrowth had gone down “different” routes to other plants, as most were angular and dangerous looking. The canopy, usually filled to the brim with monsters making a sundry of noises, was completely silent.

There were two reasons for this: one being the intense battle taking place. The roars, squeals and cries seemed to capture the attention of the animals as none of them dared to make any noise in response.

The other reason was due to the people directly below the dense canopy, west of the clearing holding the ongoing war. These people were not random passers-by, nor any type of adventurers. Rather they were third player of the game, only they had come slightly late: although that was no mistake. To their front were two dying armies, while behind and around each of them were perfectly rested and orderly soldiers. The fate of the Trolls and Goblins was decided with this move, as long as no surprises would pop up…

“CrooooooOOOOO”

The battle-horn was blown...