Bearpaw. A name given to him by a [Shaman] because of his large hands after he became a Hob. Only Hobgoblins and [Shamans] received names, because the smaller, weaker, normal Goblins died too fast. They were not important. But a Hob? They were strong. They could live.

"Fuck! They have a Hob! Run!"

Bearpaw leaped and grabbed the adventurer's head, and ripped in one go. They had come to his forest to hunt his kind, his tribe, and now they would die. They were fifteen. A number big enough to take down a small tribe like his Deep Woods tribe, which had three hundred goblins. The Humans were scrambling and their friend's gruesome fate had scared them. They were preparing to run.

"He got Joshua! Fuck!"

"Don't panic! Everyone on me! [Morale Boost]!"

That man had to be their leader. He was strong. But still weaker than Bearpaw by a small margin. The humans regrouped thanks to the skill and prepare to make their stand. They were surrounded on every side. They kept their [Mages] and [Bowmen] in the center, and their [Warriors] formed a protective shield around them. A fine strategy. He could see their mages preparing to launch their spells at him.

"Rafa! Throw spell! Now!"

His tribe [Shaman] obliged and threw fire at the group to intercept their spell. It wasn't a skill. Most [Shamans] didn't use skills, they used the mana around them to create elemental spells. The Humans cursed. Every time they launched a spell, it would be intercepted. They resigned to arrows and started killing multiple Goblins. It had to be now.

"Goblins! Charge!"

And they did charge, including Bearpaw. The Humans paled and Bearpaw smiled. They deserved it, they attacked them first. He ran to the front of the charge and yelled once more. He jumped into the center of the terrified adventurers and crushed two mages with his legs. They weren't dead, but they would be soon. He roared and tore into the under geared Human with his long claws. He didn't have a weapon, but his hands were all he needed. He lifted a woman and threw her to his tribe. She disappeared into a sea of green with a scream.

The frozen Humans had come back to their senses and they all attacked him. The [Warriors] were being killed by his tribe, and they didn't have much time. Bearpaw saw a man try to strike him with his sword but he ducked and grabbed his legs and pulled. He felt a sharp pain on his back, but he ignored it and threw the multiple parts of the adventurer that remained. He turned and saw a terrified man without his sword. He felt at his back and pulled the sword out of his skin, and stabbed him in the neck with it. He looked around and it looked like the last few survivors were being killed. He frowned. Another victory for him, but at what cost?

He walked out of the pool of blood he was standing in. They would feast tonight. You wouldn't think fifteen Humans could feed hundreds of Goblins, but they... found a way. Their meat wasn't the best, but it filled them all the same. They had a severe shortage of food, after they overhunted the forest's wildlife. They would have to leave. Soon.

He noticed one of his advisors tending to a wounded Goblin and strode towards him.

"You. How much dead?"

The Goblin stopped to think for a moment. He couldn't count that high. He called another Goblin over and he answered their [Chieftain]'s question.

"Forty-four, [Chieftain]. Bad fight."

Bearpaw winced. His tribe had just reached three hundred two days ago, and now it was already back down to two hundred and fifty-six. That was bad. But at least he had protected the tribe for total annihilation. He assumed that's why the adventurers came here, at least. It wasn't the first time he caught adventurers off guard. The cocky Humans thought this small tribe was easy prey, and they never expected a Hob to be here. Bearpaw knew how rare Hobgoblins were in this part of the continent. He had heard stories, passed generation from generation about how some Goblin tribes had thousands of Hobs before the fall. He didn't know what the fall was exactly. He just knew it was the worst thing that had ever happened to his people. And that was thousands of years ago.

Nevertheless, he had won at least. He ordered the Humans to be cut up and divided into equal parts for the entire tribe. He also took their weapons. Their armor would be useless, as Goblins were smaller than Humans, being around the size of a Human child, but Hobgoblins averaged at around seven feet tall, some reaching even eight feet. They could be giants, that terrorized any battlefield. Their shields could be useful though. And Rafa, the tribe [Shaman] could use a staff. This would grow the power of their tribe exponentially, and they needed it if they would leave the cover of the forest.

Humans didn't know this, but Goblins were organized. Within ten minutes, parts of the bodies were being passed around the tribe at peak efficiency. No movement was wasted. Naturally, Bearpaw, who was the biggest and the [Chieftain] would get the biggest part. It was unrecognizable, and it was skewered. Fires were lit and he put his meat over it, and waited for it to cook. Some Goblins were so famished that they couldn't wait and they ate it raw. Goblins could do that. In fact, they could eat almost anything. Rafa approached him.

"Chieftain."

He looked at her and grunted.

"Must leave. Tomorrow."

He nodded sadly. He had put this off for far too long now, and the disappearance of fifteen adventurers would make the Humans curious. They would come here soon. He looked at her sadly. He had been born in this forest. They all had. He remembered killing his first rabbit. He remembered the Humans coming to kill his parents in front of his eyes. He remembered suddenly becoming a Hob, challenging his old [Chieftain] and killing him. This was his home.

He sighed. This was reality. Goblins were hunted, they didn't belong anywhere according to Humans. He had seen Drakes during their wars. He didn't know what it was about but his tribe was relatively untouched.

It was evening now. Bearpaw chewed into the last bit of his meat. Time went by so fast when he was thinking. He got up and stretched. He went towards his favorite spot to rest. It was under a large tree that hid him from almost all sunlight during the morning. He would miss this place.

He really would.

[Chieftain: Level 10]

[Skill: Rapid March]

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Bearpaw was frantically woken up by a screaming Goblin.

"Chieftain! Chieftain! Come look!"

He snapped his head up and instantly grabbed the metal sword he had taken from one of the adventurers. Where they under attack already? He jumped on his feet and looked around.

"Rafa! She grow big!"

Rafa? He searched for her in the sea of Goblins. Ah. There. He saw a Goblin a head taller than the rest. Rafa had grown during the night. She was...

"She is growing into Hob."

The process Goblins went through while growing into a Hobgoblin was like a second puberty. Bearpaw didn't remember it fondly. He had agonizing back pain for days. He couldn't sleep, and he couldn't fight properly. It was truly torture. He would also need to eat three times the amount of a normal Goblin to sustain such rapid growth. Rafa had a tired look on her face, and her back was hunched.

He made her way over to her, smiling. This was incredible news! With this, the tribe grew even stronger in power!

"Rafa! You are big now. Becoming strong."

"Yes. Hurts."

She tried to smile but her face just contorted into a scowl shorty after. He ordered his tribe to wake up the few Goblins that were still sleeping. They would be leaving soon. He called out to a Goblin.

"Gather strong ones. Need talk."

Goblins didn't have a word for advisors. The smaller Goblin listened to him scuttled away. Shortly after, Bearpaw saw two Goblins approach.

"Chieftain."

"Leveled up yesterday. Got skill. [Rapid March]"

His advisors smiled. Well, those that could. Rafa simply nodded. [Rapid March] sounded like a good skill to have, especially since they were leaving the forest.

"Good skill. Rafa grows. Tribe needs grow."

"Yes."

Bearpaw nodded. It was time. He bellowed to his tribe. It was time. They started marching northwest, towards the end of the forest. Away from the nearest Human city. Going near a city was suicide for a Goblin. The strong tribes of legends no longer existed, and they'd be shot from atop the walls.

"[Rapid March]."

He felt his legs moving faster. His entire tribe did. Yes. This was an excellent skill. It probably had its limits though. An hour after activating the skill, they made it out of the forest. They felt its effects dwindling now. Bearpaw tried to use it again, but to no avail. Looks like it had a limit of one time per day.

They found a road. Roads were good, since they meant caravans. Caravans meant food. Bearpaw ordered his [Trackers]– a more primitive form of the [Scout] class, to go ahead and report any sightings of potential food to him. Rafa needed to eat desperately. Some Goblins had given her some scraps they had leftover from the Humans from yesterday. After another hour, a [Tracker] had found a caravan. It was supposedly carrying food, but it was also riding away from them, so they needed to be quick.

Bearpaw nodded. He braced himself, and ran. Aided by his [Lesser Endurence] and [Enhanced Strenght] skill, a deadly combination, he ran. He was still slower than a [Rider] on a horse, but surely he was faster than two horses carrying a heavy load. The rolling hills blurred around him. He noticed the caravan. It was large, and it was enough to feed his entire tribe if you counted the horses. With his sword in hand, he dashed forward.

-------------------------------

Joris was smiling. Soon he'd be home to his wife and daughter. He hadn't seen them in months, after trading in the big shot cities. They were all huge compared to his village. But a [Merchant] had to travel in order to level up. Any [Merchant] worth his coin would eventually move to large cities like New Draele or in Waxport, up north. And he did level up. He was level 20 now.

He pushed his horses to go a bit faster. He couldn't wait to see them. He sighed longingly.

And then he felt a crash behind him.

Joris looked back, aghast. His back wheels were destroyed. Who could have done such a thing? Bandits? He got out of his caravan and his horses were uneasy. It looked like they were just about to run off. He moved to the side of his caravan and noticed a humongous, green being in front of him. Seven feet tall. Crimson eyes. Unimaginably sharp teeth.

A Hob.

He was frozen. He couldn't believe his eyes. Most Humans never saw Hobs in their entire lives. They were so rare in this day and age. But there it was. A horrifying creature.

"Ah."

The Hob had stabbed him in the belly. He pulled his sword out. There was no screaming, no pain. Just this incredibly hot burning sensation that shook the core of his very being. He collapsed on the ground and saw his two horses being killed.

The burning sensation was gone now. He was slowly getting colder. Bleeding out. His eyes felt heavy. He had no strength in his arms. Death called to him.

"J-Julia... Nadia..."

His family. The man heard a harsh, guttural sound coming from the Hob's mouth and then his eyes closed.

He was dead.

-------------------------------

"Sorry."

That was what he last said to the dying man. He didn't enjoy being the first to attack, but his tribe needed this, or they would starve. He waited a few minutes and saw Goblins rise over the hill, smiling at what their [Chieftain] had gotten for them. They arrived and passed around the food. They would eat this one raw before moving on. No time would be wasted. They cheered his name while laughing and smiling. He was their hero. Their [Chieftain]. And he would protect them.

He saw Rafa gorging herself on horse meat. She had grown a bit during the day, but most of it happened when she was sleeping. This would last them a few days, at least. Things were looking up.

He was a Hobgoblin. The pride of his race. A horror for Humans and Drakes. He didn't have a grand plan. He didn't know what he would do. He just had three objectives.

Survive.

Protect the tribe.

Grow the tribe.

And he would do all three.