Laying down in his own small cavern Gob sharpened his daggers. He possessed quite the collection.

From curved daggers of weird looking travelers to skinning knives he pillaged from unlucky hunters that ventured too far in the greenskin's woods. He gathered them all to himself and didn't show anyone.

Goblins weren't interested in weapons all that much. Apart from hobgoblins whose position in the tribe correlated with the size of the weapon they could wield greenskins wouldn't care for something that wasn't shiny or bright. Especially normal goblins. They wouldn't care for a knife when they could wield a sword and if it was shiny, they would disregard its quality completely.

Gob knew they were foolish. Good weapon was likely worth more than other things humans possessed. Best swords and hammers the hobs wielded as their trophies rarely broke. Despite clear misusage they were still in great shape, in contrary to whatever scraps the goblins would use. His kin weapons would often break into unusable chunks resulting in respective goblins death.

Gob couldn't become a hob. He was a goblin. He also wasn't all that strong to wield some great sword or axe, but he knew that at the very least his daggers were as good if not better quality than hobgoblin's armaments.

He finished polishing his most prized possession the dagger he plundered from a corpse of the most dangerous human he ever saw apart from the knight's from the knights he met today. The huntsman that kept up with two hobs. Gob recalled him in his memories.

Green forest. Roar. Two hobs rushing the lone human armed only with a short sword and a weird dagger with many teeth like parts. First hob raised his sword to finish the human with a devastating attack yet he was blocked. Human held his weapons crossed and took the hit with relative ease.

In a flash hobgoblin's sword was broken and as he was left with an useless hilt in his hand he was quickly slaughtered. Second hob was enraged. Wielding a sword and a club he unleashed a flurry of attacks. The human wasn't weak yet hobgoblin strength seemed supreme.

Suddenly with a quick faint human hurt the hobgoblin hand resulting in him dropping the club. Gob was looking from afar yet he could see that the human smiled. He won. As the hob raised his sword in the last desperate attack, the hunter raised his weapons in the same cross like technique.

Gob screamed at Spinecrack to retreat but it was too late. As the sword got caught in the humans knife, he crossed his short sword to break his opponent's sword and..

.. and his short sword broke leaving his shoulder open to attack. Human screamed in pain dropping his guard. Waiting for this moment Goblins rushed to attack.

Gob knew this from the moment he was born. If there was a single trait, each goblin had it was the ability to strike the weak with the most despicable timing.

Gob finished polishing the sword breaking dagger and finally closed his eyes. He should sleep. He needed to be in his best shape. Always on his guard. Because Gob could not suddenly become the almighty hob. He didn't have strength nor ability like the tribe shaman.

He was to be preyed upon. Not by stronger hobgoblins who deemed him useful, not by the elder who refused to teach him more in fear he would replace him, not by the shaman jealous of his ability to think. No. He would be attacked by his own weaker kin. He would kill many that would attack him just like the strong hunter did, but didn't the hunter die giving Spinecrack his name in the process?

The nobody's ready to kill the wounded hunter who could likely slaughter them all in a blink won.

The fools that took the shining metal for a treasure.

As Gob fell into his sleep, last thought formed in his mind. It was simple.

...

His short sword mustn't break