The situation in the tribe was terrible. The food supplies were growing shorter with every day passing by, even more, because of the appearance of the unknown predator the mood of his underling began to change. He needed to act. Immediately. Spark the fire in their hearts. Raise their morales… or do literally anything to keep their attention away from the condition of the nest.

This is why he ordered a feast this night. Lots of drinking, lots of eating, lots of… playing with their slaves. All of that usually means that they would start preparing for another raid. This was the case as well. The Lord had to improve the situation of the nest. If the raid would succeed, they would gain lots of food which would allow them to survive another week, or two, or month. If the raid would end with fiasco – they would lose lots of people – the people they would otherwise have to feed. Oh, but in such attack, they would lose warriors, hunters and other useful for the nest skilled goblins, right?

No, not if he would claim it to be a test for all lesser-in-hierarchy goblins – a chance to boost their position. Harvesters were pretty much useless for the tribe right now, most of the nearest grounds were already cleaned to the last berry and mushroom. Eventually, they would have to relocate the nest.

But for now, they were ballast, even worse than their still not matured offspring, for between them there still may be some individuals with potential.

He could already hear the war drums being played. Four goblins covered in tribal marks painted with white mud were hitting stretched goat skins with enthusiasm and passion.

The lord loved this music. He was born before the day of the raid while the same music was being played, he reached maturity at similar day, he killed his tribe chief while the drums were ringing.

These drums were his harbingers. This music was meant for him. He felt it under his skin, in his bones – sending an electrical shiver. His body wanted him to drop everything and join his brothers in this savage dance. To scream. To yell. To kill and praise the Khai’li. The one that blessed this word with green-plague. With orcs, ogres, trolls, goblins and such.

The day would come when the great chief would be born, unite them all and lead them through the world. Like a green wave…

But for now, they had to satisfy themselves with plundering the smallest villages of pigs and cows. What a disgrace!

“My Lord…” the old shaman said from the entrance – he barely put his head inside the tend to deliver the message “… everything is ready.” “I will join you shortly.” He snarled pleased. One last time he looked at his bed, where a chained woman was glaring at him with pure hatred and disgust. It was that fierce one he chose to bear his offspring.

He walked toward her. Unlike the rest of the women in the nest, she didn’t run away, try hiding nor flinched. She maintained eye contact, didn’t even blink.

Then, he shifted his gaze on her belly. It was slightly puffed.

“Apparently it won’t be long before our first child would be born…” he said in human speech, deeply pleased “… What a great, fertile sow you are. I did well by choosing you.” “I can’t wait for this day to come either, just so I could strangle these abominations before your eyes!” she spat on him.

With the top of his palm, he wiped off her saliva before hitting her with the same palm in the face. The strike was strong and brutal. He heard as her nose got broken. A small trail of blood started running on her face.

Again, not fear nor pain on her face. Magnificent! How wonderful will be a child born of such a woman? He already couldn’t wait for it. In just a week or two more, she will give birth. In a year the child will be mature. Ah, how much he wanted to start training it!

But, he had to be patient. For now, the feast.

He threw a plate with meat in front of her.

“Eat. Your offspring has to be strong.”

He hissed before turning around and leaving.

In the moment he left the tent the drums stopped. Every gob stopped whatever he was doing and froze in respect and awe observing how their lord marched toward the throne. Wearing his ritual armor made of bones, covered in marks made of white paint and blood which contrasted so perfectly with his black skin.

He stopped in front of the throne erected on a high pedestal before he spread his arms above his head and roared.

“Hear me out, brothers! Hear me out, hunters, warriors, craftsmen, and harvesters! Hear me out, proud sons of Khai’li! Hear me out, vermins, maggots, cutthroats, and scums! Tonight, as the moon shines, we feast! We drink! We celebrate! For tomorrow’s night, we shall fight! We shall burn! We shall kill, plunder and rape! We will reclaim what was meant to be ours before our bodies turned green! As in the day our hearts were pumping black blood! Sons of Gehenna! REJOICE!”

He sat down, but before he finally rested on his throne, the drums started singing the song of war, and almost hundreds of throats shrieked into the night. One of the goblins came running with a silver plate filled with meat and chalice. All stolen from one of the villages. He raised the mug and drunk the beer.

His eyes almost popped out.

“What is this?!” he asked. “An ale, ma’lord?...” confused goblin asked “… we made it today with the water from the tank and herbs we were gathering since the last feast…” “Who made it?” his tone was calm “I…I did. Together with three brothers… but… It was me changing the receipt… if it’s not to your liking, please, I alone am to be punished!” “This is the best ale I tasted in my life. Be proud, brother, for your craftsmanship overshadows even old masters.”

Indeed, the taste was unique! So spicy in the throat, but with such delicate and long-lasting wonderful aftertaste… Oh, and it was strong. Really strong. He knew he would get drunk just with few mugs!

He bottomed the glass

“Again!” he ordered “As you wish, my lord! In a jiffy, my lord!”

He didn’t know that the unique taste wasn’t just an effect of a quite skilled brewer, but mostly because of herbs that Elana added into the tank this morning.

The crowd was cheering, especially after they tasted the unique beer. Even those that were not supposed to drink ale that night (because of guarding duty), after hearing how wonderful it was, decided to drink a cup or two “just for taste”. Oh, but that accidental mixture gave the drink such a wonderful flavor, that no one stopped drinking after “one or two”.

The lord was delighted. The uneasy feeling and fatigue left his body. For the first time in months, he was truly relaxed. That’s how he imagined ruling when he was still a small gob – prosperity. Respect. Feasts. Easy life for everyone. Oh, how foolish he was back then. If he only knew how much work it was to lead a tribe, he would never kill the previous chief and just kept on living an easy, lacking responsibility life… No, he would kill him either way. The fool was incompetent.

Weird. He almost never got drunk. At least not after three mugs! That was barely a starter!

Yet now, his body was so delightfully heavy… if he could only get back to his tent and lie in his bed with the woman he claimed. No, he couldn’t do that. If he would fall asleep somewhere near her she would try strangling him in his sleep. That was surely sad. He yearned for the warmth of her body. Not forced. The touch of someone that would simply acknowledge his presence…

… yet, that was impossible. That would never happen. Because he was a hideous goblin. Despised creature. Enemy of every living being since the day of his birth…

If he only could live as something else… Something beautiful… Something loveable…

He opened his eyes, picked a dagger and dug it deep into his thigh. That somehow managed to bring a little bit of clarity to his still clouded brain.

Something was wrong! Terribly wrong! The ale was used to bring all the most savage instincts from the goblin’s heart. They would become unruly, wild, starting brawls and quarrels! It was a great thing – before a raid they had to get pumped up with all negative feelings they were keeping hidden during coexistence in the nest.

But now? What’s with this lazy groggy state? All of them were barely keeping balance, with stupid smiles over their faces. Few of them collapsed in the mud and the rest of them would just happily laugh at the clumsiness of their companions. He looked at his advisor – shaman also noticed that something was wrong, he drank barely one cup yet already was supporting his body on his staff. Maybe because of his old age?

“My… My lord…” Shaman tried approaching lord, but suddenly an arrow would appear in his chest. Just like this.

His eyes would turn glassy before he collapsed on his face. The goblin’s lord quickly looked in the direction from which the arrow came. At the edge of the nest, a single girl was standing. Her once beautiful blonder hair were now glued together with dirt and sweat. She kept sending an arrow after an arrow at every goblin that could walk on his own. Killing from afar everyone that could posses any threat?

This soooow!!!

She wasn’t in a hurry, she took all the time she needed to aim before sending projectile that would end his brothers lives.

And she was… crying?

Quite quickly she ran out of arrows, then she picked a dagger that until now remained hidden by her belt, approached the nearest couple of goblins and quickly, precisely cut their throats of pierced their chests. One-strikes kills.

The goblins were actually laughing seeing her killing their drinking partners. Barely few were sober enough on their minds to understand what was happening, but they couldn’t fight back nor run away. When they tried to move too quickly, they would just end in the dirt, tangled in their own limbs.

Eventually, her dagger became red and slippery because of blood. She would wipe her hands into the grass and pick the weapon of one of the lying goblins to finish her deed.

Ten goblins, twelve… thirty.

She was just like Mortis, the Lady in Pale dress, picking each of her victims. So mercifully. So swiftly. There was no stopping to her.

The goblin’s lord was forced to watch as she was killing his entire tribe. Whole nest. Every and each of his brother was dying a pathetic, pointless death. With no glory. With no carnage. With no screams. Bah, with apologetic smiles on their faces.

He himself tried picking a blade, but his body didn’t have enough strength to raise it up.

Eventually, she reached the pedestal, she checked if the shaman was dead before approaching him.

“Y-You soo…oow…” he managed to hiss in human’s speech “You killed so many. Raped so many… How can such a small body hold on so many sins… even now, in the moment of your end… You show no repentance… “ was she disgusted by him? Of course, every human was “… you poor, poor thing. What terrible things led you into having a life so full of violence?”

Wait. No disgust, but pity!?

“It’s ok. It’s all fine now. Sleep well, sweet child. From now on, I will take care of your sins, so don’t be afraid… You can rest now… you can rest now…”

She raised his upper body and hugged him, letting his heavy because of toxins head on her small breasts. He could even feel her soft lips on his forehead.

This warmth… this delightful warmth. Everything he was dreaming about…

He felt as the dagger pierced his chest and heart. Because of toxin, he felt no pain. He noticed an act of his life ending, nothing more. Nothing else.

This night… wasn’t that bad, was it? Who knows, maybe he would be reborn one day? Maybe as something beautiful? As something cute and loveable? And maybe then he would meet the one that was bearing his offspring and would repay her for all the cruelty?

Maybe he…

M-Maybe…

May…

He closed his eyes. There was nothing more, but a warm, cozy nothingness.

Only Elana remained, overwhelmed with all the deaths she caused and sins she collected, cried aloud.

Teacher Elana said that killing would get easier with time. That she hesitated while she kept on killing her first victims, later it was getting easier and easier. First, she told herself she had to do it, then, that she liked doing it. Right now, she doesn’t pay attention if she kills a mosquito or baron.

Elana killed around hundred of beings tonight. The hundred one was just as difficult as the first.