My story goes back a few years, to a time when I was still... pure.
I lived in a village to the southeast of Erandel, a small settlement at the outermost rim of human civilization.
Ours was a happy and tight-knit community, the kind where you could leave your doors open at night without fear of getting robbed.
However, even with such a loving community, it was still a terrible place to live. Being as far away as we were from the main district, we couldn't always walk there to buy food.
Pfft, who am I kidding, even if we lived closer to the main district, we simply couldn't afford to buy food for the whole village.
To make matters worse, the land was barren, preventing us from growing any crops for self-sustenance. So we were forced to rely on nature to give us what we needed- Mother Vitra my mother often called it.
Actually, now that I think back on it, it was a pitiful existence. The fate of our lives constantly hanging on something as cruel and unpredictable as nature.
Anyway, due to our circumstances, my father would often go hunting with the other men in the village for food.
Small rodents were what they usually caught, barely enough to feed the whole village, but somehow we always seemed to manage.
I would sometimes sneak behind the group- as I was not old enough to go along with them yet-, watching as they lied in wait with their bows drawn, ready to kill their prey.
The animals would usually go out with a sudden squeak, as the arrowheads penetrated their bodies with a soft squelch.
The sound amused me, something about flesh being punctured made my blood rush. I often wondered if everyone felt the same and just decided to keep it to themselves. Humans often hide what they're thinking, so I assumed as much.
However, there was one occasion where something really caught my attention. My father had shot an animal right in the gut- it was rather large in comparison to the other animals they often hunted.
The men shouted in joy, patting my father on the back for catching such a huge animal as they walked past him towards their fallen quarry.
The animal was still alive, its screams echoing throughout the forest. Oh, what a sweet melody it played. I'm sure the men thought so too, because they all stared at it with such joyful expressions.
Its melody seemed to take on a lower note as the sound of blood gurgling in its throat interrupted its song, a welcome change in my opinion. However the men seemed to hate this new rhythm, so they slit its throat, a wonderful ending still.
As they skinned their prize back at the village, I would often ask them to take part in their festivities. After all, the best part about hunting was skinning and butchering.
However my father would always look at me with a sort of disgusted expression - he often did that, perhaps he had problems with making facial expressions-. Anyway, I assumed that it was because I was asking to take part in something when I had not done my share of work.
I understood where he was coming from. After all, if I caught an animal, I wouldn't let anyone partake in the skinning and cutting of the meat.
That night the whole village sat around the main bonfire for a feast, the children sitting next to their parents as the village elder spoke of an ancient tale.
My mother had sent me to get water and then disappeared before I could return with it. So I was forced to sit alone- sigh, this was usually the case-.
Anyway, the village elder spoke of some old story about a Grand Magus defeating a demon horde single-handedly.
For some reason he left out the messy bits, I'm sure that if the Grand Magus fought against such vile creatures there would've been some bloodshed.
Perhaps the old man wanted to keep the exciting parts to himself, truly a selfish person as my mother often said about him.
Just as he was about to finish his story, something exciting happened.
A pleasant shriek could be heard in the distance, as if something or someone had fallen victim to a stab wound -trust me I could tell-.
Seconds later a dozen fireflies- I mean torches- came into view. Underneath each torch were two gleaming red eyes- a certain mischief emanating from each and every one of them.
The parents didn't seem to like this new show, as they abruptly stood up and pulled at their children to flee. But it was already too late, flaming arrows began pouring down on the village, killing all those too slow to get out of their way.
A spectacular show, who would've thought that the village elder would've prepared such a thing for entertainment.
A woman nearby had been shot in the neck, the flaming arrow tip sizzling at the blood that flooded out of her throat.
She began trying to say something - much of it came out as a series of gurgles and grunts- however, I could clearly make out one particular word - monster.
"Yeah, I think they're called goblins," I whispered to her, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
"N-N aght. Y-You," she struggled, trying her best to move away, before finally succumbing to her wounds.
Truly an odd woman, anyway the goblins stopped shooting arrows, now opting to chop down the survivors with their make-shift spears and axes.
"Help! Help me please!" cried a woman as several goblins surrounded her, brandishing their phalluses before throwing themselves onto her half-naked body.
The goblins in question seemed to be fun-loving individuals, as they ate at her flesh even as they did their deeds.
I once heard my father say that the two best things in life were to fuck and eat. Oh, to have the best of both worlds, what wondrous creatures.
Anyway, one of the goblins seemed to have set his sites on me, as much as I liked this party, I couldn't die just yet. After all, I was yet to kill a single thing - how could I go out without feeling such pleasure.
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