A small, green, and stunted figure ran frantically without knowing what to do. Wherever it went, there was a scream. Screams from one of its kind, goblinoids like itself. Despite trying hard to slash its heavy tree bark, which they usually used as a hammer, it could not feel its enemy. What could it do when the enemy was practically invisible?
It could see how its brethren were dying every second. It decided to call for help. It held its breath to escape being spotted by the enemy, to wake up its friends who were asleep in the small huts. As it entered the dwelling it stood shocked. All of them had been bleeding from the neck, and when it shook them, their bodies went limp. Oh no, it understood instinctively that the enemy had killed its sleeping brethren first before launching an attack on them, the goblinoid patrolmen. It decided to turn to the last source of hope, their lord, their goblinoid king.
