In a region as hostile as that half-representation of hellheim on earth, staying in one location for long periods of time was never advisable. Only the most powerful or the smartest had the ability to stick to a single corner. The only option for the weak would be to stay in a pack, for numbers made their difference even where mountain giants occasionally made an appearance.
Unfortunately 'he' was not powerful. As smart as he was compared to other goblins, he wasn't really smart. And worst of all, he found himself alone today after being expelled from his tribe. The goblin must have depended on fate, the gods or else chance and luckily for the unfortunate little green creature, the latter smiled at him with pleasure.
It was while desperately running from wild boar days before that he had found what he might currently call home, or if that word indicated far more comfort than it actually existed, at least a hiding place.
To the north, near the exit of the forest, there was a black tree with dry leaves. So long that it twisted in on itself and thus produced a curious pose. It was in the middle of the trunk that it split into three, and unlike the main body, its two branches rose in the sky making the landscape much more uncomfortable. Far from being the strangest plant in that jungle, far from this post, however it did not prevent it from being an eccentric sight.
It was in this malformation of nature that the goblin found its shelter. There was an opening in the trunk of the tree, short and stiff at the base of the wood close to the ground. Too small for any large predator or monster, big enough for something like him to get through with moderate effort.
Fourteen days earlier, just expelled from the cave he inhabited, he found himself in danger of death when three wild boars found him appetizing enough for dinner. In its desperate flight, the weak goblin looked for the first place it could crawl and grab any chance to stay alive. Upon entering the hole he discovered something he would never have noticed at a different time.
There was a crack inside the structure, if he forced his way through he could follow this natural tunnel until he fell. He fell a couple of meters into what was an underground chamber, a small construct of Mother Nature. Not very big, just ten of his short steps and he would have walked all over the place. Someone taller than two meters¹ couldn't fit in there, which wasn't a problem for 'he' who was at the height of his one meter. Darkness in turn would be the least problem of the place, after all a creature like him was born and lived most of his short life in darkness, night vision was one of the few things his race could be proud of. His body had even gotten used to being full of splinters after each passage through the entrance.
It was there that he took the items dropped and thrown on the ground where humans died. He returned to the scene the next morning, the killer of those people was no longer there, of course, always moving and never staying in the same place, as is prudent.
Many journeys were necessary to bring each of the objects, and it was only his experience that prevented any mortal encounter with a species superior to his own. Its hole in the ground was soon filled with the items left by the dead. The big piece of sharp iron, the bent branch with vine, the pointed sticks, two big pieces of wood that (he didn't know how) could throw the red flower that warms.
Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get the big flat metal there, nor the long iron-tipped wood. They were objects that required great strength to be carried, something that 'he' did not have.
It was weak, a condition he wanted to change and for that he needed to learn, to know more about that people of the long limbs, that tribe from beyond the north. They were noticeably weaker than forest dwellers, they were smaller, they had no fangs, they had no claws, they lacked an intense desire to devour. Still, this strange race always came to their home and emerged victorious in most combats. 'He' knew there was a word for these people, another of the curious sounds his inhuman throat was incapable of uttering.
'Adventurers', whatever that meant.
If these weak folk could get stronger with the help of those objects, then so could he. The small green creature wasn't even the first monster to think so, it wasn't uncommon for species smarter than goblins like ogres and trolls to use tools that mimicked those created by humans. However 'he' understood something that the others did not, just the items were not enough. Something else was needed, something that he himself was trying to find out what it was, but while that was not possible, he would be happy to learn to use those things first.
Imitating those deceased was his only option at the moment. With the long iron it was not possible, too big for his body, he ended up spinning and tripping over himself every time he swung that object. The long pieces of wood were just frustrating, no matter how much he shook it and growled, not a single red flower appeared in the air.
The long stick with ends connected by the weird vine was his best option. In the beginning, it proved to be a challenge for hands so little used to it. Many times he couldn't pull that vine in the right way, in more than one moment he hit his own face with that weapon.
Patience ran out after his dozens of attempts and he even threw the object against the wall, only for it to hit the stone and return to the goblin hitting him a second time in the face. He didn't need that, he would try again with the others which would inevitably make him end up with the stick tied together.
Only after his fingers became marked with redness was he able to hold the object in the way he believed was correct. The sore fingers were proof of his effort and meant he could move on to the next step, which proved just as difficult as the last.
'He' would place a pointed branch close to the wood, pull the weird vine and get ready to let go. Unfortunately, every time the branch tilted to the side, the goblin couldn't even shoot. Attempts and more attempts followed with him failing over and over again.
If it wasn't enough for his fingers to hurt, now his arm did too. As a result of repeating the same movements, he straightens his back, extends his left arm, flexes his right arm and pulls the vine. So simple and so exhausting.
Maybe he couldn't do it no matter how long he tried, at first glance it seemed easy, but it could require some innate characteristic of human beings. For that reason maybe he couldn't. After all, he couldn't understand how something that at first glance was so simple could be so challenging.
At the end of the day, all he got was sore fingers and arms. He could try again the next day, for now all he had was hunger.