The tension in the air was palpable as the group of 10 goblins and 15 Cobalt deserters stood on the edge of the village. The poorly built huts and makeshift structures loomed in front of them, and the overwhelming sense of dread that had accompanied their journey grew stronger. But despite the uncertainty, a sense of purpose began to form within the group, and it was all thanks to Krokk's commanding presence.
"Everyone, ready yourselves. We invade in 10 minutes," Krokk's voice rang out, sharp and decisive. His words had an immediate effect on the group. Nervousness ebbed away, replaced by a shared sense of determination and anticipation. They were about to face the Cobalt Chief, and with Krokk leading them, the fear began to dissolve.
As the group hurriedly prepared, sharpening weapons and ensuring their gear was in place, Krokk called over Finn and Prut, the leader of the Cobalt deserters. Finn, still adjusting to the weight of the situation, felt the heavy gaze of Prut fall upon him as he stepped forward.
Krokk spoke with a calculated edge in his voice. "Us three will deal with the Chief."
Prut eyed Finn, clearly skeptical. "Really? This child?" he scoffed. "Is he even your second strongest member?" His words were sharp, and Finn could feel the sting of the insult. He knew it was true—he was still inexperienced and far from the strongest member of the warband. His magic abilities had come far in a short time, but in comparison to the raw strength and battle-hardened nature of the others, he was still a novice.
Krokk didn't flinch at Prut's criticism. "Although he's inexperienced and definitely not the strongest, he is the most versatile," Krokk responded coolly. His gaze locked onto Finn for a moment before he continued. "He'll support us from the back with his elemental magic and barrier magic, while we engage the Chief in close-quarters combat."
Finn's heart skipped at the mention of his abilities. He wasn't the strongest fighter, but Krokk believed in his versatility. He wasn't sure if he deserved that trust yet, but he was determined to prove himself.
Prut said nothing in response, but his slight nod acknowledged Finn's role. The Cobalt leader didn't speak further, but Finn could tell he respected Krokk's judgment, even if he didn't show it outwardly. At least for now, they would work together to take down the Cobalt Chief.
Ten minutes later, Krokk gathered the warband together, his voice cutting through the noise of their preparations. "You all just need to hold off the others. Us three will take care of the Chief." Krokk's words were steady, but there was an underlying urgency in his tone.
When Krokk pointed to Prut and Finn, signaling them as part of the core team to take down the Chief, there was a brief moment of confusion in the air. The warband exchanged uneasy glances, unsure why Finn—of all people—was chosen for such an important task. His lack of experience and combat prowess made him an unlikely candidate, and yet, they said nothing. Despite the doubts swirling in their minds, none dared question Krokk's authority.
With everything in place, they moved forward, rushing towards the village with grim determination. The sounds of their march filled the air, a cacophony of boots hitting the ground and weapons being drawn. Finn's heart raced in his chest, his mind reeling with the weight of the task ahead. It wasn't just survival anymore—it was about proving his worth to Krokk and the others. The true battle, one that would shape his destiny, had only just begun.
As they neared the village, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just the sight of the crude huts and makeshift structures. There was something far darker waiting for them inside. The Cobalt Chief's presence loomed large in Finn's mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that this would be his hardest challenge yet. With Krokk and Prut at his side, though, he felt a sense of solidarity. This was the moment where everything would change.
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Inside the village, the atmosphere was oppressive, thick with an eerie energy that seemed to hum through the air. In the heart of a dimly lit hut sat the Cobalt Chief, an old and frail-looking figure surrounded by a group of women. His skin, once strong and vibrant, had faded into a sickly pallor, his once sharp canine features now drawn and gaunt. He held an ominous book, its pages worn and covered in symbols that seemed to shift and move as he read them. The air around him felt heavy, as if the very space had become tainted by the dark power emanating from the Chief.
The women, seemingly enthralled by the Chief, knelt around him, their faces expressions of awe and fear. As the Chief muttered words from an unknown language, his voice low and guttural, the atmosphere seemed to warp. At the sound of his chant, one of the women began to wither, her body shrinking and aging rapidly, her skin turning brittle as wrinkles formed across her face. She gasped for air as her once-healthy form turned frail and decrepit, her eyes losing their luster. Slowly, she fell to the ground, her body drained of life, a husk of what it once was. The Chief's grin widened as he felt the energy surging through him, feeding off her life force, growing stronger with each life he consumed.
It was a twisted, horrific ritual—one that had allowed the Chief to prolong his life, to continue his reign of terror over the Cobalt Clan. With each chant, he drained the vitality from those around him, his power growing as the women withered away. Their deaths were not mourned, only seen as a necessary sacrifice for his dark magic. The Chief reveled in it, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he felt the life energy fill him, restoring the youth he had lost. His once-weak body was now a vessel for dark magic, a conduit for forces that no one should wield.
This was the Cobalt Chief in his true form—no longer the leader of a proud warrior clan, but a twisted sorcerer who had sacrificed his sanity for power. His reign was built on fear, manipulation, and the death of those who dared to serve him. The village around him was a reflection of his corruption, its inhabitants terrified of him, bound to his will by the magic that consumed them all.