[Morty]

I decided to re-post the second part of goblin backstory, having deleted it earlier out of frustration.

Rise of the Prophet, Part 2

Spoiler

Night had fallen over a small plateau low in the Last Mountains. Wojciech, a young Imperial soldier, was patrolling the perimeter of a modest encampment built around a mine, lighting his way with a lantern. He hated this place and this post. He had been assigned to the Northern contingent and to this craphole as a punishment for insubordination. The army was becoming more and more strict these days, with people getting degraded, reassigned and executed for the most minor things. So there he was, guarding a mine and a bunch of goblins. Ugh. Disgusting rodents. Why guard them anyway? It's not like they can do anything ser-
Wojciech's train of thought was interrupted when something swept his legs from under him and a knife sunk in the back of his neck.

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As the human sentries outside and om the walls were being stealthily killed, two small figures dressed in an assortment of stolen and scavenged clothing crept through a hole in the pallisade. Slipping from shadow to shadow, they reached the penned-up area inside the walls. Duntak and Bildig knew they didn't have much time. The slaves had to be freed before the paste-skins realized their sentries were dead. But Hultznim the great prophet of their new god and Trablig, his general, explained the plan to them in detail, so they knew what to do. They headed in the direction of one of the fenceposts which they knew had been loosened by the slaves lately, after they had managed to slip a few messages to them. This way, they managed to lift it just enough to slip through, inside the penned-up area. Once inside, they quickly hushed the slaves up and began working on the shackles. They were shoddily made and the two clever goblins didn't have too much trouble picking the locks. Now they just had to wait as outside, battering rams and axes drew near the wall...

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Bolesław, the commander of the guards in the mining encampent was awakened by the sound of broken wood. He immediately ran towards the window and dragged the shutters open. When he saw what was going on, he wasn't sure if it wasn't just a bad dream.
The gate had been broken down, and there seemed to be several holes in the wall as well, through which small figures waving an assortment of weapons poured in, overwhelming the few guard that had investigated the noise with sheer numbers and brutality.
To his credit, he realized that they could only have got so close by taking out the sentries and that it suggested a level of organization that was, to put it mildly, troubling. But these were only goblins. Kill a few of them, the rest ought to flee. He put on his boots, grabbed his sword and ran outside to rally his men.
He did not get much time to realize that he had made a mistake. The goblins poured into the camp from several directions, firing arrows, throwing javelins... and extinguishing sources of light. The purpose soon became clear - in the dark, they could use hit-and-run tactics, causing confusion among the ranks of the humans, who were cut down, shot and stabbed to death one by one. The goblins had put together a good plan to gain an element of surprise, it seemed, and they were using it ruthlessly. The reason Bolesław did not have much time to contemplate it was that a goblin came out of nowhere and buried his spear in his lower spine.

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The life of Virka the goblin had taken quite a turn lately. She was still a little one when her tribe was captured and herded into a slave mine and she knew little else than work. And now there she was, holding a mining pick and huddling together with other slaves, waiting for a signal to break down the door to the penned-up area and attack the unsuspecting humans from behind. She could hear the clamour from the main area of the encampment, where free goblins were attacking and killing humans. The horrible, bullying humans who had kicked them, beaten them and starved them and expected them to work for them. Her knobbly hands gripped the pickaxe's handle. Amazingly enough, she was not afraid. She had been afraid most of the time while enslaved but now she just wanted to kill.
When a flaming arrow whizzed above the slaves' area followed by a shrill shout, they opened the door and barged out. They saw human soldiers, some in rather incomplete armour, fighting a rag-tag band of goblins, who seemed to come from every side, hitting the enemy and retreating back into the shadows. Most sources of light around the camp had been extinguished, it seemed. They roared and charged, quickly catching up with a squad of soldiers running to reinforce their comrades, dogpling them, then stabbing, biting, punching, hacking and gouging until they stopped moving.

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Most of the human civilians in the encampment - craftsmen, foremen, overseers, cooks - ran towards the mine when the attack began - away from the walls and the horde which pouring through. Some didn't, running straight into the goblins' arms - or rather, onto their weapons - in confusion. Some were shot or cut down as they escaped. The enemy seemed thoroughly uninterested in taking prisoners or sparing a single soul from the camp. Now, they huddled together as the sounds from the outer areas of the camp suggested the hope of waiting here until the invaders are repelled grew more and more slim. More and more of them - mostly women and children - began to break down and cry, especially when they saw smoke rise from the buildings - the goblins had begun to enthusiastically set fire to everything even remotely flammable.
We have to make a run for it! One of the men shouted. If we stay here, they'll surround us and butcher us!
Yes! Another one responded. Get the women and children in the middle! Maybe we'll slip past them!
Noone felt like arguing. Men formed a protective huddle around their wives and children and ran for their lives towards one of the broken gates. It wasn't long until goblin archers began to take aim...

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Dartak had to admit - the human non-combatants had been clever. They had dashed towards one of the exits, counting on the goblin fighters to be too occupied with the remaining human soldiers, and it paid off - quite a few of them managed to get past the wall and continue running in a desperate attempt to reach the villages and towns in the lowlands. Mostly women and children - the men had placed themsevles on the edges of the group, so most of them had been picked off by goblin archers on the walls and inside them. But the Prophet and his general had made it clear - no survivors were to bring the news to anyone.
So now a terrified, crying band of women and kids, with a couple of lucky men, were running for their lives. They had no light with them - those carrying torches and lanterns made easiest targets - and the snow dulled the sounds of their steps. Thus, even goblins had trouble seeing and hearing them. However, they had no way to conceal their smell. Dartak whistled, and the sound was followed by a dozen others - signalling the huge, mangy wolves he and his twelve comrades were mounted on to hunt. They caught up with the group of survivors in the matter of seconds. Dartak ran a woman through with his spear, discarded it, produced a curved hobgoblin sabre and cut down her son with it as his wolf's jaws closed on the head of another human whelping.

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Dawn rose over a smoking ruin and corpses. The goblins had taken everything of value and burnt the rest to cinders, then they left to re-join the bulk of the horde. They had great news to bring to their prophet and his general.