Chapter 45 Moment of Silence

The guard's voice, dripping with malevolence, sent shivers down our spines. The chilling glee in his laughter hinted at the sadistic pleasure he derived from our suffering.

In an attempt to shield Kaka from further suffering, we surrounded him, tiny arms forming a protective barrier against the cruel whims of the guard. One of the younger hatchlings, driven by a futile spark of courage, bravely ran up to the guard's towering feet. With all the strength his tiny frame could muster, he pathetically taped and slapped at the guard's grubby toe with his teeny wee palms, minuscule claps barely audible in the face of the giant. 

"Big meanie! Leave Kaka alone! Leave us alone! You big bully! Big meanie! Go away! Go away!" The hatchling's defiant shouts, not louder than a whisper, reverberated through the tent, a feeble protest against the monstrous guard.

The guard, however, merely looked down with a twisted grin, thoroughly entertained by the futile display of resistance. Then came the response, It was swift and heart-wrenching. With a single swing of his wooden club, he dispatched the courageous hatchling. The wooden club struck with a sickening thud, meeting the soft flesh of the small hatchling. A collective gasp escaped our lips as we witnessed the impact, the force of the blow sending the tiny goblin spiraling through the air. The tent walls quivered as the hatchling's fragile body collided with them, a pitiful splat smearing the wall.

Time seemed to stretch as the sickening thud pierced the silence. The impact left the tiny hatchling crinkled on the ground, his fragile body bearing the brutal force of the guard's wooden club. 

As the hatchling's lifeless form lay on the ground, a petrifying moment of silence enveloped the tent. 

"Ghehehe! Looks like stinking hatchlings eager to feel the pain first. Ghahaha!" As the cruel guard's laughter echoed through the tent, we, the tiny goblin hatchlings, were engulfed in a frenzied state of panic. 

Our collective fear manifested in a chaotic scramble as we scuttled to the farthest side of the tent, huddling into a tight, intertwined pile of tiny green bodies. Our spindly limbs wove together, creating a patchwork huddle of goblin hatchlings in a desperate attempt to shield ourselves from the impending onslaught of beatings.

Puffs of greenish steam rose from our bodies, a result of the mixture of warm goblin sweat and the cool, damp tent walls. Tiny limbs quivered with fright, and the bulging, innocent eyes of the hatchlings reflected the collective horror that gripped us. The atmosphere inside the tent became drenched with the stench of fear, an unmistakable musky odor that intensified as most of us involuntarily shit ourselves - an unfortunate manifestation of our shared terror.

Within the chaos, some hatchlings exhibited quirky behaviors ingrained in goblin nature. Nervous nibbling at the tips of their ears became a strange habit, a manifestation of heightened stress. The spindly fingers of their gnarled hands twitched uncontrollably, a nervous tic that betrayed their internal turmoil.

Others engaged in the peculiar ritual of rubbing their noses against the ground, a primitive goblin gesture signaling submission. A couple of hatchlings, unable to contain their anxiety, released involuntary bursts of squelching farts, adding a layer of discomfort to the already grim atmosphere. 

The tent floor, already laden with grime and debris, now bore the additional imprint of tiny footprints - erratic traces of our distress as we shuffled in the confined space.

Each goblin hatchling, with ears pressed flat against their heads, emitted muffled whimpers and pathetic sobs. Some, unable to contain their distress, released involuntary squeals that echoed within the tent, creating a symphony of fear and despair. 

The guard, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure, sauntered toward our huddled mass of goblin bodies, his club dragging on the ground behind him, the menacing sound amplifying the terror he had instilled in our young hearts.

"Form a line, you stinking shits, or I will crush you all with the club. And don't even think about trying to run! Or I will bite off your miserable feet," the guard barked, his voice a venomous command that sent shivers down our spines.

Driven by fear, our huddled group of goblin hatchlings scurried to form a line, our tiny bodies lined up like sacrificial lambs, a pitiful offering to the merciless executioner. The air was thick with the stench of our fear, the stinking aroma of goblin shit that clung to us like a putrid cloud.

Goblin hatchling quirks emerged under stress - a few of us involuntarily emitted foul-smelling secretions, a defense mechanism triggered by the intensity of our fear. A couple huddled so close that their big bulbous noses intermingled, seeking solace in the familiarity of one another's scent. We stood in fearful submission, awaiting the cruel fate that loomed above us. 

The guard chuckled maliciously and finally spoke, "Good little shits! At least you formed a line. Now! Let the torment begin!" he declared with sadistic glee, the words dripping with a venomous delight that sent shivers through our spindly goblin frames.

With those ominous words, the guard's hand shot forward like a striking snake, swiftly snatching one of the goblin hatchlings from the line. The poor hatchling, no larger than the guard's fist, squealed in terror as it dangled precariously in the clutches of the merciless tormentor.

"Now, let's see what you little shits are made of," the guard sneered, his face contorted into a sadistic grin. With a swift motion, he pressed his massive finger against the poor hatchling's trembling belly, exerting extreme pressure on the goblin's puny size. The pressure applied was merciless, and the hatchling's eyes widened in sheer agony as the guard exerted force.

The small body, fragile and defenseless, bore the brunt of the guard's sadistic whim, and the tent resonated with the gut-wrenching sounds of his pain.

The result was a distressing stream of feces expelled from the helpless hatchling's tiny butt. Torment lasted until the poor hatchling could not endure anymore and his agonizing cries fell silent. The guard's face twisted into a cruel grin as he witnessed the grotesque display of the hatchling's guts hanging from its butthole. The lifeless, soiled goblin was then callously tossed to the ground, a broken and humiliated victim of the guard's sadistic whims.

Without a shred of mercy, he snatched another hatchling, who emitted a series of anxious clicks and held it close to his ear.

"What's this? A little song for me?" the guard mocked, his laughter resonating through the tent. With a sadistic grin, he twisted and stretched the hatchling's tiny body, producing a high-pitched chirp that mingled with the hatchling's terrified squeals.

With crushing force, he crumpled the hatchling into a tiny ball and tossed it right next to the first hatchling forming a pile of tormented gobbies. 

His eyes, filled with malevolence, scanned the line of quivering goblin hatchlings for his next victim, and with a sinister grin, he cracked his knuckles in anticipation. The guard's sinister grin widened as he reveled in our distress. With a sadistic gleam in his eyes, he raised his hand, a giant compared to our diminutive size, and delivered a swift, merciless slap to the first goblin hatchling in line. The tiny gobbie tumbled backward, the impact of the blow sending it sprawling onto the dirt floor of the tent.

The tiny gobbie, no larger than the guard's fist, was helpless against the relentless onslaught. Each slap, kick, and stomping foot delivered waves of pain through his fragile body. Finally, satisfied with the beating he delivered, the guard tossed the poor hatchling into the pile of tortured gobbies. 

To intensify our terror and fear the guard flicked each of us in rapid succession with his giant finger, creating a frenzy of tiny bodies flinching and twitching with each painful flick. The sharp stings intensified our fear, turning our movements into erratic spasms.

The desperate plea for escape echoed through the air as one of the hatchlings succumbed to the overwhelming fear, launching into a frenzied scuttle past the guard. The wild screams of, "Wreeeeeeeeeeeee! I can't! I can't! Run! We run! Run from the tormentor! Reeeeee!" carried the sheer terror of the moment.

However, the hope of evasion was short-lived. After only a few steps, the guard's vice-like grip closed around the fleeing hatchling. The guard seized the tiny creature, his massive hand closing around the terrified goblin. 

"You little pests! Think you can escape? No chance! I'll show you what happens when you try!"

The guard's jaws snapped shut on the hatchling's once-puffy feet, the sound of crunching bones and tearing flesh sending shivers through the air. The guard, reveling in sadistic pleasure, bit off the poor hatchling's feet, leaving behind mutilated, bloodied stumps.

The hatchling's wails of agony filled the cruel space, his body convulsing in shock as the guard callously bit off his tiny appendages. The guard, reveling in the grotesque display, discarded the now-footless hatchling with a heartless laugh, tossing the mutilated goblin into the pile of already abused hatchlings.

Our beatings continued until all of us were brutally beaten and maimed, and strewed across the tent's filthy floor. Our tiny limbs twisted and contorted in the ways they shouldn't. Our bodies swelled and married with blackened lumps and grotesque bruises. All we could do was lay sprawled on the ground and endure the torment. 

The guard, reveling in a perverse sense of accomplishment, gazed proudly at the ghoulish view. A tear of joy trickled down his cheek as he relished the job well done, a discipline in the form of torture enforced upon the defenseless hatchlings.

But the brutality was far from over. The guard shifted his attention to Kaka, still unconscious from the earlier savage assault by Slasher and his buddies. 

The guard's sadistic intentions echoed through the air as he yelped, "Ahh! What a good job I did! Mmmm... the sound of miserable hatchlings in pain is just right! Job well done! Now that hatchlings are disciplined, time to teach this stinking slave his daily lesson too!"