Chapter 56 Meaty Ear Cocoons

Within this turmoil, Grub and Grill appeared, their pitiful forms scuttling through the corpses that littered the ground. They were a sight of misery, their eyes wide with fear and urgency. Grub, the smaller of the two, had a hunched posture, his spine twisted from years of hard labor and abuse. His skin was a sickly green, covered in dirt and grime, with patches of bruises and scars marring his frail body. His ears, once a sign of youthful goblin beauty, were now ragged and torn, evidence of countless beatings.

Grill, slightly taller but just as wretched, moved with a limp. One of his legs had been broken long ago and had healed improperly, leaving him with a painful, awkward gait. His face was a patchwork of old wounds, some still oozing pus, and his eyes, bloodshot and hollow, spoke of sleepless nights and relentless torment.

They scuttled over to us, their movements hurried and panicked, like two frightened rats in a maze of predators. Grub's bony fingers fumbled with the ropes binding our hands, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His hands trembled so violently that it took him several tries to loosen the knots, each failed attempt drawing a whimper of frustration from his cracked lips.

"Come! Come! Come on, stupid knots! We need to go! Please! Little knots, come undone! Please!" Grub urged, his voice trembling.

Grill, meanwhile, kept glancing over his shoulder, his entire body tensed as if expecting a blow at any moment. His eyes darted from side to side, filled with a frantic desperation to escape the madness around us. When he finally managed to untie the last knot, he nearly collapsed from the effort, his body shaking with exhaustion and fear.

"Come on, we need to get out of here!" Grill urged, his voice raw from years of screaming and crying.

"Y-yes, yes we do! H-hurry! Hurry now!" Grub added, his voice quivering. He tugged at my arm with what little strength he had, his fingers digging into my skin with surprising intensity given his frail appearance.

As we were loosed from our restraints, Kaka’s voice trembled as he asked Grub, “Where are the hatchlings, the precious little hatchlings?” His words were filled with worry and exhaustion. Tears streamed down his cheeks, cutting paths through the grime and blood that coated his face.

Grub, seeing Kaka’s desperate state, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 "Friend, I'm so sorry. The attack was fierce and ravaged the tents and sheds apart. I managed to gather what survivors I could find. They're hidden away from the fighting. At the furthest part of the farm, as far as possible from the battle. We must get them once we find a safe way out. But we must hurry! Or we will be slain by the adventurers, or used as meat shields by the evil goblins!"

Kaka whimpered in sorrow, "No, it can't be. Not the little ones."

Grill added, "Hurry, hurry! I am scared! The adventurers, evil goblins! They will kill us all! We need to hurry! We need to help those who survived. We must!"

With their help, we scampered to the furthest part of the breeding farm. As we reached the edge of the farm, Grub stumbled and fell, his weak limbs unable to keep up. I quickly pulled him to his feet, the feel of his bony arm under my grip a jarring reminder of his fragility. Grill, panting heavily, used the moment to catch his breath, his gaunt chest heaving with each labored inhalation.

From the distance, we could hear the shouts of humans and saw a great number of them bursting through the destroyed gates, weapons drawn and faces set with scorn. The adventurers moved like a relentless storm, each step a harbinger of doom for the goblins they encountered. Their armor gleamed menacingly in the dim light, and their weapons - swords, axes, and maces - were stained with the blood of those they had already slain.

These adventurers were terrifying to behold. Their eyes burned with a cold, unyielding hatred, and their faces were twisted into grim expressions of revenge. They showed no mercy, cutting down any goblin that crossed their path. It did not matter whether it was an evil goblin, a slave goblin, or even a tiny hatchling; they slaughtered them all with brutal attacks.

One of the adventurers, a hulking figure clad in blackened steel, wielded a massive battle axe that cleaved through goblin flesh and bone as if it were paper. His face was hidden behind a fearsome helmet adorned with the skulls of previous victims, making him look like a walking nightmare.

Another, a lithe woman with twin daggers, moved with the speed and grace of a deadly serpent. Her eyes were cold and unfeeling, and her daggers sliced through throats and hearts with ease.

Arrows rained down from above as a group of archers took position on the shattered walls. Their arrows were tipped with deadly accuracy, piercing eyes, throats, and chests. Goblins fell like wheat before the scythe, their bodies riddled with arrows, their lifeless forms adding to the growing sea of corpses. Even the most hardened of the evil goblins quailed before them, their ferocity and sheer ruthlessness sapping the will to fight from those who faced them.

As we watched in horror, we saw goblin slaves clutching their hatchlings, trying to shield them from the onslaught, only to be cut down mercilessly. Tiny hatchlings, barely old enough to walk, were trampled underfoot or skewered by blades that did not discriminate between adults and young. The breeding farm became a slaughterhouse, the ground soaked with the blood and guts of the fallen.

To us goblins, the adventurers were the embodiment of fear and death, avatars of a wrathful deity come to exact retribution. The terror they inspired was beyond words, a primal fear that gnawed at our very souls.

We finally scampered to the furthest part of the breeding farm where Grub had hidden the hatchlings, our hearts pounding with dread. From our hiding place, we could still hear the shouts of the adventurers and the screams of the dying, the nightmare far from over.

The hiding place was a small shed, barely holding together, its walls crooked and its roof sagging. The scent of mildew and decay filled the air, mingling with the stench of fear. We stumbled inside, closing the rickety doors behind us, the wood creaking ominously.

Inside, the surviving hatchlings were a pitiful sight. They were tiny, emaciated creatures, their skin clinging to their bones. Each one bore the marks of brutal beatings and torture. Their bodies were covered in bruises of every color, with deep cuts and gashes that oozed blood and pus. Many of them had broken limbs, twisted and bent in unnatural angles. Some had raw, open wounds where their flesh had been torn away, exposing muscle and bone beneath.

The hatchlings convulsed in fright, their tiny forms trembling uncontrollably. They scuttled across the filthy ground, darting around in a desperate search for cover. Their eyes were wide with terror, darting back and forth as if expecting another blow at any moment. Some of the hatchlings were so overcome with fear that they fainted, collapsing into pathetic, motionless heaps. Others started to convulse on the ground, their bodies shaking violently as they choked out weak, pitiful whimpers. The horrors they had witnessed were too great for their tiny minds to comprehend.

Kaka quickly scooped up a few of the hatchlings, his hands gentle despite the fresh wounds from his beating. He whispered soft, soothing words to them, trying to calm their frantic movements. Me and Grub followed his example, carefully picking up the trembling hatchlings and holding them close, whispering reassurances in their large, floppy ears.

"Shhh, it's okay, little ones. You're safe now. We're here to protect you." I murmured, my voice barely audible over the sounds of their panicked breaths. 

Kaka rocked the hatchlings in his arms, his eyes filled with tears.

 "There, there," he cooed.

 "No one's going to hurt you anymore."

Grub's voice, usually gruff, softened as he tried to comfort a hatchling with a broken leg. 

"You're strong, little one. This big ouchie will heal soon enough and you will be frolicking like nothing had happened. You are safe now, we are here and we will help you all."

Grill stood by the door, his eyes scanning the area outside for any signs of danger. His hand clutched the door handle, desperately trying to hold the door closed.

 "I-I'll keep watch," he said, his voice steady. 

"You just focus on the little ones."

The hatchlings slowly began to calm down, their frantic movements easing into weak, exhausted whimpers. We laid them down on our meaty ears, gently wrapping their tiny bodies to keep them warm and to get ready to escape. Their eyes, though still wide with fear, began to close as the exhaustion of their fear overtook them.

With the hatchlings safely tucked into our big, meaty ear cocoons, we looked like grotesque protectors, our ears wrapping around the tiny, fragile forms with unexpected gentleness. Each ear, thick and muscular, had stretched and curled to form a makeshift cradle for the precious hatchlings. The babies nestled within the warm folds, their tiny green bodies barely visible, but their wide, curious eyes peeking out.

The ear cocoons pulsed slightly as if responding to the rhythm of the hatchlings' faint heartbeats. Each movement of the hatchlings caused the ears to tighten protectively, ensuring they were secure. The hatchlings themselves were a strange sight - tiny, almost translucent goblins with large, expressive eyes that seemed too big for their small heads. Their skin, a pale green, was dotted with the occasional splotch of darker green, and their fingers and toes were slender, almost delicate.

Despite their fragile appearance, the hatchlings emitted a faint, comforting warmth that seeped through the thick layers of our ears. They made soft, cooing noises. Each time one of the hatchlings shifted or made a sound, our ears would instinctively adjust, providing even more comfort and security.

Kaka, unable to use his ears in the same way due to his injuries, cradled a few hatchlings in his hands. His fingers, though scarred and battered, moved with surprising tenderness as he carefully held the tiny creatures. The hatchlings seemed to sense his gentleness, curling up trustingly in his embrace, their little bodies nestled close to his rough skin for warmth and reassurance.