Chapter 06 Waking Up in the Unknown

We neared the edge of the forest, our hearts pounding and bodies trembling with each step. The tall grass parted, revealing the looming trees that marked the beginning of the dense woodland. The sight of the dark, shadowy forest sent chills down our spines, our fear growing with each passing moment.

"We need those sticks, gobby friends. We can't expand without them. It's very important," Grub said, his voice shaky. 

"But we can't go too deep. It's dangerous."

"Aye! We know Grub. We should stay near the edge," Grill suggested, his eyes scanning the forest warily.

 "We can find what we need on the ground without venturing deep into the forest. We risking too much."

We nodded in agreement and began our search, carefully picking through the underbrush for any fallen branches. The task proved more difficult than we had anticipated. The ground was mostly bare, with only a few scattered twigs and small sticks. Hours ticked by, and our progress was painfully slow.

"This isn't working. We need to cover more ground." Grill said, frustration evident in his voice.

"Let's split up. We can search faster that way. But stay close to the edge. No one goes deeper into the forest." Grub suggested. 

Reluctantly, we agreed and parted ways, each of us moving in different directions along the forest's edge. As the hours passed, the eerie silence of the forest was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant animal calls. My anxiety grew with every minute that ticked by. I picked up a few small sticks, my hands shaking with each one I found.

Suddenly, I heard voices - goblin voices - coming from deeper within the forest. My heart skipped a beat, panic surging through me. A thought flashed through my mind - Grub and Grill had ventured deeper than they should have, they were in trouble. The memories of Kaka's horrific end flashed through my mind, a wave of fear and sorrow crashing over me.

Without thinking, I scuttled deeper and deeper into the forest, thorny vines, branches, grass scraping and scratching my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my eyes bulged out of fear. The forest seemed to close in around me, each shadow a potential threat.

After a few minutes, I burst from a clump of thick grass and fell to my knees. There stood a group of goblin slaves, just like me. They were covered in bruises and filth, a sorry sight. It was not Grub or Grill I had heard, but some other unfortunate goblins.

The sight was both a relief and a shock. Relief because Grub and Grill were not in immediate danger, but shock at seeing more goblins in such a place. They huddled together, their eyes wide with fear and desperation.

One of the goblins, a scrawny creature with a missing ear and a gash across his forehead, looked up at me. 

"Who are you?" he croaked, his voice raw.

"I'm... I'm Hermit," I stammered, still catching my breath.

 "I thought my friends were in trouble. I heard voices..."

The scrawny goblin interrupted me.

 "No, no! Not safe here! It is dangerous here, you need to run!" he said, his voice trembling. 

I glanced at the frightened bunch, my heart still pounding.

 "What? What is going on?" I asked urgently. 

The other goblins started to huddle in panic, their eyes darting nervously behind me.

 "It's too late, he's here! He is!" one of them said, a young goblin with a swollen eye and a brused lip.

I slowly turned my head, feeling the heavy footsteps coming from behind me. As I turned, the last thing I saw before everything went black was a maliciously grinning goblin guard and his wooden club flying at my face. The hit was so brutal that my unconscious body somersaulted a few times in the air before flopping to the ground. Then, all went black.

God knows how long later, I felt myself being roughly tied by a rope and dragged across the forest floor. My body was dirty and chafed, bloody scrapes marring my skin as I was dragged over roots and rocks. With a painful grunt and a whimper, I tried to open my eyes, but my face was brutally crushed by the club's earlier blow. My face was swollen grotesquely, my eyelids so puffy they dragged on the ground.

The goblin slaves nearby noticed me waking and helped me to my feet, despite being beaten and hurt themselves. They lent their scrawny shoulders, supporting my weight and helping me walk. A few minutes later, I finally managed to shake off the stupor and pry open my swollen eyes. I winced with every step, feeling the pain sear through my body.

I looked around to take in my surroundings, the slaves were bound together by crude ropes, their wrists chafed and raw from the rough bindings. Each goblin's face bore the marks of torment: swollen eyes, split lips, and cuts that oozed pus and blood. Their naked bodies, emaciated and filthy, were covered in bruises and welts from countless beatings. Their heads hung low, eyes vacant with the exhaustion of endless suffering.

Evil goblins walked close by, sneering and jabbing the slaves with sharp sticks whenever they slowed. These guards were cruel, their eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as they tormented their captives. Some of them carried whips, which they cracked against the air, sending shivers down the line of slaves. Others held torches, their flames flickering ominously in the dim light, casting twisted shadows on the ground. It was getting close to the night time and without fire, the monsters of the forest would become a little bit too comfortable in attacking us.

In the middle of this march was the goblin master, the boss of the caravan. He sat atop a massive hound, a beast as ferocious as it was loyal. The hound's eyes were red and wild, its saliva dripping onto the ground as it growled at the slaves. The goblin master himself was a grotesque figure, his body adorned with scars and grotesque jewelry made from the bones of those who had perished under his rule. His eyes were cruel, always searching for signs of defiance among the slaves.

The goblin slaves were a wretched sight. Their ribs protruded sharply from their thin bodies, their skin stretched tight over bone. Many had open sores and festering wounds that attracted swarms of flies. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and the fetid smell of infection. The slaves shuffled along, their feet dragging through the dirt, every painful step was proof of their relentless suffering.

I weakly muttered, "Where... where are we? Where are we going? What... what is going on?"

One of the older goblins, a beaten slave with scars crisscrossing his body, spoke up. 

"Calm down, young one. Keep your voice down, let me explain. You got captured, friend. You got yourself caught in a caravan led by evil goblins and the master Rakrak. We are slaves, we are on the lookout for a spot to build a goblin breeding farm."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced around, taking in the sight of other goblin slaves trudging alongside me, their eyes hollow with despair. 

"We have been walking for days now," the old goblin continued. 

"Looking for a spot that our master goblin Rakrak would fancy. When we find the place, our task will be to build the walls and everything inside them. We will be working till we either drop from exhaustion or die from relentless beatings and torture."

"We can't let this happen," I said, my voice trembling from the surge of fear.

 "We have to find a way to escape."

The old goblin looked at me with pity. 

"Easier said than done, young one. These evil goblins are relentless. And the forest is perilous, filled with monsters. There is nowhere to run for us. We are just weak goblin slaves, nothing more. But... if we can find an opportunity..." his words trailed off leaving the thought unfinished, "For now, we must endure."

The journey continued. Each step painful reminder of our enslavement, and the rope that bit into our tied wrists reminded us of our misery with each scrape. The evil goblins guarding us were brutal, their eyes gleaming with malice as they barked orders and lashed out with whips. We moved through dense forests, the landscape was unfamiliar to me, I couldn't even retrace my way back to the open plains even if I were to escape.

As we huddled together for a brief rest, I turned to the old goblin.

 "What's your name, friend?" I asked, trying to find some semblance of camaraderie amidst the despair.

"Name's Scrag," he replied, his voice a low growl.

 "Been a slave for longer than I care to remember. What's yours?"

"Hermit. Used to be living in a breeding farm, but... not anymore."

Scrag nodded.

 "Well, Hermit, stick close. We'll need every bit of wit to survive this. Evil goblins will hold back their beatings and torture until we build walls and hatcheries but when the first batch of slave hatchlings draws their first breath of air, we will get it hard."

I shuddered at the thought. 

"This is awful. I need to get back to my friends. I need to get away but I don't even know what direction they are. How long was I out."

Scrag gave me a warm hug and said, "You were out for a few days, the guard clobbered your nogging good. As for your friends, I suggest you forget them, we are your family now. And even if you escape now, you will only find yourself in the jaws of some forest monster."

After a short pause, he continued, "For now, try to fit in, endure. Maybe, just maybe your chance will appear one day but for now, just endure. That is all I can tell you, friend."

Days turned into weeks, and our hope dwindled with each passing moment. The evil goblins seemed tireless, driving us onward without mercy. One particularly brutal day, as we walked through a rocky ground, a goblin slave collapsed beside me, his body too weak to continue.

"No! Please, help me!" he cried, his voice filled with desperation.

But the guards showed no mercy. They descended upon him with vicious glee, their whips cracking and fists pummeling. The air was filled with his screams until, finally, he fell silent, his body lifeless.