Chapter 14 Time to Breed More Goblin Slaves

As daylight faded into the depths of night, we goblins, weary and spent, huddled together inside the cavern. The darkness enveloped us like a suffocating cloak, but we welcomed its embrace, for it offered respite from the unrelenting toil of the day. With groans of exhaustion, we collapsed in a heap of bodies, our limbs tangled and our bodies reeking of sweat and dirt.

Some of us had no strength left to move, our bodies simply giving out as we stumbled to the ground, our eyes closing in a desperate bid for sleep. Others, driven by the last vestiges of their willpower, dragged their fallen comrades into the warmth of our collective pile. The cave echoed with the sound of shallow breaths and quiet murmurs, a symphony of exhaustion and despair.

The night passed fitfully, our rest interrupted by groans of pain and murmurs of despair. We clung to each other, sharing what little comfort we could find within the stench of sweat and fear. The cold seeped through the cave's walls, chilling us to the bone, yet we dared not venture outside for fear of the goblin guards and their merciless whips.

Morning arrived with a cruel indifference, casting a feeble light into the cave. We roused ourselves, the weight of exhaustion heavy upon us, and resumed our task. The cave, scarred by the previous day's collapse, now lay before us like a gaping wound in the earth. We worked tirelessly, hauling away debris and clearing the wreckage, our muscles straining and our hearts heavy with sorrow.

As we dug deeper, we unearthed the grim reminders of our past failures - the crushed bodies of our comrades, their forms twisted and broken beneath the rocks. Each discovery sent a shudder through our ranks.

One of our fellow slaves could not endure the emotional trauma and attempted to escape but he got caught right away. He tried to fight back, his feeble attempts at defending himself doing little more than annoying the guards. They overpowered him easily, pinning him to the ground. One of the guards produced a heavy club, the same kind that had smashed my face. With a brutal swing, he brought it down on his legs, shattering bones with sickening cracks. The poor slave's screams were gut-wrenching, his body convulsing in pain.

But the guards were far from done. They dragged him, broken and bleeding, to a makeshift spit they had set up. With a cruel laugh, they skewered him through his butt and out his mouth, impaling him on the spit. His eyes bulged with pain and terror as they hoisted him over a fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, mingling with smoke that stung our eyes. His agonized wails continued as the flames licked at his skin, his body twitching in its death throes.

Days blurred into a relentless cycle of labor and despair. We toiled until our bodies screamed for respite, and then pushed ourselves even further. The goblin master's relentless gaze bore down upon us, his satisfaction an elusive goal that always seemed just out of reach.

Finally, after a long week of hardship and suffering, the cave was deemed acceptable. The chambers we had painstakingly carved out were inspected and approved. With a grim nod from the goblin master, we knew our grueling task was at an end.

But our reprieve was short-lived. The next phase of our torment awaited - the construction of the hatchery. But compared to the massive effort of digging the cave, this task seemed almost trivial. We gathered whatever materials we could scavenge - rough-hewn logs and salvaged vines - to fashion a barrier that would enclose the hatchery like a sauna.

The walls took shape, rising slowly but surely under our hands. We gathered stones and clay, fashioning them into walls that would enclose the warmth needed for the eggs to grow. By the end of another grueling day, the hatchery stood complete. The walls were rough and uneven, and the doors creaked on dry vine hinges, but it was done. 

After a month of relentless labor, since we got here, the once bustling horde of over one hundred goblin slaves had dwindled to barely half that number. Those of us who remained were a sorry sight - emaciated, bruised, and worn out. Our bodies bore the marks of endless toil and harsh punishments, our spirits crushed by the weight of our suffering.

The goblin master, Rakrak, seemed pleased with the progress of the breeding farm. Our suffering and the lives lost meant nothing to him, but the completion of the project brought a rare flicker of satisfaction to his cruel eyes. In a moment of twisted generosity, he decreed that we would receive a single day of rest.

A day of rest, after weeks of grueling labor, felt like a cruel joke. Yet, it was a respite we desperately needed. We savored the promise of rest as if it were a divine gift, clinging to the small mercy. 

As the sun rose on our day of reprieve, we collapsed wherever we could find space, our bodies strewn around the farm grounds like littered trash after a storm.

The ground was hard and unforgiving, but we welcomed its embrace. Our limbs tangled in a heap of exhausted bodies, the warmth of our collective presence offering some small comfort against the chill of the morning air. Some of us fell into deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly, while others lay awake, their eyes staring blankly at the sky, too tired to even close their lids.

Throughout the day, the only sounds that punctuated the silence were the occasional groans and sighs of the resting goblins. There was no laughter, no conversation - just the shared relief of a reprieve from the endless cycle of suffering and toil. We lay in the dirt, our bodies barely moving, savoring the rare sensation of not having to work or endure pain.

As the last rays of sunlight faded, we huddled together, drawing warmth from each other as the night grew colder. We whispered quiet words of encouragement and comfort, a fragile bond of solidarity amidst the overwhelming despair. We knew that our struggle was far from over, but for this one day, we allowed ourselves to believe in the possibility of survival, of enduring just a little bit longer.

With heavy hearts and tired bodies, we drifted into sleep, knowing that the morning would bring new work and new pain. But for now, we rested, drawing strength from each other and the fleeting gift of a day without labor.

We knew that the goblin breeding farm was nearly complete. While my group dug the cave, other groups toiled outside, erecting rickety sheds and tending to newly planted crop fields. And now all that remained were a few finishing touches before the farm was fully operational.

The morning came, bringing an unexpected turn of events. Instead of the usual barked orders, the goblin master gathered all remaining slaves, forming us into a ragged line. His cold eyes scanned us with a sinister glee.

"The hard work is done, slaves," he announced. 

"The cave, the walls, and most importantly, the hatchery, are finished. Now, we need more slaves. I will make a selection now, choosing only those with the biggest, most beautiful ears."

He pointed a gnarled finger at a decrepit shed. 

"Those I select will line up in front of the shed and will be used for breeding more goblin slaves. Listen carefully: those who fail to carry the eggs inside them will be punished with death! So you better be careful."

He began pacing back and forth, inspecting our ears with meticulous cruelty. One by one, he examined each of us, his eyes lingering on the plumpest, most pronounced ears. After some time, he selected ten of us, myself included. My particularly meaty ears made me an obvious choice for breeding. Fear twisted my insides as I joined the chosen few.

We stood in front of the shed, anxiety tightening our chests. The selected slaves fidgeted nervously, eyes darting around in desperate fear. Rakrak and his guards entered the shed first, their sinister grins widening as they anticipated the horrors to come.

One of the guards soon opened the shed doors, his face twisted with a malicious grin.

 “First one in line, get inside,” he barked. 

The poor goblin slave chosen first shrunk into himself, his head retreating into his shoulders, his ears drooping almost to the ground. His whole body shook with terror, his hunched spine pressing painfully against his skin. With a miserable whimper, he stepped inside, and we watched with bated breath as the guard slowly closed the door behind him, his laughter a chilling promise of the horrors that awaited inside. Anxiety clawed at us as we awaited our turn, the sounds of the first goblin's terrified squeals muffled by the shed walls.

Inside, we could hear muffled cries and the sound of flesh being struck. Each moment was a drawn-out agony, imagining the horrors being inflicted on our fellow gobby. Those of us still outside stood frozen, our minds racing with fear and dread. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one a lifetime of torment.