Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 6: The Clan

Gret Koll knew the folly of his kind. How they bickered and fought over scraps. When his clan had been forced to flee their spawnland they had endured tribulation and struggle. When Gret, one of the youngest of his clan, had finally reached the level ten milestone and evolved it hadn’t taken long for him to usurp the current chief.

He had burnt the old fool alive; nothing could withstand his magical flames. Obedience from his fellow goblin had only been natural, loyalty a forgone conclusion.

So why, under the feral moons were his clanmates starting to doubt. Why the FUCK were they questioning his leadership? Did they want to die screaming?

Gret seethed internally as he stomped ahead of his clan. The scouts were too frightened to forge ahead so he had to lead by example. If his pathetic kin were so weak to die to a bunch of TREES how could it be his fault?

If his family weren’t so incompetent there wouldn’t be a problem…

“Chief!” Screeched a nasally voice from behind. Gret let out a long suffering sigh and turned to face the soon to be scorched pile of meat and regrets.

“WHAT? DO YOU NEED ME TO HOLD YOUR HAND? KEEP MOVING OR I’LL KILL YOU!” He roared, the other goblin flinching back.

“B-but chief… It’s the Bog brothers… They said they couldn’t feel their bonds anymore and-”

“WHAT?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I’LL RIP THEM APART WITH MY BARE HANDS!”

“WHAT?”

“T-they already left, t-to go find their birds…”

With a sickening thwack Gret’s charcoal staff caved in the skull of the wretch before him. As the body toppled to the ground, cinders flared up from beneath the monster's dark green skin. Gret stomped towards the rest of his worthless clan, they eyed him with a mix of fear and trepidation.

“WELL?” Gret screamed, spittle flying. “WHERE DID THEY GO?”

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Bog turned to face his brother, the equally small goblin was hunched low next to him in the shrubbery.

“Hey Bog?”

“Ya Bog?”

“Ya think the tree killed em?”

“Ya Bog, lookin like it.”

“Ya… I can’t believe Bog Three died raising these big chickens.”

“Ya… Bloody shame.”

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“What ya wanna do?”

“Dunno, go back?”

The two goblins named Bog stood and made to find their clan. But only five minutes later their clan found them. And Gret sure was pissed. Both Bogs sweated at the sight of their malevolent leader.

Being slightly more intellectually gifted than most of their kind, the two [Tamer Goblin]s spoke before Gret worked himself into a frenzy.

“Big chickens are dead boss.”

“Ya, tree got em good it did. Draining the life right outta them.”

“A TREE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LET ME GUESS, IT'S THE SAME KIND THE REST OF YOU RAT SHIT LOT ARE SCARED OF?" Gret roared, face already shifting to a deep red.

“Y-yes boss. We can show ya-”

“OF COURSE YOU'RE GONNA SHOW ME! LET ME TEACH YOU INCOMPETENT, USELESS, DECEITFUL, UNLOYAL, PATHETIC WORMS WHY THERE IS NOTHING TO BE SCARED OF!”

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An entire clan of goblins, around forty members large, gathered in a cluster within sight of a Blight Tree, grey bark and red leaves easily visible through the usual greenery of the forest.

Gret stood closer than the others, a ragged cloak he had taken from a slain adventurer slung over his back, grubby fingers wrapped around the staff that channelled his fire magic. This Blight Tree was just like the others it had seen, well, not quite. This one was far smaller, as if its growth was stunted. For his clan to be afraid of a plant… Pathetic.

The chief was currently half ranting, half screaming incoherently at the group of goblins. Something about how they didn’t have a single useful bone between them and that their mothers were swine.

Goblin’s didn’t have mothers so that particular insult flew mostly over their heads. Though they did possess an innate understanding of awakened beings courtesy of their shadowy origins from the ruins of towns and cities. Some high level variants even gained skills related to blending into awakened society.

Gret hollered for another minute, cursed out both moons which was terrible luck, and stalked towards the tree.

He raised his staff and channelled a skill. Orange flames licked up and down the length of the staff for three heartbeats before a [Scorching Ray] launched from the tip. To Gret and the rest of the goblin's surprise a golden barrier flickered into existence, absorbing much of the initial damage from the skill.

But not all. The barrier fractured, then shattered. Flames wreathed the tree, scorching bark and incinerating leaves. A surprising amount of birds and smaller forest critters fled at the encroaching fire but many were too slow.

Gret turned back to his clan with a smug look of superiority. “SEE! NOTHING TO BE SCARED OF!”

No one felt the need to point out that Gret was the only caster variant the clan had. Nor that he possessed the clan’s only magical item. Some clapped, a few cheered and the rest lowered their heads in supplication.

This wasn’t the first time Gret had demonstrated his power to the clan, and likely wouldn’t be the last. Goblins followed the strongest, it was ingrained into their very existence, their instincts would compel them. Now that the chief had put the fear of himself back into his clan they would obey as he ordered them to march through dangerous territory and into deadly predicaments.

Gret leered at them before turning back to the burnt, but still standing tree. His eyes glinted as he spotted something. “YOU AND… YOU! GO FETCH ME THAT DEER!”

“Y-yes boss.” The two nameless goblins stammered and moved forward. Surely if they did this Gret wouldn’t beat them? They drew hand made daggers of flint and sticks and stalked forward. The goblins wouldn’t complain about dinner…

Half way between the tree and the clan both goblins stopped dead, root spears had plunged up into their throats and out the back of their necks. Everything went silent, then the tree began to drain the corpses.

Gret scoffed. “They should have dodged. NEXT! YOU AND YOU! MOVE IT!”

The clan looked between their cruel chief and the bloodthirsty tree. They decided to take their chances against the tree.