The scent of the swamp and the warmth of the morning sun were welcome to the rousing goblins. Their great mouths seemed to claim their faces as their yawns rose as a low rumble throughout the ramshackle village. Guards, awakened by the noise, shook themselves in a vain attempt to have the appearance of nightly watchfulness.
Shetmeki, a young rogue of a goblin, woke to a pine cone landing on his tender nose. His howl amused the squirrels above him, and they fled chattering as he threw the cone back at them.
"And no come back!" Satisfied that his dominance was assured, Shetmeki puffed out his chest and placed his thumbs in his belt, a rusted chain wrapped around his thin waist. From his place on a small hill, home to a once-mighty pine tree, he could see the smoke starting to rise from the village fires, the smell of frogs cooking and boiled swamp water filling his wide nostrils.
It was this tree that had inspired his moniker: "Screaming-Tree". It was during a nap under this pine that a bolt of lightning had struck from nowhere and caused both the young goblin and the shattered wood to scream. Normally this would be of small note had he not survived the encounter. The tribe's shaman dubbed the survivor "Screaming-Tree" in honor of this daring act.
Shetmeki looked up at the tree – split like a banana – and grinned, the squirrels chatter making it seem to him that the tree still cried out.
"Me brave and tough to best nature's wrath," he assured himself. "Also clever. They say not hide under tree in storm. HA!"
Making his way back into the village, Shetmeki wandered through the huts towards the center of the thick ring of hutches where the cooks prepared the meal to satisfy the Dawn-Hunger. Frogs and snakes were common meals here, but today the hunters had captured a large carrion bird the day before, and the females had spent all yesterday plucking the feathers from the future meal.
Many goblins had gathered early to watch the final preparations. Shetmeki sat next to a litter-mate, Didiot, a large but simple cousin of his.
"Belly hurt, need munchies soon." Didiot grumbled, clutching his girth with both wide hands.
"Food come soon, Dids," Shetmeki nodded sagely, "Patient hunter get best game."
"But me get bird 'dayester', me could eat all bird now."
"No doubt, but all wait. Even she-chief." Shetmeki pointed up at the chieftainess' tent, where the great female goblin was digging in the dirt to catch a juicy grub she had seen earlier. She had, however, forgotten it was seen on her other side.
Didiot grumbled, but said no more.
Little chatter was heard from the goblins as the last members of the tribe gathered to partake in the morning meal together. As if desperate to pass the time, several goblins began to chant:
"Eat the bird, eat the frog! Eat the snake from the bog! Goblins munch and goblins feast! Goblins like waiting the least!"
This and other versions echoed throughout the village for a few minutes before a female got up on a rock with a trumpet in hand. A silence fell over the crowd of goblins, as this was the herald of the feast about to signal that food was to be ready.
The female raised the horn to her lips, but the sound they heard next did not come from anything a goblin could make.
The roar of a great fire.
All eyes turned to witness a fireball crash into the chieftain's tent, sending it and a half-dozen goblins into wind-tossed ash. The spectacle instinctively drew a cheer from the little pyromaniacs, until they heard the whistling. Then they started dropping, arrows protruding from their bodies.
Looking around, Shetmeki saw coming out of the woods several long-shanks crying out in their fancy tongues battle-cries that struck immediate fear and hatred from his people. The warriors rushed to retrieve their weapons, but many of them were felled before then. Those that retrieved some kind of tool charged the invaders, but the skill of the long-shanks was far greater than anything the goblins could counter.
Shetmeki, in a moment of clarity, dove for the cooking utensils and took a knife in his left hand and a large fork in his right. Thus armed, he charged the invading "adventurers". Just thinking of that term filled Screaming-Tree with indignant rage, a fury he channeled into his charge at the enemy.
A pale human dual-wielding an ax and a hammer caught the goblin's attention, and he shrieked a battle-cry as he leaped into the air and bore down onto the Man's head. The human, hearing the attack, spun around and blocked the eating utensils with the hammer's head and made to carve the goblin open with the ax.
However, the blade missed the green skin of the goblin and knocked the smaller creature aside. Shetmeki thought he had been slain, and his vision when black as his head crashed into the ground.
The goblins were mostly slain, those that survived were scattered into the surrounding swamp. A ruddy-skinned tiefling shook the dust from his robes as he stepped over ruined huts and goblin corpses. "Well, I can honestly say that was slightly exhilarating."
"You barely did anything, Thustian." A young northern man sat on a pile of rubble, sharpening his ax's edge. "You twiddled your fingers and destruction happened."
"Give him some credit, Svartokshe." A beautiful woman with emerald-tinted skin chuckled. "It is all he can do outside of a campus."
Thustian glared at the two, his lips thinning.
A white-haired woman shook her head at the banter. "Come now, friends. Let's not fight anymore. Enough of that has happened today."
They continued to chat as they poked around, looking for anything of monetary value. Watching them, thought slain earlier, a pair of eyes watched the victors. Eyes filled with fear and hate.
Shetmeki glared at the long-shanks, unable to do anything as they looted his home and the bodies of his tribe. He couldn't understand them, for they did not speak Goblin. However, if his experience among his people taught him anything, they were probably gloating over their victory.
Finally, as the sun began to set the invaders left, leaving the wreckage of the village behind them. Shetmeki crawled out from under the rubble of a tent, the circulation to his legs returning to the sensation of thousands of spider bites all over his lower limbs. The smell of burnt flesh, wood, and moss filled his nostrils. He stepped in puddles of blood and swamp water, wandering aimlessly as he took in the destruction around him.
"Goblins nothing next to that. Goblins weak and small." His muttering was frantic, harassed. "Goblins die, long-shanks win. Long-shanks … win … long-shanks win no more."
At his feet he saw the chieftainess' "badge of office", a scepter that could throw bolts of lightning. Picking it up he could feel the power within. He felt again the power that struck that pine on that fateful day. Shetmeki Screaming-Tree smiled, his fangs glinting in the light of the twilight sun.
"Me avenge me kin. Me become strong and kill long-shanks. Goblins no more die against unbeatable foe. Me Shetmeki Screaming-Tree, and me quest begin!"