In the deep forest, the goblin village hums with quiet activity. Small wooden huts are clustered around a central clearing, their makeshift chimneys releasing thin trails of smoke into the canopy above. A group of goblin children plays near a bubbling creek, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.
Inside the largest hut, the goblin chief stands by a rough-hewn wooden table, his gnarled hands resting on its surface. He's an older goblin, his green skin mottled with age, and his eyes sharp and wary.
"Is everything already prepared?"
A female goblin steps forward, her arms laden with baskets of wild mushrooms and roots. She bows slightly.
"Yes, Chief. All the ingredients for cooking have been gathered."
"Good. The hunters should've returned by now. I just hope they didn't run into any trouble... especially with those damned orcs lurking around."
Another goblin, a younger male sharpening a crude spear, pipes up.
"The orcs haven't been seen this far north in weeks. I doubt they'll find our hunters."
The chief shakes his head, "Never underestimate those brutes. They're cunning when they need to be."
"We've been careful, Chief. The hunters know the safest paths."
Just then, the sound of footsteps approaches from the edge of the clearing. The goblin children scatter, their playful shouts turning to curious whispers. The chief turns, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of the dagger at his side.
The chief exhales, his posture relaxing.
"You're back. What did you find?"
The lead hunter grins, tossing the bundle to the ground. It unravels to reveal a collection of fresh game—rabbits, a few wild birds, and even a small boar.
"Enough to feed the whole village, Chief," the hunter says proudly. "And no sign of orcs."
The chief nods. "Well done. Let's get everything prepared. Today, we feast."
While the goblins prepare for their feast, the shadows deepen at the village entrance. From the dark edge of the forest, four cloaked figures emerge, their movements silent and fluid. The villagers pause, their chatter fading to uneasy murmurs.
The lead Shadow steps forward, his voice calm but firm.
"Good day to you, goblins."
The hunters immediately tense, their instincts kicking in. Goruk, a burly goblin with a scar across his left cheek and a knife in hand, leaps forward without hesitation, aiming for the Shadow leader's throat.
But before he gets close, the Shadow shifts like smoke, evading Goruk's strike effortlessly. With a flick of his wrist, the hunter crumples to the ground, unconscious.
Gasps ripple through the villagers as their strongest hunter, Brak, steps forward, his spear at the ready.
"What just happened?" His eyes dart between the fallen Goruk and the unmoving Shadow.
The Shadow leader raises his hands, palms out. "Calm yourselves. We are not here to harm you. Your comrade is merely unconscious, and he will wake soon." His voice carries an eerie authority. "We come with orders from His Majesty. He invites you to his kingdom."
The goblin chief, Gornak. "What nonsense is this? There's no kingdom in these woods."
"Perhaps you've yet to see it, but it exists. We offer safe passage. His Majesty wishes to speak with you."
Gornak glances at Brak, his most trusted hunter. "What do you think?"
Brak tightens his grip on his spear. "We don't have much choice. If this one wanted us dead, we'd already be corpses."
The chief gives a slow nod. "Very well. But if this is a trick, we won't go down quietly."
"Understood. Prepare yourselves. We leave immediately."
After half an hour of following the mysterious person through the dense forest, the goblins emerge into a vast clearing. Before them stands a towering wall, its dark stone glistening faintly under the evening light. The structure looms over them, its height seemingly touching the clouds.
The goblins freeze in place, their eyes wide in awe and disbelief.
Gornak steps forward, his voice filled with astonishment. "When… when did such a huge city get built here? I've lived in these woods my whole life. I've never seen anything ."
Brak said. "We hunted here just last week, Chief. There was nothing but trees. This place... it shouldn't be here."
The Shadow leader, now standing just ahead of them, speaks without turning.
"You just need to keep moving."
As they approach a smaller gate set into the wall, the Shadows silently fade, leaving the goblins alone. Two armored guards stand at the gate, their massive forms barely moving.
Brak's eyes narrow as he studies them. The guards radiate an oppressive aura, their sheer presence sending a chill down his spine. His instincts scream at him to turn and run.
Gornak notices Brak's tense stance. "What is it?"
Brak's voice is low, almost a whisper. "These guards... they're strong. As strong as that mysterious person who led us here."
Gornak frowns, glancing nervously at the guards. "Stronger than any orc you've faced?"
One of the guards steps forward, their armor gleaming even in the dim light. Their voice is deep and resonant, echoing slightly in the quiet.
"Go inside. Someone is waiting for you all."
The gate creaks open, revealing a wide street that leads into the city. Without another word, the goblins follow, their steps hesitant.
As they step through the gate, their jaws drop. Instead of the bustling city they'd imagined, they're met with silence. The streets are eerily empty, the only sounds coming from the wind that whistles through the towering spires and massive, ornate buildings.
"This… this place feels like a ghost city," Brak mutters, his grip tightening on his spear.
Gornak nods, his eyes darting around. The city is vast, its architecture far beyond anything he could have dreamed—colossal arches, monstrous statues, and intricate carvings of beasts and creatures.
At the center of the open plaza stands a single figure. Their golden armor glints under the faint light, and his presence exudes authority.
As the goblins approach, the armored figure speaks, their voice calm and measured.
"I am here on behalf of His Majesty. He wishes to speak with the chief of your village."