Goblins and Evolution

The scarecrow exerted the last of its power. It bent down, put all of its weight on the third leg, and pushed upwards. The third leg wasn't as thick as the original two, and broke under the pressure . But it had done its purpose, the scarecrow was in the air.

The scarecrow's kick was different this time. The purpose was either to kill or knock out the opponent, not to stop momentum like the previous kick. Kicks like these would either win the fight or lose the fight. It was one or the other.

The kick floated through the air, and then, in that important moment, the scarecrow felt it connect. Under a fraction of a second, the two monsters had a battle of wills that would decide their fates. The scarecrow won.

The monster would have won if it hadn't been so complacent. Since it's body was so much more superior it only had to prove slight resistance against the scarecrows' cold and overwhelming will to become the most powerful.

The creature's body continued forward, but its head shot backwards. The head pulled the spine backwards, and the monster fell down on its back completely unconscious.

The scarecrow also fell on its back. Its three limbs were broken, and the monster was only unconscious and not dead. There was nothing else the scarecrow could be able to do. Ultimately, it was a draw.

The scarecrow heard something. Branches broke, some sort of grunting, bushes rattled, a strange but familiar language. It moved its head towards the sound, and saw a pack of goblins.

The goblins looked curious, and prodded the large black monster with their spears, to see if it was still dangerous. The monster remained unconscious even when the goblins shoved their spears through its chest killing it.

The goblin that did it moaned in joy. The experience that it gained through that simple act, was more experience then it had gained its entire life.

Two seconds later, the goblin started to change. It's muscles grew thicker, more texture. Its limbs are slightly longer. Its ears are sharper. It had evolved. It screamed out raising its spear above its head, and its pack did the same thing.

The scarecrow felt fury build up inside of it. This was a proper kill steal. The second it could, it would completely slaughter that particular goblin for this act. That was if it got out of this situation alive.

The goblins looked over towards the scarecrow, and a pack of them walked up and grabbed the scarecrow, lifting it up on their shoulders. The scarecrow couldn't understand why they did this.

This act also angered the scarecrow, enough so that it started screaming. Getting carried was a sign of weakness, not at all something the most powerful creature should be doing. The goblins ignored its shouting and continued walking in a direction.

A bird saw the scene and found it utterly strange. Two short green creatures with long noses and ears, had the torso and head of a living scarecrow on their shoulders. The scarecrow's mouth was open and it was screaming like mad. No, this was about enough for today, the bird flew away.

"Orwell," the scarecrow barfed when it realized that the screaming wouldn't do anything, "tell them to drop me."

"No," Orwell said.

This also angered the scarecrow. It's will was getting thrown around like it meant nothing. A direct refusiation by its own body. Did it even have a will? The scarecrow felt flames envelop its body.

"I will fucking skin you," the scarecrow said, a bit illogicallly.

"Fuck you."

The scarecrow went silent, still angry but silent. The goblins marched in a line, and the scarecrow didn't know where it was going. All it could see was the night sky, and the glittering stars.

Goblins were traditional creatures. They loved having shamans that did rituals, Their entire culture was built around it. It was such a huge part of their culture, that the different tribes made friends and enemies solely based on culture and tradition.

After about thirty minutes of walking, the goblins reached their home. They walked in, and threw the scarecrow into one of the tents where it laid, completely unable to move. They walked away leaving the scarecrow alone.

Their home was a three huts that were really just two walls leaning against each other, like the top of a house. It was enough to ward off the rain and harsh air, but still quite a poor construction. The huts were surrounded by sharp sticks pointing outwards, and about thirty goblins lived there, excluding the children.

The scarecrow was stuck. It needed food, but it had no way to get access to it. And sadly, it couldn't speak Goblin so it couldn't even try to talk them into giving it food. It hadn't realized how useful limbs were up until now.

"Orwell," the scarecrow said, "convince them to get me food."

"No, I want them to burn you. You disgusting piece of shit."

The scarecrow realized at that moment, that until it became the most powerful monster, being able to convince and persuade other beings would be quite a useful trick to know. It would aid it in its journey to the top.

"Goblins aren't good creatures," the scarecrow said, and it was the truth, but the scarecrow didn't know that. It just guessed, or rather, lied.

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Orwell said.

The scarecrow didn't know what to say. It didn't care about right and wrong, the notions were useless and unimportant. The only thing that was important in life was becoming the most powerful creature.

"Okay listen, I'm sorry," the scarecrow said, not at all sorry, "please help me out this once and I won't ever again kill."

"You're lying."

"About what?"

"About everything."

The conversation didn't go forward after that. But then something changed, they heard a noise, one that completely Orwell's attitude to the entire thing.

The goblins had captured two children. The children were kicking and shrieking and crying, but the goblins held them down, and led them into a cage. They were planning on burning them alive.