A corrupt King sits the throne. The last generation of heroes have gone extinct. The lands are as green and as promising as they ever were. The Gods watch with interest and they wait. As next the next uprising comes from the most unlikely of places. A slow burn novel.
Beam's sword split it in two. He made sure to wreck the body as much as he could. He wasn't sure if that truly did anything to the process of monstification – if it prevented crystals from being used. But from how he'd seen the shadowy figures strive to keep the corpses intact, he thought that at the very least, it would serve as a hindrance.
Eight pairs of eyes drifted around at the goblin's warning. Even this close, Beam could not see any faces beneath the hoods of the shadows.
They turned to him, with less urgency than one might expect for people – or things – whose lives were certainly in danger. With an arm motion from one, the goblins, as a collective, gave a shriek. The hobgoblin bounced delightedly to the front of the enraged army, as though pleased to have been relieved of its task of dealing with the fire.