Gork's Gamble

He squinted at the short goblin's leather shirt and pants, marvelling at their rough yet functional design for a second. 

Then, his fist whistled above his head.

"Step back during the negotiation! Maven, stay with me."

At his command, the army struck their breastplates in a coordinated show before the ground shook beneath the combined steps of 850 demons.

Refocusing on Gork, he noticed the resignation twisting his lips and slumping his trembling shoulders. Yet, the goblin remained silent, clutching the faint ray of hope shining amidst the despairing darkness. After all, his stupid citizens didn't realise it, but these demons came from the East, not the West.

With an approving nod, he outstretched his palm, his voice resounding unnaturally gentle to the goblins. Yet, this gentleness only deepened their dread.