Gribul arrived at the war camp just as the sun was disappearing. The sky was an ugly orange, like rust. The wind blew gray. And the ground was nothing but trampled mud. The entrance to the place was made of bones. Literally. There was a stake with three dried heads — one human, one goblin, one of something he didn't recognize and preferred not to ask about.
"We're here," said the demon pulling the rope, smiling like he'd brought a pig to the slaughter.
Gribul swallowed hard.
Or tried to. His throat was too dry.
Inside the camp, it was worse.
There was every kind of noise.
Clashing swords.
People screaming.
Demons laughing.
Creatures crying.
And the smell… the smell was sweat, blood, and spoiled soup.
"New recruit line, to the left!" someone shouted.
Gribul was shoved over there, along with other goblins and small orcs. Everyone looked lost. Some tried to stand tall, others trembled like sticks. One goblin, smaller than Gribul, was biting his own finger out of nerves. Another had already fainted while standing.
"Name?" asked a demon in black armor, with three eyes and a mouth full of crooked teeth.
"G-G-Gri... Gribul," he answered, tripping over his own tongue.
"Hahaha! What a horrible name!" the demon laughed. "This one's definitely dangerous. Probably killed twenty humans before breakfast."
"What?! Me? No! I never... not even a chicken!"
"Even better!" shouted the demon, slapping Gribul's shoulder so hard he almost flew. "That kind is the craziest. Eternal Darkness Clan, right?"
"Clan of what?"
He had never heard of that before.
"Noted. You're going to the Bloody Vanguard Squad."
"What?"
"Good luck. They die fast."
Before he could protest, another goblin was shoved in front of him.
"Next!"
Gribul just stood there.
He didn't understand a thing.
What was the Darkness Clan?
Why was he sent to a squad with "bloody" in the name?
That's not the kind of place with a happy ending.
"Captain Gron will pick you up. Stay here."
So he stayed.
Time passed.
A demon showed up.
Big guy, with an axe bigger than Gribul.
Came in spitting on the ground and scratching his horn.
"This one's the new guy?"
"Yeah."
"The one from the Darkness Clan?"
"Yeah."
"Looks weak."
"That's why he's dangerous."
Gron looked at Gribul like he wanted to squeeze him into a ball of mud.
"Let's go."
And off they went.
The walk to the squad tent was short, but Gribul tripped three times. The last time was on a bone. He didn't ask what creature it came from.
When they arrived, he saw the rest of the group.
There was an orc with a scar over his face and only one eye.
A guy whose whole face was stitched.
A woman with a tattoo on her left eye that glowed.
Everyone had a look that said, "I've killed and I'll kill again."
Gribul tried to smile. A crooked, toothless smile.
No one smiled back.
"Who's this?" asked the stitched guy.
"New recruit."
"Darkness Clan?"
"Yeah. They picked up one today."
"Those guys are nuts."
"Once heard one of them ripped out his own eyes just to see hell."
"It's true. The guy became a general."
Gribul's eyes widened.
"I… I'm not from that clan. My mom fries mushrooms…"
He tried to explain.
Silence.
The woman with the tattoo started laughing.
"Hahaha! His mom fries mushrooms! This goblin's a genius!"
"Totally insane. Just like the others."
"This one's going far."
Gribul stopped talking.
Every time he opened his mouth, things got worse.
They gave him a tent.
It was small.
Smelled like mold and old sweat.
But it had a half-torn blanket and a clay bowl.
He crawled inside.
Wrapped himself up.
And tried to sleep.
But he couldn't.
Because outside someone was playing a drum.
Another was sharpening an axe.
And someone yelled in a monstrous voice: "I'LL EAT YOUR EYES!"
Gribul cried a little.
Just a bit.
Very quietly.
No one heard.
Or if they did, they probably thought it was a prayer.