|That Goblin Tribe|
That Goblin Tribe
Goblins in the north say they've seen three or four human migrations. The men that came on the island on rowing boats, they dislike the most, because they worship in forests, forests where the goblins used to live.
If only the cowardly survive, is it any wonder all their sons are cowards?
In the area there used to be five goblin tribes. The four others have been wiped by those humans that worship the thunder. That remaining goblin tribe is named Anthaman, it used to have a strong warrior chief, but the humans despatched him. His brother Berett wrestled the scepter from other would be chiefs. He was and is supported by the females of the tribe and his magical powers, since he is a shaman.
Berett is obsessed with the survival of the tribe. The skirmish that saw the loss of his brother the warrior chief also saw the death of the main warriors, only remain the young and the old.
Up until now the tribe, like many goblin tribes, alternated between the hit, hit, die tactic and the hit, run, hide tactic. The fertility of the females should have somehow compensated for the losses. Yet tribes are reduced to shreds and the survivors have to join other tribes as slaves or the gods know what happens to them.
Berett, helped by older warriors of his friends, started drilling his young warriors, and they learned a new word, attrition.
Scimitars and maces are only for the last recourse. Shortbows, wicker pavises, and prepared positions and ranges are to be mastered.
The woods where the tribe lives have been prepared, blackberry brambles have been seeded, transplanted, encouraged by the goblins, they thus have been amenaged with ambush points, complete with prepared fire positions, and range markers only discernable by the bow goblins and those who know what to look for.
Ambush points are linked by secret paths, and hiding nests and observation points dot the web of paths. Intruder parties are slowly stung down, close combat is never offered.
Berett hopes his organization will outlive him.