Once across The Sleeve, the little goblin didn’t have to travel far to find the resisting armies. All along the coast were camps full of all kinds of creatures training to stop and drive back the Dark Warrior’s armies to whatever crack in the earth they had crawled out from.
In one such camp the little goblin was supposed to be learning to use his sword but, as he could barely lift it, using it to fight was an impossibility. He knew it was supposed to alter once in battle, to grow lighter, and sharpen itself, but the little goblin could not see the point of this if he had not gained enough training to be able to use it properly- to attack and defend like his comrades were learning.
Elsewhere another young, but taller and much stronger, goblin was struggling with the bow and arrow his elders had sent him forward with. The whole procedure was too fiddly for his great carrot-sized fingers and he longed for a weapon to grip and swing.
The two met in the dining area, starting to chat idly as they did every night with a different goblin. This time, though, when they spoke of their dissatisfaction with their weapons, a plan of switcheroo was the swift and logical conclusion.
And so the pair carried on in one another’s places, each pleasing their new instructors with their superior abilities. And they themselves felt better prepared for their war against the coming danger of darkness.
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