The sun hung high over the goblin village. By now, every villager was already awake and tended to their duties or, if they finished them already, was either playing, resting or fucking (the goblin hobby par excellence). Of course, the village in general currently waited for the hunting party to return from their bi-weekly expedition into the forest surrounding the village, which both served as their main source of food and supplies, and prevented attacks from the neighboring human town.
It was almost noon, so many of the goblins whose work depended on the resources from the forest, like warehouse keepers and package deliverers, were already waiting their return at the gates of the village.
It was only a few minutes after the agreed time when they started hearing countless steps coming from the forest; soon, two dozen or so goblins, both male and female, came out from its limits carrying bulky packages. The waiting crowd started cheering noisily, and the hunting party replied with loud yells of their own, some of them pointing excitedly towards a particularly big lump that was being carried on a stretcher by three burly goblin warriors.
They finally joined the welcoming group, exchanging both greetings and packages in a frantic yet highly coordinated manner, so no goblin hindered one another.
From the green swarm, a lone goblin emerged and sprinted towards the village. His chubby body waddled with little grace as he ran with surprising speed, making the hunter's horn that hung from his neck bounce with every step. Such a physique made Gorgoruk a rare addition to the hunting party, which usually comprised the stouter male warriors and stealthier huntresses; however, his presence could be explained by the short time it took him to cover the distance from the gate to a slightly secluded hut near the heart of the town.
The hut, already slightly crooked, was in terrible shape: several bricks were missing from its walls and so much smoke had stained it that it was almost black. Gorgoruks' lack of breath wasn't enough to drown a loud mechanical buzzing coming from inside. He banged more than knocked on the door; the sound of metal crashing and a loud swear preceded the stopping of the sound, and a few instants later, the door opened.
The goblin that came out whore thick protective lenses and had striking green hair, combed in a spiky hairdo that made it seem as if his skull exploded. He was sucking on his thumb, which was bleeding slightly.
"What is it, Gorg'? I'm working," he said, annoyed. The chubby goblin hastily grabbed him by the arm.
"Working schmorking, 'Lar: you've got to see this!" he replied, pulled on his arm. His friend, knowing of Gorgoruk's common disregard (born from ignorance, if we're being honest) for his duties, quickly grabbed the frame of his house with his free arm.
"Hell, no!" he exclaimed. "I'm in the middle of the bigger project of MY LIFE, and I'm not going to stop because of your flaky bouts of excitement. If it's of any real importance, I'll check it out at dinner time, like the other scholars."
"Lethlar," said the fat goblin in a condescending tone that made the bespectacled goblin want to let go of the doorframe to smack him, "what's a mere sex toy compared to the best bounty we've ever found? I'm doing you the favor of coming to pick you up before you're last on the list to try her."
"I don't only make sex toys, you dumb-" Lethlar started to argue, but his friend had taken advantage of his indignation to finally pry him from the door frame, and started dragging him back to the gate.
Gorgoruk rambled all the way back to the entrance about their "amazing" catch and how it was "nothing like you've ever seen before," but his reluctant companion wasn't listening. From the moment they left his house, his gaze was fixed on the darkness beyond his open door, even after he finally lost sight of it.
Lethlar's job as a tinkerer was rare, since it required focus and an ability to plan that was hard to find among goblins, but also invaluable, given his kind's reliance on complex mechanisms; mainly, sex toys. He was the only tinkerer on this village, so almost all the building and repairing of trinkets big and small fell on him. One would think the amount of work he did for the community would be deserving of respect and recognition, right? But goblins don't work like that.
For such a weak, easily overpowered race, safety was only found in numbers; as such, goblin societies had grown to be clockwork-like structures, where every single goblin was both vital for the survival of the whole and unremarkable in their achievements. Each goblin was a cog, and they all knew that their one calling was to keep the whole machine working.
But not Lethlar. His sharp mind wasn't the only thing setting him apart from his fellow goblins, but a much, much rarer trait: he was extremely ambitious. His overzealous dedication to his current project was not out of a regular goblin-like commitment to fulfilling the village's needs, but because it was his last hope of getting some recognition; that's why he had to make it bigger, stronger, more amazing than any other device he'd ever made.
It was also why non-essential interruptions (like this one) irritated him so much. He was so lost in this thought that he almost didn't realize that they had reached the village's entrance.
The freshly picked vegetables, game and other supplies that had been brought by the hunting party laid untouched in piles next to the road. Lethlar raised an eyebrow: goblins letting their tasks pile up in such little time? He actively started following his friend towards the group of goblins at the gate, now huddled tightly around the hunting party and... something else.
It took a while to push through the crowd. Finally, they reached the center, where a couple of women, still wearing their customary camo straps, along with three stout men flanked an unusual package: a young, naked woman, seemingly unconscious, hogtied over a piece of wood. The angle on which she slept prevented the tinkerer from taking a good look at her, but he could tell she had a shapely form, milky skin and bright pink hair, which hid her face. He frowned.
Every now and then, a human would wander too far into the forest; if they were really unlucky, they would stumble upon a goblin expedition like this one, and be captured by them. Again, a goblin is pretty harmless on its own, but a group of them (in particular, one made of skilled hunters) can be a real problem, exponentially so with every member.
If they managed to catch the human, they would almost always use them as entertainment; that is, sex slaves. They'd forced to sate the needs of the whole village for what could be weeks or even a couple of months, until the novelty wore off; after that, the goblins would let them go, sore and disoriented. Goblins were not orcs nor demons and didn't kill if it wasn't necessary; besides, killing a human would really draw the ire of their whole town, while a mere gang-rape only discouraged humans from going too deep into the forest or, as some goblins joked, encouraged the right ones to do it.
