Drums of War

The beat was constant in their thoughts. The men had been separated from their unit for three days now and all they could hear in the dark woods was the constant drumming. It seemed that no matter which direction they the beat got louder.

Goblins. This was their forest and these men were intruders. There wasn’t much left to do except give up hope and prepare to be skinned alive.

No. They had to get out. Had to survive. Death wasn’t an option. They were Men of Iron.

The beat came again, this time closer than ever.


The men froze in fear. There was a rustle in the bushes. Drawing their swords they steadied themselves and readied for battle.

A lone goblin child emerged from the bushes beating a single drum. The child wept, for he had been separated from his tribe in the last battle. The men wasted no time. Each of them, in turn, skewered the poor child with their swords.

They had chosen their fate. Their lives were now forfeit.

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