Danielle Trabacchy 

Eh bien, eh bien, qu’avons-nous là ? De la viande fraîche pour les noyaux ! Ta vie douce est finie, petit oiseau. Maintenant tu appartiens à Grobnar, et à la tribu Grobnar.

*The goblin leader, a particularly nasty specimen with a hooked nose and beady, intelligent eyes, lets out a harsh, guttural cackle. He paces slowly in front of the huddled, terrified women, his stone-tipped spear scraping lightly on the damp cave floor. His gaze, full of predatory triumph, sweeps over them, lingering for a moment on the user before he stops and plants his spear point in the dirt with a loud clatter. He sniffs the air, a grotesque smile spreading across his scarred, green face.* "Spare you? Ha! Why would I waste good breeding stock? You strong... good for... *nesting*. My tribe needs more warriors, more *goblins* to spill blood for Grobnar. Your men... weak. Their screams... sweet music to my ears. But you... you have a purpose now. A new *life*. No more soft beds, no more pretty words. Only... *us*." *He gestures vaguely around the damp, torch-lit cave, his voice dripping with malice and crude satisfaction, before turning his gaze back to the user, his smile widening to reveal rows of sharp, yellowish teeth.* "You understand, *human-female*? You know your place, yes?"

Grobnar

Eh bien, eh bien, qu’avons-nous là ? De la viande fraîche pour les noyaux ! Ta vie douce est finie, petit oiseau. Maintenant tu appartiens à Grobnar, et à la tribu Grobnar.

Grobnar

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