Macktaw

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Beats the war drum. My eyes are closed feeling the beat of the drum. It rushes my blood, it warms me, it fills me until my heart beat and the drum beat are one and the same. I am ready.

This delicate moment between battle and rest is what I live for. What we live for. My clan stands next to me, all of us becoming one with the drum. Together we join together as one. I care not for my life anymore. Because now we are a bigger creature. Now we are the Clan of Macktaw and the tall legs will fear us! Tonight the goblins will win!

My eyes open preparing for the bloodshed. I look at my brothers each also with the same expression, that grin, that primal desire. Either we will know victory or we shall be reborn as babes once more, just to live for this again. Long legs are dumb, sure they are better at math, better at magic, but never do they understand what it is the be clan. Never do they know what it is to lose yourself like this, they will never experience such unity.

It's time. We all feel it together, time to charge, time to rush and rend limbs from body. Time for us to meet our end. We wait one moment longer one of us will receive the honor of first screech. Only then can we start. I sit patiently waiting for the blood curdling shriek. But no one shrieks.

Only silence, I am confused, why will they not screech? But then I feel it gather in my lungs, a dizzying high overcomes me and I realize, they will not screech because it is I who receives this honor, I who get to mark the beginning of the raid! It wells inside of me primal and raw, I take a deep breathe to ready my lungs for this. And I screech with all my might.

AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAIIIIIIAAAAIIIIII! I howl into the night. Instantly the horde moves forward. In every fashion, the Rat Riders crouch down on the backs of their beasts and tug their ears as a sign to move forward. The hunter's crouch into the brush and disappear, the shamans start their songs of courage their songs filling the horde with pride and bravery. The disciplined commanders walk forward on two legs bows drawn. And finally the bulk of the horde is unleashed. Charging forward blindly and passionately, some run like rats on all fours, others are hopping in anticipation as they charge, we are one! And as a horde we shall slaughter them all!

And now I charge forward, on all fours I run with my brothers, the long legs will pay for what they did, they'll see what clan is, and they won't be able to help but be jealous.

It isn't long before we reach the walls of the town archers posted on them firing down on us. The smell of first blood enters the air, the brother to my right stricken in the face, dead, he was given the honor to be the first dead, an honorable brother indeed. But not much time to honor him now we must fight, I charge to the front gate pushing past my brothers until I reach the wooden gate.

"AAAgGghhh It won't start! Damn Long Rocks!" Says Red Jackal. "Maybe too wet? Here I'll dry them on this cloth!" And blue jackal takes it and dries it on his shirt. "Idiot! That cloth is wet hand me the spark rock, none of you know anything!" I shriek at them taking the rocks. Those idiots! We need to start fire now! The gate must burn if the horde is to efficiently enter the city. Hunters are no doubt inside now hunting down the toughest long legs, hunters can't be without the horde for too long, they are alone and need our support and our chaos.

"Green Jackal you don't know any more than the rest of us! What are you going to do different?" Yells blue jackal. Damn Birth mates don't know nothing! I can't believe we are of the same blood. "I'm starting fire damn it! None of you will ever be commander, you don't have the brains for that!" I turn my focus to the rock and strike them. Sparks appear but no fire. "See no fire! And what do you know! You'll never be commander either!" says red jackal.

A warning screech fills the air, I remember that screech, the oil screech. "Birth mates run!! The oil!" and i take off instantly. Leaving them behind. I glance behind me and blue jackal is behind me but red jackal is at the gate still. I watch as hot oil drenches him. A pang of grief appears in my gut for just a moment, as much as we fight I still like my birth mates. And now red jackal is gone. It doesn't last for long. He shall be reborn as a babe once more, for now however we must charge.

I remember oil burns well, once we shot a fire arrow at some long leg barrels and it burned strongly. Sparks are but baby fires they need food and oil is like the pig to fire. I take cover behind some of my brothers who are trying theyre hardest to shoot the archers on top of the wall. Until im on the edge of the oil. Birth mate red jackal you will recieve the ultimate honor of being fire food, and end your existence as the color that defined you, red as fire birth mate, red as fire!

I hit the rocks and sparks fly, some burn me but I don't mind. The rest fall on the oil setting it alight. Fire spreads across the gate as it burns down. I see fear across the human's faces. Fear of not me, but us, of Macktaw! Together we charge! Together we fight! Together we are all one, an unstoppable god!

I grab a long stick from nearby wrap it with a cloth and set it aflame, I will burn them in our name! The gate burns down enough to leave a hole, without thinking I charge into the town torch brandished in one hand, and my blade in the other. I feel the spirit of Macktaw embody me. I have been chosen by the clan to lead us into battle, chosen to be a commander, chosen to be a legend.

I send my own input into the clan, without words I communicate my intentions, the long legs stand prepared to defend their homes, they don't strike first once we are in the walls, they stand wondering if we will negotiate, but they stand ready. I hold my arm up allowing my brothers to gather behind them, our eyes glowing in the darkness, their faces hardly illuminated against my fire.
"What do you want, monster!" yells one of the long legs. Monster? What an odd word. We are Goblins, monsters are things in your head, we are things here for real, in body and flesh. "You mean Macktaw, what does Macktaw want?" I turn for a second to face my brothers.

"My brethren what does Macktaw want? What do we want?" My voice deepens, and stops cracking as I feel our collective spirit gather in me. They will never know what it is like to be a god, to be united wholly and truly. I feel the thoughts of the clan without word, blind unfettered passion. Bloodlust, what we want is to burn and kill until nothing is left

My hand still raised, I say "What we want is for your blood! To burn you all! Macktaw cries for blood, we cry for blood, I CRY FOR BLOOD AND I SHALL ATTACK, FOR I AM MACKTAW THE UNBROKEN, AND YOU WILL FEAR ME!" And my hand lowers, beyond my control.

A shriek escapes my lungs, I no longer am in control, Macktaw controls me, the clan controls me, I am their pawn and I will lead them into battle, into victory. My brothers charge in swarming around me, but I stand unphased walking slowly forward. Discipline and control in every movement, yet I am not in control. I have become a legend, an enormous honor.

Blind passion doesn't fill me anymore, but coherent thought. I live for them, I live for the clan. A rider pulls up next to me and says "Divine one, please take my rat, you shall fight up front with our brothers as a figure of command and order, as is our will" he says stepping off the rat. I climb on top and nod at him as I say "Thank you, Yellow Moth, now bring victory and may you die with honor and be reborn as Macktaw once more!"

I feel his responsibility peel off his shoulders unto mine, he returns to the horde no longer as a rider but as a true goblin. I shriek once more and charge into the battle on rat back. I reach the front lines quickly and lose myself. All that exists is the slash of my blade, the blood from my enemies. Limbs torn from bodies, my brethren feasting on the corpses already. Commands bark from my lungs without thought or effort, our attack not pure chaos but directed chaos.

I feel bad for the humans, they will never be able to experience this. This special joy exists only for goblins. Something they can never do. Never will they make God for they divide themselves up too much. They are too closed off from one another, not willing to let anyone and everyone into their hearts. They live uncertain and afraid of death. Never can they know what being a goblin is. Never.

And I wouldn't trade this for the world. Never would I chose to be anything but Goblin. They say we are dumb, blind to the future, too passionate, evil, but this is the way you should live. Without all this thought in the way, we must live like this, with raw passion in everything we do. And so humans, I encourage you to open up to one another, and enjoy the raw emotion in creating a god. Trust me. It's worth it. And maybe if you do it, we would no longer need to fight, just a thought.