Chaos. There is no discipline in place at all.

You hear the shouts and voices of your goblin "brethren" before you even reach the wooden door that marks the entrance to their quarters, those verbal ejaculations punctuated by the sound of something breaking every so often or a blow landing on flesh. It is clear that what your master had showed you was not an exaggeration meant to spur you into action. And, as you open the door, you see that for a fact with your own burning red eyes.

The room is soaked with the stench of sweat, sex and excrement and you wrinkle your nose against the stench assaulting your nostrils as you enter. Almost immediately, you have to dodge around a pair of goblins who are wrestling on the ground over what appears to be a shiny bauble of some sort. They are both bloody and bruised, but they don't seem to care as they curse each other in goblin-speak and roll across the ground. They knock over a few in their path and those, too, begin to fight and squabble as though the idiocy of the brawl was contagious.

Those who weren't fighting were stuffing their faces with whatever scraps of food and drink they possessed, fighting off those who sought to take whatever it was from them, or sleeping in heaps of garbage or fucking like animals in their own filth. It was an affront, you thought, to what goblin-kind could be for, looking at yourself, you knew that goblins could be more. If properly disciplined and trained, goblins could be a great fighting ****.

This group, however, was left to revel in their base instincts and chaos and you knew this was the fault of the one that called himself their leader, Rizlyx. A weak leader means a weak group. Your master is strong and, therefore, his armies are strong. They are loyal and willing to die for him, as you saw when the heroes attacked the previous day. They are willing throw themselves into danger for your master because he is strong. A good leader. One who will bring victory. Is this Rizlyx that?

Your master doesn't think so and, from what you can see, neither do you. It is a good thing you are here, you decide, to fix this. To make sure that this Rizlyx knows his place. You will make sure of that. Your master has faith in you to do so.

You push your way through the crowd of goblins, some of them looking at you in surprise and confusion as you pass since you look both like and unlike them. You are a goblin and, yet, you are something more. Different. Stronger. Better. That is what you are and you know that, as they look at you, some of them instinctively feel that difference. They feel it just as they would feel it from your master as his magical essence runs through your veins and animates your body.

It is with the confidence and surety of motion that such power grants you that you move to the end of the room where you can already see the goblin Rizlyx lounging on his throne. He has in his lap a goblin female bouncing upon his cock. You note that his cock is perhaps half the size of your own and you feel a very male sense of triumph and pride at that. If you were measuring leadership capability solely based on the size of your dicks, you'd beat him hands down. You know, however, that is not how this will be settled.

You are only a few feet away from him when Rizlyx notices you and, with a growl, tosses the female bodily from his prick, the soft-bodied female crawling away as soon as she hits the floor. Rizlyx stands from his throne and glares at you as he reaches for his club and stares you up and down. He studies you and you can see in his piggish gaze something akin to fear flash before he hides it with anger and disdain.

"What are you? You dress like man, but look like goblin. Like freak goblin, but goblin.", he grunts at you in goblin-speak, his words rough even in his native tongue, "Who are you? Why you here?"

You stand tall before him, clutching your obsidian club in your right hand as you stare at him with your burning red eyes. "The master has sent me. I am...", you say, your speech in goblin-speak much smoother than when you speak Common, and pause as you realize you have no name proper, simply what your master calls you and what you referred to yourself as when in his presence. You decide, though, that is name enough. It is all you will need, in any case.

"I am Minion.", you say and this draws a harsh laugh from Rizlyx, the laughter starting to be joined by laughter of the other goblins around you who have stopped to watch the proceedings.

"We all minions, fool.", he says and snorts as he steps closer and looks at you more closely. Again, you can see fear in him, but he hides it beneath his foolish pride and arrogance as he looks down his nose at you. "You freak goblin, but big, look strong. Not strong as me, but strong. You follow me. Listen to me. Get females and loot."

You understand that he's offering you a deal and, as he does, you see him gesture to one of the females that had been servicing him in the image your master had projected for you. She is a beauty, by goblin standards, with long black hair and full, thick lips. Her eyes are a surprising blue and she demurely aims them at the ground. She has a soft, round belly, but it is matched by heavy breasts, curvy hips and round, plump rear. She is a far cry from the softness and smoothness of your pet gnome, but there is something about the scent of a goblin female that appeals to a primal instinct to mate within you and makes your cock twitch in your breeches.

Still, that is not what you were here for. You had a task to complete. You should focus on that.