The Heroes are slaughtering everybody! I stand no chance! I must flee!

You watch as the heroes cut through your brethren without a hint of trouble, cutting down your master's warriors like a scythe through wheat. You watch blood and gore spill and make the floors and walls slick with crimson wetness and you feel your first instance of fear rise up in your chest. You have barely received this life and you find that you do not want to lose it just yet!

Fear fills you as your weapon falls from your nerveless hand and you turn to run from the heroes who are mercilessly cutting through the rest of the master's servants who throw themselves forward without regard for their own life. Perhaps it is due to how you were created, but you seem to possess more awareness of your own mortality and more desire to preserve your life than the others. There is no overzealous desire to die for the master within you, only a desire to survive.

You flee and eventually find a shadowed corner to hide in while the heroes kill their way to the dark lord's throne room. You sit there, shivering in fear, as the heroes pass you and all falls to silence. Eventually, you hear some great commotion and feel magical energy in the air, but that too eventually comes to an end and then all is silence.

It is hours later when you are found by a pair of lesser goblins and dragged before the master, who had dispatched the heroes with relative ease. You are dragged before him and he sigh in disappointment as he holds his hand up and begins to strip you of your very life-****, dragging the magical energy that resides in you and animates your body from you as you writhe in agony.

"I have no need for a cowardly minion who runs and hides at the first hint of danger. You disappoint me...", he says to you and those words follow you into oblivion as your very being is sundered and you return to the nothingness that spawned you.