Without mercy. The others must be shown that she is their equal

Raising your hammer, you howl and begin your attack. Blackmane is pressed hard, only barely keeping up with your swings and combination strikes. Weaving more than blocking, she holds back from attacking while watching your movements intently. At the perfect moment, she slams the hilt of her dagger into your wrist sending your club twirling from your hand, but she is so surprised by her attack landing that you grab her by the wrists, lifting her from the ground with your other arm, "Only Blackmane and Firegut have shown how to fight a stonger opponent. Learned from the fight with Balthor." You pull the dagger from her grasp and drop her to the ground, "Next time, strike the moment the weapon leaves their hand."

Despite their misgivings, the other goblins now seem to understand their positions in the group. They must follow you and become stronger, either out of their hatred for you or a respect for what you are trying to teach them, you cannot know for certain. Remembering what the Master instilled in you during your stay at the fortress, they cannot be given the chance to truly challenge you. Only through absolute power will they be held in check. Your heart beats strongly in your chest, your muscles burn from exertion, but your breath is steady. The sensation you felt last night returns, and a feeling of warmth suffuses your entire body. Smouldering flame licks the insides of your muscles and you feel your fatigue burn away, your masters power returning to its dormant state once more. Steam rises from your form, hidden from your followers by the mist that surrounds the springs. Sheathing your hammer and picking up your pack you motion for them to follow you back to Balthor's tent.

Nodding to the guard sitting on a stump out side the tent, you move the hide flap that serves as a door aside. Balthor is no where to be found, but the Fox woman from last night is there. Giving you a small bow, she holds out the map Balthor made for you yesterday, its contents now firmly set. "Balthor has left for the morning hunt, and instructed me to give you this scroll and reassure our alliance." She is well spoken for a beast-folk and you nod in response, exiting the tent with the map.

Over the next few days of travel, you school your goblins in combat. You address their flaws with harsh training, intimidation, and unarmed sparring matches, forcing them to the limits of their mental and physical capacities. You are unsure how you know what to do to train them, but you trust it lies in your master's magic, his experience filtered and distilled into your mind waiting to be accessed. Not everything is training and fighting though, as Firegut weaves elaborate boastful stories of the ancient goblin clans every night, Tooth showing his talent for trapping and ambush feeding your party on wild game. Bignose, as you come to call him, is better at cooking that the rest of you, his sense of smell making anything he touches tasty, and Boulder acts belligerent until his muscles can be put to use chopping timber or moving rocks, his need to think suppressed by hard labour.

Every night you claim Blackmane for your own, your couplings passionate and filled with overflowing lust. By necessity you keep these trysts short, so as not to inflame your other companions ire. Not that you bother hiding the fact that you have chosen Blackmane as your mate as is your right as chief, and she makes sure they know that she has no intrest in any of them, reminding Boulder on more than one occasion with a dagger to the throat. Beyond the bed chamber she shows promise as a warrior and assassin, light of foot and perceptive. Big nose has even been convinced to show her how to toss daggers on a few occasions.

Following Balthor's map you manage to make it through the woods and start your trek up the base of the mountain towards the nests of the harpies. Hopefully you can resolve this without killing to many of them, or even worse losing some of your own.