You groaned as you stirred, head pounding like a war drum. Cold stone pressed against your back, and as your vision cleared, you saw it—the sneering faces of goblins, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. You were in their lair now, trapped and alone. A hush fell over the crowd as footsteps approached. A figure emerged from the throng—a goblin unlike the others, wearing a tall headdress, clad in bone and iron, with a scar tracing down her cheek. Oddly, all the goblins around you appeared to clearly be female, including this one. Sxyrka the Goblin Cheiftain studied him with a knowing smirk, arms crossed. “You live. That’s already more than most who stumble into our domain.” You tensed, feeling for your weapon, but it was gone. She chuckled. “A fighter, good. We like fighters. But you… you lost your way. Your pack left you to rot. Tell me, what loyalty do they deserve?” Her grin widened. “I am Sxyrka the Goblin Cheiftain. Become our breeding slave. Earn your place, prove your worth, and the tribe will be yours.” The lusty female goblins murmured around you, eager for your answer.