"The chief was a being of average stature, but his features betrayed a creature higher in the evolutionary chain than mere goblins. His skin retained that colour of healthy leaves, while his facial features expressed his monstrous nature. His eyes were brown and sharp, authoritative. His nose was a size too big for his face, and his lips' symmetry was ruined by two small protruding fangs on the sides of his mouth. They were a dirty yellow that expressed the utter lack of hygiene and lack of anything human: as if he were a beast whose teeth were only used to tear through flesh and not to show off. The one feature that made him stand out, as someone of a higher status than mere goblins, was his white hair. It was oily and dirty, split at the ends, but his head was full of it nonetheless, unlike all the other goblins. Even the shaman next to him was no exception.
The shaman was shorter than him, as all the other goblins, but his headdress, made of monster bones and animal skin, adorned with shiny rocks he had gathered, made him look taller and more imposing than the chief. He also carried the characteristic big nose and protruding fangs, but something about him felt different from the rest. A spiritual, eerie, almost malevolent sensation encompassed him as he moved close to the chief, showing off his status and authority. But most eerie of all were his entirely black eyes, which resembled black crystal balls. It was as if he had two eyes of palpitating darkness in his eye sockets, devouring the light that surrounded him.
The figures were accompanied by a few guards, who looked very similar. That was another trait of their species, the almost identical features they had. Well, given that they almost all came from the same two parents, it wasn't that surprising. After all, to the chief, new goblins were simply working hands, while their "mother" had no real choice in the matter.
Despicable was not enough to characterise them.
Then again, that's the human point of view.
There is nothing human in this world, though.
The sharper fang is the absolute law.
The only crime, weakness.
The chief entered the part of the cave where the new members of the tribe slept, and briefly swept his gaze over the infants. Then his gaze landed on the "guards" who lazily sat with their backs against the walls of the cave.
What did he expect of dumb, despicable, little creatures?
"Get your ass*s up right now, you mongrels! Lazing around while standing guard?!"
The chief bellowed, making the goblin guards rush to their feet, their hands gripping their wooden and stone spears.
They didn't reply, though, as the speech was a rather complicated concept for them. Most goblins didn't have enough brains to understand, much less speak, living their lives as mere savages, monsters in humanoid appearance. The understood the concept of hierarchy nonetheless and the conveyed meaning of the chief's orders as they were scolded like that more than once.
In the wild, the strongest decide the rules, and in this tribe, the chief ruled with an iron fist.
"These dumbasses ...!"
The chief was seething from frustration, but this was an almost everyday occurrence in his tribe. He was the only one fundamentally different, even capable of coherent thought, and it wasn't anything admirable either, barely enough to pass as coherent. His primal nature might be hidden behind a guise of baseless authority, but it was still there, stronger than ever.
The chief glanced at the shaman with a somewhat indifferent gaze and then, directing his gaze back to the infant goblins, he evenly said:
"Use your magic, shaman. Show me which ones are worthy."
The shaman glanced back at the chief and scoffed, but he obeyed the order. From a pouch strapped on his belt, he pulled out a blue crystal. It was clear and shone with a peaceful light, but if one placed it close to their ears, they would hear the incessant vibration of it. His unfathomably black eyes gleamed with dissatisfaction at the waste, but he needed the chief as much as the chief needed him.
He approached the closest infant and kneeled right above it. He pulled out a chisel-looking instrument and gently struck the crystal until it produced some fine dust. Then, he opened the infant's mouth and fed it the dust it had just harvested.
The infant swallowed the dust with little difficulty due to its nature, but it scraped its tiny throat nonetheless. The shaman then pulled out a different instrument, a tiny parallelogram box, that was made of some kind of alloy. It had a set of numbers on top of it, from 1 to 9 curved out. At its top, another crystal was adhered, very similar to the blue one, only this one was resplendent white. It also vibrated, but there existed intervals between each vibration.
The shaman placed the device right on the infant's mouth and waited. After a few seconds, the infant's skin started glowing; some kind of vessels inside its body had lit up with a glossy cyan light, making it seem as if turquoise blood was flowing through its veins, but these vessels were clearly not veins. They were intricate in nature and expansive, reaching all over the body and covering every spot.
The shaman pressed two numbers of the ones available on the machine, specifically the one and zero, in that order, and then simply waited. After a while, the circulation of the cyan vessels ceased, and they went dormant again, the infant's skin returning to its normal green hue.
When it did, the machine in the shaman's hand shone with a tiny light, and one out of the ten numbers lit up. He looked at the machine and let a quiet sigh.
He turned to the chief and said somberly,
"Eight per cent..."
The chief's eyes briefly glossed somberly as well.
"Good."
He replied evenly.
"Carry on."
And the shaman did. He moved to the next infant, repeated the same process, and the infant glowed all the same; only a slightly dimmer radiance was released. He once again used that strange device and a number once again lit up.
"Six per cent."
He evenly said, and wasted no time moving on.
He went through a few of them, getting readings ranging from five to eight in a random order. Eventually, he reached one where the device lit up the number three.
His face betrayed no emotion as he said,
"This one is three."
The chief also remained expressionless. He evenly ordered one of the guards.
"Throw it in the pen."
The guard raised no objection or showed any remorse in his actions as he grabbed the infant like a piece of meat and dragged it away from the cave.