Kraxhad hated unicorns. He hated their smooth white hair. He hated the calm look in their eyes or their playful nuzzling. And he hated their horns most of all. He had collected seventeen of the things in his time in the Feywild. He and his fellow hobgoblin allies had hunted the beasts for a full moon now, and it appeared they would end the month with a prime take.
Seven of the white horned beasts grazed on some tall grass next to a shallow brook. Kraxhad’s second, an archer named Thorndum, knocked a wicked barbed arrow and drew back. He aimed his shot and Kraxhad held his breath, his hand gripping his runed staff and a pinch of sulfer in the other, the component required to throw a ball of magical fire upon the pack of unicorns.
He never got the chance.
Kraxhad had never seen one of his companions bitten in half before. It was lightning quick and very messy. He looked over to the quivering legs and mid-section of Thorndrum. The arrow fell harmlessly to the ground, though the the bow that had prepared to fire it was crushed into splinters. Kraxhad looked up to behold the beast who chewed his friend. It stood nearly twenty feet tall, massively muscled and wide chested. It held a huge twin-bladed sword in one hand and the other held what looked to be a shield built from the skull of an ancient dragon. Gore hung from the huge creature’s mouth as it smiled at Kraxhad. In its blue skin, Kraxhad saw a scar that looked like a “B” in the common tongue.
A sweep of the huge beast’s blade split three more of Kraxhad’s companions in two. A second sweep sent three heads into the air. As nearly an afterthought, the huge creature gave Kraxhad a kick that broke three ribs in Kraxhad’s chest and splintered his left lower leg. Kraxhad’s whole body began to shake and a deep cold filled his skin.
“I know you,” Kraxhad croaked. This seemed to take the massive blue creature by surprise. “My great grandfather used to share stories his great grandfather had shared from his own. You’re the Godslayer.”
“Today I am the hobgoblin slayer,” said the beast, wiping the ruins of Thorndum from his mouth. “You might say I have turned over a new leaf.”
“I don’t understand,” said Kraxhad. He could feel his vision tunneling.
“I met some people. They freed me and they gave me a chance to be something else. I have killed twenty six gods in my lifetime and hundreds of their servants. If I spend every day making up for the immortal lives I took, the sun would burn out before I would be done.”
“But I’m trying, hobgoblin,” the Godslayer turned to look at the herd of unicorns still grazing by the brook. Kraxhad saw the look of sadness and love in the huge blue-skinned beast’s eyes. “and I will keep trying until the end of days.”
The Godslayer turned his gaze back to the hobgoblin. Kraxhad watched the massive creature raise his blade once again and it was the last thing Kraxhad ever saw.