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Goblins All Around Me: Goblin Love Stories - Memoirs of a Goblin Shaman
Goblins All Around Me: Goblin Love Stories - Memoirs of a Goblin Shaman
Goblins All Around Me: Goblin Love Stories - Memoirs of a Goblin Shaman
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Goblins All Around Me: Goblin Love Stories - Memoirs of a Goblin Shaman

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This is an abomination of a book filled with goblins, profanities, goblins, jokes about humans, and goblins.
Joh Ni is an unlikeable little green vegetarian bastard that’s been fed up with stupidity, even his own. His whole battalion is killed by a human hero, but unfortunately, he is now haunted by the ghosts of his 496 dead fellows, urging him of all goblins to take revenge. Even though he can’t even see blood Joh Ni tries his best to lay the ghosts to rest and finally get some quiet in his head. But on his way to redemption, it seems like everyone from drug-addicted elves up to interdimensional monsters is trying to stop him, including his lector... Oh, and all of this is actually a love story... kinda.
Erscheinungsdatum22. Sept. 2021
Goblins All Around Me: Goblin Love Stories - Memoirs of a Goblin Shaman
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    Goblins All Around Me - Joh Ni Goblin

    Joh Ni Goblin

    Goblin Lovestories - Book 1

    Goblins All Around Me

    Copyright © 2021 by Joh Ni Goblin

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

    This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

    Joh Ni Goblin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

    Joh Ni Goblin has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

    First edition

    Translation by Hannes Wagner


    ISBN: 978-3-96931-850-8

    Verlag GD Publishing Ltd. & Co KG, Berlin

    E-Book Distribution: XinXii


    Table of Contents

    Goblin Love Stories


    Start Scene - Everyone dies (non-skippable)

    Level 1 – Tentacle Monsters

    Level 2 – A sad Feast

    Level 3 - Mold

    Level 4 – Bloody Forest Elves

    Cutscene - Jungle Training (no tiger eyes, please)

    Level 5 – High Elves

    Level 6 – Prison Break

    Level 7 – Between a Rock and a Hard Place

    Level 8 – The Dark Heart of the Jungle

    Level 9 – Ghost Privilege

    Level 10 – Call me Hans

    Level 11 – Teenage Magic Ninja Demons

    Level 12 - Magic Mushroom Boss Fight

    Cutscene - Farewell

    A Word by the Author

    A Word by the Translator

    Want to know more about goblins?

    Goblin Love Stories

    Tales of a Goblin Shaman Supreme

    Book One – Goblins all around me


    Hello Dear Reader, it’s me, the one this book is about. So, please appreciate me writing some words ahead of the action because there would be no action without me. Actually, I wanted to call this book: The Grand Shaman – Life and Times of a Goblin Supreme, but my lector told me that people need a little romance, so I had to have at least some in the title -if not anywhere else in the book. And my lector is a damn troll, so I better listen to her if I don’t want to be her dinner.

    If you sometimes wonder why the language sounds wrong or weird to you, well it’s partly because that’s how I, a goblin, speak, and also because I am damn lazy when it comes to writing. In fact, I dictated everything to my assistant Hans, who, well, is a bit special, but no spoilers here. We get to this later. Also, if you read this with a voice in mind, it would flatter me if you could imagine my own voice. It’s not as dull, soft, and squeaky clean as a human voice. Try imagining how your own voice would sound if someone stepped on your feet while you are gargling with nails. I like my voice, it squeals at the right points and growls at the… well, other right points.

    Also, add a bit of flair, by using the right accent. Some human told me that we goblins sometimes sound somehow aggressive, angry, and philosophically at the same time. Even so, the human added the last part only after I held my little knife to his throat and chewed on his ear. I am quite sensitive to those specicists nowadays, always those prejudices about us goblins being aggressive and short-fused.

    And now, my dear and hopefully lovely readers, sit your fat human ass down, and I only mean this in comparison to my tiny goblin ass, I assure you, and enjoy this book.

    Start Scene - Everyone dies (non-skippable)

    It was morning when the human attacked.

    Just the day before my battalion had destroyed a human village. We hadn’t had any losses. Ok –Slabgab, Garub, and Masss had been slaughtered by the sturdy blacksmith, but this did not count as a loss, as they had been stupid assholes.

    Well, I hid inside a small basement during the whole attack, because I am not made for bloodshed. But from what I saw, the standard human was no match for a horde of goblins. Yeah, maybe one on one a grown male with a fork could get to us, but normally goblins never fight one on one.

    I had been really lucky to not have seen the massacre because I had a weakness for small, helpless animals - even for humans. It was over quickly. I know, dear reader, that there are a lot of misconceptions about rape and torture done by goblins, but actually this nearly never happens. Torture requires at least a bit of imagination, which most of my fellow comrades lack, and as for rape… well, we goblins don’t really have a taste for ugly humans; most of us can’t even tell men and women apart.

    Well, except for me, I somehow can feel the gendery atmosphere around beings. I call it a vibe. It may seem a useless skill living amongst goblins, who think gender is a bug they ate yesterday. Unless you have the task to separate the tiny hair piglets, so they don’t multiply too much. Which I did all the time, I love those tiny, hairy, squeaky bastards.

    Also, intercourse with other species seems just unnatural to most goblins. I mean, just imagine a group of human hunters suddenly finding one of their own defiling a hare or a deer during the hunt. Oh, the blame and the shame. And we goblins are quite a spiteful bunch, so most of us try not to do stuff that grips the attention of the others.

    Moreover, being sexually active is only for the tribe leaders. Our women are big and green and mean. They are bigger than horses, half of the time ready for mating, the other half spitting out little goblins like a reloading crossbow. The concept of motherly love does not exist for goblins. Well, the concept of love itself… ah, forget it.

    So, where was I? Ah, yes. This horrible human. We had just finished breakfast when it attacked. The guards had been killed in seconds – yes, I know what a second is, dear reader – and now he or she was slicing and ripping through the rest of our battalion without ever stopping: one cut - one goblin. Its movements were so fast, they were blurred. Its armor and swords sparkled with magic, as it uttered words of power to create explosions left and right, killing everyone that wasn’t cut up already. I know a little bit of magic because I was a shaman’s apprentice - before they pressed me into this folly of a war, and so I consider myself a connoisseur of words of power. And I can tell you one thing: those words, they were the real thing. Like whoa… POWER, if you understand what I mean, dear reader.

    In less than five minutes our whole group, 496 goblins, were killed. If it hadn’t been so tragic and gory it would have looked like one of those slapstick plays they always show during the solstice feast. Not a single hit or arrow made a tiny scratch on that lad. It did not even break a sweat. And then it was gone, maybe searching for another nest of helpless creatures it could slaughter for fun.

    You may ask how I can still tell you about all this. Well, I, the last one of the five hundred goblins… to be honest, I was in the pigpen. Why? Because the others didn’t really like, that I did not take part in the attack on the village. Like I said: a spiteful bunch. So, with a lot of ugly laughter, I was made to sleep with the pigs. Which was, in hindsight, the best place to be, like ever.

    Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Please accept my apologies, dear reader, it’s not like I know how to structure a story; I am a goblin after all. And my name is Joh Ni, Joh Ni Goblin. But you can call me Joh or the unluckiest bastard that ever set his green foot on this wretched sphere. Because maybe it would have been better if I had died along with the other guys, just to avoid the huge amount of, and please excuse my goblish, dragonshit that happened afterwards.

    Well, now I’ve got your attention? Are you shivering for more, eh? Well, to be frank, it’s not true that love does not exist for goblins, because this is actually a love story— a goblin love story.

    But don’t you dare go to the end of the book searching for a marriage scene or something like this. That’s not the way it went; it was much weirder and more complicated than you could ever imagine with your tiny human brains.

    Level 1 – Tentacle Monsters

    Just when I finally had stopped trembling and was about to decide about leaving the pigpen, a group of orc scouts appeared. Even though they were our allies, I decided to not try my nonexistent luck and stayed right where I was. Seemingly untouched, they rode through the blood and gore; their war wolves occasionally grabbing a snack on my fallen colleagues.

    It must been one of them heroes. I heard one of the bulky pigfaces muffling, ignoring even what little grammar they had learned—if they ever had.

    Speedily, I dug myself even deeper into the mud. I was safe with the pigs, as they were the only meat orcs would not eat. They were considered holy. That’s why orcs have a deep hate for goblins and nearly all other races—because we eat pigs. But well, when you are a follower of the Dark Lord you can’t decide who your allies are.

    The orcs strolled leisurely through the calamity, muffling to each other. They seemed a bit uneasy. As far as I understood them, this was the fifth goblin company that had been destroyed in the last days, and the higher-ups had told the scouts to be quiet about it. Why they did not understand. Me neither. It would have been nice to get a warning.

    But hey, it’s just goblins, who cares if they die, right? That’s what you’re thinking? Don’t be ashamed, everyone is thinking exactly the same—even a lot of goblins. It can’t be wrong if it’s the opinion of the majority, right?

    One of the orcs rode out of the camp to report, while the others settled down to make a barbecue out of some of my fellows and searched for valuables—which is mostly useless when searching through dead goblins. Most of us don’t have more than the rags we are wearing.

    I hid myself under a big sow, hoping the remaining orc scouts wouldn’t have the idea of freeing the holy pigs. My little green brain was spinning. Firstly, who had been this mighty human? They didn’t look like a standard soldier at all, otherwise, the war would have been over already. Secondly, why had the orc scout come so fast after the slaughter, and why had no one told us that something this dangerous was butchering through all the goblin companies on the field?

    Well, my mind was not as refined yet, so I didn’t really understand. All I knew was, that something was really, really off. Like with honey mead that smells already really sour and has no flies on it. You can be sure drinking this gives you more than a headache. Man, I love honey mead…

    Suddenly, out of nowhere, two very important and mighty-looking demons appeared from the sky. I saw them with one eye peeping out of the mud. Unholy Dragonshit! Demons of any caliber are not to be taken lightly, but those two had an aura strong enough to wipe out armies. Why were they here?

    One of them was a sack of hanging tentacles, with a single eye and more gold jewelry than I could count. For some undefinable reason, it wore a violet robe. The other one was a more conservative demon general. You know, hoofs, horns, red skin, and a tail. This one I might even have seen before when we all were pressed to go to the front. Xotor, if I remembered correctly.

    I silently mumbled one of the three spells I had learned in my short time as an apprentice. It was an extremely weak spell, it used nearly no mana and that was the only good thing here because demons smell mana. The spell made oneself invisible, but only under two conditions: First, you became visible when you moved, and second, it did not work on someone who knew you were there. I completely froze and only breathed once every minute. One of the few good points of being a goblin is that you don’t need to breathe as often as all those big races.

    I saw little of what happened, but I could smell the fear of the orcs, even with a big smelly sow in front of my nose. The tentacled demon questioned them harshly, but because of the pigs, I couldn’t hear much. Then, with a short movement of one of his flubbing limps, it dissolved all the orc scouts into black dust.

    Was that really necessary? Xotor, the horned demon general asked. They did what they were told and were too dumb to talk.

    Which is the very definition of a good soldier, as far as I have learned.

    It was necessary. They came from Borgis’ army, she’s not one of us. I don’t need any dumb soldiers that start to babble. The same goes for out-of-luck demon generals. I killed people for less, hissed the tentacled one, then added, Gather the third orc army. While this stupid human does our work here, we march east and take care of the tribes.

    The horned general must have made something to show his dislike because the tentacled one’s voice became even colder and more aggressive.

    What? You don’t like it? Remember, you owe me your life and that of your daughter too. And all I ask of you is to get rid of those damned, green-skinned heralds of hunger—every last one of them. I’ll save the worlds without you, but it may take longer, which means you and your offspring may not be alive anymore when it is done…

    Yes, Eye of Light, I’ll serve you as sworn.

    That must have pleased the one-eyed demon, its voice sounded smugly now. It’s just goblins, no one cares. … But, just in case, burn all of this down, we don’t need any evidence to stay behind.

    I heard the whizzing of a flight spell, and then I felt heat rising, the pigs squealed in pain. I dug myself even deeper in the mud and was buried under the massive spasming body of the sow, I had hidden beneath. The heat became unbearable, my skin began to boil, I wanted to scream, but there was only mud that filled my mouth. Then it stopped and vanished as fast as it had risen.

    I waited for as long as my goblin lungs allowed, before I fought my way out of the mud and smoking pig intestines into the light and, more or less, fresh air. I have never

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