The Ambassador and the Goblins Go To War

Sam is not a sculptor.

Sam wanted to be a sculptor, but he is not a sculptor. It’s just not what he’s good at. He could, perhaps, spend a great deal of time and energy becoming much better, but he wouldn’t become as good at it as he is at so many other things which…do not interest him.

Sam is a great Ambassador. He is the Envoy. He gets it done.

Sam liked getting things done.

Sam hates being an Ambassador.

On the other hand, it does mean that, by the time Sam discovered the Goblins in his closet, he was sufficiently drunk to deal with them.

“Hey!” said the biggest Goblin. “Who’s our Ambassador?”

Sam held in one hand a vast stein of cider. He held in the other a large pitcher of water. His hands were tired. He had opened the closet with his foot, and out of it had spilled a half-dozen mid-sized green humanoids who, while sober, seemed both drunker than Sam, and far more awake.

“You’re all completely in thrall to the Dark Lord,” Sam pointed out. “You don’t need to send a treaty. You’re slaves. She’s quite embarrassed about it!”

“THE DARK LORD IS SO POWERFUL!” they all shouted in unison, and head-butted.

(‘Goblin’s head’s hardest known;
You could use it as a grinding stone.’ This is a normal social greeting among Goblins.)

“We want a treaty!” squeaked the littlest one.

“You have a treaty of absolute surrender. You asked for absolutely nothing at all. You asked the Dark Lord to do with you whatever she wishes.”

“Yes!”

“Knowing she would never get around to it and would leave you alone.”

“Unfair! Untrue! Maybe! Yes. No. Could be!” shouted the Goblins.

Sam sighed.

“I can’t give you an Ambassador. You’ve already totally surrendered.”

The Goblins looked dejected. “Is there really no way?”

Sam carefully put down his beer stein. He took the pitcher of water, walked towards the smallest Goblin, grabbed her, and set her under it. He carefully upended it on her head.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” she shrieked.”

“There. Now we’re at war,” Sam said. “Go away for three days, and come back, and I’ll give you your receipt.”

___

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Jeff Mach Written by:

Jeff Mach is an author, playwright, event creator, and certified Villain. He'd love for you to check out patreon.com/jeffmach for his favorite work (it's almost all free!) He's currently working on the Great Catskills Halloween Vendor Market and The Big Dark Lord Dwarf Novel. You can get his last novel, "I HATE YOUR Prophecy", or his increasingly large selection of other peculiar books of shortt fiction. If you'd like to talk more to Jeff, or if you're simply a Monstrous Creature yourself, stop by @darklordjournal on X or The Dark Lord Journal on Facebook.