The forges have been stoked with fire, as Bobole leans he head against the now sleeping Scaly he begins to think of what he'll do when he get's back home. As he does his mind wanders off into dreams. The Chitterwood smells deicoiusly of burning flesh as he swaggers back into the camp, each goblin who sees him greets him with food, drink and praise, before finally getting to Guteater, he sits on his throne nearly as big as a dwarf covered in warpaint, glaring at him throu the eye sockets of his headdress, a foolish orc who thought he could beat Guteater in a battle of strength, who never accounted on poisoned meat. The severe face on Guteater changes to a wide grin and he laughs, getting up from his throne and removing his headdress "You might not be able to rage, but your a Bulbhead alright, maybe the best we ever had!" he puts his headdress on Bobole, waving his hand towards the throne. Bobole grins as the tribe looks to him as their new chief, and the old one as his new enforcer. But as he begins to speak figures erupt from the ground, as Bobole raises up to confront the invaders his hand goes numb as he sees the enemies faces. Vrin, Mirro, and a gaint Synovia are going thou the camp, grinning madly as they slaughter by the dozens. Soon it's just him and Guteater left, and then they begin to speak to him in sing song voices "What are you going to do Bobole, you wouldn't hurt us would you? We're friends Bobole, we helped you, looked out for you, gave you food, we love you. You'd raise your dogslicer after all that?" His tongue feels dead "b-I-this is-" Synovia drives her blade deep into Guteaters chest, her face getting closer as the blade goes in deeper "Your one of us now, Bobole" He wakes up in a cold sweat, as he sits alone the thought, the niggling thought, the one he'd had since thistle top, returns, only now he can hear it, and he can't ignore or deny it, he says it aloud, if only to free it from blowing his had up "I can't go back." He buries his head in his arms he mutters "Bulbheads don't cry..." as tears begin to well up, he shouts it again, as if they're the magic words to stop what is about to happen " BULBHEADS DON'T...DON'T...." he wails, crying in a way that meant to be heard by no one, with snot running and eye bleary, sharp breaths of air taken in between long sobs. no effort is made to hide it, even if he wanted to, the only solace he can take is that no one, save for himself and Scaly, are the only one to ever see this.
