Odeou Shabapnup grimaced. It was no good, he just wasn't miserable enough.
Hard to admit to himself, but the hobgoblin shaman knew what defeat looked like only too well. And here he was again, staring right at it.
He'd been great once. Master of a mighty collection of tribes, his word had ruled the actions of what was nearly civilisation. Unusual, for his people. Usually they either served or were dinner for the larger or more organised creatures found out in the wilderness. But unique amongst the hobgoblins, he had forged something that was almost an empire.
Then the Empire had come.
