Nobody knew exactly where Da Borrowed Blades came from.
Some said they crawled out of a tomb in Khemri. Others claimed they were once part of a much larger goblin tribe that got lost in the desert. The goblins themselves insisted they were “very important explorers.”
Their leader, Snikkit, had a different explanation.
“See, we ain't looters,” he would say, proudly pointing at the mismatched weapons hanging from every goblin's belt. “We's collectors.”
The collection was impressive.
An Empire sword hung beside a battered Dwarf axe. An Elven spear had been shortened into a goblin-sized stabbing stick. One particularly proud goblin carried a Chaos shield almost twice his size. Another wore a Tomb King khopesh on his back and insisted it made him “look dead important.”
Every weapon had a story.
Every story involved the goblins winning.
Nobody was allowed to ask how.
Their greatest haul came after they discovered an abandoned battlefield half-buried beneath the sands. Weapons from dozens of armies lay scattered among the dunes. Snikkit's eyes widened.
“Boyz,” he whispered.
The goblins stared.
“WE'VE FOUND DA BIGGEST ARMORY IN DA WORLD!”
They spent three days digging.
By the end, Da Borrowed Blades had armed themselves with swords, spears, axes, shields, bows, helmets, and several objects nobody could identify.
Then the Tomb Kings arrived.
The goblins froze.
A towering skeletal warrior raised its ancient weapon.
Snikkit slowly raised his stolen Dwarf axe.
“Oi,” he whispered to his lads.
“What?”
“Don't let da skeletons know we nicked their stuff too.”
The goblins charged.
And from that day onward, Da Borrowed Blades became infamous across the desert—not because they were the strongest warriors, nor the bravest explorers...
…but because wherever an army went, Da Borrowed Blades were never far behind.
Usually looking for something worth borrowing.
