Arthur Daigle's Blog, page 15
October 7, 2014
Great Goblin Pranks III
Great Goblin Pranks III
Most goblin pranks target only a few people with pies throwers, covered pits filled with moldy cabbage and fraudulent lawsuits. But every so often a goblin comes up with a plan so bold, so stupid, so sure to offend that hundreds of goblins join in the fun. These pranks are thankfully rare, as even goblins know that such large scale mayhem brings swift retribution from the victims. But that didn’t stop the goblins from perpetrating Mohawk Day.
The goblins responsible for this outrage lived in Brandish, a large but poor kingdom. The goblins’ settlement was in a large network of warrens and tunnels in a canyon not far from the town of Bistle. The people of Bistle had been victims of goblin pranks for years, but the attacks had been minor up to that point. The men had real problems to deal with like bandits, monsters and the dreaded tax collectors, feared more than any fire breathing dragon. It was hard work to hide their earnings from the revenuers, especially given how much of the town’s wealth came from smuggling.
Yes, Bistle was a town in the good graces of thieves and gangsters. They came through on their way between cities, using Bistle as a convenient hideout and storage area for their goods. Weapons were a favorite, but there were also spices, precious metals and stolen goods. The people worked hard to conceal their wealth, judging that it was easier to hide valuables than defend them. Bistle was kept in a state of disrepair and the people’s clothing and possessions low quality so no one would suspect them. The plan worked so long as the town pretended to be on the verge of famine.
Then one fine spring day, the people of Bistle saw the local goblins walking on stilts. To be more accurate, the goblins were trying to walk on stilts. Mostly they were falling down. The townspeople laughed at the spectacle, more so because all the goblins were doing it. Hundreds and hundreds of goblins were staggering around on stilts, with not a single one walking. Some goblins had conventional stilts while others had wood posts strapped to their arms and legs. The goblins bumbled around for hours, and to the people’ surprise the show didn’t end at dusk. Goblins practiced stilt walking the next day, and the next, and the week after that and then the following month.
No one asked what the goblins were doing or why, as the people had more important concerns. There were knights in the region hunting bandits, and Bistle’s residents worried that they might accidentally be caught in the same hunt. So they kept a low profile, working their fields and pretending to be peasants living just shy of starvation. They worried a bit that the goblins might draw attention, but if that happened the knights would attack the goblins and not the people.
Then one moonless night, when all the people of Bistle were asleep after a rich meal paid for by their crimes, the goblins snuck into town. They ignored the smuggled goods hidden away in cellars and attics, for they had other plans. The goblins brought barber shears, and in the hours before dawn gave every man, woman and child in Bistle a Mohawk haircut.
Morning came and brought with it cries of rage from Bistle’s residents. They had been shamed! It would take months for their hair to grow back. The women were particularly outraged, for their longer hair would need years to recover. Even the dogs and cats had been shaved. Worse, Mohawks had gone out of style years ago!
If ever there was a reason to form an angry mob, this was it. All the people of Bistle grabbed axes, pitchforks, knives, indeed, everything that had an edge to it, and ran for the goblin settlement. They reached it in an hour, their anger unabated when they came to the canyon where they knew the goblins lived. Howling mad, they ran into the canyon and came to a grinding halt. They had to.
There was a reason why the goblins had been practicing with stilts for so long. The people had assumed it was some new stupidity on the goblins’ part. But they were wrong. The goblins had sown thistles, nettles, poison ivy, poison oak, briars, wild roses and worse in the canyon. These plants grew together into a foul mass of thorns and poison sure to leave anyone touching it in misery. This didn’t bother the goblins at all, because walking on stilts meant they were high above the botanical nightmare.
A few people were mad enough to try cutting a path through the tangled web of noxious plants, but they inevitably gave up after suffering rashes. They went home, itchy and ashamed and with horrible hair. They came back to Bistle to find a company of knights exploring their town. The knights had found Bistle empty, which warranted an investigation. The knights turned the town upside down and discovered stashes of swords and battleaxes, enough to arm a hundred men. When the knights saw the returning townspeople and their Mohawks, it looked like Bistle’s residents were bandits. The knights arrested them and confiscated their weapons stockpile.
As for the goblins near Bistle, they’re still walking on stilts. It keeps them safe from most enemies who come to their settlement. Travelers in the region report to this day that spending the night near the abandoned town is a mistake that will cost you your hair.
Most goblin pranks target only a few people with pies throwers, covered pits filled with moldy cabbage and fraudulent lawsuits. But every so often a goblin comes up with a plan so bold, so stupid, so sure to offend that hundreds of goblins join in the fun. These pranks are thankfully rare, as even goblins know that such large scale mayhem brings swift retribution from the victims. But that didn’t stop the goblins from perpetrating Mohawk Day.
The goblins responsible for this outrage lived in Brandish, a large but poor kingdom. The goblins’ settlement was in a large network of warrens and tunnels in a canyon not far from the town of Bistle. The people of Bistle had been victims of goblin pranks for years, but the attacks had been minor up to that point. The men had real problems to deal with like bandits, monsters and the dreaded tax collectors, feared more than any fire breathing dragon. It was hard work to hide their earnings from the revenuers, especially given how much of the town’s wealth came from smuggling.
Yes, Bistle was a town in the good graces of thieves and gangsters. They came through on their way between cities, using Bistle as a convenient hideout and storage area for their goods. Weapons were a favorite, but there were also spices, precious metals and stolen goods. The people worked hard to conceal their wealth, judging that it was easier to hide valuables than defend them. Bistle was kept in a state of disrepair and the people’s clothing and possessions low quality so no one would suspect them. The plan worked so long as the town pretended to be on the verge of famine.
Then one fine spring day, the people of Bistle saw the local goblins walking on stilts. To be more accurate, the goblins were trying to walk on stilts. Mostly they were falling down. The townspeople laughed at the spectacle, more so because all the goblins were doing it. Hundreds and hundreds of goblins were staggering around on stilts, with not a single one walking. Some goblins had conventional stilts while others had wood posts strapped to their arms and legs. The goblins bumbled around for hours, and to the people’ surprise the show didn’t end at dusk. Goblins practiced stilt walking the next day, and the next, and the week after that and then the following month.
No one asked what the goblins were doing or why, as the people had more important concerns. There were knights in the region hunting bandits, and Bistle’s residents worried that they might accidentally be caught in the same hunt. So they kept a low profile, working their fields and pretending to be peasants living just shy of starvation. They worried a bit that the goblins might draw attention, but if that happened the knights would attack the goblins and not the people.
Then one moonless night, when all the people of Bistle were asleep after a rich meal paid for by their crimes, the goblins snuck into town. They ignored the smuggled goods hidden away in cellars and attics, for they had other plans. The goblins brought barber shears, and in the hours before dawn gave every man, woman and child in Bistle a Mohawk haircut.
Morning came and brought with it cries of rage from Bistle’s residents. They had been shamed! It would take months for their hair to grow back. The women were particularly outraged, for their longer hair would need years to recover. Even the dogs and cats had been shaved. Worse, Mohawks had gone out of style years ago!
If ever there was a reason to form an angry mob, this was it. All the people of Bistle grabbed axes, pitchforks, knives, indeed, everything that had an edge to it, and ran for the goblin settlement. They reached it in an hour, their anger unabated when they came to the canyon where they knew the goblins lived. Howling mad, they ran into the canyon and came to a grinding halt. They had to.
There was a reason why the goblins had been practicing with stilts for so long. The people had assumed it was some new stupidity on the goblins’ part. But they were wrong. The goblins had sown thistles, nettles, poison ivy, poison oak, briars, wild roses and worse in the canyon. These plants grew together into a foul mass of thorns and poison sure to leave anyone touching it in misery. This didn’t bother the goblins at all, because walking on stilts meant they were high above the botanical nightmare.
A few people were mad enough to try cutting a path through the tangled web of noxious plants, but they inevitably gave up after suffering rashes. They went home, itchy and ashamed and with horrible hair. They came back to Bistle to find a company of knights exploring their town. The knights had found Bistle empty, which warranted an investigation. The knights turned the town upside down and discovered stashes of swords and battleaxes, enough to arm a hundred men. When the knights saw the returning townspeople and their Mohawks, it looked like Bistle’s residents were bandits. The knights arrested them and confiscated their weapons stockpile.
As for the goblins near Bistle, they’re still walking on stilts. It keeps them safe from most enemies who come to their settlement. Travelers in the region report to this day that spending the night near the abandoned town is a mistake that will cost you your hair.
September 11, 2014
Goblin Heroes II
To be a hero is to be respected for doing amazing deeds and to be depended on by many. Needless to say, goblins don’t want to be heroes. They’d rather avoid danger than face it, and they annoy people they come across. But sometimes there is no choice in the matter, and a goblin finds himself in the position where he must be brave and selfless. That is the tragic fate of the great goblin What’s-His-Face.
What’s-His-Face
It came to pass that a certain wizard named Kastral discovered a terrifying magic weapon called the Ring of the Lunar Hunter. The ring was one of the fifty most powerful magic items on Other Place. On the first night of each full moon, the ring could summon an ancient and powerful monster called the Lunar Hunter. Whoever summoned it could compel the beast to seek out and slay the owner’s foes. It would hunt its prey until the sun rose, then disappear.
The Lunar Hunter could not be defeated in battle or hurt in any way, and nothing could trap it. The only way a victim could hope to survive was by running away. But even this was a temporary victory, for the ring’s owner could send it out again on the first night of the next full moon.
Kastral was the worst possible person to own the ring. He was as petty and vindictive as he was powerful. Over the years he’d made a list of enemies, people guilty of slighting Kastral in ways grand, minor and even imagined. He’d spent years searching for the ring, and now that he had it, it was time to get even. He retreated to a fortified tower where he summoned and hired guardians, and waited for the next full moon.
But Kastal’s revenge was not to be. A small goblin (name unknown) had seen him discover the ring and boast of his wicked plans. Terrified, the goblin fled to the most powerful person he knew, Julius Craton of the Guild of Heroes. The goblin told Julius about Kastal and the ring. Julius’ fellow heroes didn’t believe the goblin, but Julius thought it best to investigate. A blind fortuneteller he knew confirmed the goblin’s story, and worse, that Julius was at the top of Kastal’s hit list.
With mere days until the full moon, Julius and his fellow heroes set off to defeat Kastal. Along the way they met a band of elf mercenaries in the pay of the Yelinid Banking Cartel on the same mission. The cartel had also learned of Kastal’s scheme. While they normally wouldn’t get involved, they had once turned down the wizard for a loan, and they too were on his list.
To the amazement of both heroes and elves, wizards from the Inspired also came to help. The Inspired were dedicated to conquering all the nations of the world and replacing kings with wizards. Neither heroes nor elves liked the Inspired, but the evil wizards pointed out that years ago they had expelled Kastal from their organization for attacking a fellow wizard. It was only a matter of time before he turned his attention on them. Worse, they said Kastal had been one of their strongest wizards. Defeating him would be nearly impossible. Reluctantly the three groups agreed to work together.
Heroes, mercenaries and wizards set out to defeat Kastal before he could summon the Lunar Hunter, but there were others with them. The small goblin (name still unknown) tagged along, often overlooked by the others. No one was even sure why he’d come, for there was little he could do now that he’d warned them. But the goblin stayed with them, even recruiting more goblins as they traveled.
Kastal realized he was in danger with the aid of a crystal ball. He sent golems and trained monsters to ambush Julius and the men with him. But the small goblin (someone really should have asked him his name) saw them and cried out a warning. Kastal’s forces were defeated, with Julius Craton personally cutting an ice golem in half. Kastal sent more monsters and then mercenaries, but all were defeated. Finally he secured himself in his tower and locked the stone doors. If he couldn’t win the fight, he could put it off until the full moon gave him the advantage he needed.
Julius and his allies reached Kastal’s tower a day before the full moon. They attacked it with everything they had, but the tower’s defenses held. The situation looked grim when the small goblin (whose name really should have been known by now) and his fellow goblins went to work. The tower’s entrances were too solid to break, but the locks could be picked. It took hours for the small goblin to open the front door as the sun began to set.
With only minutes to spare, Julius Craton led the charge into the tower. He and his allies faced tamed wyverns, golems, living armor and even animated skeletons, proof that Kastal had become so depraved that he’d turned to necromancy. All these defenders fell until only Kastal remained. The wizard tried to flee, but he’d sealed his tower so tightly that he couldn’t open a window fast enough to escape. Cornered, he tried to use the Ring of the Lunar Hunter, but a sliver of the sun was still on the horizon. Kastal fell before his enemies, more the pity since before he’d gotten the ring many of them had never wished him harm.
Horrible as the battle to defeat Kastal had been, the allied force now found itself on the brink of a worse one. They had agreed that Kastal had to be stopped, but nothing beyond that. What were they to do with the Ring of the Lunar Hunter? Julius and his fellow heroes wanted to lock it away so no one could use it. The elves wanted it in case the day might come that they might need it. The Inspired wizards wanted the ring so they could dominate the world. With victory freshly won, the allied force was on the verge of turning on itself.
The small goblin (honestly, someone could have asked, “Who are you?”) had followed Julius inside. He saw the look on the men’s and elves’ faces, and he knew something had to be done fast. The goblin grabbed the ring and unlocked a window, then hurled it outside. The allied force ran out to get it, only to find that the other goblins had been waiting outside, and one had the ring. The goblins saw heroes and mercenaries and wizards running straight for them, and not too surprisingly they panicked and ran away. The goblins were eventually caught and searched, but none of them had the ring. A determined search of the area didn’t locate it, either.
The goblins were eventually let go, but they did have the ring, specifically the small goblin. In their flight from the allied force, they had passed the ring from one goblin to another, each goblin terrified that he’d be caught with it. But when the small goblin got it, he’d hid it by stuffing it up his nose. No one had thought to look there, and he’d escaped with the ring.
By the time the allied force realized what had happened, it was too late. The Ring of the Lunar Hunter was invisible to scrying devices such as crystal balls. The only reliable way to magically find it was through its owner. But spells that could do that required the owner’s name, or at least a detailed physical description. No one from the allied force knew the little goblin’s name, nor could anyone say what he looked like.
Over the years some of the other goblins involved shared the story of what had happened. To a one, they called the small goblin hero What’s-His-Face. Officially this was so no one could track him by his name. Unofficially, they’d all forgotten who he was.
And so it came to pass that a goblin gained possession of one of the most powerful magic items on Other Place. What’s-His-Face has owned the ring for years without using it. Most people agree this was the best outcome that could be hoped for, as the ring is effectively out of circulation once more and a threat to no one. A few fools still search for the ring, but most have the good sense not to. After all, while What’s-His-Face is not a hateful person and has no desire to let the Lunar Hunter loose on anyone, you never know what someone can do when he’s pushed into a corner.
What’s-His-Face
It came to pass that a certain wizard named Kastral discovered a terrifying magic weapon called the Ring of the Lunar Hunter. The ring was one of the fifty most powerful magic items on Other Place. On the first night of each full moon, the ring could summon an ancient and powerful monster called the Lunar Hunter. Whoever summoned it could compel the beast to seek out and slay the owner’s foes. It would hunt its prey until the sun rose, then disappear.
The Lunar Hunter could not be defeated in battle or hurt in any way, and nothing could trap it. The only way a victim could hope to survive was by running away. But even this was a temporary victory, for the ring’s owner could send it out again on the first night of the next full moon.
Kastral was the worst possible person to own the ring. He was as petty and vindictive as he was powerful. Over the years he’d made a list of enemies, people guilty of slighting Kastral in ways grand, minor and even imagined. He’d spent years searching for the ring, and now that he had it, it was time to get even. He retreated to a fortified tower where he summoned and hired guardians, and waited for the next full moon.
But Kastal’s revenge was not to be. A small goblin (name unknown) had seen him discover the ring and boast of his wicked plans. Terrified, the goblin fled to the most powerful person he knew, Julius Craton of the Guild of Heroes. The goblin told Julius about Kastal and the ring. Julius’ fellow heroes didn’t believe the goblin, but Julius thought it best to investigate. A blind fortuneteller he knew confirmed the goblin’s story, and worse, that Julius was at the top of Kastal’s hit list.
With mere days until the full moon, Julius and his fellow heroes set off to defeat Kastal. Along the way they met a band of elf mercenaries in the pay of the Yelinid Banking Cartel on the same mission. The cartel had also learned of Kastal’s scheme. While they normally wouldn’t get involved, they had once turned down the wizard for a loan, and they too were on his list.
To the amazement of both heroes and elves, wizards from the Inspired also came to help. The Inspired were dedicated to conquering all the nations of the world and replacing kings with wizards. Neither heroes nor elves liked the Inspired, but the evil wizards pointed out that years ago they had expelled Kastal from their organization for attacking a fellow wizard. It was only a matter of time before he turned his attention on them. Worse, they said Kastal had been one of their strongest wizards. Defeating him would be nearly impossible. Reluctantly the three groups agreed to work together.
Heroes, mercenaries and wizards set out to defeat Kastal before he could summon the Lunar Hunter, but there were others with them. The small goblin (name still unknown) tagged along, often overlooked by the others. No one was even sure why he’d come, for there was little he could do now that he’d warned them. But the goblin stayed with them, even recruiting more goblins as they traveled.
Kastal realized he was in danger with the aid of a crystal ball. He sent golems and trained monsters to ambush Julius and the men with him. But the small goblin (someone really should have asked him his name) saw them and cried out a warning. Kastal’s forces were defeated, with Julius Craton personally cutting an ice golem in half. Kastal sent more monsters and then mercenaries, but all were defeated. Finally he secured himself in his tower and locked the stone doors. If he couldn’t win the fight, he could put it off until the full moon gave him the advantage he needed.
Julius and his allies reached Kastal’s tower a day before the full moon. They attacked it with everything they had, but the tower’s defenses held. The situation looked grim when the small goblin (whose name really should have been known by now) and his fellow goblins went to work. The tower’s entrances were too solid to break, but the locks could be picked. It took hours for the small goblin to open the front door as the sun began to set.
With only minutes to spare, Julius Craton led the charge into the tower. He and his allies faced tamed wyverns, golems, living armor and even animated skeletons, proof that Kastal had become so depraved that he’d turned to necromancy. All these defenders fell until only Kastal remained. The wizard tried to flee, but he’d sealed his tower so tightly that he couldn’t open a window fast enough to escape. Cornered, he tried to use the Ring of the Lunar Hunter, but a sliver of the sun was still on the horizon. Kastal fell before his enemies, more the pity since before he’d gotten the ring many of them had never wished him harm.
Horrible as the battle to defeat Kastal had been, the allied force now found itself on the brink of a worse one. They had agreed that Kastal had to be stopped, but nothing beyond that. What were they to do with the Ring of the Lunar Hunter? Julius and his fellow heroes wanted to lock it away so no one could use it. The elves wanted it in case the day might come that they might need it. The Inspired wizards wanted the ring so they could dominate the world. With victory freshly won, the allied force was on the verge of turning on itself.
The small goblin (honestly, someone could have asked, “Who are you?”) had followed Julius inside. He saw the look on the men’s and elves’ faces, and he knew something had to be done fast. The goblin grabbed the ring and unlocked a window, then hurled it outside. The allied force ran out to get it, only to find that the other goblins had been waiting outside, and one had the ring. The goblins saw heroes and mercenaries and wizards running straight for them, and not too surprisingly they panicked and ran away. The goblins were eventually caught and searched, but none of them had the ring. A determined search of the area didn’t locate it, either.
The goblins were eventually let go, but they did have the ring, specifically the small goblin. In their flight from the allied force, they had passed the ring from one goblin to another, each goblin terrified that he’d be caught with it. But when the small goblin got it, he’d hid it by stuffing it up his nose. No one had thought to look there, and he’d escaped with the ring.
By the time the allied force realized what had happened, it was too late. The Ring of the Lunar Hunter was invisible to scrying devices such as crystal balls. The only reliable way to magically find it was through its owner. But spells that could do that required the owner’s name, or at least a detailed physical description. No one from the allied force knew the little goblin’s name, nor could anyone say what he looked like.
Over the years some of the other goblins involved shared the story of what had happened. To a one, they called the small goblin hero What’s-His-Face. Officially this was so no one could track him by his name. Unofficially, they’d all forgotten who he was.
And so it came to pass that a goblin gained possession of one of the most powerful magic items on Other Place. What’s-His-Face has owned the ring for years without using it. Most people agree this was the best outcome that could be hoped for, as the ring is effectively out of circulation once more and a threat to no one. A few fools still search for the ring, but most have the good sense not to. After all, while What’s-His-Face is not a hateful person and has no desire to let the Lunar Hunter loose on anyone, you never know what someone can do when he’s pushed into a corner.
August 27, 2014
Short Goblin Stories II
It was an early fall morning, and Will Bradshaw, the reluctant King of the Goblins, was on his way to trouble. Dressed in his usual black and green uniform, he’d finished breakfast in the nearby human town and enjoyed the company of people with IQs over fifty (which is rare among goblins). With that done he was expected to return to the kingdom and ‘rule’ his subjects.
This assumed they felt like being ruled, and nine times out of ten they didn’t. Goblins did whatever they felt like, and orders from their king were treated as well intentioned requests. This was in spite of the fact that not long ago he’d led them to victory against the human king Kervol Ket.
As Will headed down a road that ran between tall, young trees, he heard a banging sound up ahead. Will unhooked his fire scepter and approached cautiously, making sure to keep behind cover. As he came closer he could hear voices but not make out what they were saying.
When he came into a clearing he saw the source of the commotion. A mob of goblins was building a rickety goblin catapult. The catapult was smaller than the kind men used and would likely break down on the first use, but it had good range and let the goblins throw all kinds of offensive substances with some accuracy.
“Guys, what’s with the catapult?” Will asked. “Are we being attacked again?”
A goblin with a beard reaching down to his waist smiled at Will. “Hey, it’s the King! Hi, boss. Nobody’s attacking us…yet.”
“So why are you making a catapult?”
A builder goblin put down his saw and explained, “Representatives of the Yelinid Banking Cartel are touring the human villages in case people need to borrow money. We figured we’d make a catapult and lob horse poo at them.”
Dreading the answer, Will asked, “Why would you want to do that?”
The bearded goblin asked, “Do we really need a reason to throw horse poo at people?”
“We have enough enemies as it is,” Will told them. “We don’t need bankers mad at us, too.”
The builder goblin dropped his saw and slapped both hands against his cheeks in mock horror. “Oh no! If we upset them, who will loan us money?”
All the goblins broke out in hysterical laughter. They were dead broke and planned on staying that way. Goblins knew that if they did have money then bigger, stronger races would come to rob them. Even if they could lay their hands on gold and keep it, no one would do business with goblins due to their reputation for being dirty, troublesome and dumb as toast.
“It’s not like they did anything good for us,” the bearded goblin said. “They’re not doing the humans any favors, either, what with twenty percent interest on their loans.”
“Twenty percent?” Will asked.
“Minimum,” the bearded goblin said. The other goblins nodded in agreement.
“Make another catapult, and bring extra buckets of horse poo,” he said. The goblins smiled and went back to work
When Will started to hang the scepter back on his belt, one of the goblins said, “Better keep it ready, boss. There’s a human up ahead on the road who says he’s looking for you.”
“Is he armed?” Will asked.
“No, but if he’s a wizard or lawyer that doesn’t matter,” a green skinned goblin replied.
“True enough,” Will replied, still mindful of how a lawyer from Cickam, Wender and Downe had tricked him into being king with their wretched (and nearly indestructible) king contract. He kept his scepter in hand and set out in search of this mystery man.
Half a mile down the road, Will found an older man dressed in fashionable black clothes and carrying a satchel pack. The man was surrounded by digger goblins armed with shovels and picks, supported by builder goblins wielding saws and hammers. The man seemed unworried by the small horde around him, and the goblins were content to keep him there. Oddly enough, a number of goblins were sniffing the man.
The older man smiled when he saw Will. Speaking in a formal and respectful tone (something Will wasn’t used to), the man said, “Good day, Sir. Might you be the Vickers the Cunning, King of the Goblins?”
“No, I’m his replacement, William Bradshaw,” Will said. “He got out of his contract a while ago and went back to Earth.”
“I apologize for the error. I hadn’t realized there was another change in administration.” The older man kicked his heels together and bowed at the waist. He looked surprised when Will held out his hand, but he shook hands without complaint. “I am, ah, forgive me, but it would be best for all involved if I avoided a formal introduction.”
“Suit yourself.” The man’s answer was odd enough to arouse Will’s suspicion, and he kept his scepter handy if something went wrong. “If you can’t say who you are, is it too much to ask why you’re here?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. I am a steward for a young man of some wealth and influence, and sadly not nearly enough common sense. My master has started a regrettable relationship with a young woman. While it is normal for a young man to seek a woman’s affections, in this instance he chose his partner poorly.”
“Don’t like her much, huh?” Will asked. He saw a goblin with a long nose approach the man and stick his entire nose into the satchel.
The steward gently pushed the goblin back before answering. “My opinions of her would normally not enter into the matter, but no. The problem is less her than her family. Without going into details of who did what to whom and who owes whom a cow, her father, mother, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces and family dog all want my master dead by the most horrible means possible. They haven’t tried to harm him yet, but I fear for his life should this relationship become common knowledge.”
“I see,” Will replied. He scratched his head and asked, “I know it’s not my business, but if things are that bad then how did this relationship get started?”
“Beer,” the steward answered. “Rather a large quantity of it, I’m afraid.”
A small goblin barely a foot tall scurried up to the steward and climbed into his satchel. The man gently removed the goblin and set him on the ground. The goblins’ interest made no sense. They cared nothing for treasure or human belongings. Will knew of only one reason why they would be so eager to get in the satchel.
“Odd question,” Will began, “but are you carrying cheese?”
“A wheel of cheddar. I was told it might smooth negotiations.”
“That brings us back to why you’re here,” Will said. “You’ve made your problem clear, but not why you brought it to me.”
The steward reached into a coat pocket and handed Will three sheets of gold paper folded up and tied together with red ribbon. “Have you heard of forever paper?”
“That’s a new one on me,” Will said as he accepted the papers.
“It is magically enhanced paper. A page become permanent and unchangeable once a signature has been placed on it. Unchangeable also means the paper cannot be destroyed. In a touching but ill advised move, my master wrote two love letters on forever paper and the lady sent a reply in kind.”
Will took a sheet and tore it at a corner. Seconds later the edges knit themselves back together, leaving no sign that the page had been damaged. “It’s depressingly like my king contract.”
“Perhaps now you see my dilemma,” the steward said. “The young lady’s family suspects their relationship but can prove nothing. Should they find proof, however, I fear they will try to take my master’s life.”
“I doubt they’ll be happy with her, either.”
The steward looked down with a guilty expression. “I imagine not. I’m ashamed to admit that the thought hadn’t occurred to me. Sir, I must dispose of the letters so no one can ever find them, no easy task given that they cannot be destroyed and others search for them high and low. But I am told goblins can dig bottomless pits. Surely if the letters were thrown into one they could never be found.”
“Yeah, we have one of those,” Will said. He scratched his head before he said, “This sounds like a reasonable request, but I only have your word for what’s going on. I need to read the letters before I help get rid of them.”
“A reasonable request, and one I would make in your place,” the steward replied.
Will paged through the letters, reading aloud. “Dearest J, I count the seconds until we can meet again. I dream of your face, your touch, and so on. Let’s see, letter two, Dearest J, the thought of being separated from you leaves my heart empty and cold. To be without you, to never smell your perfume nor stroke your raven locks, blah, blah blah.”
Then Will got to the third page. “Dearest R, it tears at my very soul that we must be apart even this long. My heart bursts with passion for you, and if you were with me now I would—”
Will’s eyes snapped open as he read, and he blushed crimson red. Folding the paper shut, he asked the steward, “Was this woman raised by pirates?”
“Contrary to all evidence, no.”
Will handed back the papers. “Everything fits with what you’ve said. I’m going to give my blessings on this.” He turned to the goblins waiting for their chance to get into the man’s supply of cheese. “Take him to the bottomless pit and then lead him out of the kingdom when he’s done. I don’t want you to give him any trouble, especially as he seems to have enough of that as it is.”
An indigent goblin slapped his hand over his heart. “You wound me!”
“The very idea!” a second goblin cried out.
The small goblin said, “He can leave, but the cheese stays.”
The steward bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I am in your debt, as is my master and his love. If the situation were different I would praise your name for all to hear, but doing so would draw unwelcome attention to us both. I cannot offer a reward without drawing the same evil attention. I fear I can only give my thanks.”
The long nosed goblin nudged the steward. “And cheese.”
The steward smiled. “But of course.”
This assumed they felt like being ruled, and nine times out of ten they didn’t. Goblins did whatever they felt like, and orders from their king were treated as well intentioned requests. This was in spite of the fact that not long ago he’d led them to victory against the human king Kervol Ket.
As Will headed down a road that ran between tall, young trees, he heard a banging sound up ahead. Will unhooked his fire scepter and approached cautiously, making sure to keep behind cover. As he came closer he could hear voices but not make out what they were saying.
When he came into a clearing he saw the source of the commotion. A mob of goblins was building a rickety goblin catapult. The catapult was smaller than the kind men used and would likely break down on the first use, but it had good range and let the goblins throw all kinds of offensive substances with some accuracy.
“Guys, what’s with the catapult?” Will asked. “Are we being attacked again?”
A goblin with a beard reaching down to his waist smiled at Will. “Hey, it’s the King! Hi, boss. Nobody’s attacking us…yet.”
“So why are you making a catapult?”
A builder goblin put down his saw and explained, “Representatives of the Yelinid Banking Cartel are touring the human villages in case people need to borrow money. We figured we’d make a catapult and lob horse poo at them.”
Dreading the answer, Will asked, “Why would you want to do that?”
The bearded goblin asked, “Do we really need a reason to throw horse poo at people?”
“We have enough enemies as it is,” Will told them. “We don’t need bankers mad at us, too.”
The builder goblin dropped his saw and slapped both hands against his cheeks in mock horror. “Oh no! If we upset them, who will loan us money?”
All the goblins broke out in hysterical laughter. They were dead broke and planned on staying that way. Goblins knew that if they did have money then bigger, stronger races would come to rob them. Even if they could lay their hands on gold and keep it, no one would do business with goblins due to their reputation for being dirty, troublesome and dumb as toast.
“It’s not like they did anything good for us,” the bearded goblin said. “They’re not doing the humans any favors, either, what with twenty percent interest on their loans.”
“Twenty percent?” Will asked.
“Minimum,” the bearded goblin said. The other goblins nodded in agreement.
“Make another catapult, and bring extra buckets of horse poo,” he said. The goblins smiled and went back to work
When Will started to hang the scepter back on his belt, one of the goblins said, “Better keep it ready, boss. There’s a human up ahead on the road who says he’s looking for you.”
“Is he armed?” Will asked.
“No, but if he’s a wizard or lawyer that doesn’t matter,” a green skinned goblin replied.
“True enough,” Will replied, still mindful of how a lawyer from Cickam, Wender and Downe had tricked him into being king with their wretched (and nearly indestructible) king contract. He kept his scepter in hand and set out in search of this mystery man.
Half a mile down the road, Will found an older man dressed in fashionable black clothes and carrying a satchel pack. The man was surrounded by digger goblins armed with shovels and picks, supported by builder goblins wielding saws and hammers. The man seemed unworried by the small horde around him, and the goblins were content to keep him there. Oddly enough, a number of goblins were sniffing the man.
The older man smiled when he saw Will. Speaking in a formal and respectful tone (something Will wasn’t used to), the man said, “Good day, Sir. Might you be the Vickers the Cunning, King of the Goblins?”
“No, I’m his replacement, William Bradshaw,” Will said. “He got out of his contract a while ago and went back to Earth.”
“I apologize for the error. I hadn’t realized there was another change in administration.” The older man kicked his heels together and bowed at the waist. He looked surprised when Will held out his hand, but he shook hands without complaint. “I am, ah, forgive me, but it would be best for all involved if I avoided a formal introduction.”
“Suit yourself.” The man’s answer was odd enough to arouse Will’s suspicion, and he kept his scepter handy if something went wrong. “If you can’t say who you are, is it too much to ask why you’re here?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. I am a steward for a young man of some wealth and influence, and sadly not nearly enough common sense. My master has started a regrettable relationship with a young woman. While it is normal for a young man to seek a woman’s affections, in this instance he chose his partner poorly.”
“Don’t like her much, huh?” Will asked. He saw a goblin with a long nose approach the man and stick his entire nose into the satchel.
The steward gently pushed the goblin back before answering. “My opinions of her would normally not enter into the matter, but no. The problem is less her than her family. Without going into details of who did what to whom and who owes whom a cow, her father, mother, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces and family dog all want my master dead by the most horrible means possible. They haven’t tried to harm him yet, but I fear for his life should this relationship become common knowledge.”
“I see,” Will replied. He scratched his head and asked, “I know it’s not my business, but if things are that bad then how did this relationship get started?”
“Beer,” the steward answered. “Rather a large quantity of it, I’m afraid.”
A small goblin barely a foot tall scurried up to the steward and climbed into his satchel. The man gently removed the goblin and set him on the ground. The goblins’ interest made no sense. They cared nothing for treasure or human belongings. Will knew of only one reason why they would be so eager to get in the satchel.
“Odd question,” Will began, “but are you carrying cheese?”
“A wheel of cheddar. I was told it might smooth negotiations.”
“That brings us back to why you’re here,” Will said. “You’ve made your problem clear, but not why you brought it to me.”
The steward reached into a coat pocket and handed Will three sheets of gold paper folded up and tied together with red ribbon. “Have you heard of forever paper?”
“That’s a new one on me,” Will said as he accepted the papers.
“It is magically enhanced paper. A page become permanent and unchangeable once a signature has been placed on it. Unchangeable also means the paper cannot be destroyed. In a touching but ill advised move, my master wrote two love letters on forever paper and the lady sent a reply in kind.”
Will took a sheet and tore it at a corner. Seconds later the edges knit themselves back together, leaving no sign that the page had been damaged. “It’s depressingly like my king contract.”
“Perhaps now you see my dilemma,” the steward said. “The young lady’s family suspects their relationship but can prove nothing. Should they find proof, however, I fear they will try to take my master’s life.”
“I doubt they’ll be happy with her, either.”
The steward looked down with a guilty expression. “I imagine not. I’m ashamed to admit that the thought hadn’t occurred to me. Sir, I must dispose of the letters so no one can ever find them, no easy task given that they cannot be destroyed and others search for them high and low. But I am told goblins can dig bottomless pits. Surely if the letters were thrown into one they could never be found.”
“Yeah, we have one of those,” Will said. He scratched his head before he said, “This sounds like a reasonable request, but I only have your word for what’s going on. I need to read the letters before I help get rid of them.”
“A reasonable request, and one I would make in your place,” the steward replied.
Will paged through the letters, reading aloud. “Dearest J, I count the seconds until we can meet again. I dream of your face, your touch, and so on. Let’s see, letter two, Dearest J, the thought of being separated from you leaves my heart empty and cold. To be without you, to never smell your perfume nor stroke your raven locks, blah, blah blah.”
Then Will got to the third page. “Dearest R, it tears at my very soul that we must be apart even this long. My heart bursts with passion for you, and if you were with me now I would—”
Will’s eyes snapped open as he read, and he blushed crimson red. Folding the paper shut, he asked the steward, “Was this woman raised by pirates?”
“Contrary to all evidence, no.”
Will handed back the papers. “Everything fits with what you’ve said. I’m going to give my blessings on this.” He turned to the goblins waiting for their chance to get into the man’s supply of cheese. “Take him to the bottomless pit and then lead him out of the kingdom when he’s done. I don’t want you to give him any trouble, especially as he seems to have enough of that as it is.”
An indigent goblin slapped his hand over his heart. “You wound me!”
“The very idea!” a second goblin cried out.
The small goblin said, “He can leave, but the cheese stays.”
The steward bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I am in your debt, as is my master and his love. If the situation were different I would praise your name for all to hear, but doing so would draw unwelcome attention to us both. I cannot offer a reward without drawing the same evil attention. I fear I can only give my thanks.”
The long nosed goblin nudged the steward. “And cheese.”
The steward smiled. “But of course.”
August 12, 2014
Short Goblin Stories
Stubs and Finny the goblins scampered down Cliff Road. They'd likely already escaped the angry mob chasing them with tar, feathers and lawsuits, but it was better to safe than sorry. It was late and dark enough that no one noticed the raggedy pair fleeing. Not that there could be many witnesses. To their left the ground was rocky and barren, and a step to the right would take a traveler off a hundred foot drop to the dry riverbed below.
“I don’t see why we had to leave town,” Stubs said. The red skinned goblin stood only three feet tall and wore a red cape to keep out the chilly air. “Granted we bricked over the mayor’s bathroom, but what happened afterwards wasn’t entirely our fault.”
“And it was days ago,” Finny replied. He had pale skin so dirty it looked brown, and wore cast off human clothes trimmed down to fit him. Finny also carried a lit lantern, the only source of light for miles. “Humans can sure hold a grudge.”
“No sense of humor,” Stubs agreed. He pulled his ratty cape tight against the cold. “The thieves don’t get run out of town.”
Finny stopped to put on his three fingered gloves. “They have a seat on the town council. That’s what we need, political representation.”
Finny was going to say more, but Stubs clamped his hand over Finny’s wide mouth. Speaking just above a whisper, he asked, “Do you see that?”
Finny peered into the darkness. There was a human in black armor camped on the road next to a dying fire. The armor looked familiar. Finny said, “Hey, it’s Golomak, the false knight, the destroyer of hope, the breaker of vows…well, it goes on like that for a while.”
“That has to make for awkward introductions at parties. I mean look at his scabbard. It’s gorgeous! I have to have it for my parlor.”
“You don’t have a parlor, or a house,” Finny said.
Stubs waved his hand. “Details. Just look at it, the craftsmanship, the design…I want it.”
Finny shrugged. “Not like Golomak was doing anything good with it before he got run out of town.”
“He bricked over a bathroom, too?” Stubs asked.
“No, they kicked him out for a real reason,” Finny said. “Seriously, don’t ask why.”
Stubs folded his hands across his chest. “Hey, I’ve got a strong stomach.”
“Not for that you don’t,” Finny said. He watched Golomak carefully. The human hadn’t moved since they’d spotted him. “I think he’s asleep. We can get passed him, no problem.”
“But the scabbard!” Stubs whined.
Finny rolled his eyes and shuttered his lantern. “Fine, we’ll take it.”
The two goblins snuck closer, taking cover behind boulders on the road in case Golomak wasn’t as sleepy as he looked. Up close their target was an intimidating sight, with a grinning skull imprinted on his shield, and armor with a skull and ribcage theme on the chest and shoulders. The false knight and destroyer of hope was sleeping deeply, but Stubs was careful all the same. He drew his knife and cut away the leather strap holding the sword and scabbard to Golomak’s belt. For a moment Golomak stirred in his sleep, but the moment passed and the two goblins snuck down the road.
Once they were a mile away, the goblins stopped to admire their prize. Finny opened his lantern’s shutter an inch to better see the scabbard.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Stubs said. “Whoever carved the dragons on this was a master.”
“There’s gold on it,” Finny warned. “Humans kill for gold.”
“It’s worth it,” Stubs said as he ran his red skinned hand over the scabbard.
Finny frowned. “What about the sword?”
“Huh? Oh, that. No interest there.” Stubs drew the blade and paused. The purplish-black sword was razor sharp and as long as Stubs was tall, as menacing a weapon as either of them had ever seen. Clearly it was too big for the goblin to use, but there were other reasons not to keep it. “Pretty sure it’s not supposed to be dripping black stuff on the ground.”
“That moaning sound it’s making is kind of irritating,” Finny added. “And I could do without the face on the sword snarling at me.”
Stubs shook the sword to see if he could get the black ichor off, but it seemed to have a constant supply. “I think this falls into the ‘not at all good things’ category.”
“You’re sure?”
“Just a hunch.” Stubs hurled the sword off the cliff, where it made a terrible racket bouncing off the cliff side. Golomak woke up and went for his sword, and screamed like a wounded animal when he found it missing.
“You annoy people,” Finny told Stubs.
Stubs held up his hands. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t see why we had to leave town,” Stubs said. The red skinned goblin stood only three feet tall and wore a red cape to keep out the chilly air. “Granted we bricked over the mayor’s bathroom, but what happened afterwards wasn’t entirely our fault.”
“And it was days ago,” Finny replied. He had pale skin so dirty it looked brown, and wore cast off human clothes trimmed down to fit him. Finny also carried a lit lantern, the only source of light for miles. “Humans can sure hold a grudge.”
“No sense of humor,” Stubs agreed. He pulled his ratty cape tight against the cold. “The thieves don’t get run out of town.”
Finny stopped to put on his three fingered gloves. “They have a seat on the town council. That’s what we need, political representation.”
Finny was going to say more, but Stubs clamped his hand over Finny’s wide mouth. Speaking just above a whisper, he asked, “Do you see that?”
Finny peered into the darkness. There was a human in black armor camped on the road next to a dying fire. The armor looked familiar. Finny said, “Hey, it’s Golomak, the false knight, the destroyer of hope, the breaker of vows…well, it goes on like that for a while.”
“That has to make for awkward introductions at parties. I mean look at his scabbard. It’s gorgeous! I have to have it for my parlor.”
“You don’t have a parlor, or a house,” Finny said.
Stubs waved his hand. “Details. Just look at it, the craftsmanship, the design…I want it.”
Finny shrugged. “Not like Golomak was doing anything good with it before he got run out of town.”
“He bricked over a bathroom, too?” Stubs asked.
“No, they kicked him out for a real reason,” Finny said. “Seriously, don’t ask why.”
Stubs folded his hands across his chest. “Hey, I’ve got a strong stomach.”
“Not for that you don’t,” Finny said. He watched Golomak carefully. The human hadn’t moved since they’d spotted him. “I think he’s asleep. We can get passed him, no problem.”
“But the scabbard!” Stubs whined.
Finny rolled his eyes and shuttered his lantern. “Fine, we’ll take it.”
The two goblins snuck closer, taking cover behind boulders on the road in case Golomak wasn’t as sleepy as he looked. Up close their target was an intimidating sight, with a grinning skull imprinted on his shield, and armor with a skull and ribcage theme on the chest and shoulders. The false knight and destroyer of hope was sleeping deeply, but Stubs was careful all the same. He drew his knife and cut away the leather strap holding the sword and scabbard to Golomak’s belt. For a moment Golomak stirred in his sleep, but the moment passed and the two goblins snuck down the road.
Once they were a mile away, the goblins stopped to admire their prize. Finny opened his lantern’s shutter an inch to better see the scabbard.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Stubs said. “Whoever carved the dragons on this was a master.”
“There’s gold on it,” Finny warned. “Humans kill for gold.”
“It’s worth it,” Stubs said as he ran his red skinned hand over the scabbard.
Finny frowned. “What about the sword?”
“Huh? Oh, that. No interest there.” Stubs drew the blade and paused. The purplish-black sword was razor sharp and as long as Stubs was tall, as menacing a weapon as either of them had ever seen. Clearly it was too big for the goblin to use, but there were other reasons not to keep it. “Pretty sure it’s not supposed to be dripping black stuff on the ground.”
“That moaning sound it’s making is kind of irritating,” Finny added. “And I could do without the face on the sword snarling at me.”
Stubs shook the sword to see if he could get the black ichor off, but it seemed to have a constant supply. “I think this falls into the ‘not at all good things’ category.”
“You’re sure?”
“Just a hunch.” Stubs hurled the sword off the cliff, where it made a terrible racket bouncing off the cliff side. Golomak woke up and went for his sword, and screamed like a wounded animal when he found it missing.
“You annoy people,” Finny told Stubs.
Stubs held up his hands. “I can’t help it.”
July 18, 2014
Goblin Heroes
Goblins are renown for not being renown for anything. They stay in the shadows most of their lives, avoiding attention from larger and more dangerous races. When goblins do appear in the open, it is part of a group large enough to have a fighting chance against their enemies. Thousands may be present, making it hard for any one goblin to stand out.
But every so often a goblin becomes famous. This can happen by surviving against the odds, doing something that was thought impossible, or more rarely doing something noble. Goblins fight tooth and nail to avoid this fate, or try to pin the credit on someone else, because if they become famous then people will expect them to keep doing incredible things. That’s dangerous, and more importantly it’s hard work. Still, despite their best efforts a few unfortunate goblins have earned a place in history.
Rodnil the Great
Rodnil was born five hundred years ago and was quickly recruited by the warrior guild of goblins. Little is known of his appearance except he favored dark cloaks and had an unnerving smile like he was about to do something stupid (which he was). He was not good with a sword or club, not fast on his feet and not at all brave. Anywhere else these would be considered faults, but this describes all warrior goblins, so Rodnil fit in perfectly.
What Rodnil was good at was sneaking. He was the best spy the goblins ever had, capable of breaking into anyplace in the world. He often found choice targets for goblin pranks, and he spotted and warned his fellow goblins of terrible dangers. He was an expert lock pick and had a master’s eye at finding weak points in defenses. No one could skulk like Rodnil, and he even went across the continent end to end without being seen. So great was his fame that humans would sometimes hire him to infiltrate enemy kingdoms and report back to them.
One fine day Rodnil learned that a heavily defended caravan was coming into his home city of Oppulenca. The caravan was owned by the Archivists, an organization dedicated to recovering secrets and wonders lost in the fall of the ancient Elf Empire. The archivists included some of the finest wizards on Other Place, and their keeps were defended with armed guards, magic traps and thick walls. Once the caravan entered the Archivist keep in the center of the city, it was beyond the reach of thieves, kings and wizards.
It was not beyond the reach of Rodnil. He’d studied the caravan carefully. There were twenty wagons accompanied by ten wizards and a hundred swordsmen. No one guarded something that well unless it was interesting! Rodnil spent the next year observing the Archivist keep and testing its defenses. This was an exceptional act for a goblin, a race with the attention span of a gnat, but Rodnil was determined to learn the secret inside that keep.
Rodnil eventually discovered a flaw in the defenses, namely the sewers. The sewer entrance was narrow and blocked by rust iron bars covered in blades. Most people couldn’t slide in, but Rodnil was thin enough to do so. Cutting through the bars only took a few days, and he had plenty of experience in avoiding the magic traps and wards inside. On a moonless night, Rodnil entered the keep and learned the Archivists’ terrible secret.
The Archivists had discovered the Instant Doom of Kilmith, a forty ton magic super weapon. Its inventors had built it as the ultimate in defense, for if the horrible weapon was ever used it would destroy all of Other Place in a blaze of magic so strong the world itself might be cracked apart. It was overkill enough to keep neighboring warlike states at arm’s length. Oddly enough, the builders of the Instant Doom of Kilmith were not defeated by their enemies but by a mudslide caused by deforesting the high hills around their home.
The terrible weapon remained buried for centuries until the Archivists found it. They dug it up, disassembled it and brought it to their best defended keep. In truth they never intended to use the thing, only study it, but like many people they did not consider the long term consequences of their actions. They didn’t want to use the Instant Doom of Kilmith, but others might and would attack the Archivists to get it.
Rodnil watched in horror from the shadows as the Archivists calmly discussed the weapon’s potential. He was aghast when he heard this thing could destroy the world. That was where he kept all his stuff! He waited until the wizards and guards went to sleep, then moved in to put an end to the threat.
The guards were prepared for an attack from outside, not a thief within, and Rodnil had time alone with the Instant Doom. He tried cutting it, smashing it, chewing it, even peeing on it, all to no avail. In a bitter twist of irony, the thing that could destroy the world was itself indestructible.
Dawn was fast approaching and the wizards would soon return to continue their studies. Rodnil was about to flee and come back later when he gave the Instant Doom one last kick. A part came off! He realized that the part was not broken and could snap back into place, but this was the opening he needed. Rodnil took four important looking parts, including the user manual, and fled the keep. The Archivists learned of the theft within minutes and mounted a determined search for the missing parts. They used guards and bounty hunters and bloodhounds and magic, and they failed. Rodnil escaped as he had so often before.
The Instant Doom of Kilmith was useless without the missing parts, but Rodnil knew he’d earned a partial victory. The Archivists would continue looking for the parts, as might others. If they succeeded the world would be in danger once again. He had to get rid of the parts so no one could get them back. But where could he put them so even wizards couldn’t find them? Even more importantly, the wizards would eventually come looking for him. Could he keep the parts’ location secret if captured?
Rodnil rounded up the three foremost goblins of his day, a difficult task as they all did their best to run away. But Rodnil persevered, and after many long discussions and hefty bribes he obtained their help. He handed one part to Ithim, the strongest goblin, a second part to Chath, the fastest goblin, and the last to Bibil, the best dressed goblin. Retaining the last part for himself, he instructed them to go off and hide the parts where none could find them, and to tell no one where the pieces were.
The four goblins parted ways, returning three years later. They had done as ordered and the world was safe. But it is nearly impossible for a goblin to keep his mouth shut for long, and over the years each one gave clues as to where the parts were. Rodnil said, “I put my part in a place that does not exist.” Ithim said, “I placed my part with a guardian who will never let it go.” Chath said, “ I put my part where it will never stop moving.” Bibil said, ‘I hid my part so well even I don’t know where it is.”
Wherever the parts are, there they remain, for no one has ever found them. The Archivists hold the rest of the Instant Doom of Kilmith, useless for everything except studying (which is what they wanted anyway). As for Rodnil and his fellow goblins, all four drifted off to parts unknown lest an enemy catch them and wring the location of the parts from them. Rodnil was last seen riding off into the sunset on an annoyed musk ox, carrying a king’s crown he’d stolen and vowing to bury it in the first dung heap he found.
But every so often a goblin becomes famous. This can happen by surviving against the odds, doing something that was thought impossible, or more rarely doing something noble. Goblins fight tooth and nail to avoid this fate, or try to pin the credit on someone else, because if they become famous then people will expect them to keep doing incredible things. That’s dangerous, and more importantly it’s hard work. Still, despite their best efforts a few unfortunate goblins have earned a place in history.
Rodnil the Great
Rodnil was born five hundred years ago and was quickly recruited by the warrior guild of goblins. Little is known of his appearance except he favored dark cloaks and had an unnerving smile like he was about to do something stupid (which he was). He was not good with a sword or club, not fast on his feet and not at all brave. Anywhere else these would be considered faults, but this describes all warrior goblins, so Rodnil fit in perfectly.
What Rodnil was good at was sneaking. He was the best spy the goblins ever had, capable of breaking into anyplace in the world. He often found choice targets for goblin pranks, and he spotted and warned his fellow goblins of terrible dangers. He was an expert lock pick and had a master’s eye at finding weak points in defenses. No one could skulk like Rodnil, and he even went across the continent end to end without being seen. So great was his fame that humans would sometimes hire him to infiltrate enemy kingdoms and report back to them.
One fine day Rodnil learned that a heavily defended caravan was coming into his home city of Oppulenca. The caravan was owned by the Archivists, an organization dedicated to recovering secrets and wonders lost in the fall of the ancient Elf Empire. The archivists included some of the finest wizards on Other Place, and their keeps were defended with armed guards, magic traps and thick walls. Once the caravan entered the Archivist keep in the center of the city, it was beyond the reach of thieves, kings and wizards.
It was not beyond the reach of Rodnil. He’d studied the caravan carefully. There were twenty wagons accompanied by ten wizards and a hundred swordsmen. No one guarded something that well unless it was interesting! Rodnil spent the next year observing the Archivist keep and testing its defenses. This was an exceptional act for a goblin, a race with the attention span of a gnat, but Rodnil was determined to learn the secret inside that keep.
Rodnil eventually discovered a flaw in the defenses, namely the sewers. The sewer entrance was narrow and blocked by rust iron bars covered in blades. Most people couldn’t slide in, but Rodnil was thin enough to do so. Cutting through the bars only took a few days, and he had plenty of experience in avoiding the magic traps and wards inside. On a moonless night, Rodnil entered the keep and learned the Archivists’ terrible secret.
The Archivists had discovered the Instant Doom of Kilmith, a forty ton magic super weapon. Its inventors had built it as the ultimate in defense, for if the horrible weapon was ever used it would destroy all of Other Place in a blaze of magic so strong the world itself might be cracked apart. It was overkill enough to keep neighboring warlike states at arm’s length. Oddly enough, the builders of the Instant Doom of Kilmith were not defeated by their enemies but by a mudslide caused by deforesting the high hills around their home.
The terrible weapon remained buried for centuries until the Archivists found it. They dug it up, disassembled it and brought it to their best defended keep. In truth they never intended to use the thing, only study it, but like many people they did not consider the long term consequences of their actions. They didn’t want to use the Instant Doom of Kilmith, but others might and would attack the Archivists to get it.
Rodnil watched in horror from the shadows as the Archivists calmly discussed the weapon’s potential. He was aghast when he heard this thing could destroy the world. That was where he kept all his stuff! He waited until the wizards and guards went to sleep, then moved in to put an end to the threat.
The guards were prepared for an attack from outside, not a thief within, and Rodnil had time alone with the Instant Doom. He tried cutting it, smashing it, chewing it, even peeing on it, all to no avail. In a bitter twist of irony, the thing that could destroy the world was itself indestructible.
Dawn was fast approaching and the wizards would soon return to continue their studies. Rodnil was about to flee and come back later when he gave the Instant Doom one last kick. A part came off! He realized that the part was not broken and could snap back into place, but this was the opening he needed. Rodnil took four important looking parts, including the user manual, and fled the keep. The Archivists learned of the theft within minutes and mounted a determined search for the missing parts. They used guards and bounty hunters and bloodhounds and magic, and they failed. Rodnil escaped as he had so often before.
The Instant Doom of Kilmith was useless without the missing parts, but Rodnil knew he’d earned a partial victory. The Archivists would continue looking for the parts, as might others. If they succeeded the world would be in danger once again. He had to get rid of the parts so no one could get them back. But where could he put them so even wizards couldn’t find them? Even more importantly, the wizards would eventually come looking for him. Could he keep the parts’ location secret if captured?
Rodnil rounded up the three foremost goblins of his day, a difficult task as they all did their best to run away. But Rodnil persevered, and after many long discussions and hefty bribes he obtained their help. He handed one part to Ithim, the strongest goblin, a second part to Chath, the fastest goblin, and the last to Bibil, the best dressed goblin. Retaining the last part for himself, he instructed them to go off and hide the parts where none could find them, and to tell no one where the pieces were.
The four goblins parted ways, returning three years later. They had done as ordered and the world was safe. But it is nearly impossible for a goblin to keep his mouth shut for long, and over the years each one gave clues as to where the parts were. Rodnil said, “I put my part in a place that does not exist.” Ithim said, “I placed my part with a guardian who will never let it go.” Chath said, “ I put my part where it will never stop moving.” Bibil said, ‘I hid my part so well even I don’t know where it is.”
Wherever the parts are, there they remain, for no one has ever found them. The Archivists hold the rest of the Instant Doom of Kilmith, useless for everything except studying (which is what they wanted anyway). As for Rodnil and his fellow goblins, all four drifted off to parts unknown lest an enemy catch them and wring the location of the parts from them. Rodnil was last seen riding off into the sunset on an annoyed musk ox, carrying a king’s crown he’d stolen and vowing to bury it in the first dung heap he found.
July 6, 2014
Great Goblins Pranks II
Goblins would rather fool an enemy than beat him in battle. It’s safer and much more satisfying, for the victim suffers longer as his fellow men or elves laugh at his foolishness. Over the years goblins have become experts at pranks and traps. But even among the masters there comes a time when they pull off a prank of legendary proportions, a lie of such breathtaking beauty, and to date nothing has come close to matching the goblins’ invention of the Very Silly Corporation in the city state of Nolod.
Nolod is a city of contradictions, with unimaginable wealthy and productivity alongside poverty, filth and crime, a place of riches sitting upon poor land unfit for mining or agriculture. It accepts members of all races but treats each with contempt. The city of a million inhabitants has a parliament in which fewer than a thousand people are allowed to vote. Enemy nations fear and hate Nolod while still doing business with its merchants. Millions of gold pieces in goods flow through the city every month, and the services available there rival that of the greatest empires. One can buy spices, silks, weapons and deadly poisons with equal easy.
Nolod’s prosperity comes mainly from shipping and manufacturing, but it is also a financial hub for the world of Other Place. It has branches from all the major banking cartels and is one of the few cities on the planet with a stock exchange. Here human paper stock certificates are traded with dwarf bronze stock claims and elven jade tablets of ownership. Stock is a risky investment on a world where greedy kings, bandit armies and angry dragons can strike at any time, but the rewards are equally valuable. A good bet on a newly issued stock can make a man richer than a lifetime of hard work.
It’s no surprise that a city as large, filthy and crowded as Nolod has goblins. They dwell in the slums, shantytowns and sewers, acting as unofficial garbage men, carting off the city’s junk for food or their own use. They also play pranks on the residents regardless of wealth and station, proving that money and power means nothing to them. From time to time the richer citizens hire mercenaries to drive them out, but such attempts always fail, and goblins inevitably find out who is responsible and pay them a visit. All in all, their presence is accepted if not appreciated.
But one year the goblins in Nolod hatched a scheme that forever raised the bar for practical jokes. The plan came about when the goblins saw a man being praised and toasted for his new wealth. He’d sold thousands of gold pieces in stock for a mining venture in a distant land, and in Nolod gold equaled prestige. The goblins marveled how humans, dwarfs and elves treated stocks as if they were gold. That night they discussed the situation over a meal of cattle bones and old boots, and they decided to launch a fake business, stocks included.
The goblin business was called the Very Silly Corporation. They designed a logo with a ship upside down in the water, with the phrase, “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re almost there”, as the company slogan. The goblins then broke into the main stockbroker’s office and studied his records and books, careful not to leave a sign of their visit. They filled out a phony application form with lies of epic proportion. These including that their company owned sole rights to sell mud pies in the Elf Kingdom and had fishing rights in the Valvas Desert. But as they studied the stockbroker, they found a flaw in their plan. Anyone issuing stock had to present himself to the broker. No one would accept a business offer from a goblin! But in true goblin fashion they found a way around this.
Nolod had its share of people who had tried their best in business and failed. Given how corrupt the city was and how many deals required hefty bribes, honest, hardworking men were often crushed underfoot. The goblins found a man of regal bearing and no means, a man who had been cheated and snubbed and betrayed, and they offered him a chance to get back at the entire city. Not surprisingly, he said yes. They also found men working for the stockbroker who had not received just rewards for their work, and they offered the men a chance to get even. No money traded hands, but the human accomplices didn’t want it. Avenging their injured pride was enough.
It took the goblins a few days to dress up their spokesman in fashionable (and stolen) clothes and teach him his lines. The stockbroker’s employees helped prepare him and make sure all the forms were filled out correctly (abet insanely). The spokesman then presented himself, dressed richly and bearing faked maps and contracts that made him out to be a man of means. He was welcomed warmly, for Nolod always needs new sources of money, and was soon introduced to the wealthy elite of the city. An elf merchant suspected him, but the goblins targeted the suspicious elf with pie traps that kept him too busy to get involved. Mere weeks later the stockbroker put up shares in the phony company for sale.
It worked. Shares in a nonexistent company went on sale, and even better, it was the talk of the town. There was mention of it in all the newspapers for days and then weeks. People of wealth and privilege spoke excitedly of the new opportunity. The goblins couldn’t laugh hard enough. They knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught on, but every day the prank went on made it even better.
Then one day the goblins’ accomplices came to them with bulging bags filled with gold coins. The stock had sold out within of minutes of being issued. It was already trading for twice the list price, and going up every day. The goblins listened in stunned amazement as they were told they’d made 1200 gold pieces from their stock sale.
While the goblins’ prank was impressive in its complexity, greed and stupidity made it even more effective. The company title of Very Silly Corporation was shortened to VSC by the newspapers and stockbroker. No one asked what the letters stood for. The slogan was accepted as profound instead of idiotic. No one even looked at the logo. The lies the goblins had told were actually believed. After all, elves are very fond of desserts, accepting only the best and paying well for it. And if there was fishing in the Valvas desert then there must be water there, a newly discovered oasis of incredible size. People who should have known better, who should have asked questions, were seduced by the chance for profit.
For the first time in recorded history goblins were rich. This was not a good thing, for goblins knew that other races kill for gold. They had to get rid of their fortune fast. They armed themselves with slingshots and fired most of the coins at people in the shantytown. They gave the rest of the money to their accomplices with instructions that they should flee the city before someone caught on.
It was bad advice, for years later the lie still hasn’t been discovered. Even now, people in Nolod believe that the Very Silly Corporation is real and is some kind of import/export business. VSC is currently trading at 80 gold pieces per share. The “company” hasn’t made any money, but new businesses usually need time to turn a profit, and it hasn’t reported a loss, either. The prank has taken on a life of its own, growing in strength even without the goblins’ help as more and more people believe in it.
Nolod is a city of contradictions, with unimaginable wealthy and productivity alongside poverty, filth and crime, a place of riches sitting upon poor land unfit for mining or agriculture. It accepts members of all races but treats each with contempt. The city of a million inhabitants has a parliament in which fewer than a thousand people are allowed to vote. Enemy nations fear and hate Nolod while still doing business with its merchants. Millions of gold pieces in goods flow through the city every month, and the services available there rival that of the greatest empires. One can buy spices, silks, weapons and deadly poisons with equal easy.
Nolod’s prosperity comes mainly from shipping and manufacturing, but it is also a financial hub for the world of Other Place. It has branches from all the major banking cartels and is one of the few cities on the planet with a stock exchange. Here human paper stock certificates are traded with dwarf bronze stock claims and elven jade tablets of ownership. Stock is a risky investment on a world where greedy kings, bandit armies and angry dragons can strike at any time, but the rewards are equally valuable. A good bet on a newly issued stock can make a man richer than a lifetime of hard work.
It’s no surprise that a city as large, filthy and crowded as Nolod has goblins. They dwell in the slums, shantytowns and sewers, acting as unofficial garbage men, carting off the city’s junk for food or their own use. They also play pranks on the residents regardless of wealth and station, proving that money and power means nothing to them. From time to time the richer citizens hire mercenaries to drive them out, but such attempts always fail, and goblins inevitably find out who is responsible and pay them a visit. All in all, their presence is accepted if not appreciated.
But one year the goblins in Nolod hatched a scheme that forever raised the bar for practical jokes. The plan came about when the goblins saw a man being praised and toasted for his new wealth. He’d sold thousands of gold pieces in stock for a mining venture in a distant land, and in Nolod gold equaled prestige. The goblins marveled how humans, dwarfs and elves treated stocks as if they were gold. That night they discussed the situation over a meal of cattle bones and old boots, and they decided to launch a fake business, stocks included.
The goblin business was called the Very Silly Corporation. They designed a logo with a ship upside down in the water, with the phrase, “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re almost there”, as the company slogan. The goblins then broke into the main stockbroker’s office and studied his records and books, careful not to leave a sign of their visit. They filled out a phony application form with lies of epic proportion. These including that their company owned sole rights to sell mud pies in the Elf Kingdom and had fishing rights in the Valvas Desert. But as they studied the stockbroker, they found a flaw in their plan. Anyone issuing stock had to present himself to the broker. No one would accept a business offer from a goblin! But in true goblin fashion they found a way around this.
Nolod had its share of people who had tried their best in business and failed. Given how corrupt the city was and how many deals required hefty bribes, honest, hardworking men were often crushed underfoot. The goblins found a man of regal bearing and no means, a man who had been cheated and snubbed and betrayed, and they offered him a chance to get back at the entire city. Not surprisingly, he said yes. They also found men working for the stockbroker who had not received just rewards for their work, and they offered the men a chance to get even. No money traded hands, but the human accomplices didn’t want it. Avenging their injured pride was enough.
It took the goblins a few days to dress up their spokesman in fashionable (and stolen) clothes and teach him his lines. The stockbroker’s employees helped prepare him and make sure all the forms were filled out correctly (abet insanely). The spokesman then presented himself, dressed richly and bearing faked maps and contracts that made him out to be a man of means. He was welcomed warmly, for Nolod always needs new sources of money, and was soon introduced to the wealthy elite of the city. An elf merchant suspected him, but the goblins targeted the suspicious elf with pie traps that kept him too busy to get involved. Mere weeks later the stockbroker put up shares in the phony company for sale.
It worked. Shares in a nonexistent company went on sale, and even better, it was the talk of the town. There was mention of it in all the newspapers for days and then weeks. People of wealth and privilege spoke excitedly of the new opportunity. The goblins couldn’t laugh hard enough. They knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught on, but every day the prank went on made it even better.
Then one day the goblins’ accomplices came to them with bulging bags filled with gold coins. The stock had sold out within of minutes of being issued. It was already trading for twice the list price, and going up every day. The goblins listened in stunned amazement as they were told they’d made 1200 gold pieces from their stock sale.
While the goblins’ prank was impressive in its complexity, greed and stupidity made it even more effective. The company title of Very Silly Corporation was shortened to VSC by the newspapers and stockbroker. No one asked what the letters stood for. The slogan was accepted as profound instead of idiotic. No one even looked at the logo. The lies the goblins had told were actually believed. After all, elves are very fond of desserts, accepting only the best and paying well for it. And if there was fishing in the Valvas desert then there must be water there, a newly discovered oasis of incredible size. People who should have known better, who should have asked questions, were seduced by the chance for profit.
For the first time in recorded history goblins were rich. This was not a good thing, for goblins knew that other races kill for gold. They had to get rid of their fortune fast. They armed themselves with slingshots and fired most of the coins at people in the shantytown. They gave the rest of the money to their accomplices with instructions that they should flee the city before someone caught on.
It was bad advice, for years later the lie still hasn’t been discovered. Even now, people in Nolod believe that the Very Silly Corporation is real and is some kind of import/export business. VSC is currently trading at 80 gold pieces per share. The “company” hasn’t made any money, but new businesses usually need time to turn a profit, and it hasn’t reported a loss, either. The prank has taken on a life of its own, growing in strength even without the goblins’ help as more and more people believe in it.
June 17, 2014
Great Goblin Pranks
Making trouble is one of the defining features of goblins, but from time to time they pull off a prank of such breathtaking complexity and appallingly poor taste that people talk about it for years. The Great Goblin Glue Geyser and the Annual Goblin Yam Cook-off Competition (which amazingly hasn’t killed anyone so far) are two of the better known pranks. To these disastrous events must be added The Weary Traveler Inn.
Travelers going between Kaleoth and Ket Kingdom have long suffered on account of the wilderness they must pass through. This is because the area is too sparsely populated to provide even basic amenities. Road conditions are poor, bandit and monster attacks are a constant threat, and there are few settlements to take shelter in.
Bad as the situation was, it became worse when goblins got involved. A group of builder goblins living nearby overheard men in a merchant caravan complain about the lack of inns or other places to sleep at night. To the goblins’ twisted minds this provided an opportunity for mischief. If inns were in such high demand, then having an inn would attract victims for their pranks.
The builder goblins went to work, giggling the whole time. Working in a large cave, they cut timber, forged nails and mixed paint. They built the inn in sections that could easily be assembled. Weeks later under a moonlit sky, they carried the inn pieces to a nearby road and put the building together. Thus was born The Weary Traveler Inn.
The Weary Traveler is a two-story building and is billed as the first self service inn, with no staff whatsoever. There is an attached stable large enough for ten horses and it is always stocked with hay. The inn is well made and receives frequent repairs by the builder goblins, proof that goblins can do good work when they feel like it. Helpful signs indicate that guests are to place one silver piece per night per person in a slot next to the door.
That’s the last thing about The Weary Traveler that’s helpful. There are two staircases going up, both ending in solid walls. There is in fact no way to reach the inn’s second floor. Beds are designed to fall down when the slightest weight is put on them, and the mattresses are liberally coated with powdered ragweed. A door labeled ‘bathroom’ actually leads to one of the bedrooms.
The kitchen is a nightmare. Cabinets are rigged to dump their entire contents of wood bowls and spoons on whoever opens them. The kitchen also contains no food, instead having a selection of clubs with instructions for guests to hunt down and kill anything they intend to eat. There is a spice rack, a novelty when most kitchen seasoning starts and stops at salt. But in addition to whatever is on the label, every jar is laced with hot pepper.
These are just the usual pranks. Goblins use The Weary Traveler as a testing ground for new traps. The inn has at times had pie throwers, skunks in cages, and a particularly nasty trap that catapulted people sitting on the toilet out a window and into a pond. Making matters even worse, sometimes the goblins disarm every trap in the inn before visitors arrive, rearming the traps once they’ve left. This creates conflicting accounts as to the inn’s character. The goblins have even disassembled and moved the inn, taking it miles down the road or even to new roads entirely. This ensures a steady stream of potential victims even after the inn developed a reputation for trouble
Responses to The Weary Travel are predictable. Some guests run off screaming into the night. Others go on a rampage, destroying much of the inn. Twice angry guests have even burned it down. But the goblins repair or rebuild the inn every time, so it’s always ready for the next visitor. Most guests never realize who is responsible for their situation, as the goblins take great pains to go unnoticed.
But to the goblins’ amazement, The Weary Traveler has not been entirely forsaken by travelers even after they knew what to expect. The need for safe housing on the road is so great that desperate merchants and pilgrims often use the inn regardless of the traps, as they have found out the hard way that the inn’s walls are thick enough to keep out monsters. It is also a favorite place to wait out bad weather. Scouts and travel guides even recommend the inn on the grounds that it’s better than nothing. And, in a move that shocked the goblins to the core, some guests do pay the recommended fee. So far the builder goblins have two hundred silver coins and no idea what to do with it.
Travelers going between Kaleoth and Ket Kingdom have long suffered on account of the wilderness they must pass through. This is because the area is too sparsely populated to provide even basic amenities. Road conditions are poor, bandit and monster attacks are a constant threat, and there are few settlements to take shelter in.
Bad as the situation was, it became worse when goblins got involved. A group of builder goblins living nearby overheard men in a merchant caravan complain about the lack of inns or other places to sleep at night. To the goblins’ twisted minds this provided an opportunity for mischief. If inns were in such high demand, then having an inn would attract victims for their pranks.
The builder goblins went to work, giggling the whole time. Working in a large cave, they cut timber, forged nails and mixed paint. They built the inn in sections that could easily be assembled. Weeks later under a moonlit sky, they carried the inn pieces to a nearby road and put the building together. Thus was born The Weary Traveler Inn.
The Weary Traveler is a two-story building and is billed as the first self service inn, with no staff whatsoever. There is an attached stable large enough for ten horses and it is always stocked with hay. The inn is well made and receives frequent repairs by the builder goblins, proof that goblins can do good work when they feel like it. Helpful signs indicate that guests are to place one silver piece per night per person in a slot next to the door.
That’s the last thing about The Weary Traveler that’s helpful. There are two staircases going up, both ending in solid walls. There is in fact no way to reach the inn’s second floor. Beds are designed to fall down when the slightest weight is put on them, and the mattresses are liberally coated with powdered ragweed. A door labeled ‘bathroom’ actually leads to one of the bedrooms.
The kitchen is a nightmare. Cabinets are rigged to dump their entire contents of wood bowls and spoons on whoever opens them. The kitchen also contains no food, instead having a selection of clubs with instructions for guests to hunt down and kill anything they intend to eat. There is a spice rack, a novelty when most kitchen seasoning starts and stops at salt. But in addition to whatever is on the label, every jar is laced with hot pepper.
These are just the usual pranks. Goblins use The Weary Traveler as a testing ground for new traps. The inn has at times had pie throwers, skunks in cages, and a particularly nasty trap that catapulted people sitting on the toilet out a window and into a pond. Making matters even worse, sometimes the goblins disarm every trap in the inn before visitors arrive, rearming the traps once they’ve left. This creates conflicting accounts as to the inn’s character. The goblins have even disassembled and moved the inn, taking it miles down the road or even to new roads entirely. This ensures a steady stream of potential victims even after the inn developed a reputation for trouble
Responses to The Weary Travel are predictable. Some guests run off screaming into the night. Others go on a rampage, destroying much of the inn. Twice angry guests have even burned it down. But the goblins repair or rebuild the inn every time, so it’s always ready for the next visitor. Most guests never realize who is responsible for their situation, as the goblins take great pains to go unnoticed.
But to the goblins’ amazement, The Weary Traveler has not been entirely forsaken by travelers even after they knew what to expect. The need for safe housing on the road is so great that desperate merchants and pilgrims often use the inn regardless of the traps, as they have found out the hard way that the inn’s walls are thick enough to keep out monsters. It is also a favorite place to wait out bad weather. Scouts and travel guides even recommend the inn on the grounds that it’s better than nothing. And, in a move that shocked the goblins to the core, some guests do pay the recommended fee. So far the builder goblins have two hundred silver coins and no idea what to do with it.
May 22, 2014
Goblins and Dwarfs
Everyone on Other Place has to endure goblins and their constant pranks. Exploding outhouses, pie throwers, pit traps, horses dressed in ball gowns, it simply doesn’t end. But different races have their own way of dealing with goblins, some worse than others.
Dwarfs and Goblins
Dwarf society long ago drifted from its roots as dedicated craftsmen. The old system of related families ruled by clan lords and kings was replaced with an owner-employee relationship where large corporations rule tens of thousands of dwarfs. Dwarf corporations make and enforce the laws, with profit being the highest and only goal.
It’s not an easy system to live in. Dwarf corporations submit monthly profit reports, and woe to the dwarf who fails to meet expectations. The expression ‘hostile takeover’ takes on a new meaning when company security uses magic wands. Larger corporations like Industrial Magic Corporation and Consolidated Looting push around their smaller rivals, buying up promising upstarts while crushing rivals. Open warfare between corporations is rare after the five year conflict between Amalgamated Arm-twisting and Take-it-all Inc. Still, it’s not unheard of for CEOs to hire pirates and bandits to attack their business rivals.
Surviving this kind of environment is hard. Dwarf leaders have to exploit every resource they have to its fullest, be it property or personnel. The corporations devastate land they own or rent as they drain it of resources. This forces them to move on after they have taken everything of value, leaving it a wasteland behind. Employees are pushed hard and many leave for greener pastures. Some dwarfs even use convict labor, buying a prisoner’s sentence and putting him to work. Changes in leadership occur whenever profits drop.
In this cutthroat competition, goblins have been the downfall of many dwarf leaders. Goblins mess things up. It’s what they do. When they get inside a dwarf mine or factory, it doesn’t take much to bring it to a grinding halt. Even an hour’s lost work can cost a company a fortune in gold. As a result, dwarfs hate goblins nearly as much as elves.
Dwarfs deal harshly with goblins. Corporate security is tasked with rooting out goblins in dwarf territory with ruthless efficiency. They build impressive defenses using both magic and mundane means to keep out goblins. They patrol their property often to destroy any goblin settlements they find. Dwarfs will sweep through any new area they plan on moving into to rid it of every goblin before they start up business.
Ironically, goblins love dwarfs and always have. Getting into dwarf factories and mines is nearly impossible, but that only makes them more attractive targets. These heavy defenses force goblins to be even more inventive than normal. It’s common for goblins to spend months to get a single goblin passed dwarf patrols, but the resulting chaos and confusion makes it all worth it.
Another reason goblins love dwarfs is because dwarfs inadvertently make homes for their enemies. Dwarfs can strip mine a region of every speck of ore, leaving it a barren, blasted landscape little better than the surface of the moon. Dwarf factories are just as hard on the land. The energy and rare elements used to make dwarf magic items leaches into the soil, contaminating it and causing spontaneous bursts of magic (bring Instant Princess Frog Restorer when visiting dwarf lands). It takes decades for dwarfs to entirely gut a region, but when they do it is unlivable for nearly everyone.
Nearly everyone does not include goblins. Goblins are one of the few races that can thrive in such depleted environments. They can eat the toughest weeds and drink polluted water without ill effect. Dwarfs also leave abandoned buildings behind when they vacate a property, providing housing for incoming goblins. And since no other race can live in these wastelands, goblins can claim them without fear of attack. Many goblin communities sprang up from abandoned dwarf holdings, growing so large that there was no way to evict them by the time the land recovered and was considered worth having. Indeed, this is how the Kingdom of the Goblins originated, and it now boasts the largest concentration of goblins on Other Place.
Dwarfs and Goblins
Dwarf society long ago drifted from its roots as dedicated craftsmen. The old system of related families ruled by clan lords and kings was replaced with an owner-employee relationship where large corporations rule tens of thousands of dwarfs. Dwarf corporations make and enforce the laws, with profit being the highest and only goal.
It’s not an easy system to live in. Dwarf corporations submit monthly profit reports, and woe to the dwarf who fails to meet expectations. The expression ‘hostile takeover’ takes on a new meaning when company security uses magic wands. Larger corporations like Industrial Magic Corporation and Consolidated Looting push around their smaller rivals, buying up promising upstarts while crushing rivals. Open warfare between corporations is rare after the five year conflict between Amalgamated Arm-twisting and Take-it-all Inc. Still, it’s not unheard of for CEOs to hire pirates and bandits to attack their business rivals.
Surviving this kind of environment is hard. Dwarf leaders have to exploit every resource they have to its fullest, be it property or personnel. The corporations devastate land they own or rent as they drain it of resources. This forces them to move on after they have taken everything of value, leaving it a wasteland behind. Employees are pushed hard and many leave for greener pastures. Some dwarfs even use convict labor, buying a prisoner’s sentence and putting him to work. Changes in leadership occur whenever profits drop.
In this cutthroat competition, goblins have been the downfall of many dwarf leaders. Goblins mess things up. It’s what they do. When they get inside a dwarf mine or factory, it doesn’t take much to bring it to a grinding halt. Even an hour’s lost work can cost a company a fortune in gold. As a result, dwarfs hate goblins nearly as much as elves.
Dwarfs deal harshly with goblins. Corporate security is tasked with rooting out goblins in dwarf territory with ruthless efficiency. They build impressive defenses using both magic and mundane means to keep out goblins. They patrol their property often to destroy any goblin settlements they find. Dwarfs will sweep through any new area they plan on moving into to rid it of every goblin before they start up business.
Ironically, goblins love dwarfs and always have. Getting into dwarf factories and mines is nearly impossible, but that only makes them more attractive targets. These heavy defenses force goblins to be even more inventive than normal. It’s common for goblins to spend months to get a single goblin passed dwarf patrols, but the resulting chaos and confusion makes it all worth it.
Another reason goblins love dwarfs is because dwarfs inadvertently make homes for their enemies. Dwarfs can strip mine a region of every speck of ore, leaving it a barren, blasted landscape little better than the surface of the moon. Dwarf factories are just as hard on the land. The energy and rare elements used to make dwarf magic items leaches into the soil, contaminating it and causing spontaneous bursts of magic (bring Instant Princess Frog Restorer when visiting dwarf lands). It takes decades for dwarfs to entirely gut a region, but when they do it is unlivable for nearly everyone.
Nearly everyone does not include goblins. Goblins are one of the few races that can thrive in such depleted environments. They can eat the toughest weeds and drink polluted water without ill effect. Dwarfs also leave abandoned buildings behind when they vacate a property, providing housing for incoming goblins. And since no other race can live in these wastelands, goblins can claim them without fear of attack. Many goblin communities sprang up from abandoned dwarf holdings, growing so large that there was no way to evict them by the time the land recovered and was considered worth having. Indeed, this is how the Kingdom of the Goblins originated, and it now boasts the largest concentration of goblins on Other Place.
April 23, 2014
Goblins and Elves
The goblins of Other Place share their world with many civilized races, including humans, dwarfs, trolls, ogres, elves and gnomes. Goblins make little distinction between them, causing as much mischief to one race as the next. Many goblins can’t tell one race from another and think the other races are playing some kind of game when they say they’re different.
But each race has their own way of dealing with goblins and the chaos they bring. While there are differences in how individuals act, most races follow a few common themes.
Goblins and Elves
Elves are the most advanced, civilized race on Other Place, a “fact” they point out at every opportunity. Their cities are the most beautiful, their art the most breathtaking, their food the most succulent. None can match their skill in battle or magic, with the exceptions to this rule written out of history. Their reputation suffers a bit because of blood feuds between elf families and factions, but that’s an old tradition they swear by. Elves view other races as knuckle dragging, subhuman halfwits, and if someone has the wealth, skill or accomplishments to prove otherwise, well, obviously they had elven help. It is the burden of the elves to watch over these unfortunates, guiding them, educating them, taxing them. Needless to say, elves don’t have many friends.
Elves take humans and gnomes under their wing as clients. These clients are the poor and dispossessed among their own people, so desperate that they accept elven rule for food and a roof over their heads. Clients get good housing, plenty of food and safety from their enemies in return for paying taxes and doing whatever work the elves assign them. Elves treat their clients very well, but there is no mistaking who is in charge.
Goblins fit many of the elves’ prejudices. They are poor and despised by many, but they don’t want elf help. Goblins are happiest on their own making a total mess of everything around them, and nothing the elves say or do can convince them to submit to elf rule.
Elves once conquered many goblins and carried them into captivity. The goal was to civilize the goblins, teaching them proper behavior and basic skills so the elves could use them as cheap labor. It failed. The goblin prisoners had no interest in obeying their captors and caused constant mischief. Holding the goblins was a full time job, for they were insanely inventive in their escape attempts. Each attempt, whether successful or not, inflicted considerable property damage. Bills for the damage skyrocketed, and when the goblins eventually did escape the elves bid them good riddance.
But once the goblins got free they didn’t go far. Escaped goblins colonized regions around elf territory and set up their rattletrap houses and underground towns. Worse, they’d learned a lot about elves during their captivity, and they knew where to hit to cause the most damage to both elven property and pride. They released skunks into elf garden parties, mixed poison ivy into elf perfume, and what they did to the wine shouldn’t be mentioned. The elves soon learned that freed goblins were as annoying as goblin slaves.
To deal with the goblin problem, an ancient elf king commissioned the first goblin hunters. Goblin hunters were elf veterans of the king’s many wars, battle hardened and dangerous. Other races, lesser races, would have killed their prey, but elves are more civilized. The goblin hunters were ordered to catch the goblins and release them many miles from elf land, making them someone else’s problem.
Goblin hunters caught hundreds of goblins and deported them to distant lands. This didn’t bother the goblins one bit, as they had no trouble finding their way back. Now that they knew the elves were coming for them, they set traps around their homes and began another round of pranks. The goblin hunters retaliated by bringing more hunters with better armor and equipment for digging out their quarry. This led to an absurd arms race, with each side coming up with new and better ways to defeat the other. Elf nature magic, superior weapons and training came face to face with goblin pie traps, cunning ambushes and goblin catapults.
And so the situation remains, with goblin communities in elf lands in an endless, bloodless war with elven goblin hunters. The goblin hunters have developed a grudging respect for their foes’ tenacity and ingenuity. For their part, goblins love goblin hunters, calling them their ‘special friends’. After all, no one else will play with them the way goblin hunters do.
But each race has their own way of dealing with goblins and the chaos they bring. While there are differences in how individuals act, most races follow a few common themes.
Goblins and Elves
Elves are the most advanced, civilized race on Other Place, a “fact” they point out at every opportunity. Their cities are the most beautiful, their art the most breathtaking, their food the most succulent. None can match their skill in battle or magic, with the exceptions to this rule written out of history. Their reputation suffers a bit because of blood feuds between elf families and factions, but that’s an old tradition they swear by. Elves view other races as knuckle dragging, subhuman halfwits, and if someone has the wealth, skill or accomplishments to prove otherwise, well, obviously they had elven help. It is the burden of the elves to watch over these unfortunates, guiding them, educating them, taxing them. Needless to say, elves don’t have many friends.
Elves take humans and gnomes under their wing as clients. These clients are the poor and dispossessed among their own people, so desperate that they accept elven rule for food and a roof over their heads. Clients get good housing, plenty of food and safety from their enemies in return for paying taxes and doing whatever work the elves assign them. Elves treat their clients very well, but there is no mistaking who is in charge.
Goblins fit many of the elves’ prejudices. They are poor and despised by many, but they don’t want elf help. Goblins are happiest on their own making a total mess of everything around them, and nothing the elves say or do can convince them to submit to elf rule.
Elves once conquered many goblins and carried them into captivity. The goal was to civilize the goblins, teaching them proper behavior and basic skills so the elves could use them as cheap labor. It failed. The goblin prisoners had no interest in obeying their captors and caused constant mischief. Holding the goblins was a full time job, for they were insanely inventive in their escape attempts. Each attempt, whether successful or not, inflicted considerable property damage. Bills for the damage skyrocketed, and when the goblins eventually did escape the elves bid them good riddance.
But once the goblins got free they didn’t go far. Escaped goblins colonized regions around elf territory and set up their rattletrap houses and underground towns. Worse, they’d learned a lot about elves during their captivity, and they knew where to hit to cause the most damage to both elven property and pride. They released skunks into elf garden parties, mixed poison ivy into elf perfume, and what they did to the wine shouldn’t be mentioned. The elves soon learned that freed goblins were as annoying as goblin slaves.
To deal with the goblin problem, an ancient elf king commissioned the first goblin hunters. Goblin hunters were elf veterans of the king’s many wars, battle hardened and dangerous. Other races, lesser races, would have killed their prey, but elves are more civilized. The goblin hunters were ordered to catch the goblins and release them many miles from elf land, making them someone else’s problem.
Goblin hunters caught hundreds of goblins and deported them to distant lands. This didn’t bother the goblins one bit, as they had no trouble finding their way back. Now that they knew the elves were coming for them, they set traps around their homes and began another round of pranks. The goblin hunters retaliated by bringing more hunters with better armor and equipment for digging out their quarry. This led to an absurd arms race, with each side coming up with new and better ways to defeat the other. Elf nature magic, superior weapons and training came face to face with goblin pie traps, cunning ambushes and goblin catapults.
And so the situation remains, with goblin communities in elf lands in an endless, bloodless war with elven goblin hunters. The goblin hunters have developed a grudging respect for their foes’ tenacity and ingenuity. For their part, goblins love goblin hunters, calling them their ‘special friends’. After all, no one else will play with them the way goblin hunters do.
March 4, 2014
Goblin pets
Goblins Pets
Goblins are renown for being stupid and crazy, but in the time they have lived near and observed other races, they have picked up some of their habits. Oddly enough, one of these is keeping pets. They avoid traditional choices such as dogs, cats, fish and birds. These animals are too big or too noisy or too demanding, and goblins just plain don’t like cats. But there are other animals that fit a goblin’s liking far more, and these can be an unpleasant surprise to their enemies.
One favorite pet is the skunk. Skunks are capable of producing an incredibly foul odor, but they only do so when scared. The rest of the time they are fairly calm animals, easy to care for and rather affectionate. Goblins that adopt skunks are very careful with their pets, making sure they have plenty of food and water, and keeping them away from danger, loud noises or other forms of stress. Then, at the proper time, the owner will release his pet into a crowded barracks, stores filled with customers, or the ever popular royal coronation. The skunk is sure to cause a panic whether it sprays people or not. Goblins also throw skunks at attackers, where the terrified animal is certain to release its stink.
Goblins also favor snakes as pets. Most people fear snakes, which is odd given that most snakes are neither poisonous nor all that aggressive. Goblins understand this and collect common snakes such as garter, milk and corn snakes, none of which is the least bit dangerous. They store the snakes in baskets near fireplaces to keep the cold-blooded animals warm. When the goblin owner needs to use them for a distraction, he paints them with plant dyes such as berry juice to stand out better and look more dangerous. He then either dumps the snakes directly onto an enemy or releases them into a room like he would a skunk, letting people’s fears do the damage.
Wombats are another traditional choice for goblin pet. These sixty-pound marsupials are herbivores, making them easy to feed, and as burrowing animals they make their own homes. Wombats are the right size for smaller goblins to ride, making them the only pet that is also a beast of burden. Lastly, wombats are cowardly animals that run at the first sight of danger. To other races this would disqualify them as mounts, but goblins consider this a plus. They don’t want a horse or griffon that would run headlong into a wall of spears or go straight at a wizard throwing fireballs, as this tends to result in both animal and rider dying in an incredibly messy way. The wombat’s survival instinct meshes quite nicely with that of the goblin’s, and both live to see another day.
The last goblin pet (and only one that can do damage) are bees. Bees are easy pets to keep, requiring no food or water, and are generally able to protect themselves from enemies. Goblins learned how to raise bees by watching humans who gather honey and bees wax from the hives. Goblins have little interest in honey, although they can eat it, but they know other races love it. They trade honey and wax to the few humans who will do business with them, generally getting metal tools in return. This is considered safer than dealing in cash, as fewer people rob victims for sweets.
But bees do more than produce trade goods. If a goblin settlement with beekeepers is attacked, the bees make potent weapons. Goblins throw hives at their enemies, sometimes even firing them out of large slingshots. The hives are destroyed on impact to release a cloud of enraged bees on the attackers. Swarming bees can’t inflict much damage, but their stings are painful and there are a lot of them. Worse, bees are small enough to get inside suits of armor by climbing through eye slits and joints, making them effective against knights. The bees usually cause enough chaos for the goblins to flee while their enemies slap at the bugs.
Goblins are renown for being stupid and crazy, but in the time they have lived near and observed other races, they have picked up some of their habits. Oddly enough, one of these is keeping pets. They avoid traditional choices such as dogs, cats, fish and birds. These animals are too big or too noisy or too demanding, and goblins just plain don’t like cats. But there are other animals that fit a goblin’s liking far more, and these can be an unpleasant surprise to their enemies.
One favorite pet is the skunk. Skunks are capable of producing an incredibly foul odor, but they only do so when scared. The rest of the time they are fairly calm animals, easy to care for and rather affectionate. Goblins that adopt skunks are very careful with their pets, making sure they have plenty of food and water, and keeping them away from danger, loud noises or other forms of stress. Then, at the proper time, the owner will release his pet into a crowded barracks, stores filled with customers, or the ever popular royal coronation. The skunk is sure to cause a panic whether it sprays people or not. Goblins also throw skunks at attackers, where the terrified animal is certain to release its stink.
Goblins also favor snakes as pets. Most people fear snakes, which is odd given that most snakes are neither poisonous nor all that aggressive. Goblins understand this and collect common snakes such as garter, milk and corn snakes, none of which is the least bit dangerous. They store the snakes in baskets near fireplaces to keep the cold-blooded animals warm. When the goblin owner needs to use them for a distraction, he paints them with plant dyes such as berry juice to stand out better and look more dangerous. He then either dumps the snakes directly onto an enemy or releases them into a room like he would a skunk, letting people’s fears do the damage.
Wombats are another traditional choice for goblin pet. These sixty-pound marsupials are herbivores, making them easy to feed, and as burrowing animals they make their own homes. Wombats are the right size for smaller goblins to ride, making them the only pet that is also a beast of burden. Lastly, wombats are cowardly animals that run at the first sight of danger. To other races this would disqualify them as mounts, but goblins consider this a plus. They don’t want a horse or griffon that would run headlong into a wall of spears or go straight at a wizard throwing fireballs, as this tends to result in both animal and rider dying in an incredibly messy way. The wombat’s survival instinct meshes quite nicely with that of the goblin’s, and both live to see another day.
The last goblin pet (and only one that can do damage) are bees. Bees are easy pets to keep, requiring no food or water, and are generally able to protect themselves from enemies. Goblins learned how to raise bees by watching humans who gather honey and bees wax from the hives. Goblins have little interest in honey, although they can eat it, but they know other races love it. They trade honey and wax to the few humans who will do business with them, generally getting metal tools in return. This is considered safer than dealing in cash, as fewer people rob victims for sweets.
But bees do more than produce trade goods. If a goblin settlement with beekeepers is attacked, the bees make potent weapons. Goblins throw hives at their enemies, sometimes even firing them out of large slingshots. The hives are destroyed on impact to release a cloud of enraged bees on the attackers. Swarming bees can’t inflict much damage, but their stings are painful and there are a lot of them. Worse, bees are small enough to get inside suits of armor by climbing through eye slits and joints, making them effective against knights. The bees usually cause enough chaos for the goblins to flee while their enemies slap at the bugs.
