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Race: Draconian

Bloodline Powers: Improved Strength+, Rending, Firebreath+

Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 6, Wind (Noble) 5, Sound (Advanced) 2

Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4

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“Excuse me.” Samazzar felt his eyes glaze over as he tried to process the situation. “I came here to kill you all and rescue the pups because I thought your tribe was going to eat them. I’m more than a bit confused right now.”

“Oh we were,” the lead goblin replied helpfully. “There’s no way to lie about it, at least not believably. My tribe has been without proper food and shelter for a little over a month. Already at least a dozen of us have died and the rest are at the brink. We haven’t left bodies behind. No matter how vile the food, the tribe did what it needed.”

“Then why shouldn’t my kobolds kill you?” Samazzar asked, still unsure about the rapidly shifting dynamics of the situation. “It sounds like you are admitting that your tribe is a threat to mine right now.”

The goblin snorted, motioning to the burning tents and trampled ground. Some of the goblins had made it to the woodline, but at least half lay gasping in the snow, unable to drag their bodies further than the edges of the encampment.

“Do they look like a threat? Maybe a month ago after we were displaced we could have challenged your tribe. Judging by the magic you displayed as you arrived, I doubt it would have been successful, but there might have been some casualties. Now? We’re done. I barely have the energy to stand in front of you, and I’ve had my pick of the meager food available.”

“My people are starving Magus Samazzar,” they continued, locking eyes with him. “There is no strength left in our bodies. Even if you were to agree to my impertinent request and offer to save my tribe, I guarantee that we would lose some of our number descending the mountain.”

A puff of wind heralded Takkla’s arrival as she alighted gently on the baked dirt next to Samazzar. Already the snow, melted by Samazzar’s dramatic landing, was beginning to freeze to a sheer plane of ice.

Samazzar took a deep breath, wincing at the sickening scent of unwashed goblin mixed with soot.

“What do you want?” He asked. “You spared Blowa and Sallet so I will hear you out before I make a final decision, but in all fairness I am leaning toward immolating the both of you and hunting the remainder of your tribe. If your people are hungry and desperate, no matter what you say about your physical strength, they could pose a threat.”

The two pups scurried over to Takkla. She put a hand protectively on one of their shoulders while the other hid behind her legs, glaring back at the two goblins.

“First of all,” the leader said, a pained smile on their gaunt face. “We didn’t harm the pups. I stopped the tribe from touching them until we had a chance to talk to them, and after we learned they were part of a larger group that was accepting other tribes and races, I gave the order for us to hold onto them until someone came to their rescue.”

“After all, what was the worst that could happen? You would kill us? Magus, we are already dead. At least if we died to your fire and claws it would be quick and clean. I’ve seen too many goblins die of hunger, their stomachs bloated with snow and leaves as they tried to eat something, anything, to fight back against the hunger pains.”

Samazzar shifted uneasily. He wasn’t sure how this conversation was supposed to progress, but it was certainly not following any course that he could have imagined when he first landed.

“As for what we want?” The goblin asked, sighing in defeat. “Food. Shelter. Maybe two weeks ago I would have demanded terms, and two weeks before that I might have struggled with you over a piece of territory to call our own. Now? If you can assure the survival of most of my tribe, we will do anything. Labor. Farming. Warfare. Pick a task for us and we will do it.”

“How could we ever trust you?” Takkla asked, fingers tightening slightly on Blowa’s shoulder. “Your goblins are hungry and desperate now, but what will happen when they are stronger and healthier? Will they be willing to take orders from kobolds and draconians? It would be foolish of us to let a snake into our garden.”

A gust of wind blew through the encampment and both of the goblins shook. The speaker managed to keep their back stiff, but the other stumbled, falling to its hands and knees as the icy air cut through its thin clothing.

“How would they?” The goblin replied. “The tribe’s will is broken. If they had enough iron in their spine to dig their heels in and fight, they would have done that long before now.”

“Samazzar.” Takkla nodded toward the two kobold pups. Both of them were shaking, arms clutched to their chests as they tried to conserve warmth.

He exhaled a ribbon of fire into his right hand, letting the flames coil around his fingers for a second like a tiny snake before shooting out toward the kobolds and Takkla. A touch of focus turned the fire into a ring that hung in the air around the three of them, keeping them warm despite the bone-chilling cold of the windswept plains.

Samazzar glanced back at the two goblins. The one that had fallen hadn’t managed to regain its feet while the leader swayed visibly, barely able to keep itself standing. He waved his hand and another streamer of fire swam through the air, forming itself into a pair of halos above both of the goblins.

The leader nodded appreciatively, reaching back to help its companion to their feet.

“What do you mean that their will is broken?” Samazzar asked. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard anything about goblins living in the mountains. I seem to recall that the orcs usually drive your kind off.”

The goblin sighed, taking a second to organize their thoughts before responding.

“We aren’t from the mountains, magus. My name is Charook and I am the shaman of the Bleak Moor tribe. Our tribal lands are leagues and leagues away in the plains, near the banks of a winding river. It probably has a name, but goblins generally don’t care for boring details like that. In short, we are not from around here.”

The other goblin prodded the speaker, and its face screwed up as if it had bit into something sour.

“I suppose I am also the chief of the Bleak Moor tribe now which would make Krattle here my first ax. It’s strange to think of myself as the chief, but since Groogad died in combat, I’m really the only person to fill the role.”

“There’s clearly a story here,” Samazzar replied. “I don’t know every goblin tribe living on the plains, but I have not heard of you. Now tell us, why is your chief dead and why are you in the mountains so far away from your homes?”

“Humans,” Charook said grimly. “First they came in small groups, three or four. We mistook them for traders and sent parties out to welcome them to our village. Some of those groups disappeared entirely, but most of the time, the humans ran before our tribespeople could make contact.”

“After about two months of the humans traveling across our territory and almost certainly killing some of our scouts, Groogad had enough. The next time a human was reported near the winding river, Groogad gathered our greatest warriors and set out to capture them and torture some answers out of the elusive humans.”

Samazzar shared a worried look with Takkla. Nothing involving humans was simple, and this wasn’t exactly the first time that they had ventured north of Vereton’s borders.

“It was an ambush,” Charook continued, not noticing Takkla and Samazzar’s concern. “The humans had a water practitioner with them, and their warriors were hiding in the river itself. Groogad didn’t even make it halfway to where the humans were sighted before our team found itself covered in a deluge of water that quenched our torches and soaked our bowstrings.”

“I only managed to escape because the water practitioner was too focused on Groogad. With my help, Krattle managed to kill a human warrior and the two of us escaped as they began mopping up the rest of the war party.”

Krattle, the second goblin, shuddered, reaching up with a lumpy green hand to grab their right forearm and wrist.

“We made it back to the village and tried to raise our defenses, but with the core of our warriors gone, our loss was a foregone conclusion. A day later, the banks of the river overflowed, washing away our hastily constructed barriers and flooding our encampment. I didn’t wait for the humans to emerge before I called the retreat.”

“The humans pursued us,” Charook continued, “but they didn’t need to make contact. We ran as fast and as far as our feet could carry us, and the human teams dogged our footsteps. Finally, when we entered the mountains they stopped pursuing us, but by then our strength was spent. Krattle was the only goblin with the energy and skills left to hunt, and there was no way it could feed the entire tribe on its own.”

“Please,” Krattle spoke up for the first time. Its voice was a scratchy croak, thirst and the cold air having done a number on the goblin’s vocal cords. “If you have to kill Charook and I, do so, but save the rest of our tribe. Until a goblin goes through its first molt and gains the ability to speak, it is basically incapable of planning or reasoning. The rest of the tribe isn’t even capable of resisting you or planning against you. I swear on my ax that I will not go against you, but if you need my death as a final assurance, I only ask that you make it quick.”

Samazzar shifted his gaze to Takkla. Her eyes were unfocused as if she were performing some mental calculations. Finally, she nodded.

“There will be enough food and shelter, but it will be tight,” she said finally. “Some people will need to spend the winter in the caves rather than in Union City, and we will need to return to trapping cave rats in order to stretch our food stores, but taking the goblins on isn’t impossible.”

He let out a sigh of relief. Samazzar hadn’t made a final decision yet, but Takkla’s words had at least dismissed the worst possibility. That he might want to save the goblins but be unable to due to the limitations of their burgeoning city.

“Tell me more about the humans,” he commanded. “Did you ever figure out why they came to your village? What they wanted from you?”

“No,” Charook said glumly. “They didn’t ask any questions or make any demands. Our tribe had traded with humans in the past so their presence wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but I suspect that the only goblins they had a chance to interact with were the trading parties that disappeared.”

“I doubt they got much out of them,” Charook continued. “None of the trading groups was past their first molt so they were only able to speak with each other. Still, when the humans ambushed us, they had at least two dedicated practitioners and above five warriors that had taken elixirs. Groogad was almost able to kill one, but then three of their warriors ganged up on the chief.”

Samazzar tapped one clawed finger on the scales of his thigh. A second later the rest of his fingers clicked down. He nodded sharply, decision made.

“Krattle,” he said, turning to address the goblin warrior. “Call back your tribespeople. It isn’t my intention for Union City to have slaves, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t looking for new citizens. Your goblins will need to adjust some of their day to day habits and contribute to the greater whole, but I am not comfortable leaving you to die in the snow after being attacked by the humans. I have seen how they treat those they consider ‘monsters’ or ‘uncivilized,’ and it is beyond barbaric. At times I wonder if life in the mountains is so disorganized and miserable because their raids and unfair trade deals force us constant squalor and meaningless fights over territory.”

As soon as the goblin warrior heard Samazzar’s decision, he stumbled off after the fleeing goblins. It didn’t look like they had managed to make it far before they ran out of energy. Even the goblins that made it to the forest were mostly just hiding behind trees just out of direct sight, huddling together for the meager warmth another body could provide.

“I think we would have managed poverty and turf battles on our own,” Takkla cut in dryly. “The idea of uniting multiple races into one entity is beyond crazy, but I’ve given up on trying to stop your crazy ideas. They work out often enough that I am coming around to your belief that reality rearranges itself to suit your needs.”

“Ah.” Samazzar’s eyes gleamed as she brought up one of his favorite topics. “The mindset of the dragon. I knew Dussok and you would come around. For right now you accept that it’s real, but once you start to really believe, to invest the part of yourself that controls the mysteries in the unshakeable truth that a dragon does and the world reacts, then you will truly start to see the power of the mindset.”

Before he could continue any further, Charook dropped to their knees. Tears streamed down the goblins face, freezing slowly even as they left streaks in the grime and soot that covered the emaciated creature.

“Thank you Magus. You had every reason to hate us, to think of us as nothing more than pests meant to ruin the hard work your people have put in, and rather than drive us off you have welcomed us. You have earned my gratitude and loyalty. This is a debt that I can only work for the rest of my life to replay.”

Samazzar walked over to Charook, reaching down to grab the kneeling goblin by their forearms and pull them back to their feet.

“None of that,” he said, brushing snow off of the goblin’s threadbare clothing. “I know what it’s like to be forgotten and discarded by society. I need to keep my people safe. No matter how piteous your story, if you had hurt the pups that would’ve been the end of things. But many of us spent most of our lives hiding from predators, scavenging in the cracks of an uncaring world. All of the ‘monster’ races deserve better, but it will take everyone working together for that to happen.”

He paused, frowning slightly. This was the second time the humans had appeared, and both times their forces seemed focused on discord and conquest. Worse, both times they had appeared in force. Even if the number of humans wasn’t that great, the fact that there were practitioners and warriors in their ranks meant that someone serious was backing the expeditions.

“Don’t worry Charook,” Samazzar continued, his jaw hardening into a tight line. “Our people will be able to live free someday. No matter who stands against us. I guarantee it.”