Leary, the Faithful.

***

The early years of my life were a blur of memories. Insignificant and yet not.

I remembered a deep pit. A vast scar on the earth filled to the brim with my subjects. My species. My children. Goblin-kin. Never alone were we goblins, hobgoblins, and bearbugs, however. Others flocked among us regularly. Orcs and ogres mostly, with the occasional wood giant or troll.

I remembered a lot of pain. A constant stench. Ever-present hunger. Perpetual thirst. Constant itches. Regular stomach pains. Permanent runs. Constant beatings. Fear. Then, I remember being sent out. With the warriors, scouts, fighters, and booyagh, I stepped onto those rickety bone lifts and went to the surface. There, I remembered a white sheet. Blistering cold. Red and black. Bloodshed was what I remembered. Carnage. Destruction. First from orcs and dwarves. Then from dark elves. Then the Owl.

Then came my rebirth. An event that remained as clear to me as the present, throughout my long lifetimes.

Across, below, and then above. That was my journey to begin the path to enlightenment. There, in that heavenly abyss- the fifth level of my God’s home- was where I spent my childhood. In university, learning all things. But not before the Mafia saw fit to visit before my lessons even began. Scrubbing me, bathing me, shaving me; clipping my nails, salving my skin, and oiling my hair day after day and demanding I build places to care for myself when they left.

I did, admittedly, as their treatments were rather nice. However, I made it clear they would never handle me in such a way again. Regardless, they disappeared as promised. Leaving me to explore my childhood home. A garden of foul creatures and malicious undead, overlooked by castles embedded into mountains from base to peak. In those halls- in my halls, I first learned to read, write, count, and speak with eloquence. But not through lectures, lessons, and practice. Through words, signs, sigils, and voices scratching at my mind, echoing louder than my voice until I was scribbling those numbers and screaming those languages to the skies.

I learned over a dozen of them in this way. Languages both silent and verbal. Both of this world and not. All to such a degree of class, it could impress even the other demigods. Only then, though, once I was literate, did I move on to traditional studies and practices. By then, my days were split evenly between the two. Studies and practice. Education and training. Lessons and exercises. Action and observation. Everything had two sides. But not like that of a coin. More like a stream, these things were. With a point and an end and everything between.

With my God and the Demigods, I first mastered my body by learning about my body. My bones and my station as a Goblin Paragon. The first Goblin Paragon and thus God-Emperor goblin-kin, Leary, the Faithful. My station made me stronger, faster, healthier, wiser, smarter, and more gobbily than any other gobby in existence; save the goblin deities. But it wasn’t those gods who made me more than what I am. It was the Elven Devil who made me an Undying Fiend. And it was he who gave me a body that goblins could only dream of.

I learned to make use of that body through fighting like everyone else. But my time spent fighting was much longer. Twelve hours per day in those timeless chambers. Twelve hours, fighting until Etan corrected my sloppy technique with a brutal flurry. Fighting atop horses, Sausage, flying creatures, and swimming beasts. Fighting with every weapon imaginable. I even learned how to fly and swim while fighting.

For twelve hours, I fought. Then the fighting would stop so I could emerge from that timeless chamber to learn of tactics and schemes or understand sayings, quotes, and agreements from the God’s world of war gods, as Etan saw them, and as I agreed. I read the greatest works from the greatest generals of those gods. Gods who mastered the warring aspects of art; who meditated in search of profound wisdom and who needed to meditate because of the wisdom they gained. Gods who made agreements with themselves, for the sake of themselves; who discerned the innate laws of power and the art of war. I reenacted the greatest accomplished by other gods. Feats of a few destroying the important for the sake of the many; of empires destroyed with empty stomachs, or prestigious goods. Feats of coastlines being destroyed in mere hours; of entire cities being wiped out in minutes; of cultures being destroyed with information. Feats of liberation.

For twelve hours, I did those things. Then I would emerge from my castle to find undead kingdoms sprawled across my land, mimicking the scenes and scenarios I studied. For twelve hours, I would help or hinder them. Day in and day out. Even while other things began happening. Ginku began appearing with Etan, for example. Not to train, but to ask questions. Strange questions about two ravines, goblins in each, and a stampede headed their way. Questions of how I saw blobs of goo, how I felt about certain things, or what I would do in certain situations. Questions, I assumed, the other demigods were asked, so I answered; for twelve hours.

I never got an answer in return. Yet they left and the lessons continued on with numbers and counting. The numbers grew longer and more tedious to write while they grew higher. Then we began mixing the numbers; taking some away, putting some back, making differences or products of other numbers. Then… Then the numbers made for more complex languages. The numbers were used to describe the physical world. Objects and their relations with each other. Then letters were added to the numbers to account for numbers that were unknown. And from there, it grew evermore complex.

I used the language of numbers to learn how the almost infinite combinations could change. And then the language was used to learn the unknown points and angles of the universe. I learned these archaic languages, taking only the smallest assistance from my God to do so for twelve hours. And for twelve more hours, I would explore beyond my castle to translate them into the real world.

The length of shadows cast from trees, I translated. The size of an object seen through a viewing glass, I translated. Angles and circles, I translated. Weight. Stuff. This. That. Myself. Others. The elements. Magic. Life. Death. Unseen things. Things too big to see. I translated the secrets of the universe using the archaic language of numbers. Finding, as those beings did, new tools to use to my advantage. In my childish mind, I viewed them as sacred runes one needed to apply to one's mind rather than imbue onto to something to give it power, and those runes could be applied to everything.

Structured were such that my studies saw me apply that language to the world around me, creating a new language. A language of the inquisitor gods, those who discovered all. A tongue that allowed them to inquire the truth of the universe and enabled us to teach that truth to others. Like them, I used this language to inquire, then used the language from before- mathematics, to test and test some more until I found the answers to the questions burning brightest in my mind. Truths for all things. The air and the earth. Fire and lightning. Water and the elements oft-unknown.

Science, I learned, to learn the language of matter and energy. Physics, I learned, to learn the language of elements, molecules, and substances. Chemistry, I learned, to understand the secret language of rocks. Geology, I learned, to learn the language of the skies. Meteorology, I learned, to the learn the language of the seas. Oceanology, I learned, to learn the language of life. Biology, I learned, to realize the depths of my power.

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Bone.

I learned of its ‘cousins.’ Horns, hooves, nails, and shells. Strengths, weaknesses, I learned. And like those gods, I found ways to use my power to both help and hinder those things; all so I could learn how to destroy and heal those things and, in turn, make them better. Or worse.

For twelve hours, I took my many languages and made tools of bone. Tools that matched the baked earth used by halflings. Devices that could corral food for slaughter like the humans. Creations that matched the vibrant wooden structures used by the elves. Machines that matched the heated metal used by the dwarves. Weapons that matched the sheer brutality of the orcs. When those hours passed, I spent twelve more hours making items with those things. Items meant not to produce more things. Items that were made to look at and feel, reflect, and remember. Things of beauty and things of terror. Things that started simply, like those tools, and grew more complex as time went on.

I was six when I formed my world. A skull of a world floating in the void. Yet my days continued as normal. My days continued to begin with fighting- warring against Etan in that timeless pit for twelve hours before I emerged to study for twelve hours and work for twelve hours more.

With the other demigods, I studied. I studied how to imbue my sorcery into my creations and create things that could match them without magic. I studied how and why humans, elves, and dwarves used their gold and trinkets to maintain control over their others and their things. I studied how to build castles for my subjects; castles that could let them live as the nobles they were meant to be. I studied how to feed them. How to care for them. How to educate them.

I studied the arts of Booyagh. And from the other fiendish demigod, I learned of toxins and potions so I could mix those things with my knowledge of chemistry. I studied the arts of the most honored of fighters. I learned how to chant and sing and bang the drums of their hearts; not only to rally them for battle, but to reel their snarls for battle back in. I studied the arts of the shaman, not to plead the realms into doing my bidding, but to enable me the means to impart my wisdom onto them. To upgrade and enhance them as some of the other demigods sought; as our God did for us. I studied the arts of attack and defense, not only from the teacher, but from the animals of above and below.

Above all, I studied how to mix and powderize precious metals and crystals. I studied how to use the many languages to create the perfect arrangement for that mix and create a single something made of a million other things that were identical in appearance. I studied how to carve into them, and, in turn, studied how to carve them into the things I made. I studied those things for twelve hours, and for twelve hours more, I wrote those things down. Into tomes and onto tables, I inscribed and scribbled everything I knew to fill my skeletal world with divine knowledge. My divine knowledge for my most devoted subjects. I studied, and I studied, and I wrote, and lectured, and mapped all that was in my head. Clearing it to make room for something greater.

I was seven when it began. I stopped learning and began doing. Creatures and some demigods would come to my world to change things. Their bones and ligaments, their tendons and cartilage. Everything in their bodies that held calcium was altered and augmented and encased and enriched with metals and minerals to make them unbreakable. Two months passed until the bodies were replaced with the dead. And with their bones, I created ways to raise my undead with tools. Exoskeletons and armor. External manipulators and helmets with mandibles. Scouts and warriors and brutes and booyaghs and workers. Subjects of unliving bone.

Two more months passed until the dead were replaced with the oils of the earth. And with that black gold, I created the most important resource for my subjects. Energy. Fuel. Combustibles. Explosives. The industrial backbone of my Goblin Empire. Oils and lubricants and fuels both solid and liquid were refined from the crude stuff. Giving me, in return, an abundance of sulfur along with several other chemicals. Petroleum and diesel, lubricants and oils, both light and heavy. Heating oils and lighter fuels- propane and butane. Coke. Naphtha. Bitumen. Paraffin wax.

All the others had those many things in excess. Like all the others, I had to make something more of them. So I took my store of bones and ground them into powder, infused the bone meal with my sorcery, and then mixed it with coke to make something like clay. A gray, grainy clay that had to be shaped into a desired form before it dried, for it could never change shape once it did. But not enough, it was.

With that better fuel- petroleum- and with my applied rune of science, I refined the process. The solid bone fuel- Burning Bone, was dissolved into the petrol to create a black brew that boiled always. Yet, it did not evaporate. Nor did that Boiling Bone ever freeze; the commercial lifeblood of my empire, the domain of all things, oil and fuel. Bonewater Refinery.

However, with my intelligence and wisdom as Goblin God-Emperor- as Leary, the Faithful, I knew there would be many who would turn their nose away from my wares. Not because of what I was, but because of the fuel itself. Thus, through science, I not only developed my fuels further, I tested them; and in testing them, I learned everything about the fuels I created. I learned they could only be used in my vehicles of bone. I learned they were efficient, if not loud and environmentally unfriendly. Most importantly, I learned the nature of the thick smoke the fuels produced.

A lingering fog, it was. One with no toxic elements to its composition. Only a nature that saw gasses often toxic cling to it lovingly, making it all too easy for fatal clouds to pool in sunken areas. A veil of dark smoke that blocked the sun’s rays like overcast skies, it was, all while allowing heat to come and go freely, making it the perfect domain for rodents and fungi alike. It was a smoke that could destroy lands if left to linger. And so it was that I turned to the rune of science once more. Only this time, the rune was merged with the rune of technology to create my super-fuel. My Vehsipane. My Bonewater.

Cartilage, not bone. I infused my power into cartilage to create it. The infusion dried the collagen into a fine powder mixed with the yellow pills of sulfur and the soft black goo of bitumen on its own accord to create a powdery substance. An agent that was to be added to my solid and liquid fuels. Seemingly to no effect. But so it was that such a small act created my super-fuel, for the agent was inert only until the fuel combusted. In reacting with the agent, the bone smoke would change into a combustible gas that readily reacted with oxygen. As God put it, this made a 'double-action' combustion process that left heat as the only emission. However, it was extremely volatile.

So it was that my super-fuel was reserved for the martial backbone of my empire. My feast for the legion of bone vehicles I spent half of my remaining time designing and creating. My foundation for the tools of destruction my God taught me to respect and revise and revere. Hand cannons and tech wands. Batteries of spell-cannons and mana mortars. Tanks and armored vehicles. Sky carriers and planes. Land crawlers and tunnelers. Ships and submarines. Engineering marvels of mechanical bone made in all shapes and sizes; I spent the remainder of my time creating these things. But only half of it.

All things had two sides. And so it was that the last half of my final few months in heaven were spent teaching.

I taught first my God. I taught him of my devotion to him- of my fiending for the fight. Then I taught him about my dream to create an osseous empire for not just goblin-kin and our peers but for all oppressed species. For all underdogs of society. Then, to show I truly learned, I traveled elsewhere and taught others.

First the floating heads, the Lore Skulls. I practiced lectures, if only to ensure I knew what I thought I knew, for one did not understand the abstract until they could explain it simply. I taught. In turn, I learned of their crafts and of them. And through them, I learned what it meant to be the Goblin God-Emperor. I was the sole goblin with sorcery for all things osseous. I was a leader with a duty to change my kind as the realms evolved around them. One burdened not with protecting but with guiding the arrogant lost and teaching them of the gilded light. A treader of the fine line between coercion and persuasion.

I learned what it meant to be Leary, the Faithful, barbarian-turned-fighter. Fiendish Soldier. Scourge of War. I learned these things but did not return to my world, for it was then that our education was complete. Thus bringing about the start of our initiation. But not before quite an interesting event.

The Awakening.