Prologue

Long ago, humans, elves, dwarves, and creatures of all manners, shapes, and sizes were in constant conflict. Over land, treasure, blood feuds, stolen chickens, the new girl at the pub - it was all fair game - but the great philosopher Dionantes put all those things into perspective when he declared to the world in a vision of pure magic:

Guys. Seriously. Things are getting out of hand. Maybe just, like, give it a rest?

To his and the entire world’s utter surprise - they did. From that day forward, men, elves, dwarves, and all the creatures of the world strove toward a common future of cooperation and well-being. Fighting did not, of course, vanish entirely, but society took on an entirely new shape whereby men and elves worked alongside orcs and trolls in relative harmony.

In the wake of all this prosperity and getting alongness, there were those who took longer than others to get in line. Those with instincts for treachery, scheming, and general mischief that ran so deep that even in such a tolerant and forward-thinking society, they were still the kinds of creatures you didn’t feel bad about having it a little rougher than the rest.

Chiefest among these lowly creatures were the goblins. And it is with them that our tale, dear readers, begins.

001 - We Can Just Do This

Three Ticks A’fore Noon, Workman’s Day Two: Goblin Town Tavern

“So I just went around behind the shop, right?” Chumbles, middling height for a goblin and wearing burlap clothing, was saying. His voice was high-pitched and earnest, “And it was just right there, you know? All bagged up.”

Dinty took a huge swig off his mug of beer and stood to fill it again - the human tavern above Goblin Town still hadn’t realized they had been draining kegs into their own taps for full weeks already.

“Just right there, huh?” Dinty, taller than Chumbles with a more slender build than most goblins, said curiously, “Bags of food? We can just do this?”

“Yeah!” Chumbles said, grabbing a fistful of various foods out of the dark bag he had pilfered from the nearby restaurant, “We can just do this!” He bit into a half-eaten apple, “Well like some of it has a little wear, and it's not all food for some reason, but it’s good! They just put it out back!”

Dinty looked a little closer at the bag, the food Chumbles had been munching, and the apple, now already a core after just one bite, then squinted, “Chum, is that garbage? Are you eating garbage?”

Chumbles looked down at the dark bag with its mishmash of edibles, bits of leather, and other mostly useless refuse, “Nah… Come on. Who would throw this away?” he said holding up a twisted belt buckle, “It’s got a lotta legs left on it. I could really make something of this you know?”

Dinty was about to comment further when the door to the Goblin Town Tavern slammed open.

“Pack it up! It’s all over!”

Dinty and Chumbles looked up to see Frink, short even by goblin standards and fat, his age showing in his thinning hair.

“Calm it down, Frink,” Dinty said, sipping again at his full mug as he handed one to Chumbles.

“Calm it down? It’s over Dint, OVER! The olds are moving in and they’re gonna root us up and push us out like piles of weeds! Like garbage!” Frink said, spitting and pointing threateningly at Dinty.

“Somebody’s a little worked up,” Chumbles said, reaching into the trash bag, “I got a little something for that here somewhere…”

Frink’s mood shifted on a dime, “That food, Chum?”

“I was telling Dinty! The humans just bag it up and leave it behind their restaurants! And we can just take it!” Chumbles held up a very nearly pristine hard-boiled egg he pulled from the bag and offered it to Frink.

“We can just do this?” Frink said, walking over.

“We can just do this!”

Frink took the egg, looking appreciative, “Aw, Chum! You saved this for me?”

“I know you love ‘em, man,” Chumbles said, smiling.

“I just got so stressed when I saw the humans opening up that new building up the road,” Frink said, devouring the egg in one bite.

“You two are disgusting,” Dinty said, refilling his mug.

Finrk started in, outraged and spraying chunks as he spoke, “It’s a whole building for old people!”

“Whoa!” Chumbles said, cringing back.

Dinty held out a warding hand, “You’re not serious. I mean, I thought the garbage was bad but…For real?”

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“You haven’t heard the half of it!” Frink said, “The humans take care of their old people. They even call the place a retirement home.”

Dinty laughed, “Frink, get real. Take care of their old people? Goblins have been eating the old ever since getting old was a thing.”

“Only humane thing to do, really,” Chumbles agreed.

“A real drain on society! They’re a blight!” Frink said, fists shaking.

Dinty eyed him up and down, “You’re getting up there, Frink, come to think of it. What’re you, pushing thirty?”

“You wanna try me, Dint?” Frink said. He picked up a fistful of garbage food and shoved it into his mouth, chewing rapidly, “I’m ready for you!”

He put up his fists, and Dinty just continued eying him over his mug, absently filling another with his free hand. He shoved it across the bar to Frink who snatched it up and drained it.

“You got a few years left in you,” Dinty said, cooly, “But watch yourself. I’m a patriot. Not about to let some old people gum up the works of this fine society. This world runs on the grit, stamina, and good grace of the young and healthy. Folks like me.”

Chumbles, who had been studiously organizing food from his bag on the table, asked hopefully, “Me too?”

“Society needs people like you too, Chum, the scavengers, bottom feeders. Helps keep the road clear for the goblins of achievement,” Dinty said, voice full of superiority, “And Frink…he’s got a place somewhere too,” he lowered his voice threateningly and added, “Until he doesn't.”

Frink put his fists down and Chumbles gave him a thumbs up, “You still got it, Frink!”

“Damn right I do,” Frink said, “Which is why we gotta do something about this retirement home.”

“I think I’m just struggling a little with like, what you mean by ‘do something’,” Chumbles said, chewing on a bit of leather, “And also with this whole retirement idea? Like what even is that?”

Frink looked ready to launch into a fresh tirade when Dinty held out a hand to forestall him, “Lemme handle this one, Frink, sometimes you gotta really break it down for Chumbles.”

“Right, that’s true, thanks, Dint,” Chumbles said.

“See, the humans, they live a long time right?” Dinty said, “And think about what we’ve got here - you could eat and drink for probably weeks on end and never run out.”

Chumbles nodded along, “Living the good life.”

“Now imagine we had this but we took a little bit and set it aside, sort of bagged it up, and put it out behind the tavern…like your trash there.”

“OK but like…why? Somebody would just take it, 'cause it's there and we can just do that so… I’m not following,” Chumbles said.

“No,” Dinty laughed condescendingly, “No you’re not, but that’s OK Chum, you’ll get there. Maybe instead of leaving it in the alleyway behind the tavern, you lock it up someplace safe. Some place nobody can get to it.”

Chumbles nodded along, “Like that sewer pipe with all the stuff coming out of it - nobody crawls through there at all.”

Frink nodded in excitement, “You’re hiding things in there!?”

“Heeeeyyy!” Chumbles said smiling in understanding, “I didn’t say which one!”

Dinty interjected before the two of them could run off and play games of finding whatever it was Chumbles had stashed in whatever sewer pipe, “Stick with me here, Chumbles. You’ve got the right idea, and let's say Frink can’t get any of it.”

“Oh,” Frink scoffed, “I’m getting it.”

“So week after week, you put a little bit away,” Dinty said.

“OK, OK, so I’m starting to get a lot of stuff!” Chumbels voice held the gravity of a world-shattering revelation, “Like a lot a lot!”

Dinty nodded and refilled his mug, “Now imagine you’re doing that for as long as humans live. We’re talking years and years. Some of them can live to be over a hundred.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Frink gagged, “Too old.”

“Yeah you lost me there, Dint,” Chumbles said holding up a finger to make a point, “There’s not enough sewer pipes down there to hold all that stuff.”

Dinty stared at him blankly a second then shook himself out of it, “Just… OK, imagine you filled them all up.”

“Speaking of which,” Frink said, indicating his empty mug. Dinty passed him the one he had just filled and poured himself another.

“Right so I’ve got a lot of stuff,” Chumbles said.

Frink gave him an OK gesture, “Good job, Chum.”

“Thanks, man!”

Dinty waved his hands again to try and recapture the attention of the other two, “You don’t really have the stuff… we’re just imagining…You know what? Yeah so you have all the stuff and you want to stop working. Take a nice long break.”

“Like we’re doing right now,” Chumbles said, taking a sip of his beer and eating another handful of garbage, “No customers so we’re just here, living the good life.”

“Exactly,” Dinty said, “That’s what the humans do. That’s retirement. And this home, I’m putting it all together now, is where humans do that together.”

Frink slammed his fist on the table and spluttered beer as he raged, “Now you’re there! You see it now, Dinty!? They’re altogether in one place, grinding the gears of the whole world to a stop right there in that house! Bunch of olds, together just doing nothing but-” he gagged, holding out a hand to forestall any interruptions while he swallowed whatever had come up, “We gotta do something. They’re gonna push us out with their sloth and their bent backs!”

Chumbles patted his friend gently on the back and pushed a pile of mushy food over, “Take it easy, Frink, you gotta be careful getting all excited at your age.”

Frink bared his teeth and held up a fist, “I’m warning you!”

Dinty tilted his head to the side considering what Chumbles had said, “He makes a good point, Frink. Sure, these olds are going to be a serious drain. A massive waste. Not too dissimilar from yourself. But you’re not going to be around long enough to see it. These societal changes take a long time to show up.”

“I can’t look out for the world I’m leaving to my children?” Frink asked.

“What children?” Dinty countered.

Frink shook his head vigorously, “Doesn’t mean anything. I feel how I feel and I want to do something about it.”

Chumbles nodded, “You wanna leave your mark, really change the world on your way out.”

“Exactly, Chum.”

A sudden thought occurred to Dinty, “You know, Frink, what if you could do it too? You know, retire?”

“And be a drain, like them?” Frink looked scandalized, “Not me. No way.”

“But if you had a lot of stuff, like a lot a lot, you’d just be using your own stuff, not harming the social fabric with your,” he gestured jerkily like he couldn’t find the right word to describe the rotund creature in front of him, “your existence like the rest of the olds.”

“That sounds pretty good, right buddy?” Chumbles said, “Just enjoying the fruits of all that saving. All those pipes of stuff just full and waiting for you.”

“It’s a pretty dream,” Frink agreed.

“Guys, you’re not seeing it,” Dinty said as he leaned over the bar and handed everybody a fresh mug, “This retirement home that Frink saw, it’s going to be full of people who already have all that stuff. What if we get a little bit of that for us?”

Frink grinned and Chumbles looked confused, “They got it bagged up in back?”

“Just a little transfer of the wealth from the have-and-do-not-needs to the have-not-and-wants,” Frink said, “But that’s stealin’, Dint.”

“Right, like we’re doing with the beer,” Chumbles said, matter of fact.

“No, no,” Dinty said as if making a point in a courtroom, “It’s not stealing. Back in the old days before the peace people used to go out into the world and find treasure that was just sitting there, waiting for people with the gumption to come get it.”

Frink nodded sagely, “Just like we did with the beer.”

Dinty snapped his fingers in pointed at each of the other two in turn, “Exactly! They didn’t call it stealing back then, and it won’t be now. Boys, what they called it back then,” Dinty leaned in and nodded as the plan came together, “Was treasure hunting.”