The five traveled in silence and climbed down the winding path to a flat plain filled with rubble and thick shrubs. To their west was the sheer rock face of the Stone Peak Mountains. Their route took them north and eventually winded west upwards toward their tribe. To their east was a vast rubble-strewn wasteland. Beyond the Wasteland were the nations of the high races. Fertile fields, lush forests, and vibrant sea towns.

The nearest city was known as Adventure Port, which sat on the coast of the Red River, the natural border between the Wasteland and the High Race nations. Every day boats filled with treasure-hungry adventurers docked at the port from all across the High Race world. They came to test their mettle and explore the Wasteland. Through maps, lore, or magical means, they could find the locations of precious artifacts, such as the Chalice.

Today the air was crisp and cold, but the sky was clear. From the highest point on the path, the five could see in the massive distance the large city of Adventure Port. A tiny glimmering jewel that reflected the light from the sun.

“They say the shining light we see is from the great temples built for each of the High Races’ gods,” Zaploc said, breaking their silence.

“That is where their clerics bestow favors,” the old goblin added.

“Is that where they depart to when they are slain?” Nulrok asked.

“I suppose,” the grizzled warrior answered.

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“We have no such luck,” Raine said with sadness in her voice.

“That is true,” Zaploc observed, his typically gruff face showing sorrow.

They traveled the rest of the way to the Mudrock Village in silence. Each hugging close to their hearts the sadness of their losses. The Mudrock village consisted of four tribes that had banded together. There were about 200 goblins in total. Most were children and the elderly. It is nestled on a high plateau with the mountains as a natural defense. Multiple dirt and rock roads converged at its entrance. Like goblin society, the village had no formal structure. It was a hodgepodge of straw-roofed huts with smoke rising from their fireplaces. Narrow dirt walkways snaked between the dwellings and through open spaces for small gardens and areas for livestock. The land was harsh, and what little food the goblins could grow, they did as best they could.

At the entrance to the town was a large wooden board with the names of the fallen etched into it. Dozens of goblins stood before the board, looking for the names of loved ones. They were also waiting for the wagons filled with loot to return. The only wagon to return was Gilreg’s, and mothers moaned in despair. The board was filled with names, and in short order, Gilreg saw his last two remaining family members. Shannoc and Tulnok. That was it. He was the last of his family. Nulrok was hugged by Shimlock, the village’s Shaman, and the Chieftain came to embrace Raine. When it was clear that no other wagons would be arriving, the crowd of mourners left. Only Shaymus and Gilreg remained. Both alone and without family.

“Maybe you and I should mate?” Shaymus said as she snaked up to Gilreg.

The smaller goblin with eerie pale eyes had a mischievous grin on her face as she thrust her hips back and forth. Gilreg had tears in his eyes and looked blankly at his demonic companion.

“Too soon? Okay, bad joke,” she said. After a moment, when she was bored, she slinked off into the shadows. Gilreg remained alone.