The mage conjured a small mirror when Arthur’s confused face convinced him that he wasn’t acting. That face then became shocked. Arthur looked at his own visage, it was so similar to what he was used to. He looked like a genetic clone of himself, a deep scar that ran from his ear to the corner of his chin, and another that had clearly parted his lower and upper lip . The scar on his lips was unnaturally well healed; he barely even felt the mark there when he ran his fingers over it. The elf said “I’ll contact a higher Mage to try to understand exactly what has happened. Arthur?” making sure he had his attention. “Tell me exactly where you are from.” Arthur was slightly taken aback by the question, but gave an answer anyway.

The Mage’s face clearly had curiosity playing across it. “California, America.” The robed man’s grimace was almost comical. “I’ve never heard of such a place.” his tone expressing how skeptical he was . Arthur replied sullenly “It doesn’t have elves, or magic.” which made the Mage’s expression twist even more. The big man interjected. “Vulwin, go make contact. I’ll be right here.” Now Arthur had a name for the mage. Vulwin glanced back at him, then huffed and started off. Arthur noticed that as his needlessly graceful steps picked up speed, he simply lifted his feet barely an inch from the path, then hovered away. Arthur stared off at him in awe, then promised himself that if he could get the ability to fly somehow, he would do everything he could to achieve it.

The door of the short building suddenly opened. A deeply hoarse voice exploded out of the doorway. “Who's loitering on my damned doorstep!” Arthur turned and looked down, and his mouth was agape again in surprise. It was a three-and-a-half foot tall, moss green-skinned, sharp-eared, and sharp-toothed green humanoid. Before he thought better, Arthur lifted a finger at him. “That’s a god-damn Goblin.” The big man named Euld just looked down impassively, seeming not that shocked by his reaction. The green-skinned creature just smiled wide and pointed back, wagging his finger at Arthur “ And that’s a gods-damned rager!” Laughing in a way that was clear he expected him to join in. The sandpaper quality of his voice made Arthur wince. His mirth faded as he saw both of the humans looking back, one with a serious expression; and one looking like he might vomit at any moment.

“What’s wrong?” The second thing Arthur noticed was that the goblin was scarred in a particular way, a large X seemed to be burned directly onto his face, right between his eyes; mercifully sparing his sight. The color of the scar tissue reminded Arthur of thin tree bark. Instead of having any hair, he just wore a cloth lid that was so close to a messenger boy hat that it reminded Arthur that this really could be a figment of his imagination. Otherwise just wearing a simple outfit, best described as large rags stitched together to make a makeshift pair of pants and shirt, pretty much the same as the guy Arthur had put on the ground.

Euld spoke “This is Arthur, we don’t know what happened to Atreus.” Arthur saw a look of genuine hurt on the sharp features of the creature in front of him and was oddly shocked again, this going against every piece of media he had read or watched about goblins. In fiction, they were always ruthless, animalistic but sentient creatures that reveled in torture and war. Why then did he look at Arthur like someone who might have taken someone he knew from him? The angst and sadness in his scarred face unsettled Arthur even more. Euld shook his head, giving the goblin a sad look that seemed to zap much of the anger out of him. “We’re going to keep him here for now, give him something to drink. You’re good at talking to people.” He grunted, the rasp inherent to his voice making it sound more like a short growl. Then opened the door wide. Arthur hesitated before he ducked inside the building. Then he realized it was a small brewery. Barrels and copper stills sat against the walls, and he could smell the pungent scent of fermentation. The green man sat at a table not too far off from the fireplace, which was burning bright at the moment, warming the room and giving him light to work with.

Euld didn’t follow after them and guarded the door like a bouncer, simply being too big and broad to comfortably enter. The table was also squat like the whole building but was easy to sit at, Arthur was happy that he didn't have to bend his neck and knees awkwardly the whole time. He noticed the goblin tapping his clawed finger against the table, staring down at the knotty wood with a far-off expression. Arthur reached his hand back out, offering it to him. “I’m sorry about this... I don’t know who was. Before.” trying to put his situation into words. “I can swear this wasn't on purpose.” The person, if he is classified as one. Raised his head and looked at Arthur, then shook his hand firmly. “I hope not. My name Is Mung if you wanted to know.” it was Arthur’s turn to grimace. “Mung?” He asked, Mung smirked and showed off some of his shiny white fangs. “What? Something you find odd with my name?” Arthur tapped the table himself now. He had had quite a bit of fun sharing urban dictionary links with his friends in the past. “Well, it’s just where I'm from that term means something particularly...Filthy.” then the green-skinned man’s smile widened even more “That’s funny; It also means something awfully dirty where I come from too!” And laughed with his gravelly voice. Arthur found himself laughing too.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Mung visibly relaxed, and went over to a corner of the room to dig around until he returned with a thick clear bottle with a natural cork stuck in the top. The liquid was a reddish pink, and slightly cloudy. Mung slapped the bottle down on the table with two short glasses and poured him and Arthur a drink, sliding it over with an arm that was longer than his stumpy stature should allow. “This was my friend’s favorite grog, A kind invented by yours truly.” and smiled sadly. “ I'm curious to see what you think.” Arthur found himself hesitating again, the comment almost implied that this could be poison. Revenge for the loss of a friend. Arthur decided to toss aside caution for now and lifted the glass to his mouth, downing it all at once. It was as tart and sickly sweet as it was strong

Arthur was happy to find the effects of alcohol being the same, even wherever the hell he was. “It’s good.” He complimented him. “Maybe we’re similar, me and him. I mean... He looks like he could be my twin” Gesturing at his own face, that was no longer really his own. Mung nodded and finished his glass just as he did, the difference being that he didn’t react at all when the strong liquor filled his mouth. “Magic for the most part is beyond me, not where my passions lie. Though what I know is that when it flares up randomly, the chaos in its effects is immense.” Absently pouring another as he spoke. “Death is constant in this world, but when magic does things like this?” indicating Arthur “It’s just cruelty by chance, Great Mage ward us from it.” Arthur had a lot more questions all of the sudden, first being how a goblin named ‘Mung’ could possibly be so well-spoken.

“Where I am from, goblins are only fables. Obviously, you are the best person to ask, so please.” taking another sip after the goblin was nice enough to refill it. “First, a lot of folks would not call me a ‘person’.” Mung began. “I mean out of this village, I proved myself better than the last shit brewer that was here. He better at holding a sharp stick than the tools for the art.” He chuckled as he glanced around at his prideful work. Arthur smiled “So you gained your place in the village with brew. I respect that.” and gave a short nod.

Mung got a bit quiet for a second “I don’t blame the humans, the elves, the dwarfs, and whoever else for thinking bad of goblins. The pits where I was born were truly a hell to me. All the raiders beside me. My own mother and sisters were killers of man and child.” Mung looked unflinchingly up at Arthur's face. He was clearly saddened and shocked by what the goblin taught him. But Mung wasn’t finished, he knew it was better if he understood. “I was forced to fight man with blade and claw. I was cut and shunned by my own blood for my lack of cruelty. And when I finally refused to kill anymore?” he lifted a finger to his face and ran it over the scars in a quick gesture. “They did this to me. The only good thing about a goblin is that they refuse to eat their own kind, but I bet that’s only because we taste worse. They cast me out by the end of their sharp sticks. And I was kicked around by taller men until I ended up here.”

Arthur took the time to sort this new information out in his mind. There was something that gnawed at him about Mung's rant; Arthur could tell that he was telling the truth about his trauma. But Arthur noticed how he seemed to generalize his own species, even going as far as dehumanizing them and minimizing his own suffering.

'Or would it be 'De-goblinizing?' Arthur shook his head and got changed the subject, Mung had enough time to pour two drinks and down them before Arthur spoke again “Are there gods in this world?” The question made Mung give him an odd look. “There is the god of the hunt, the war god, the mad god, the great mage, and the dead god.” Arthur pressed his lips together when he heard ‘the mad god’ and ‘the dead god’ in particular; he thought it just didn't bode well for the values of this world.

“You mentioned one of those names before, the god of magic?” Mung nodded in confirmation. “Magic, knowledge, arts. It’s why I worship him, his followers find research easier, and more fulfilling . This helps me make better drinks faster than I would without the great mage. The mad god has dominion over alcohol and herbs specifically, and I happened to wake up one morning, finding an aged barrel of my best work then bone dry; and a blessing from the mad god on my person.” Arthur was looking at the proud, shit-eating grin on Mung’s face. He felt like he might shut down, a pantheon of gods were worshiped here, and someone was telling him two actual gods directly affected his life and success.

“How did you know for sure you were blessed?” This time Mung looked at him as though he might have had a lobotomy halfway through their conversation.