A rather tall goblin entered the room, her hair was dark, cut close to her scalp and her skin had a much redder tint to it than any goblin they had seen before. Behind her, the goblin woman wheeled into the room what looked like a blackboard. Positioning the board in front of the eight seated goblins the woman turned to face the children.
“I am Tusa RotBlood,” Tusa introduced herself to the goblin children, her voice authoritative but also sounding rather resigned.
“I will be your instructor for the next few weeks. We will first go over basic knowledge such as mathematics and the sciences, as well as some information that falls somewhere in between. We will also be learning our history and some practical knowledge.” Tusa cast a wary glance over her new students. Eight young Goblin faces stared up at her, some with interest, others boredom.
At the back of the room, Tusa spotted the children’s mother, Urana, who watched her intently. The older Hoblin woman was listening and judging the Goblin Shaman as she instructed her children, which was her right, Urana needed to ensure her brood was being taught correctly.
Gooblis stood beside her, observing her new clan member as well. Sitting off to one side were a pair of Hoblin’s belonging to the temple. Tusa saw they were playing a card game, Huntsman's Glory. It was a rather popular game, especially among members of the Hunters Guild. Tusa noticed Urana's face soured as she watched them play, those must have been her cards originally, most likely part of the price she had paid to Gooblis.
Tusa turned her attention back to her waiting students. Idika, being the oldest, was seated near the front and her eyes glowed with anticipation. This had been exactly what she had been waiting for, knowledge! At this point the young Goblin didn't care what this new woman was going to teach them, any new information or context about the world around them was welcome.
Idika shifted, inching closer, eager for their new teacher to impart her wisdom. The more she knew the better her chances of making things better for herself, her brothers, and their mother. She was starting to wish Tusa would finally get on with her lessons.
“We will now go over the Self Ceremony,” Tusa stated with an exasperated sigh, trying to ignore the pressing gaze of some of the children. With a quick glance, she pointed to one of the boys, Drazahar, and motioned for him to come forward.
“You, you'll be first. Come stand here and remove your deel,” the small shaman commanded. Looking confused, Drazahar did as he was told and went to stand beside her, removing his outer robes and displaying his bare chest toward her. Tusa leaned toward him, seeming to examine him.
“Interesting,” She mused to herself.
“Your future is a bleak one, as your master skill is illegal in this horde.” Tusa locked eyes with the confused-looking goblin boy, expression stern.
“Be sure to show no one that your master skill is Enchanting. Your name is Drazahar.” All of the young Goblins looked studded as they watched a mark burn red on his skin, just over his heart. There was a mix of wonder and confusion as they witnessed this. How had she determined his name? His 'Master Skill', what was that? And that symbol that appeared on Drazahar’s chest . . .
Tusa sensed the confusion of the children before her and decided some clarification was needed.
“When you come of age, you can see your own status and learn your given name. Sometimes a parent will name you, however, traditionalists will let your birth name remain.” Tusa stated matter-of-factly.
“This,” She declared, pointing at the mark on the goblin boy's chest.
“Is your birth Stigmata. Every being belonging to a Mythos has one. It tells when you were born, under what star, and what your Master Skill is.” Idika's ears perked up at this.
“Master Skill? What’s that?” Malkadian asked, Tusa felt somewhat annoyed by the interruption, but decided to let it go.
“Your Master Skill, little Goblin,” She said looking down her nose and Malkadian, who bristled some at her condescending tone.
“Is the skill you have an affinity for. It dictates what you are destined to do and what abilities you will develop.” Tusa sensed more questions about to erupt from the children and held up a hand to cut them off.
“I will go over skills and the like later on, first I need to read each of your Stigmata’s and declare your names.” With that, she pointed at the next boy.
Tasar looked a little surprised and sheepishly stood, moving to stand beside Tusa as Drazahar took his seat. Some of the boys crowded around him to look at his Stigmata. But Drazahar’s brow was furrowed, he was upset by what the shaman had said. He didn’t understand what was so wrong with his skill that it needed to be hidden.
Attention was drawn back to the front of the room as Tasar removed his deel for inspection.
“Hmm, you might have potential. But it will be difficult to see fruition in this horde. Your master skill is Horticulture. Your name is Tasar.” She declared and a similar symbol emblazoned in red appeared on the boy’s chest. Tasar looked at it and then up at Tusa, a look of slight confusion on his face.
“Horticulture?” Tasar asked shyly, Tsua sighed giving him a wave to sit back down.
“The study and care of plants and the like,” She declared absently, at this Tasar’s face lit up and he returned to sit with the others. The next boy was called forward and examined.
“Scavenging, a useful trait for a Goblin. Your name is Inash.” Inash had no change in expression and moved to take his seat by Tasar, giving a slight yawn.
“Survival, very promising, should help keep you alive. Your name is Dahkan.” He moved to sit and Tusa called the next boy.
“Ha,” Tusa gave a slight laugh, and the children all looked somewhat confused.
“Not much you can do with String Instrumentalist, maybe at the oasis but not here. You won’t be able to accomplish anything with that. Your name is Tamar.” With that she shooed the boy to sit back down, where more than one of the boys was stewing about the response, she gave them regarding their master skills. The next to be called forward was Maka.
“Interesting, Inventor. Certainly holds potential, at least for Hoblin’s, but not as valuable to a Goblin I’m afraid. Your name is Makadian.” Tusa waved to dismiss him and Maka glared at her looking like he wanted to scream at her. But he thought better of it and went to sit down, not uttering a word.
“Alright, your next.” The shaman pointed to Malkadian, the last boy to be called, and he stood to meet her and be examined.
“Your name is Malkadian. Sword Mastery, you have promise as a warrior. Try to make use of that.” With that he was excused, leaving only Idika left. Tusa turned to look at the girl and motioned her forward.
“Your turn princess, up here and remove your deel.” Idika stood and took her spot next to Tusa, but as she moved to begin unfastening it she hesitated. She had been nude in front of her family before, and that didn’t bother her, but there were other people here now. People she didn’t know. It didn’t matter if she was a child, the thought of other people having their eyes on her bare skin made her shudder. Tusa saw the girl’s unease and leaned forward to examine her.
“Your name is Idika. Huh. Rather a strange name.” Tusa waved her hand dismissively in the air.
“Just open your deel enough for your Stigmata to show.” Feeling more at ease, Idika did as instructed, exposing the patch of skin a couple of inches below her collarbone. Tusa studied the faint markings intently.
“Sabre Master. You have a bright future. Though, as a goblin, you'd do better with a hunter-type master skill. But combat does increase survival rates.” With that Tusa stood up straight and directed Idika to take her seat again.
Idika did so, at which point a red window appeared, visible only to her.
Pre-tier Milestone Achieved!
Learn your Master Skill.
Congratulations!
You have completed the Eighth Pre-tier Milestone!
You are awarded 8% Growth. You are now at 80% growth.
Your attributes and size will be finished adjusting within 10 seconds.
At that the young shaman produced two clay tablets, scratching at them with what looked to be a thin stone with a carved point. Once she was satisfied, Tusa ventured to the back of the room where Urana and Gooblis stood and presented each of them with a tablet, her head bowed low in respect. Both women excepted the tablets, seeing this Tusa stepped back and bend to one knee.
“Their specialties are now recorded for the horde. I honor our records and pray to Nardi to guide them through these born specialties to better serve Ignis.” Tusa’s voice was solemn and reverent as if in prayer, head bowed and hands extended palms upward. As soon as she had finished the goblin woman stood up straight and faced the onlooking children.
“We will now cover what it means to be a goblin and the laws of the horde.” Tusa strode to the front of the room to stand before the blackboard, taking a small white stone from a pouch on her belt and proceeding to draw the image of a six-pointed star.
“There are six races that form every Sacred mythoi. Ours is that of the Fire Mythos. Goblins are at this point, here!” Tusa pointed to the bottommost point of the star.
“Though don’t let the appearance fool you. This does not mean a race is lesser, it means we are the workforce and the one with the highest numbers. We provide the craftsmen, Hoblin’s, and the other races with resources and supplies. That comes in the form of a tribute. We are the first line of defense, the lookouts, and the scouts for our Horde.” The children looked on as Tusa labeled parts of the star and made notes on the blackboard.
They felt a little overwhelmed but also proud. It sounded like Goblins were an important part of their culture, they provided an invaluable service to their community. Some of them were starting to hope their future might be bright and have promise.
“We Goblins live in burrows outside of the Horde encampments. Each burrow must meet a quota every month or risk being outcasted.” Tusa turned to look around and was surprised to find all but two of the goblins were paying close attention. Normally teaching young Goblins was a test of patience and upper body strength, as most of her time would be spent rounding them up long enough to get a word in. This lot, however, was unusually well-behaved.
She was doing her best to be brief, skipping some of the details to keep their attention, as goblin children were known to be rowdy. Even by Horde standards. This was why Tusa was surprised to see one of the boys raising his hand emphatically. Raising an eyebrow, she pointed to the boy.
“Go on…” Tusa paused remembering the boy’s name. “Drazahar.”
“What do the burrows get in return for their tribute?” Drazahar asked excitement clear in his voice. The murmurs and look of expectation on the other children’s faces showed their curiosity as well. Tusa looked at him stone-faced.
“The right to be a part of the horde. And not be eaten.” She sounded so casual about the matter as if the Goblin boy had simply asked about the weather.
Drazahar looked shocked and dismayed, before shaking his head and speaking again.
“What do we get for being the first line of defense? Isn’t that dangerous?” This time his question was more earnest, almost desperate. There had to be more to being a goblin than that. They were a critical part of the Horde, surely there was some benefit. Tusa stared at the boy, with no visible change in her demeanor
“The right to live.” Was all the answer she offered?
Drazahar’s shock and confusion had now turned to indignation. His face had contorted in a scowl and was about to shout at their teacher before he was cut off.
“We won’t be going to a burrow, right? We will continue to live with our mother?” The question came from Makadian. Although despite being phrased as a question it had come out more like a demand. Makadian had no desire to leave their comfortable home to go to some burrow where they had to offer up all their hard work to the Horde, just to be given the chance to live.
Tusa looked at Makadian, her expression shifted as she smiled an almost predatory grin.
“As soon as you lot come of age your father's duty will be fulfilled. You will be sent to a burrow. Likely, the Northeastern as it's going to be needing new hunters soon.” The silence that followed was deafening, all eight of the goblin children looked frozen in place at this revelation.
“I-I’m a Horticulture specialist, right? I can just farm?” Tasar was the first to speak, shocking his siblings. He was shaking and looked pale, the thought of being sent to die on a battlefield was terrifying to him. Tusa looked unfazed by the boy’s obvious distress and shrugged her shoulder.
“The Horde migrates to three locations every four months throughout the year. Resting one month at an agreed upon an oasis.” Tusa stared at Tasar, almost feeling pity for the sorrowful child. Someone like him would not last long outside the camp.
“Your specialty is useless to the Horde. The best you can do is find seeds to donate as a tribute or for trade with the Sun Mythos.” At her words, Tasar looked about ready to cry as Idika placed a gentle hand on his back trying to comfort him, though she looked shaken as well. All the young Goblins looked lost and somewhat panicked, others like Makadian and especially Drazahar looked ready to lunge at Tusa. But this was their lot in life, they would have to accept it.
“That’s enough about the Horde, for now, we can come back to that later.” The shaman said as she rummaged around in a bag near the blackboard. After a moment she produced small wooden latter-like structures, with lines of beads on each of the rungs. Tusa handed an abacus to each of the Goblins.
“Let’s go over some mathematics. You need to ensure that the tribute overseer doesn’t cheat you. Your life depends on it after all.” She smiled at the children, but the expression was far from friendly. In dejected silence the young Goblins began following along as she instructed, the room only filled with the sound of Tusa’s voice and the clacking of the abacus beads.
Idika and Malkadain gave one another glances looking thoughtful. Makadain flicked at his abacus annoyed and scowling while Tasar looked sullen. The rest of the boys were quiet and confused. But Drazahar gripped the wooden frame of his abacus till his knuckles turned white and girted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. He sat stewing his outrage for the rest of their lesson.