Daggat was hiding behind an old pickle barrel. It’s contents had long since been devoured and the remaining vinegar too strong, even for the goblin pallet. Soon, his prey would arrive. The young gremlin could hardly keep in his excitement. But, he restrained himself enough to stay silent. Finally, the target sauntered towards the trap. Klaw, one of the largest and strongest of the gremlins, stopped as his noticed the morsel laying on the ground. A dead bird. He leapt at it, no gremlin would leave free food lying around. At least, no gremlin who wasn’t starving.
With no hesitation, he took a large bite. There was the sound of crunching teeth and a scream of pain. The bird, now bright with specks of teeth and blood, fell to the dirt. Daggat fell to the ground, Cackling.
“Wha… hwat?” Klaw held his jaw. His teeth had shattered on the stone Daggat had glued bird feathers to. Only the wings and head were real.
“How did it taste? I would have tried it myself… but I just couldn’t leave you out of the fun.” Klaw spat blood, then grinned. He was missing at least three of his wide, sharp teeth. They would grow back. Gremlin teeth always grew back. Daggat knew this, he had a collection.
“Maggat! I thought I smelled day old shit. We should’ve left you in the pit with the rest of the slime.” Daggat grinned right back at him. Then Klaw lunged. But, Daggat was ready to run. This was a familiar song and dance, one they had done a hundred times before. A prank, experiment, or some trick followed by a tense chase. Half the time, Klaw caught him. This time, Daggat was lucky.
After losing Klaw, he scampered up the large pole that dominated the gremlin pens. It was used to hold up a large tarp in the colder months, turning the open gremlin pens into a tent. There was just enough room at the top for Daggat to squat. He had only fallen three times from this perch. Luckily, gremlins tended to bounce.
The years since his emergence from the mud pits were a blur. Daggat took to learning about the world like a sponge to oil. One of the first lessons, do not try to eat gremlins anymore. Killing a gremlin in the pits is just survival of the hungriest, out of the pit it is murder. After achieving level two, the young goblins would be cared for in a series of pens, separating them into groups of four. These are given better food and are nurtured in the ways of goblin life. Daggat was a gremlin now, but it was clear that would change one day. He would be a proper goblin.
Maimed males and elder females tended to the gremlins. Teaching them the best they could, given their limited knowledge. Daggat learned of the three celestial markers, the sun, the moon, and the fountain. He learned of cooked meat, grog (drink of choice even among the youngest goblin), and the finer things in life. Such as a dry patch of dirt to sleep on, rather than a hole in the mud. Finally, he learned of the things out of his reach. The forest of giant trees, shrouded in fog and filled with all manor of mysteries. Stories of monsters and eternal war waiting for him in the afterlife. And of the legendary clan leaders that led their tribe, the Head Takers.
Slowly, the gremlins learned to understand and speak. The first gremlin to speak was, naturally, Daggat. And he was a terror. Question after question. A bottomless hole seeking knowledge to fill it.
“Why cooking taste good?” “What that tree made of?” “Why not kill Klaw? Klaw mean!” “Why are goblins bigger than gremlin?” and on and on and on, with a quickly increasing eloquence and basic understanding of the world. To the keepers of the young, it was infuriating. Daggat was often the first to be punished any given day and usually the last as well. In many cases, this was a result of outsmarting the caretakers, asking too difficult questions, or even just for talking too long. Contempt grew in his heart. Wouldn’t it be better for every goblin if the gremlins new this stuff? Was he being beaten for simply being, by the standards of a goblin, a genius? These kinds of questions he kept to himself.
Eventually, his curiosity shifted from asking questions, to finding answers. He learned to experiment and to watch. Look for the reactions of goblins and gremlins and to make connections. The fake bird was one of these experiments. Daggat had wanted to see what would happen if you tried to eat a stone. Of course, he wouldn’t try himself. That was what his siblings were for. He sought them out from his perch.
Klaw held some gremlin by the foot, taking out his frustrations on some weakling. Glutt was sleeping, laid out over a log. It took him a bit longer to find Zuss. Finally, he spotted her. She was by the edge of the pen fence. Quick as a viper she reached a hand through the loose sticks and snatched something from a goblin who happened to walk past. The goblin didn’t notice.
The camp, nearly a village but not quite, was partially walled with simple spiked logs. Hundreds of goblins skulked and skittered through it, like ants swarming a piece of rotting meat. Strongest among these goblins, was Chief Rika. A female goblin chief. Second to the chief was the shaman. The earless goblin who had saved his life. Daggat never learned his name, but discovered he was a nilbog, rather than a goblin. Variations of the goblin theme persisted around camp. Not only goblins, but bugbears, hobgoblins, and the rarer Nilbog.
This shaman intrigued Daggat. Not only had it saved his life from the mud pits, but from his perch on the pole he could peer into the shamans hut. Every night he brewed something in a large cauldron. He tossed in small objects, critters, monster bits, and anything else under the sun. What caught his attention was the way the brew would simmer and change after he sprinkled in a powder.
Daggat had of course tried to replicate this. But his concoctions just ended up as mud.
Aside from the goblins, there were the “mercenaries” whom called this camp home. A large ogre, biggest creature in Daggat’s small world, would carry large game into the camp every day. Wargs, intelligent wolves, toyed with the goblins. Large, threatening orcs also camped with the goblins. Though, by far the most common creature was the common goblin.
Daggat’s life at this stage was easy. Aside from the occasional beating, torments from other gremlins, and the rare unanswerable question, he had nothing to worry about. No chores or jobs or responsibilities. But he knew it wouldn’t last. He had seen bands of gremlins traveling with goblins doing menial work. One day, that would happen to him, he was sure. Until then, Daggat could only grow and learn.
That day, was this one. Hag Triz, the venerable, yet utterly spherical, woman who cared for his group, called for Daggat, his siblings and eight others. Daggat skittered down the pole, intrigued on the days events.
“Children,” She always said that word harshly, as if using it as an insult, “This summer is your fifth. So, now you must WORK. The free ride is over. You will be-”
“Why after five summers? Not six or four?” Asked Daggat. THWACK. Hag Triz came down on him with a handy switch. He grumbled as he rubbed his head.
“Like I said. A dozen of you will be lumped together. You will be a gremlin squad. Squads do their work so they may grow into strong goblins. A boss will guide you, continue to teach you. Do as they say. They need you to fight? You fight HARD. Scrub pots? YOU WILL SCRUB. Be quiet? YOU BETTER DAMN WELL BE QUIET. You see?” Daggat did see, but many of his… squad mates looked worried. He knew these gremlins well enough to know they wouldn’t understand right away. Not without a few switches. “Now. Wait here. I’m going to fetch you a goblin.”
She waddled off, leaving the twelve behind. Klaw began to rub his large hands together in excitement.
“Finally!” He turned towards Glut. “You best slow us down, Glut.” Said Klaw, jabbing a finger at his chest. “LIKE ALWAYS! We will show the boss our strength!” Klaw bared his teeth. A full jaw of razors, minus three. The other gremlins snickered and laughed. Daggat stepped to Glut’s side.
“Klaw, at least Glut can count to eight. YOU can only count to seven. Considering you always forget the finger you count with!” Daggat wiggled his six fingers and two thumbs at Klaw. His eyes narrowed to deadly points.
“Stay out of this, runt, or I’ll make you a snack later.”
“Good, I’m getting peckish. Don’t forget to actually cook it this time. I don’t like my rats wrigglin’.” Klaw looked confused, which only made him angrier. He was about to explode when Zuss stepped between them.
“Both of you, shut up. We’re going to get in trouble.” Zuss spoke coolly. She was easily the second cleverest of the gremlins. There was always an air of confidence around her, one the other gremlins could not pull off. The two backed off from each other, tension temporarily halted. Tentatively, Glut whispered to Daggat.
“Thank… you, Dag.” Glut was slow, it was true. Mentally and physically. But, what he missed out on alacrity he more than made up for it with bulk. Daggat patted him on the shoulder. He would use this as a way to extort food from him later. His attention was suddenly pulled towards Hag. She had waddled back with a goblin in tow. He could make out bits of their conversation.
“… better have the party leader skill, like you were told!”
“I… I did mistress Triz.” He was eying her switch nervously. Party leader skill? What was that? Daggat had heard mention of skills and skill points. No one would answer him when he asked about them, however. Same with levels, mutation points, experience, and a myriad of other topics that Daggat had filed away as “The Mystery”.
“AND WHAT LEVEL IS IT?!” She roared at him. He flinched away at her sudden aggression.
“Two! So I can have… uh… a lot of party members.”
“Twelve, you idiot. That’s how many gremlins you get.” She grabbed him by his dog-leather shirt. “Now listen, Gobma, get more than three of em killed at once and Rika will feed you to the wargs.” He nodded enthusiastically.
“No, Ma’am. I mean yes Ma’am! I mean… none of em will die, ma’am.” She glared at him.
“Fat chance of that. Ok, get in there. That lot is your new squad.” She booted him towards the pack of gremlins, who looked at him expectantly.
“Thes-” He pointed at the gremlins.
“YES THOSE ONES!” She barked before he could finish his question. “Good luck. That group is a handful.” Then she waddled off to torment more gremlins. Gobma straightened up and looked at each gremlin in turn. He smiled with an evil glee. The goblin was short, for a goblin, and had a long neck. He held himself with the confidence of a newly promoted underboss.
“Which one of you is strongest?” He asked in a friendly, curious manor. Klaw immediately stepped forward.
“KLAW IS!” He roared, chest thrust forward. BAM! The goblin, easily over twice the height of Klaw, kicked him full force in the chest. Klaw skittered back and wheezed. “Now listen here, gremlins. I’m your new boss. I’m now the strongest. I’m the smartest,” Daggat held back a jibe at that naive remark, “AND the handsomest. So that means you follow my orders. GOT IT!?” The gremlins all nodded in fear. Klaw trembled in anger. “Right, then. All of you line up.”
After a fashion, they did. Gobma then looked off into space, his eyes focusing on something invisible. Daggat’s eyes narrowed. This was related to the mystery. Occasionally goblins would do this for seemingly no reason. Stare off into space, eyes darting around. Sometimes for minutes at a time. Daggat swore he would discover the answer to this puzzle. One by one, each gremlin jumped in surprise. Daggat braced himself for whatever it was.
A screen appeared in front of him. It was somehow both visible and not in sight. Like he was seeing with a third eye that had been closed for all his life.
[You are invited to join party: Gobma’s Skwad. Note: Forced recruitment nullified by high intelligence. Would you like to accept? Yes or no?]
In the same way he knew how to breath, Daggat knew how to select an option. An instinct placed into him before birth. Daggat selected no and the screen went away. He was not in the business in accepting any unknowns, and Daggat had no clue what a party was. The only party he knew of was the fun kind. Daggat did not think this was anything fun. Gobma’s face contorted into a frown. The screen popped up again.
[You are invited to join party: Gobma’s Skwad. Would you like to accept? Yes or no?]
Daggat hit no. Gobma kicked him in the face. The gremlin went tumbling end over end backwards while the others roared with laughter. As he stood, face pulsing with pain, Gobma was already yelling at him. “Listen here you little shit! I don’t know why you get a choice. I didn’t. They didn’t. Don’t matter though. HIT YES!”
[You are invited to join party: Gobma’s Skwad. Would you like to accept? Yes or no?]
Daggat hit no. “You cheeky bastard! What’s the problem? Don’t know what yes is? Need me to kick it into your head?” He wagged a foot in Daggat’s general direction.
“Do you really expect me to join a party if I do not know what that means?”
“Yes.” Gobma was huffing in anger.
“Why?”
“Because I will skin you if you don’t.” Daggat thought about it for a while.
“You… make a good argument.”
“JUST SELECT YES, YOU RAT!”
[You are invited to join party: Gobma’s Skwad. Would you like to accept? Yes or no?]
Reluctantly, Daggat selected yes.
[You have joined: Gobma’s Skwad. Experience is now shared between party members according to party specifications. Party specifications: 90% of earned experience to party leader, 0% to party experience pool, 0% shared, 10% kept. Growth experience is exempt.]
There was no further fanfare and the screen closed. Daggat seethed. He was vaguely familiar with percentages and basic math, so he knew how screwed he was. In theory, at least. He didn’t know what experience was, but he knew he wanted it. Between clenched teeth, he asked, “So… what exactly is a party?” Gobma looked irritated.
“Don’t matter. You ain’t supposed to know anyway.” That peaked Daggat’s interest. But he has learned his lesson about prying about things he wasn’t supposed to know. “Alright squad! Listen up. From now on, anything you do reflects on me. So don’t do anything stupid, or I will beat you to an inch of your life. Now, come on.”
As Gobma led them into the camp, Daggat’s heart quickened. The walls of the pen were behind him now, but the camp was no less a cage. Everywhere he looked, goblins snarled, fought, and leered, their eyes lingering on the new squad like predators sizing up fresh prey. Somewhere in this chaos lay the answers he craved.
Daggat
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
True Name: Daggat
Soul: Monster
Genseed: gremlin
Monster Level: 2
Attributes [1]:
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 5
Constitution: 4
Intelligence: 13
Will: 4
Charm: 4
Feats:
Encounter: True Angel
Biotraits [1]:
Base size: Tiny
Regenerative Teeth
Enhanced Night Vision
Rot Resistance
Other:
Variant: +10 Intelligence