Gobma led the squad through the camp. Goblins were largely working on construction. New trenches had been dug in the mossy ground. Logs were being sharpened, for no reason other than their menacing look, and laid into them to create a crude wall. Thick mud was used to fill gaps, fitted with the occasional bone piece or skull. Small ropes tied them all together.

Daggat and his new squad mates were then taken further, to a field where logs were being sharpened by orcs with powerful arms and crude tools.

“Squad, this is your job. When they are done making the log all pointy, you all take it over there.” He pointed towards a pile of sharpened logs ready to be placed in the trench. The squad just sort of… stood there. “GET TO IT!” They jumped, and rushed towards the log. Scrambling, they each tried to grip it. These trees were ancient and strong before their felling, easily as wide as a goblin was tall. Twelve they had in number, true, but they were still gremlins.

With each gremlin, Daggat included, trying their best to lift the log, no progress was being made. Gobma was starting to chuckle at their struggles. Then, slowly, the log started to shift. Klaw had provided just enough lift to tilt it. Then gravity stepped in. gremlins scattered away, all but one. The poor creature tripped and the log rolled over a foot. It began to scream. The cries of pain was drowned out by Gobma’s laughter. Even the gremlins started laughing. Daggat felt sick. This accident will probably maim the gremlin for the rest of its life. Yet, no one helped. Instead, they laughed. Daggat began to laugh nervously, then, spurned on by a desire not to stand out, laughed harder.

Several minutes later, the gremlins discovered how to roll a log, working together. Gobma only watched and threatened them if they slowed. Hours of back breaking labor passed. Of course, Daggat discovered early on how to fake pushing a log. They managed to drag over a dozen of them to the wall. Several other teams of gremlins were also doing the same tasks. A swarm of gremlins dragging logs like ants dragging leaves, dozens of orcs whittling away the trees, and the occasional crash of a felled tree. When Gobma told them they were done, every gremlin fell to the ground in relief and exhaustion.

“Lousy work, if I’ve ever seen it. But, it'll have to do. Meet me here first light. If I have to track you down, and I can, you will WISH you got squished like Hudd did.” The wounded gremlin was still forced to work, whimpering the whole time. The gremlins just stood there. “What? GO!”

“Uh, where to? Back to the pens?” Daggat asked.

“I don’t care. Do what you want. Don’t get yourself killed. Now… SCATTER!” He roared the last bit and the gremlins did. Gobma laughed and wandered off to his own devices.

Daggat was free. For now. Briefly he considered just running for it, but decided that such an obvious tactic to avoid work would have countermeasures. Besides, where would he go? This was his home, despite the slave labor. Perhaps it was only this difficult because of the wall. When the wall is finished, life will be easy again. His stomach rumbled. First thing, however, is food. Dragging Glut behind him, he wandered towards the camp.

Lumbering into the camp was an ogre. It was huge, easily as tall as the walls. A thick arm held a full deer like a sack over his shoulder. In his other hand dragged a cleaver. Rather, a long chunk of metal ground to an edge. It was as much a cleaver as a tiger was a cat. Daggat briefly wondered what will happen to the venison, and how he could get some. He decided to find out.

Sticking to the shadows, the edges of view, and generally out of the way, he stalked the ogre through the camp. Glut was not nearly as stealthy. He tripped over litter, knocked over objects, and had nearly been trod on by a passing pack of drunk goblins. His breath heaving, he asked “Where we goin’?”

“Food, Glut. Were going to food. See that ogre? It’s got some. If we follow where he puts it, we might find more.” Glut smiled at the idea of food.

The ogre stopped outside of a large tent. The sort of structure that was more a portable roof than building. The smell of burned meat and grease radiated from it. It was a kitchen, of a sort. A single large pot bubbled away and a myriad of goblins and gremlins darted around a large communal fire and several other smaller ones. Goblins cooked and ate whatever they could grab and run with. Some, it seemed, were content just taking what was caught by others. Rats, hunks of meat, birds of all shapes and sizes, mushrooms, eggs in pans, even kettles boiled with some concoction. It was chaos at its finest, and Daggat finally felt at home.

This was what it meant to be a goblin, he decided. Take what you can get, cook what you can, and live your life with all the luxury you can get out of it. No judgment or rules. There was hardly any anger present, though a few spiteful and jealous looks. He saw one gremlin jump and take a bite out of a leg that a passing goblin was holding. Another goblin lay under a keg, slurping from a steady stream of grog. In one area, a lone goblin was handing out some sort of flat bread, trading them for other morsels of food. A larger, meaner goblin stood menacingly over the crowd, keeping them in check. But through all of this, was laughter and devilish joy. Jokes and pranks and merriment.

The goblin revelry. Of all the races, peoples, and species in the world, no creature could revel like a goblin. Few would want to. ‘Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you might get squished’ was the goblin way. Any morsel, no matter how desperately scavenged, could be the center of a revelry. Cattle, rats, flour or grubs. It was all good eating to a goblin. But it was not all fun and games. Above the rabble stood the fire tender. A grizzled bugbear who tended both the flames and the peace. Daggat kept an eye on it. The ogre slammed the deer in front of him.

“You know the drill. Half for me. Half for you. Cut it good.” The ogres voice was deep, resonating over the chatter.

“Not any more, Hog. Rika said we need to stock up. So, it all goes to us!” The ogre growled.

“That wasn’t the deal. That’s not how this works! I bring you half of hunt, you protect cave.” He loomed over the bugbear, a stronger variety of goblin. The fire keeper did not back down.

“Don’t care. Same goes for both the ogres.”

“Yeah? And whats to stop me from tearing apart this puny camp and taking it ALL for my Ma?” Daggat could see veins pulsing on the ogre.

“HA! Try it. You’re, what, twelve? Rika is in the forties. Clan leaders are all in the twenties. You’d be crushed. Then you lose our protection. Then your Ma would be more than just hungry. But, hey,” his posture changed to a more agreeable one, “I get it. Not fair. But that’s Rika for you. Stick it out for a month or two. The wall will be done, then you can renegotiate.” Those numbers… Daggat was sure they didn’t refer to age. Levels. That had to be it.

With a roar, the ogre lifted and slammed down with his blade. The deer split in two, blood, guts, and gore splattered. Daggat jumped back as a bit of intestine landed near his foot. “HALF FOR ME!” The ogre yelled, and started dragging the back half of the deer away, leaving a red trail.

“YOU… YOU… OGRE! You ruined the meat! Rika will hear about this.”

The rest of the night continued. Daggat ate what he could. He noted his squad mates showed up at some point. Glut somehow managed to get a whole roast chicken, which Daggat conned a leg from. One by one, goblins disappeared into the night. Many just slept where they lay.

Finally, Daggat had found a copper mug. After tossing its contents into the grass, he filled it with grog from one of the many barrels. Watered down mead, wine, and whatever spirits the goblins could make or steal. It was a foul drink, but perfectly suited to goblin taste. It frothed in his mug. Excitedly, Daggat went to take a large gulp.

Then, his head was shoved into the dirt. The mug clattered to the ground, spilling precious grog into the mud. “Think I wouldn’t notice?” The voice was unmistakably Klaw’s. He had pinned him from behind. Between clenched teeth and a mouthful of gravel, Daggat replied.

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“Oh, whatever could you mean, dear brother?” Experience told him not to fight back. The pain of gravel in the face was familiar to him.

“You only pretended to work. Gobma is stupid, didn’t see. But I could.” He leaned in to one of Daggat’s floppy ears and gently lifted it to whisper in. “Fingers inches off the log… why shouldn’t I say anything? Make it worth it.” Daggat cursed internally. He didn’t think that Klaw of all people would notice. Though, he was working next to Daggat at the time. Luck, it’s the only explanation.

“Why, Klaw, you WANT me to be less tired. Don’t you?” Daggat could visualize Klaw’s eyes narrowing. The look he had when he tried, foolishly, to figure out the trick.

“Why is that?”

“It’s so I could have the energy to get you something tasty! You see? You are soooo much stronger than me. My contribution to work wouldn’t even be a drop to the river of your strength. So, you do the strong stuff, and I’ll get us some food. So you can rest. See? See?” Moments passed. Daggat was worried that he went overboard with the bigger words. In truth, Klaw and the others were almost as eloquent as Daggat, when they wanted to be. The result of Daggat’s proximity through their short lives.

“But, I can just get me food. Or I’ll take it from you.” A knee dug into Daggat’s back. “Or from Glut,” He added.

“Ah! But, do you want to search for the tastiest morsel? You are too tired. Just rest, and I will do that. See?” The weight lifted off of him. Daggat couldn’t suppress his grin. What a fool! Easily tricked. Now, all Daggat had to do was grab some food, of which there was an abundance. That was when Zuss struck.

“Wait. Daggat, dear brother,” Zuss said sarcastically, “it was not only Klaw who worked. Surly you mean to get ALL of us a morsel?” Daggat sneered at her. Zuss was always ruining his plans. Suddenly in a panic, he glanced around. It was only the three of them and Glut in the area. He calmed down. Twelve gremlins to feed would have been impossible.

“Fine. But only us four. Now, I’ll be off to-”

“Oh, look!” Zuss cut him off, pointing upward. Her grin was wicked, her voice thick with mockery. “I already found the tastiest morsel. Kindly get it for us, seeing as you’re so fresh.”

Daggat followed her finger and felt his stomach drop. There, atop a stack of barrels, a bugbear snored, a fat lamb leg sprawled across its chest. Its snores sounded like a forge bellows, and the meat’s greasy sheen glinted in the firelight.

His stomach churned. “N... no problem!” he laughed nervously. Glut smiled wide.

“I knew you could get it, Dag!”

Moments later, Daggat was cursing his bad luck while climbing barrel after barrel. He went slowly, so as not to wake the bugbear. Or to fall. He glanced down. That was a mistake, he had spent time perched in his pole, but there was never FIRE under it. Shaking, he continued up.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached the bugbear. It smelled of grog, gristle, blood, and body oder. The breath alone could kill a small bird. From this higher vantage point, he had a clear view of the Fountain. A distant light, always to the east. Like a great beacon, rising from the ground to spear into the heavens. It was only visible at night. Like the moon, it had its phases. Some nights brighter, some dimmer, some gone altogether. Though the frequency was inconsistent.

Now, he had another problem. The leg was solidly in the bugbears arm, gripped like a favorite stuffed animal. He could see his siblings below. Glut nervously chewing on a discarded bone. Zuss was grinning at him, while Klaw glared. He looked beyond them. There were about a dozen sleeping goblinoids around the communal fire. Several more were drunk. Things were winding down and fires were slowly being put out. Other lights in the camp caught his attention. A large tent reinforced with crude walls glowed in the dark. Rika’s lair. The chieftain’s seat was likely somewhere in that building. A few bugbears stood outside as guard. Glowing on the other side of camp was a long tent. He could see movement within. A tent flap opened as an orc stepped out and Daggat could see tables, chairs, and orcs. That was where they feasted. A handful of other lights glittered in the night, but that was all Daggat could see. He would need to come back during the day.

Snapping back to the present, Daggat considered his next move. He was not strong enough to take it by force, or to survive an angry bugbear. Daggat plucked a hair from the top of his head. Holding it carefully, he tickled the bugbears nose. It’s nose wiggled. Holding his breath, Daggat tried again. This time, the sleeping Bugbear reached up and scratched his nose. Success! The lamb leg tumbled off the side of the bugbear and towards his waiting peers.

Before Daggat could start to climb back down, however, the bugbear stretched. With a mumble, a strong hand grabbed Daggat and pulled him into a hug. It started to snore again. Below he could make out the squeaking laughter of Zuss and Klaw. For several minutes, Daggat didn’t dare move. He could hardly breathe, let alone fight against the monsters grip. Finally, the bugbear shifted himself. Using this opportunity, Daggat shifted his own weight as well. Maybe he could wriggle out of this situation. With a snort of surprise, the bugbear toppled off the barrels and towards the ground. Daggat screamed as he fell, finally free from the bugbears hug. He had a split second to look below him. Just in time to see an open barrel eagerly waiting to swallow him.

Daggat fell face first into the barrel with a splash. Vinegar and spiced burned at this eyes and mouth. Around him were various pickled vegetables. Using his small claws, he dug into the inside of the barrel to keep from resurfacing. Through the haze of vinegar, Daggat could hear the bugbear yelling and searching for whoever pushed him.

He held his breath for as long as he could, then gasped for air as he popped out. Luckily, the bugbear had moved on. Grumbling, he went to find his crew.

Half an hour latter, he managed to find them near the walls, in a little nook made of boxes, bags, and other clutter. They grinned at him when they recognized him. The lamb leg was already almost gone.

“Had a nice swim?” Klaw asked.

“Very refreshing.” Daggat’s stomach grumbled. Zuss, who had the last of the leg, held it out for him.

“Didn’t think you could do it.” She smiled at him. “Your share.” Daggat blinked. Share? Up until now, he had simply took what he could. Giving up some food, or anything, willingly would have never crossed his mind. Yet, his siblings saved him some meat. He felt a strange warmth flow through him.

The lamb was cold and greasy. Unseasoned and only half cooked as well. Yet it was the most delicious morsel he had tasted. After the meal, he settled down. Unconsciously the gremlins snugged against one another for warmth, like a liter of pups, and they slept.

Daggat

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