In the coming weeks, Daggat settled into a rhythm. Work, revel, experiment, and sleep. It took him a few days to find a suitable container for his experiments. If he was going to discover how to replicate the shamans magic on his own, he would do it right. It ended up being a clay bowl. In Daggat’s defense, most of the bowls in the camp were chipped, cracked, or stained.
For his first experiment, he filled the bowl from a rain water barrel, found the skull of a rat and some tobacco, and mixed it together. The ingredients looked like the sort of stuff he found in the shack. He looked dubiously at his concoction, then shrugged and sprinkled a pinch of the powder into the bowl. The powder was incredibly fine, like ash, but somehow slick.
Nothing happened.
Maybe he needed fire? He took his bowl and scampered towards the communal kitchen. He found an empty stone near the fire and placed the bowl. A few minutes latter, it began to change. The liquid instantly transformed into a brown, sludgy liquid. But, a different kind of brown sludge than before. It was progress.
[Feat accomplished: Fledgling Alchemist. Cause: Condense essence into a liquid form. Reward: One level in alchemy]
Daggat did a quick backflip in joy, then danced a little jig. Several goblins attention was drawn by his mad cackle. Most ignored him.
“What have you there, Daggat?” Daggat’s laughter halted. He slowly looked up. Looming above him was Gobma. He gave Daggat a cat grin. “You made me, your generous boss, a snack? THANK YOU, Squadie.”
“Wait! No, this isn’t soup!” As much as Daggat hated Gobma, drinking that potion all at once would be madness. Memories of Daggat’s impromptu flight flashed before him. Gobma grabbed the bowl before Daggat could take it.
“Ha! Nice try, runt.” Daggat dashed away from the potential goblin bomb. Gobma sniffed the bowl, then took a sip. He immediately spat it out and gagged. “What IS this, ugh.” Daggat held his breath, but no explosion came. Gobma cursed and tossed the bowl to the ground. With dismay, Daggat saw it shatter. “Next time, stick to meat and potatoes.”
Gobma walked way. His tiny rat tail swishing behind him as he went. Daggat’s jaw dropped open. He had made something that did… SOMETHING. Daggat imagined his future, a great shaman turning the goblins into armies of… rat things. Maybe he needed more rat? Did the weed do anything?
Now that he thought about it, the bowl had not been boiling. So, was heat actually needed? Or did it speed up the process, like with tea or broth? Ideas for more experiments overflowed from his mind. He almost didn’t know where to begin.
Over the next few weeks, he focused almost entirely on his experiments. He attempted different liquids. Water, grog, oil, and even piss once. He tried a multitude of ingredients. From rat parts, toad legs, herbs and flowers, even stoned and dirt.
This is what he learned; Heat speed up the process, but was not strictly needed. Different ingredients had different results in the color and texture of the final brew. The liquid he used didn’t seem to matter much, but there was a difference. Pure water worked faster and better than others. Grog, mud, and other mixed liquids seemed to add a consistent quality to the potion. He could tell if a potion was made from mud or grog at a glance, since he knew what to look for.
The physical matter of the ingredients were transformed and settled into the bottom of the container he used. It had somehow transformed into more of the white powder. Soon, he had more than he started with.
There was… something about the potions that ate at the edge of his mind. Like an understanding just out of his reach. It was a connection between the ingredients and the result that was clearly there, but he couldn’t name. More than one jar, bottle, or bowl was shattered in his frustration.
As for the results, they were mixed. His tactic for testing them was simple. He would simply add the potion to food or grog, then leave them out. Eventually, SOMEONE would snatch the free food.
Most potions did nothing. He found that only potions made of animal parts actually made an effect on the goblins. Mostly, they formed slight animal-like features. Subtle enough so they were not noticeable if you were not looking for them. Buck teeth, hair growth, slightly longer nails, and the like. The changes never lasted long. The longest was six seconds, and that was the result of using boiled water. No explosions, to Daggat’s disappointment. He was tempted to use Glut as a test subject, or even trick Klaw, but he wouldn’t risk them getting hurt. He doubted he could find replacements for them if they died.
He was sure essence had something to do with how potions worked, but he had no idea what that was. Only that it was mentioned by the feat. There was also the alchemy skill. That frustrated Daggat most of all. What was the point of gaining a skill if he didn’t know what that meant, how to use it, or how to even view it. What other skills did he have, but not know about?
Each day became a familiar pattern. Wake up, work, revel through the night, work on an experiment, then curl up with his crew to sleep. Klaw, Zuss, Glut, and Daggat naturally gravitated towards each other, and they even found a home of sorts. A nest to nestle in at night. Some instinct and proto-memory told them they were all born from the same mother. Goblins held little regard for family ties, or any bond for that matter. However, they did believe in strength in numbers. They likely had dozens of other siblings, who may have gravitated the same way. These four had simply left the mud pits around the same time.
One morning, Daggat woke to find words floating in his vision.
[You have earned enough Growth Experience to level. One monster level gained. One Biotrait Point Gained. All attributes increased by 1. One growth point available. ]
Daggat almost whooped with excitement. Finally, this was SOMETHING. He had done nothing to earn experience, so perhaps it was gained as he grew as a gremlin. From childhood to adulthood. He was still quite young, but if that was the case, then he might expect more levels in the future.
After a series of subtle questions, it was discovered his siblings also had the same happen to them. That days work was done quickly, and with glee. Even Gobma was annoyed by Daggat’s good mood. That night, the siblings crashed into the revelry with joy. Klaw had managed to steal a bowl of gravy from someone not paying attention, while Zuss snagged several fish from the fire. Daggat’s contribution to the meal was a particularly large rat, only partially burned. Glut had a large bottle of something, but when he showed the group a passing goblin simply lifted it from his hands.
Tonight was a night to celebrate their growth.
During their feast, there was a commotion. Screaming, unlike any Daggat had heard. It was deep, not as deep as an orc or ogre, but desperate. Ragged, like a scream of loss and rage. Several goblins ran towards it. Daggat felt himself being pulled along by curiosity and the will of the horde.
More and more goblins, and other creatures, joined the crowd as they moved towards one side of the camp. Daggat noted with worry most goblins brandished cruel looking knives and hooks. The wall on this side of the camp was not yet finished. Sounds of combat squirmed their way between the cries and boos of goblins. But, Daggat couldn’t see anything. Looking around, he spotted a pile of boxes. Sitting atop of it was a drunk gremlin.
“Come on, this way.” He led the others to the boxes. Scrambling up them quickly, he kicked the gremlin off the top. “Oh no… sorry you fell!” The gremlin was too drunk to do anything about it.
From the boxes, Daggat had a clear view. At the center of the crowd of goblins was a warrior. He assumed it was a warrior from the bright and gleaming sword it held. But, it was not a species Daggat was familiar with. About the size of an orc, but with skin like a hairless ogre. It was ugly, with smooth skin with little to no variation. No sense of artistry to it. He, Daggat assumed it was male, was clad in armor. Arms free, but the body and legs were covered in thin plates. Unlike goblin armor, this was uniform and shiny, saved only by the smears of blood and the few dents.
At its feet were the corpses of three goblins. With horror, Daggat realized none of them where Gobma. Nor were the corpses behind him. Two wargs, an ogre, several orcs, and countless goblins. A line of death and destruction. The warrior was screaming.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Come on! Fight me!” Tears streamed down his face. He lept at the throng of goblins. They scurried away from him. Snarling and jeering at him, but they kept their distance. Behind the warrior, a hobgoblin inched forward. Hobgoblins were smaller, lankier goblins. Weaker, but far sneakier. It held a jagged dagger. There was a savage expresion on its face. An expression Daggat had never seen before. A glee, but not one sourced from fun and revelry. Just before it stabbed the intruder in the back the warrior twirled around. His sword glinted in the light of dozens of torches. The hobgoblins head tumbled to the ground a moment latter.
Daggat could do nothing but watch, jaw hanging open. A rush of rage and excitement surged through him. The only one allowed to kill a goblin was another goblin! He started yelling along with the crowd. The others jeered along with him. This was real entertainment!
A goblin who Daggat had seen a handful of times boss others around walked forward. He wielded two daggers, each covered in a dim green light. Two tongues flicked out of his mouth. Moz Snakebite. Rumors spoke that he split his own tongue, to be cool, but lost his sense of taste. Daggat wasn’t sure of his actual place in the camp, but he was one of the big bosses that told the gremlin squad bosses what to do. Clan leader of the Snakebites. The crowd cheered.
The warrior struck quickly, but Moz blocked the blow with both daggers. He rolled between the humans legs and struck at both sides of his ribs with daggers. They sparked off his armor. Then Moz was flying through the air. It took Daggat a moment to realize Moz had been kicked. The movement was so quick, Daggat couldn’t follow it.
But Moz was not so easily defeated, being a true goblin warrior. He landed ready to sprint, boots cutting deep gouges in the earth where he landed. Running towards the invader, he laughed with savage glee. To Daggat’s astonishment, the warrior slashed through the air while Moz was still a ways away.
What a moron! Even Daggat wouldn’t miss that badly. Three slashes cut through the air. Yet, Moz dodged anyway. The first two slashes resulted in a line of dirt being thrown into the air, as though the warriors sword was incredibly long. The third was ducked by Moz and slammed into five goblins at the edge of the impromptu arena. Three of the were disemboweled and an others arm simply fell off. Their screams of pain were overtaken by the crowds excitement.
No one helped Moz fight. Daggat knew instinctualy this was not some sense of goblin honor, as if that could exist. Rather, no one else was crazy enough to fight THAT.
The Snakebiter leader seemed to disappear when he got close to the warrior. Appearing and disappearing quickly with each step. The warrior held up his sword in a guard position. It wasn’t enough. Moz erupted from beneath the warrior, spinning. There was a splash of red blood tinged with green light and the warrior stumbled back. Snakebitter’s two tongues waggled at him.
The warriors face, from the top of his neck to the forehead, had a long, red gash. Black poison was already spreading like tendrils from the wound. It roared in pain and anger. He took a large breath of air, and with the exhale, the poison seemed to leak out of him. Black poison and red blood dripped off his chin. Wild, maddened eyes snapped at Moz, who was bent over, pants down, mooning the warrior. The crowd exploded in laughter.
Moz dodged another attack with a graceful flip, which landed him with his pants back in place, then he bowed. Daggat laughed along with the crowd. He glanced to his crew, each of them were also enjoying themselves.
“Enough!” The warrior cried out. With a quick motion, he pulled a small ball from a pouch. He popped it in his mouth, and bit. A second later, lightning struck. It slammed into the warrior with the crash of thunder. There were no clouds in the sky to produce it.
Once the smoke cleared, someone had replaced the warrior. No, Daggat realized. Not replaced. It was the same man. But he had changed. He stood straighter, more confident. Electricity crackled around him. Most shockingly, his hair had become a golden tangle of light. Like tiny lightning bolts frozen in time. His eyes glowed white.
This was the effects of a potion, Daggat was sure. Was this the possibility of alchemy? Could he produce these effects? He imagined Zuss with this power, fast as lighting. Or Klaw, striking with the power of thunder. Daggat decided to redouble his efforts with his experiments.
The warrior took a sprinters stance, sword low and behind him. There was a reverse pulse. A force that swelled and then poured into the warrior. Invisible, but sensed through the dust, dirt, and debris moving quickly towards him. It burst out of him, sending a ring of bloody mud charged with energy to splatter out from him. Then, he was gone. Not gone… he was past Moz. On the other side, same pose but with the sword on the other side.
Moz stopped laughing. Then he fell over. A second later, his legs fell over as well. With organs spilling beneath him and crackling with electricity, Moz died. There was a moment of silence. Screams of rage replaced the laughter. Daggat stopped his cackling as well. His blood ran cold. He could hear Glut start to cry.
Moz, the dozens of dead, the bystanders cut down. They all suddenly felt real. Daggat was vulnerable. If Moz could just be cut down like that, Daggat could die any second. He felt panic start to take control. Zuss shakily climbed down from their perch. But Daggat had to see. He had to see what would happen next.
Goblins, Snakebiters Daggat assumed, rushed him. To their credit, they did not hesitate. He cut down each one with ease. Now the intruder was laughing.
“Is that all you have! Bring out your chief. I challenge them! Then I will kill them. Then each and every one of you monsters!” He laughed madly. Daggat was suddenly worried. Should he be running? A few gremlins and goblins were. Ultimately, his curiosity won out over his cowardliness. Silently, he cursed his insatiable curiosity.
After the sixth goblin killed, the crowd shifted, It was parting like a school of fishing parting around a shark. Skulking through the crowd, a nearly visible aura of rage around her, was a monster.
It was a goblin in the same way a dragon was a lizard. She hunched over, long, matted hair dragging through the mud. Muscles seemed to tear the skin apart, leaving lines of red to accent her green skin. Her eyes, teeth, and claws were all blood red and wickedly sharp. She wore a silver wolf coat that piled upon her back and dragged behind her.
Daggat shivered as he realized what this was. Chieftain Rika, the blood goblin. She spoke with the voice of crone. Even spoken as a whisper, it seemed to grind into Daggat’s ears.
“I am here, human. Do you seek death?” A human. Daggat had heard about them, but had never seen one before. The crowd quieted down.
“I do! Yours.” He said it almost theatrically. “Who are you? The milk maid? Have you run out of warriors?” Rika growled. It sounded like the cracking of bones. But, she remained calm.
“I am Chieftain Rika of the Head-taker goblins. Who are you? Why do you break our agreement?” She pointed a putrid claw at him.
“Your Chief is an old woman? Ha! No wonder this filth is so weak.” He was breathing heavily. Like a cornered badger fighting to the death. Not exhausted, but eager. “I’ll indulge you. I am Samuel Ackland. Guard captain of Fountwich. Third strongest human on this side of the forest.”
“What have we done to break our treatise? We have left your territory alone.”
“I shit on your treatise, you will all die soon. For the murder of my wife, I will lay waste to you and all you have built.” Rika raised a long, white eyebrow. Then she chuckled. “Oh, laugh while you can. I found her. I saw what you did. The mutilation… the cruelty. You left her coins and jewelery, but took her head! She was no threat to you. But, I promise, I AM!”
“Are you married to that whore we found yesterday? She came into our territory to steal. She paid for her mistake. You know the rules and the consequences.” The humans face was red with fury. More blood dripped from his wound.
“Murderers! All of you. Goblins are too weak to satisfy my revenge… but I will still cull you from the forest like the rot you are!” There was another inverse burst of energy like before. Both the human and Rika disappeared and reappeared a few steps from where the human began. A gust of wind followed. They had moved too fast to see. Rika’s fist was solidly jammed into his gut. There was a moment where Daggat could see the shock on his face. Then, he was launched upwards several feet.
“True. My goblins area weak.” The human slammed into the ground, groaning. “But, they live under my protection. Their kills are my kills. Their experience becomes my experience. This tribe exists to strengthen me so I can strengthen it!” She stomped on his sword, still in his grasp. It shattered. “Not the other way around, like you humans do it. You thought you had angered a hive. No. You angered a BEAR.” In her dash, the coat had fallen. Rika’s wings stretched and writhed like serpents. They were bat-like, with green skin connecting spike-like bones. “A beast that will feast on all I can get claws into. And guess what?” He tried to punch her, but the blow was like a child slapping a gorilla. “Because of your stupidity, anger, and suicidal madness, those claws will turn towards your family. Whats left of it, anyway.”
Rika shifted her grip quick as a viper. Then with a smooth motion, ripped off the human’s head. The lightning faded into normal hair, and the energy faded away. The crowd cheered. The chieftain lifted a hand, and the crowd was silent. After a moment, she spoke. “The treatise with the humans is over. They are free to be hunted. Swarm them. DEVOUR them. We are many, and it is time to take what should be ours. Now… HEAD-CUTTERS!” The crowd surged forwards, several goblins produced long knives.
To Daggat’s horror, the goblins started brutally cutting the heads off the goblin corpses. Even the wargs, orcs, and the ogre. But, his eyes were glued to Rika. With a mad glee, she ripped the heart from the humans corpse and bit it like an apple.
He couldn’t handle so much horror at once. Finally, reluctantly, he scuttled away from his perch and into the night.
Daggat
True Name: Daggat
Soul: Monster
Genseed: gremlin
Monster Level: 3
Attributes [2]:
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 6
Constitution: 5
Intelligence: 14
Will: 5
Charm: 5
Feats:
Encounter: True Angel
Act: Fledgling Alchemist
Skills:
Alchemy: 1
Biotraits [2]:
Base size: Tiny
Regenerative Teeth
Enhanced Night Vision
Rot Resistance
Other:
Variant: +10 Intelligence