With my grappling hook and a touch of ratty acrobatics I made it down to Tim’s camp.
The goblin seemed amused by my display, Bert just looked bored.
Tim wore an outfit of baggy canvas and leather. He stood a little more than twice my height (when on my hide legs anyway) so pretty short even on a goblin scale. The birds on the other hand were huge. Bigger than horses even hunched down. Massive legs ending with equally massive claws all tipped with wicked looking Talons. They had Almost comically tiny heads compared to the rest of their bodies preached atop long dexterous necks. Still their beaks looked plenty big. Enough to snap me in two.
We looked at each other and went still, both knowing if things were going to get nasty this was when things would kick off. Neither of us did anything, bert yawned. The moment of Tense Anticipation passed and we relaxed.
Tim nodded his head towards his cook stove. “Join me for some brekkie?”
~~~~~
We sat around tim’s camp stove. He hollowed out a biscuit for me you use as a teacher and filled it with the beans in Molasses he’d been stewing and topped with a small hunk of some meat I couldn’t readly idenity. It was an odd shade of blue. I gave him an Inquiring look, he was happy to answer.
“Tunnel stalker got it in its head that Matilda looked right tasty and was worth having a go at.” Pointing out one of the four other smaller giant birds I was making camp with. “ So my boy Bert here augured the point that it was a Tremendously bad idea to mess with his girls. Being a generous sort he left me enough for a meal or two after the girls got their share. Tea?” He asked me while giving Bert a Generous scratch under his beak. Bert responded with a Satisfied ‘Bok bok” while closing his Eye in pleasure at the attatin.
I got a few more details out of the goblin about Tunnel stalkers. Mostly just out of Professional curiosity and he was happy to humour me, if only for the chance to brag on Bert some more. I couldn’t blame him ethir. From the sounds of it a tunnel stalker was what I’d call a rager cat. Never dealt with one myself but I’d heard stories and seen scars. Take a big damn hunting cat, add an extra set of front legs, then give it the Disposition of a debt collector. Bert was a badass battle chicken not to be taken lightly. No wonder Tim wasn’t too worried about some random talking rat interrupting his breakfast.
Rager Cat meat was fatty, rich and tender, not at all gamey or tough like you’d expect from a predator. The beans were sweet and filling. The dry biscuit soaked up the gravy just right. I was licking my paws by the time I was done. We washed the whole thing down with a strong bitter herbal tea, just a bit minty. I had my share out of a tin measuring spoon. Tim was a good cook and very Accommodating host. I awarded him the spot of my number one favourite goblin of all time and I didn’t see anyone taking the position from him anytime soon. He was pleased to hear it.
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Tim pulled a hunk of something woodish and a small belt knife and began to widdle idly as we relaxed after our meal. He seemed the type who liked to keep his hands busy.
“So, what brings you to the tangle?” Tim the best goblin asked.
“Tangle? That what you call the Dungeon?”
“Naw mate, just what we call this whole bore-grub network. Spreads through most of the region. Great for scooting around the nastier wild chambers, but It’s a mess. easy to get spun flipwise if you’re not right careful.” Tim smirked, his eyes sparking with the light of someone about to share one of their favourite factoids ”This here chasm was the nest, we’re camping on Petrified grub barf. They Extrude partially digested rock and mould it however they please till it firms up again. ”
“Ah…neat. Anyway, yeah I was just kinda dropped in a crypt full of shitty traps. Fought some biggish spiders, found the door and now I’m here.” I shrugged. Pointedly Leaving out the whole deceased adventurer part of origins for the time being. A truly appreciated Tim was being polite enough not to ask ‘what the hells are you’ for all the friendly curiosity I could see in his eyes .
“Oh! You musta popped out of Gork’s. Any chance you saw if he posted his order yet? Checking on that is ma next stop. “
Somewhat Embarrassed i took the sheet I’d snatched out of my rucksack and passed it to Tim.
“Ha! Thanks mate. Good thing I ran into you. Just save me half a day fucking about.”
He unfolded the patchment and looked it over.
“Let’s see here… usual crap and a bottle of banger sauce.” The goblin made a face at the last item before handing the paper back to me.
“Gork’s not your favourite stop I take it?” Hey, everyone liked a chance to bitch about their work.
“Honestly making the Detour is a pain in my rear and not nealry worth the time but Gork’s old cronies with one of my suppliers so I’m stuck with it. He’s a Right drongo far as I’m concerned. Been driving his “Spider-spectacular” into the ground since setting up shop in that dusty old ruin. He’s a decent enough Wrangler don’t get me wrong, but doesn’t have the first clue how to run a stronghold. Barely any draw. Skimps on loot, and who gives a shit if a few big spiders leak out under some abandoned fort in the middle of nowhere? Place gets more foot traffic from bandits lost on the way to piss than proper delvers.” Tim said, looking like he chewed on a lemon.
I snorted. “Been saving that one up awhile haven't you?”
“He doesn’t even tip.” Tim said with all the condemnation of a hanging judge.
I put up my paws up off to ward off the goblin’s distaste. “Fair enough, fair enough. One question though. What the hells is banger sauce?”
“Fermented gloom-shroom paste, reek weed oil, and vinegar. Fucking vile if you ask me but some degenerates dump it on everything. There’s really No Accounting for taste mate.”
That did sound pretty awful but if I’m being honest I want to try it at some point. If only out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Tim gave me quite the look when I told him as much. Even Bert seemed bemused by my confession or maybe the rager cat was making him gassy, hard to tell.