Life as a goblin is already hard. So hard in fact that they reach adulthood in 2 years from birth. Growing this fast is painful but you get used to it. On your first day you are expected to be crawling, on the second you start fighting. You fight for food. You fight for status. You fight just to survive. By the end of your first week you are barely alive anymore, starving, cold, bloody and broken you learn who you can from and who to hide from very quickly. By the end of the first month you are fully expected to have killed at least once in pursuit of your own survival. By one year of age you are a full fledged warrior, battle hardened and willing to kill over the slightest provocation. Goblin society is harsh but fair...if you are a goblin...
I have never known a moments peace. My body is smaller, slower and weaker than all the other goblins. I am the first and only half-breed this tribe has ever seen survive the first month let alone the first two years of life in the clan. The others are either left out in the cold to die from exposure or outright eaten by their mothers. I was the product of the rape of my mother by a human adventurer during one of the many wars between the dark and light born races. My mother does not hold this against me, she in fact against all that goblin life has taught her and against all the wishes of her clans elders has doted on me. Held me when I cried, fed me when I was hungry but couldn't get my own food. Even fighting off the others when they tried to take me away. I know that she is different than the others. I still do not trust her. I know she is planning something. They are always planning something.
I lay in a bloody heap my fragile body broken and battered. The lead shaman standing over me screaming that the plague is all my fault. The clan never had these problems before I was born so it must be me. They say I must be a curse on the clan sent by the gods of light to destroy them all.
As the shaman screams at me raising his staff high above his head the human skulls that adorn it rattling their approval of my impending death. The shamans arms shaking with anticipation his spittle dripping from his lips as his hunger grows in anticipation of consuming this abominations flesh. His dark green skin wrinkled from his ten years of age ripples as his arms begin their swing downward to end my life.
Time seems to slow to a crawl as I watch the staff arc through the air towards my dark yellow eyes, I struggle to raise my arms and cover my head, my five fingered hands open wide to cover myself as much as possible. I have the time to think about how unfair it all is. I age slower than the others, I am physically weaker than them, my skin is smoother than theirs but also thinner more easily cut and bruised. I am decidedly smarter than them, due to my human heritage and my 40+ years of life experience but in a society of strength and viciousness is king being smarter is not all its cracked up to be. I take the time to observe my smooth light green skin, my human like hands with their five long thin fingers, their useless fingernails. The thin wispy hairs on my arms standing on end. I feel my blunt fangless teeth with my tongue. Tasting my own blood as it leaks from my battered gums. Even my blood is different, it is red and tastes of iron while the clan's blood is dark green and smells of rotting fish soaked in sulfur.
I know that I don't belong here. The other goblins see me as weak and small. The nearby human village sees only a monster. An abomination of the laws of nature. I am reminded of my first life, of how no matter how hard I tried I never fit in. My own grandmother telling me with a snarl that I was not and never would be her grandson, that my lying bitch of a mother was fucking every swinging dick in the school she and my father went to. That my father only kept me out of pity but that I would never belong with them, with the family. My cousins calling me the bastard offspring of a loose legged whore, telling the kids at school on the first day of kindergarten that I was retarded because my own mother hated me so much she smashed my brains. I remember how they all made sure I never had anything. Breaking my toys, ripping my clothes. Beating me whenever the adults were away. I have had more "accidents" than the rest of my generation combined.
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I think about my goblin mother, how she was always so nice to me, it reminds me of my first friend, the first time I made the mistake of putting my trust in another person. How we did everything together. We played and hung out at every recess. Then I remember how my friend lured me behind the school telling me he found a cool puddle full of bullfrogs we could catch. The feel of the aluminum pipe as it smashed into my skull from behind. The blinding pain as the other kids came out from the alley and hit me, kicked me, threw things at me and beat my back and head with sticks, chains and pipes. The sound of my so called friend's laughter as he spit in my face. The last thing I heard before waking up the hospital was my oldest cousin, "What? You actually thought you had a friend? You can't have a friend. Nobody will ever be friends with a freak like you!"
The staff suddenly stops and there is a splash of green stinking blood that sprays my face. It takes me a moment to realize that the shiny metal thing sticking out of the shamans neck is a dagger. My eyes widen watching as the shaman falls to his knees before crumpling over like a dropped toy. The light of life fading from those yellow eyes.
"RUN!" my mother screams at me before the nearby guards can react. She grabs my arm and yanks me roughly to my feet forcing me to follow her as fast as my legs can carry me. There is shouting as a rock flies past my head, I turn in time to see a guard loading another rock into his leather sling before my mother throws my small body with all the strength she can muster towards the dark forest tree line. The force of her throw pulling my shoulder from its socket the pain bringing me back to the present as my voice cries out.
I land on my back the wind driven from my lungs from the violent impact well inside the darkened forest it is a wonder that I missed every tree as I flew through the air, the shouting of the goblin warriors drowning out my mother's screams for me to escape and never return. I don't know why she decided to save me but my need to survive overrides my innate curiosity forcing me to get to my feet and fight through the pain to put one leg in front of the other.
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Two weeks have passed as I hid from the hunters always on the move, never allowing myself to get complacent. My stomach lurching and gurgling as I shove the last of yesterdays rabbit in my mouth. I consume all of it fur, bones and rotting flesh knowing that when I found it, it was already dead for days but my now filled stomach doesn't care. The hunger somewhat sated my body trudges on wondering if my mother lives or if the warriors of the clan killed her for daring to love her child.
I stop and for the first time i realize she had no motive except love for her child. Born of rape in the heat of battle a daily reminder of her pain and the abuse she suffered at the hands of my father, but still she loved me. I never showed her any affection, never spoke unless made to do so. I never even hugged her but still she loved me. Still she risked everything to keep me alive through it all. A tear rolls down my cheek and drips from my chin as my emotions run over..
"I'm sorry mother, I didn't know..." I whisper to the black stain in my heart. Feeling a deep sense of regret and shame that I never gave her the chance she deserved.
"System display status"
The now familiar window opens its black screen. Showing my current status -
Pick main class...
-Warrior
-Warlock
-Shaman
-Rogue
-Outrider
"Well that is new. Kind of wish I had paid more attention to those stupid games the other kids were playing now." I think out loud as he picks a class at random not really understanding what they were.