“Toebiter! You chosen!” Shaman Spiritsong waved his bone staff majestically over the small gathering of elders for his tribe, looking on with pride. The Red Rock Tribe had swelled to over ten thousand goblins, and he was the eldest of all the shamans and had the most say in the tribe, with even the Chieftain fearing to anger him.
Toebiter was a grizzled goblin of half a dozen years’ experience in the outside world, and was a strong and capable hunter who had learned the ways of survival. As soon as his name was called, he thumped his chest with the hand which clutched his spear, in acknowledgement. “Me go!”
Toebiter was a good choice. He knew how to survive, and he knew to respect his shaman. Spiritsong smiled to himself, expecting a good return on his choice. Smacking his lips, he slowly turned and walked back into his den while imagining the taste of fresh venison or rabbit that evening.
Toebiter looked around with pride in his chest as he chose members of the tribe to join him. As shaman chosen, his group would be the first to leave to go on the hunt and that would give them a significant advantage over all the others with their chance to get a good kill. Definitely, he’d have to bring something nice back to the Elder Shaman later, as tribute and thanks.
“Big nose! Long hair! Me choose you! Join me on Great Hunt!” He called out the two of the best hunters in the tribe and they hooted with enthusiasm. Each of them chose two more who would follow them, and those four each chose two more, bringing the total number of the lead hunting party up to fifteen.
Snarling, Toebiter kicked a stone at the two he had chosen while demanding they hurry. In turn, they slapped the ones beneath them, which in turn beat the ones below them with the butts of their spears. Goblin hierarchy was often dictated by this ‘power-down’ approach, and it proved quite effective. Those on the bottom could only look up and see that the ones above them didn’t get beat as hard, or work as hard, and strived to move upwards; which those at the top strived hard to stay there so they wouldn’t be on the receiving end of the abuse anymore.
After a brief period of time, news went up the ranks that the lowest were ready to go, and then those they reported to reported to those above them, who reported to those above them, who finally reported to Toebiter that they were all ready to go.
Commandingly, Toebiter raised his spear and issued the order to the two below him to lead the way – after all, he certainly wasn’t going to go in front and put himself to risk in case they crossed something dangerous! Those two immediately ordered the two below each of them to move, and those ordered the ones below them. Soon, the goblin hunting party was out and on the move.
That night was a glorious hunt for them! The managed to separate two fawns from their parents and had taken down three rabbits! It was almost as much food as their small frames could carry back with them – a true feast of fortune!
The eight lowest had the burden of carrying the bodies of the fawns, and they were still expected to lead the way back home – though they didn’t mind the burden this time, since it was more than enough for all of them to eat until their stomachs were full for a change.
They were nearing the human rock-path when their ears and nose first detected several slight oddities in their surroundings. The animals were quiet, there was a strange scent upon the air, and there was an odd echoing whistle coming down the rock-path.
Fearing something which might try to steal their food, the eight placed the corpses of the fawns in the bushes and moved with stealth and caution to set up an ambush on either side of the path. Only a few moments later, a human male came carelessly skipping down the road naked and whistling in their direction.
Chucker was immediately weary. As first chosen of the eight, it was to him that the others looked for guidance, and he had never seen a human acting in such a manner before, nor had he heard of anyone else who had seen such a thing. Growling with concern, he raised his spear and gave the order, “Stop it!”
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The other goblins hesitated for a moment, also uncertain of the strange behavior this male was exhibiting, but then they rushed out and formed a semicircle in front of it with their spears. “You! Human thing! Stop. We gots you!” Chucker called out at the naked male, plainly, in their native tongue.
The odd human immediately held both hands up towards the sky and grinned like an idiot while yelling something back in return. None of the goblin’s spoke human, so they had no idea what “Hi!” might represent. They were just taken about by the human’s naked appearance and complete lack of any odor that might smell like fear.
Continuingly odd, the human then waved one arm up and down frantically while still holding the other up to the sky. It was saying something, but no one could be certain what it was trying to get across to them.
With sudden realization, Chucker took a step back and his spear quivered. “Wild touched! Wild touched!” He shouted at the others, and they all backed up away from the human and moved closer together instinctively.
“That wild touched? You certain?” Clubber asked fearfully.
“Him wild touched!” Chucker nodded and slowly pointed his spear out towards the human, who simply sat down cross-legged in the middle of the road and dug an apple out of the sack it was carrying. Only a wild touched human would carry a sack on a stick, and yet skip and whistle naked down the road-path! Chucker was certain of it.
All the others were now chattering and whispering to themselves as well. No one dared to harm a Wild-touched one! The God of Chaos was a fearsome power, wild and unpredictable even at the best of times. It was rare for him to shine down upon one and touch them with his power, and those who were so touched often were regarded as quite fearless and insane by the rest of the world.
The goblins believed that to harm one who was Wild-touched, they might be afflicted with the same curse and go crazy. To kill one that was Wild-touched was simply unthinkable! What if the wrath of Chaos were to fall upon them, and he found his chosen’s death to be amusing? He could reward them with a visit from one of his fairies – and death itself would be much more appealing than that!
And what if Chaos was displeased by killing his chosen Wild-touched? He might turn all the rabbits in the area into purple goblin-eating rabbits! To gain Chaos’s blessing was a curse to them, and to gain his curse was a curse! Only by avoiding the Chaosbringer, and those touched by him, were they truly safe!
As Chucker was explaining all this to the youngest amongst their party, the Wild-touched fearlessly stood up and yelled something incomprehensible to them once again, before crossing its arms behind its back.
“Tribute! Tribute!” Chucker yelled in command to the others. “Give Chaosbringer and His Touched One tribute!” Ripping open the small pouch he wore at his side, Chucker pulled out all the copper coins he had and tossed them on the ground.
“No touch us! No touch us! We no want be Wild!”
Not caring what the others may think of him, Chucker turned and ran towards the forest as quickly as his little legs could take him. He sprayed water down his legs as he ran, but he didn’t care! The Wild one might remember him if he stayed longer! He had to go and warn the others!
“Tribute! Tribe give tribute! All give tribute! Feed Wild One! Give much tribute! Only if Wild One leaves may we be safe!” Completely forgetting about the deer they were carrying, or that the other goblins weren’t that far behind, Chucker ran as fast as his legs could carry him back towards his tribe. He had to warn them all!
Only if they could keep the Wild One happy and content, would it perhaps move on and leave their domain and go elsewhere. The tribe wouldn’t be safe again, until it had passed completely beyond their borders and had carried its blight out for another tribe to deal with.
If they were truly lucky, the humans might even find this one and take it into their own tribes. ANYTHING was acceptable, as long as it left them alone…