Glora was questioning their decision to come to the slave markets. For the elderly goblin and their youngest son, Spoke, the experience was always slightly surreal.
The elderly goblin was once what someone might consider a slave. Or at best a prisoner. But there was never the same burning hate or disgust in their or their rough-skinned children’s eyes that lay within the soft skins who saw it.
Glora didn’t support the practice of slavery, in the “capture any and every one to sell” forms of practice. They did, however, support it as a way of severe punishment for crimes that involved infringing upon others.
They could usually tell the difference in those slaves who were “morally” justified to enslave, and those who weren’t. The goblin felt some levels of pity for those people. Too weak to defend themselves, who had perhaps been tricked and sold into slavery after being drugged.
In the Refuge, there were no laws about slavery, beyond, only those who were being punished for specific crimes could be sold into slavery. And there was no tolerance for enslaving those inside the city, nor the recapture of a slave who escaped bondage while within the city.
It was a strange condition for the city, where slavery was a grey zone up until a certain point. The people did not like it or support it. But they also did not hate it enough to encourage the Mayor to outlaw it.
This was in part because of the wild tribes' traditions of enslaving their defeated enemies. And the fact they needed neutral ground to engage in such trade. And why not the city where the tribes once were unified?
In rough skin tribes and clans, slaves were treated as property, in the same way a hunting dog is the property of their master. The tribe has a responsibility to care for the needs of their slaves to a reasonable degree. Not say to the level of a guest or a family, but very much so above the level of a criminal slave or prisoner.
There were tribes and races who did not abide these traditions. And they were usually ostracized and distrusted by others. Gnolls were a good example.
They had slaves most often for the purpose of “entertainment” or back breaking manual labor. Even Green Saps had them, though they usually only allowed those who received the worst treatment to be their own lesser clan members, or criminal slaves bought from traveling caravans.
There was very little true consensus about slavery in the great dunes, and passages or teachings about slavery were usually sidestepped by the clergy when asked about the divine’s opinion.
For Glora, slavery was something they would not mind seeing outlawed in the city but did not care enough to fight for such a thing themselves.
For the smaller goblin, it was clearer their opinion. They hated slavery for those who were innocent or had not entered it willingly.
He grew up devouring the books of philosophy and morality that most of his kind and most everyone found dull and boring. But for Spoke, they were untapped mines for experience, emotion, and so much more.
He held the same opinion of his mother about criminal slaves. If someone violated another’s bodily autonomy, they lost the right to their own. Rapist, murderers, those who targeted the most vulnerable, like disabled citizens, were to Spoke, the scum of scum. Only topped by those who harmed his clan.
For the tiny goblin, slavery was an evil that he had little ability to change or influence. Beyond enabling the continued enslavement of the truly despicable.
For the goblins, there was no pity in their eyes for the gnolls, orcs, goblins or any of the soft skins tattooed with a criminal mark of the highest crimes.
But this day, they had come to the markets because Glora had some business with a slaver from the North. The elderly goblin needed information about the scope of the bandit barons in the north. Tales of damage and whispers of a holy crusade against the group would be an incredibly valuable piece of information that they could use to turn some profits.
However, the two were distracted as they walked unseen across the high fences and posts that divided the slave markets. The two came across two similarly sized soft folk in a cage, acting suspiciously.
They stopped and watched the two children, a young gnome lad and a slightly older halfling lass. The goblin pair exchanged silent messages as the two below started to discuss escape.
Something about the lad, felt familiar to the older goblin. But they were unsure why. At first, they believed it might just be some strange recognition, where they killed their parents or a similar looking gnome in their adventures.
But when the boy cast the psychic spell, they knew what it was. This child was contracted to Madra in the same way they were. The thin twig of a boy who could barely be distinguished from a girl of his race, was a minor pact holder.
Their interest was piqued. They knew that Madra was a common patron for warlocks, and for good reason. She was a much fairer and more honest patron than something like the Old Ones or the demon or fey. But a minor pact was much rarer.
A minor pact was usually a result of one of two things. A reward for service to Madra, or as a bargain that was yet to be fulfilled. An oath or promise made to Madra that if they had an opportunity, they would do so much more for the goddess in return. Sort of a formalized prayer or clerical oath made by those not of her clergy.
For a child, who looked younger than thirteen or in some ways even younger than eleven, to have any pact or power of Madra was impressive. It was something worthy of respect, even from a being as accomplished as Glora.
The elderly goblin sat, engrossed as they watched the children. They sent Spoke ahead to handle the negotiation and tried to focus on the two.
It was such a strange sight to behold. The Lad was some kind of wizard. But did not seem to have the same level of adherence to strict rules of magic his older fellow wizards would have.
The goblin had seen young and old wizards. They had seen weak and powerful ones. Something that always struck the tiny package of violence about the most powerful of wizards, was that they only partly held to the everyday image of a wizard. The most powerful, the oldest and most experienced, were those who were not so tied down to clear and precise formulas and rules of magic. They still held to the complex ways they cast their spells, but any the goblin met, who was worth the gold they demanded, was as cunning or adaptable to new information as they were in their dedication to mastering their rigid spell forms.
This child seemed to still have his creativity intact. What other wizard would blindly attempt to learn or mimic a druidic spell half remembered from a random halfling from a family of druids? It was insane for a spell caster of any variety. Any worth their power would first bet on the spell never forming, or some semblance of the spell forms and kills the two children long before any semblance of success was evident.
But after a few hours, he did it. The lad successfully mimicked a druid cantrip and freed them both. Glora was stunned, but their aged body didn’t hesitate. They wanted this child, both of them, to have a chance at freedom. And this goblin would give it to them.
“Well, you’se two are a couple of clever chil’ren, ain’t ya?” The elderly goblin spoke, their voice raspy and grinding like stones.
Spoke appeared beside them, their invisibility spell falling and exposing their even shorter stature to the children, with the older goblin standing tall above them all.
There was silence for a long moment as the children and adults locked eyes. Flashes of eyes darting around for traps or signs of capture and intent of the two unfamiliar goblins dominated the first impressions of the children.
Glora was a tall goblin, at four feet tall, and they looked both intimidating and frail as the lass took their thin, lithe body in more. The lass had an extremely perceptive eye, something that shocked Glora as the lass noticed the hidden dagger up their jacket sleeve.
“Oh don’t be afraid children. Hehe, we’se ain’t here to hurt ya. We’se was walking by and happened upon you’se two talkin’ and plotin’.” As the elder spoke, their voice slowly took on a softer tone. They purposely tried to sound as nonthreatening as possible. “My’se son and me’se business is over with. But I’se wanted to stay. To see what two talented lil’ youngin’s could accomplish.”
The children remained quiet as they took in the goblins. Neither of whom seemed to project any hostility or desire to turn them in. But neither of them could trust strangers so easily after their time in slavery.
“You… You saw us escape. And you had every opportunity to turn us in for a reward,” the lad spoke slowly, his hand poised to strike out with what little physical strength he had. “You are, from this city? From the Refuge as they call it?”
The two goblins nodded in affirmation. But the smaller goblin seemed to tilt their head as if listening to a voice or an inaudible whisper.
“You are a magic user?” the lad questions the shorter goblin who appeared surprised but nodded, remaining silent. “You are a magic user; you have the ability to swear an oath to the power within?”
The lass and goblins glared hard as the gnome started on a very risky line of questioning.
“You, you claim you do not wish us harm. We do not wish to fight. We want to believe you but can’t take a stranger on their word.” The lad continued speaking, his heart slamming in his chest as he stared to say things that didn’t feel like they were coming completely from him. “I am weak, frail, and would be barely a match to a large rat. My magic is limited, my knowledge of the city is of reputation alone, and my companion never left their home until they were captured. We are not qualified to survive here on our own.”
The Lad spoke strangely, there was something guiding him, pulling him towards something. He had never experienced something like this before, it was not a magical compulsion. But it was not a natural response of himself.
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“… Ya know we c’n survive a lot. We don’t need to sell ourselves to a stranger for protection.” The lass hissed to the boy, anger creeping into her voice.
“I am not selling us. We would be making a trade, a temporary one.” The gnome insisted to the chuckle of the goblins
“You’se want to buy something from us? Protection maybe? Lessons on survivin’ and such for a few days?” The green goblin smirked as they rubbed their chin. Thinking the idea over. “We’se a few safe houses in the city, you’se could have one for a few nights. But at what price?”
“You are curious about us, are you not? An elder such as yourself should be wise enough to recognize what I performed was abnormal.” The lad waited for a nod from the goblin and swallowed before continuing. “I have a rare magical talent, and I will let you study it for, a month, in exchange for board, food and some small lessons in how the city functions for us both.” He punctuated his sentence by stepping closer to the large girl.
The two goblins looked at each other. A silent conversation going on either mentally or nonverbally between them. The Lad looked up at the strained look on the girl’s face. She was extremely worried about this offer. She clearly was afraid of stepping into another cage, this time willingly. But the boy felt something. He saw the genuineness of the elder, he felt something was... trustworthy from them, even if they are not ‘safe’ or harmless creatures.
“You’se want to offer you’se talent for study… A month may not be long enough. We’se will do a minimum of a month. With an option to lengthen the stay, if you’se find it suitable. We’se will give you’se food and board of a medium sized inn’s quality. But I’se want to see the lass fight. You’se both will be ‘studied’ in my’se clan’s care.” The elder goblin spoke clearly and firmly. There was not a waver, not a moment of doubt or hesitation. There was only certainty in their choice of action.
“I’se, Glora Cróga, head of the Glora Clan, swear upon me’se pact of power and deal with Brood Mother Madra, that while these two before me’se, are under my’se clan’s roof, they will be safe, fed, and treated as guests while they’se fulfill their bargain with us’se.”
The lad’s chest and his connection to the weave of magic and reality burned and tugged as he witnessed for the first time, an oath on someone’s power. Something that the goblin felt no hesitation in giving. He did not know whether to be excited or horrified that his deal was accepted so easily. From the goblin’s words, they seemed to be the head of a clan in the city. Someone who, depending on the clan, could mean their name was enough to be defense against trouble. Depending on that strength, the two might have no issue in the city if they continue their deal to use the reputation of the elderly goblin.
But the younger goblin seemed to have a very different reaction. His and the lass’s jaw both dropped. Spoke was not aware that his mother was a pact holder with the Brood Mother, the mother of all, and felt stupid for being surprised. While the halfling recognized the importance of the pact the goblin held with Madra. Not just any random person could earn a pact with the patron goddess of nature and the whole isle. Her suspicion didn’t lesson of the goblins, but shifted more from suspension of betrayal to a suspension of why someone would risk a bond, a pact of power with a god for something so, inconsequential as two slave children’s trust.
“Ya… Ya aren’t lyin’ about the pact… I can feel Her power… But, but why would ya risk something for us?” The lass asked the current question on her mind. Her hands squeezed tightly, clenched so hard they turned white.
“Because lassy, I’se a mad goblin who likes to collection interestin’ things.” The green goblin withdrew from their coat sleeve the dagger the halfling had noticed and handed it hilt first to the girl. “You’se don’t have to trust me’se or Madra child. You’se need to trust you’se own gut and you’se lil’ friend’s.”
The goblin turned away as the halfling examined the blade in their hands and slipped it into their waist band. Their stocky frame was large and bulky compared to any normal halfling but was not quite as hefty as a full blood dwarf. She felt the same sensation of truth and a tiny hint of compassion and amusement in the twinkle of the cataract covered eyes of the goblin.
She turned to her only true companion, and he nodded firmly to her. She took a deep breath and the two began to follow the goblins to a whole new world.
****************************
The glow moss of the Glora Clan’s compound shifted in hue throughout the day. Changing from a bright and clear white at its height at noon, to a softer, cooler blue tinted tone that provided light to read or work by but didn’t hurt the resident’s ability to sleep like other sources of light could. Reaching its bluest at midnight.
The five children of the clan all sat without their clan head around a now cleared table and cleaned kitchen. Their leader and parent had left nearly two hours ago to rest and recover at the insistence of the closest thing to a doctor or healer the group had, Tanny.
She insisted the elderly goblin needed proper rest, because unlike the spell cast on their monk, the ones upon them did not regenerate and replace all damage. Only fixing and dealing with the injury as it was, relying heavily on their body’s natural healing abilities. And as a proper patient, they listened to their healer’s advice, only after the expected amount of pushback.
The group sat together, sipping on wine and juice from what once were the youngest sister’s homeland. Something that cut deep when they saw the struggle the halfling had in telling them all once their leader was gone.
Tanny and her brothers all watched and listened to her, taking turns holding her hand or shoulder as the halfling struggled to speak, to form the words “last stock.”
Of the rough siblings, only Tanny had what would be comparable to the little halfling. A family they knew before meeting the one who saved her life. Even if it was only the vaguest of impressions and basic cultural values of the tabaxi.
The group had been silent after the youngest sister finished relaying the story of being gifted such a thing by the hedge witch Agatha. Someone the whole clan at least respected to a fair degree. The main supplier of medicine and poisons that your clan uses deserves it.
“We… We should, hehe… We should thank the mad witch.” The scratchy vocals of none other than the gnoll of the clan offered up the idea.
“Oh no… Tanny, go wake Momma, Dag has been replaced by a doppelganger.” The smallest clan member stage whispered to his sister.
The whole table broke into soft chuckles as the gnoll grasped threateningly at their brother’s neck. Only to stop when their laughter couldn’t be suppressed anymore.
“That, isss, not a bad idea, no matter itsss sssource.” The tabaxi added, becoming the new target of the mirth filled glare.
“I do agree.” The youngest brother and gnome chimed in while pouring the last of the current bottle into his sister’s mug. “She does much for our clan, and with her guidance, we prevented a major weapon of our enemies of this night from being used… Grandpa is most likely going to have us do something. He doesn’t like the clan owing debts.”
“Yeah, Granny Aggy is crazy, n’ weird, but she’s our ally.” The young halfling lass spoke, bringing their hand to rub against their slightly red eyes. “But she probably won’t accept anythin’. Doesn’t strike me as she thinks of the clan as exclusively customers.”
“Really?” Spoke asked, his almost shot glass of a cup of wine paused halfway to his smirking lips. “Why ya think that lil’ sis? ~” He leans over and pokes her in the arm, eliciting a silent growl.
“Because she gave me so much f’r free… I think she felt, felt guilty.” The lass’s glare softened as she shifted to look at her new necklace bag. “She gave us so much, paid so much f’r the stuff we recovered. She was probably afraid Granny would… Would retaliate when she learned about my, breakdown…”
The table went quiet again as four sets of eyes shifted to the empty seat where their clan head was sitting before. And had not heard the tale of their youngest daughter breaking down like a haunted soldier in a semipublic place.
“That… Isss probably correct…” Tanny spoke first, turning her head back to her cup. “But we should provide sssome token. Tomorrow, I will find sssomething to gift the hedge witch. You all will have other dutiesss.”
The four siblings all looked at Tanny with confusion. Who only responded with a helpless shrug and an appeal to “Mother told me to tell you.”
****************************
Glora sat on their bed, legs crossed, and hands placed on their thighs. Their sickly green skin was bare except for the shoulder holster under their left arm.
The room was completely dark, the moss having been placed in a sealed pot to block out its blue glow. The mattress below them was composed of stacked pelts and hides taken from some of the clan’s many hunts. Ranging from boar hides, to worm and snake leathers.
The goblin’s eyes were closed as their many wounds burned in pain and slowly weeping fluid and blood that was blacker than red. Their fingers lifted from their thighs, trailing first along the fractures that lined their legs. Testing the strength and pain their body was able to produce through the injury.
“It'se happening again…” They hissed through gritted teeth. Pain and pressure from the flexing leg bring the exclamation to their lips.
“You jumped in front of a monster to protect your daughter.” A soundless, metallic voice echoed in the goblin’s mind, in time with a pulsing glow from their holster that barely illuminated the white scars that interlocked around the leather piece. “Those testicles nearly killed you. Twice.”
“I’se wasn’t going to kick it yet. Not while that barbarian is still around.” The goblin responded with a smirk, their fingers leaving their legs to trace up their ribs and stomach.
“Bodkin should be dead. He’s nearly as old as you-“ The metallic echo was cut off as the fingers of its wielder suddenly and tightly wrapped around its newly installed grip.
“He’se alive. I’se feel it in my’se bones… I’se don’t know how, but he’se stronger than I’se ever was. He’se not gone yet.” The goblin’s hand turned a shade whiter as they gripped the handle of their oldest companion. But their mind was focused only on the form of their second oldest.
“… If he lives, it is not of any concern to us. We have more problems popping up now than we ever considered before.” The echo softened its rebuttals, the pulse taking on a bluer hue. “The Drow Empire is coming. And if they are already well enough positioned to send the Mayor requests for alliance, the Green Weavers will need to increase their presence much more.”
“I’se know O’Re, I’se can see beyond the end of you’se sights at this age.” Glora winced as their fingers came across three ribs that were pressing against their lungs. “I’se… I’se sometimes regret my’se oaths…”
“You are only keeping that stupid oath because you are afraid of letting it go.” The hand that gripped the echoing handle loosened. “Glora… You will not lose more of the power, or at least anything of significance by acknowledging that you are not in the tube anymore.”
The goblin froze for a moment. Memories of arguments, of rage and pain brought about by potion after potion. Silent and muffled screams of agony and horror.
“I’se, I’se always going to be in it Re… I’se can’t escape it. I’se swore off their potions when I’se could shrug off losing my’se limbs. I’se kept that through the years of travel… I’se kept it through my’se time adventuring… It’se not for the knife ear-“ Glora stops, their body was tensing, winding itself up to lung at something long since sworn off. “Not for, for the elves I’se do it. I’se want, want to live what time I’se have left, through my’se strength. My’se clan’s. Tanny’s medicine is all I’se will use, because she’se needs a practice dummy for her’se skills.”
“… Glora, friend, you are not earning anything from this suffering beyond your own pain… But it is your choice. At least you’ll have to use me more than your new ‘toy’ because of those ribs.” The echo reverberated with a mirth tinged with just a small amount of annoyance. Met by the full, stone grinding laugh of the goblin.
“Cerberus is my’se legacy. They’se aren’t a toy.” Their white and black eyes shifted to the table where the shotgun lay, prepped to be cleaned and cared for after the self-inspection. “They'se… The sum of my’se clan’s abilities. My’se skill in firearms, Tanner’s acquisition skills, Dagger’s engravings, Spoke’s flare and artistic embellishments, Tink’s magical ability and attunement, and Naut’s brutal and simple metal working style. We’se have a symbol of all our’se skills and talents rolled into a hell fire spewing demon of a weapon…”
Glora’s eyes glazed as the memories of each child sitting across from them, looking at the plans and trying to figure out what their clan head was looking for in their input.
“Glora… You have settled on their names then? That was the first time you have used it for them aloud. And Dagger…” The revolver softened as the goblin winced, realizing they named their child who had lost that privilege.
“She’se… She’se will need to gain a new name. She’se will no longer be Dagger. I’se will give her’se new temporary name after I’se meet with the Pit Master and the other Pit Kings. While the Lad and Lass… Yes, they’se have earned the right to their name. But we’se will not announce it until their trials are over. And they’se will put them on display when they’se run the Gauntlet.”
The goblin sat in the darkness and silence with their companion revolver then. Such a massive moment, they were going to give their fourth and fifth child their names in a few days' time. If they still could, both the occupants knew the goblin would be wiping their eyes.