Runt quickly discovered that running was futile. In fact it only seemed to make his situation worse. He knew that his rapid footsteps would swiftly be calling attention to him and no matter how fast he ran, how hard he pushed himself, the beast seemed to easily catch up. There was no avoiding it, no hiding from it. He attempted to duck and dive between spaces barely large enough to him to pass through, only to spot the creature peering at him from an oblique angle. Somewhere he had deigned not to check, or even a momentary blink seemingly giving time for the creature to shift itself.
Everywhere he went, every time he squinted his eyes, he could see the strands of the dogs hair. Almost as though they were the true supports for the buildings that surrounded him. He found it winding it’s way through joints, wrapping itself tightly and knotting itself into what seemed weakest parts of the cramped structures that surrounded him. Everywhere that hair existed was a place that the creature could appear. He was learning to squint as he made his way down the cramped alleyways, the flickering effect on his gaze allowing him to glimpse just barely the network that seemingly had him hemmed in. Glimpses of bundled motes passed by him as he sprinted from hiding spot to hiding spot, his hands moving to cast them away whenever they drifted closer. The sensation the motesleft against his skin was a horrid one. A tingling that seemed to sink into his bones, seeping into him like a numbing poison. The multicoloured globules drifting away from his touch like a speck of dust on a beam of sunlight. Twirling along to a dance his body cast them into.
Runt was truly lost in his panic, instincts completely haywire as the flood of sensations mixed with the fear that preceded the beast chasing him. Until finally he found himself like a cornered animal, his breaths heavy in his chest as he and his straining ribs fought to bring air into his tired limbs. The dark alley loomed behind him, a moment of rest ruined by the sound of a bestial snort that seemed to come from every direction at once.
“You finished?” asked the voice, amusement ripe within its tone, Runt’s growled and huffed response betraying that he was indeed. Running wasn’t working, he wasn’t stupid. Instincts had driven him to do so, but in his lack of energy his mind had reared back to reign control. He turned to face the hound, his eyes narrowing as he shook his tired limbs. Crooked fingers worked to rub feeling back into his arms, aiding the stuttering heartbeat within his chest. Plumes of white fog gasped from his mouth as gulps of air were pulled into his burning lungs.
His eyes full of trepidation, flickering around the darkened hole surrounding him and searched for a weapon even as the creature continued. “Cockroaches invading a space that is not theirs should learn to hide better. Disappointing it’s own way. A greenskin finally catches a glimpse of me.....and it’s apparently a defective one.”
The dog’s head shifted to one side, a ruined piece of wood sailing harmlessly by one of it’s floppy ears, its eye flickering back to Runt’s a moment later. “And an incredibly rude one at that. Though....don’t know quite what I’ve been expecting from well, someone of your stature. You throw another useless bit of junk at me and I’ll bring hell down upon you Runt.”
There was a moment of pause, a hacking cough from the dog in front of him breaking the silence, as Runt’s grasp loosened upon the board at his side. His eyes slowly shifted from fear to defiance, the unknown nature of the creature the only thing stopping him from launching himself into another attack. He knew nothing of the dangers that lay out before him but he could deduce enough to cause him to hesitate. Unlike many who had a similar experience upon gaining the sight Runt did not question his own sanity. Quite often encounters between those who had just awoken and the beings that inhabited the world around them were chaotic and nightmarish affairs. Unkowingly Runt had bypassed the first of tests these creature posed on the psyche of the mortals unfortunate enough to witness them. The strength of their belief in themselves. To doubt the world that they knew before they doubted their own eyes. To Runt the idea that he had stumbled upon a magical dog was easier to stomach than the thought that he had somehow gone insane. The hound in its own way interpreted Runt as more than he was as well. One with sight who knew enough to not be startled and bewildered, and such a someone could be useful. Runt defaulted to what he knew. The world was many a degree stranger but he was aware of his own ignorance. For all he knew dogs could speak normally, but he had killed them too quickly to learn this beforehand. This was an encounter he could deal with. This was something he could wrap his mind around. “What the fuck do you want?” Runt snarled, a violent movement jerked from him a second later as he spat upon the ground.
“Your kind can speak?” the hound questioned, surprise written into it’s voice, their body at the end of the alleyway curiously shifting it’s head to one side, “And here I was hoping to have a one sided conversation. Few enough of the others can. Quite useless trying to deal with an alligator.”
Runt’s eyes narrowed, inbuilt instincts perking up with every word the creature spoke. To a goblin, this conversation was full of red flags. Information being given freely, and while full of malice, the creature before him seemed relaxed. It wasn’t on its toes, ready for a trick. Prepared for a verbal battle Runt’s voice was caught in his throat, confusion deepening upon his face as the beast continued to speak, “As for what I want. Quite simple my immoral little friend, I want a favour.”
Runt’s ears perked up upon his skull, flapping gently in the gloomy lantern light. The long shadow of the hound before him danced upon the wooden planks below the two of them. A short laugh was all Runt could respond with, a gurgling noise that drew out more saliva into his mouth. Another snort and the globule went slamming into the ground, “Favour?”
“Do your kind not have those?” the hound asked, “I must admit I have never dealt with a goblin before, mostly shooed them away from my pack, but you’re also the first with the sight I’ve encountered. Miracle really. A favour is a simple concept really. You do something for me, I do something for you. You name a price now, and we either agree or disagree.”
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“A deal?” asked Runt, his eyes narrowing further. He’d had his fill of those recently, and the mere topic reminded him of where he was supposed to be going. Who he was supposed to be meeting. His goal for the night almost certainly ruined by the mere presence of the creature before him.
A deal also meant something poisoned. An unequal exchange that would ruin him in a way he could only fathom. Runt couldn’t help but feel this conversation itself was some other form of trap. A way to let him put down his guard just enough for the beast to take advantage of. He shifted his weight to one foot, lifting the ruined plank of wood to his hip. He tapped it against the ground, a threat that any goblin would understand.
Instead the hounds tail began to wag, it’s eyes lighting up for a moment before it shook its muzzle. “Yes a deal. Are your kind really so dense to not know these things? Do I need to go through each concept in turn? I could, but we’d be here for at least an hour, and well...how long do your kind live? Days? Would be unfair to you.”
The more the hound spoke, the more confusion worked it’s way into Runt’s expression. “I know what these fucking things are. I’m not a dimwit, get on with it.” Runt doubted the creature truly cared what was fair or unfair for Runt. In fact he doubted the creature wasn’t currently occupied with making things as unfair as possible. To be concerned with the unfairness of a deal was a completely foreign concept to him. It didn’t make any sense. Any deal that was made weighed heavily to one side or another. Runt had never been a part of, or made a deal that didn’t screw over one of it’s participants. Some were coerced into it, other’s tricked, but the end goal of any deal was the same. To screw over your competition while avoiding the same for yourself.
“Well then I’ll get to it. My pack, the people of this borough, have had the most vile predator move into their territory. I am bound to protect them, but this invader has stymied any efforts I have attempted thus far. My normal methods have no effect, and in fact some of them seem to put the humans in even more danger. I get their hounds to howl and warn them,” there was a crack in the beasts voice, a moment of despair that seemed to reverberate through the air between them and Runt, “And the vile monster merely uses that to get into their homes. A dozen have already been killed, and I fear to send more of my charges against it, for fear I’ll lose too much and won’t be able to protect against the others such as your kind.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” exclaimed Runt, waggling the plank in his hand from side to side to emphasize every word, “Why the fuck do you care about the humans? A dozen? A hundred could fucking keel over right now and this place’ll hardly notice-”
A guttural snarl rose in the creatures throat, silencing Runt before he could continue, “Because, you thieving swampskin, it is my duty to protect them. I was born from the dreams of their hounds, just like the one I now inhabit. I was given life by the countless lives around me. As a spirit bound to and birthed by the animals of this place, I exist to carry out their will. The animals who are fed by these humans. Cared for and loved, and who return love in spades, wish that I protect those who dwell here. My charges, many of whom your kind have killed I may add, would rather they themselves die than see another human injured by this foul spawn of decay. If it wasn’t for your sight, I’d be doing much the same to you. You pests of famine who skulk between home to home, stealing from those my charges protect are lucky I have other more pressing issues to deal with. If it was up to me your kind would be torn from limb to limb for even daring to enter my damned territory, but alas, I cannot yet make such decisions. If Cluny and Patches weren’t indisposed in their own way we wouldn’t even be having this talk. Do you even know the world of which you now have sight of? You have a deal within your grasp with Barghest of Mirefort, and you spit upon it? I’ve half a mind to just slaughter your vile form before me now, but then the lives of my charges would be wasted for my own spite. Name your price now for your assistance in this manner, or get out of my sight, even your scent offends me mud eater.”
The creatures ire had startled Runt at first, sure that anger like that would lead to blows, but instead it lead to a method of negotiation he was most versed with. In a strange way he was more comfortable dealing with a creature threatening him than a polite one. In that way he at least know what was upon the table. His mind was swirling with the information he was provided almost offhandedly by Barghest, his own anger now rising to the forefront as he spat back at the creature blocking his exit, “You need my help, I know my fucking worth now, and unless you can offer to feed me for life, or a death of any number of my enemies in return, there is no way I am agreeing to any sort of fucking deal with a mangy half mad mutt.”
“Easy enough,” Barghest growled, brown eyes glaring at the posturing green form before him, “You aid me in killing this beast, and I will have food prepared for you upon every visit to Mirefort. Gods above, I’ll even throw in the murder of a few of your kind if that pleases you, I have no love lost for them and while I don’t understand your kinds desire for death I can at least appreciate it when it’s turned towards you greenskins.”
To Runt the offer that was handed over so easily was way too good to ever possibly be true. It was a deal that simply blew everything else he had ever known completely out of the water. From his viewpoint it was like offering gold for a pile of sawdust. A lifetime of food? Multiple murders? And all he would have to do is help the beast before him kill something? Again his perspective was off, the lens through which he viewed the world tilted in such a way that most of his kind also experienced. He viewed deals from a simple viewpoint. How hard would it be for him to do each side of such a deal? Kill a creature of some sort? Couldn’t be that hard, the beast seemingly thought he would be of help, which meant even his small and injured frame couldn’t have been much of a hindrance. Food for life? An impossible task. Something he could dedicate his entire existence to and never make any headway. The only thing that prevented him from immediately taking such a deal was his own paranoia. That this was a trick of some sort, but something in Barghest’s voice had stopped him before he had truly delved into that thought process.
It was the disdain at which Barghest had addressed his side of the deal. The harshness in his voice. For the first time Runt began to glimpse the power of the spirit before him. A being who’s power allowed it to think of that amount of food like it was nothing. A glint began to form in Runt’s eye, greed cracking his face into a grin that twisted its way up his cheeks. A creature like that could be used. A deal like that could be taken advantage of even if it was some sort of trick.
“Deal,” cackled Runt, his eyes gleaming in the lantern light. If Barghest had been more adept in reading goblins, or truly even more in tune with the mortal world, that grin would have given him pause. It was a grin that spoke of malice and hunger. Of an empty void that had just sensed the way it could be filled. In an instant the deal was struck, motes of light flickering around one small green hand, clasped to a lifted paw. Runt didn’t know the weight of what he had agreed too, the promise he had made, but neither did Barghest. The twisting binds of fate wrapped themselves around their extended limbs, a deal powered by the very energy that Barghest subsisted on.
A partnership between a being who had the power to make true changes but struggled to use it. And a mortal that knew what it wanted and would do what it took to do so, but lacked the means to ever achieve much. A deal that would never have been made if his god had never picked him up off that muddy swamp soaked ground.