RUSTY
Grik climbed into the crow’s nest above the low stage, which had been constructed from the warped and sun-bleached planks of decommissioned ships. The smell of the sea was strong as the elder goblin called out for all the families of Midden to gather, his voice ringing out over the ramshackle settlement. Goblins buzzed with anticipation, their eyes fixed on the swaying pole that upheld his perch, eager for the announcement. The gang jostled for position among the throng, their excited chatter mingling with the other goblins.
"Harken, goblins of Midden!" Grik shouted, raising his hands for silence. "The time has come for the trials once more in the wake of the death of the Great Goblin so that our tribe can be great again." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "Some of you were not born when last we underwent this sacred right. It is a time-honored tradition that will test the strength, cunning, and determination of the candidates, so when the time comes, the community will know it is led by the worthiest among us."
Grik continued his speech, swaying in the wind. The rain had died down to the barest sprinkling, but his sash was soaked, as was his hair, and Rusty thought he looked like a waterlogged monkey, waving his arms to emphasize his words.
"Four days will be the length of the selection, with a single trial held each day. The candidates will face a warrior’s training course first to test their fitness, followed by a challenge for their minds that I devised myself. On the third day, those that remain will be given an opportunity to plead their case, so that the quality of their leadership may be judged by the multitude. Last, of course, shall come the melee.”
There was cheering at this point in the announcement. The melee was by far the crowd's favorite. Jiho and Seok nodded along as if everything was shaping up exactly as they had expected. Only Sooji looked worried. Goblins in the crowd were pushing each other, and names were called out, accompanied by insults and jibes. Those that weren’t taking part were goading their fellows into adding themselves to the list of candidates.
"Remember," Grik continued, his eyes sweeping across the gathered masses, "the office of Great Goblin is not one sought for personal glory. It is a position of the highest honor and the greatest burden. With the pledges of the tribes comes the responsibility to protect those who have entrusted you with their loyalty. The future of Midden hangs in the balance, and it will be up to you, all of you, to lend your support to the candidates you believe to be most deserving.”
There was another uproar, and he waited for the goblins to quiet down again before moving on. “For those of you who have never taken part in the election of a Great Goblin, at the end of each day, you will be given the opportunity to pledge your support to the candidates. With your pledges to fuel them, they will flourish, demonstrating their utmost potential in the challenges to come. You are free to give your pledge to whoever you like, but we ask that you only do so during the appointed period, and that no new pledges be given in secret. The candidates, and those who would follow them, need to see what they are getting into. These trials are not to be taken lightly, and there is no shame in withdrawal when it becomes obvious that the people do not want you to lead.”
It was hard to tell, but Rusty was sure that Grik was directing this late statement at Jiho personally. If Jiho noticed, he showed no sign of it, wearing his characteristic smirk throughout the speech.
"Now," Grik shouted, his tone lightening, "without further gum jawing, allow me to introduce some of the notable goblins who have already given me their names.” He took in a deep breath before bellowing one word, “Grizzletooth!”
There was a commotion in the crowd as one of their number approached the stage. He was taller than most goblins, lanky, with patchwork armor. One side of his head was shaved, and the other done in long braids. He took an axe from his back and raised it in a salute at the end of one long, scarred arm.
"A seasoned [Skirmisher]," Grik continued, as the masses roared in approval. “Many of you will already know him. Those of you who decided to enter the trials on a whim or a jest are free to withdraw before you face him in the melee.”
There was scattered laughter around the gang, though it didn’t seem to be directed at them in particular. Seok’s face paled.
“He’s amazing,” he whispered.
"Next, we have Froglick," Grik motioned for another figure from the crowd, slim and wrapped in dark dyed leathers. “One of the most famed [Marsh Wardens] of Midden.” At the goblin’s heels was a rat even larger than the one Rusty and Chul had tangled with the previous morning. His companion.
Chul’s eyes went wide at the sight.
"Neither last nor least," Grik announced, "we have Sparkfizz." A wiry goblin in singed, ill-fitting robes bounded into the spotlight, his hands already crackling with sorcerous fire. From the reaction of the audience, it seemed the sorcerer’s pyromaniacal tendencies were known for being as dangerous to his enemies as they were to himself.
The crowd's reaction to Sparkfizz was a mixture of awe and fear, with some cheering for the unpredictable sorcerer, while others groaned in apprehension. Before Grik could speak another name, the manic goblin sent a series of flaming orbs into the sky, each one detonating into a shower of multicolored sparks. One of the orbs rose perilously close to Grik’s perch in the crow’s nest, and he shouted curses down at Sparkfizz to stop the display, to no effect.
“That’s it!” Grik declared. “Enough of this! The first trial begins at noon. See you all there.” He had to scramble down the mast to avoid being burned, while Sparkfizz cackled in delight, and the goblins in the front rows laughed and clapped.
“[Firestarter]s,” Jiwoo grumbled. “Eggs for brains, every last one of them.”
As the crowd slowly dispersed, the gang huddled together, discussing their rivals; Grizzletooth, in particular. Seok was alight with admiration as he spoke of the fearsome warrior.
"Grizzletooth is the real deal," Seok said, clenching his fists in excitement. "He's the head of a goblin family, and I heard he once punched a junk worm in the nose, and it vomited up a pile of gold to apologize for bothering him."
“That didn’t happen,” Sooji said.
“Yes, it did!” Seok stomped his foot for emphasis.
“Junk worms don’t even have noses.”
“They might!” Seok countered. “You don’t know!”
The conversation, as they often did, had taken a turn, but Rusty was interested nonetheless. He heard the gang mention junk worms on multiple occasions as if they were a normal feature of Midden, but never with any explanation.
“What’s a junk worm?” He asked.
“Delicious,” Jiwoo mused, “truly delicious.”
Sooji slapped her own face. “You’re disgusting, grandfather.” She turned to Rusty. “Junk worms are exactly what they sound like, worms that tunnel through junk. It’s like the dump beetles, a bug that eats trash, but they get way bigger. A lot of goblins live in tunnels that were dug by worms. You can’t punch them though; they would eat you.”
“Didn’t eat Grizzletooth,” Seok mumbled, “puked him out some gold.”
“I wish I could puke gold,” Chul said.
“Eh,” Jiwoo coughed up a wad of phlegm into his palm, examining it. “Maybe…no. Not this time.”
Jiho massaged his temples. “Idiots.” He said. “I am surrounded by idiots.”
“Now that you’ve seen the competition,” Sooji began hesitantly, “are you thinking about dropping out? Everyone who got on that stage has to be over level five, probably higher, and even grandfather is only level four.”
Jiho waved his hand. “We don’t have to fight them until the last trial, and by that time, the Midden Tribe will recognize my genius.”
Through the crowd, Rusty spotted Froglick walking with his rat, and a wide grin spread across his face. “I have to pee!” he shouted, running off on his own.
“Peeing is important,” Jiwoo said amiably. “He’s got a good head on those shoulders.”
Sooji glanced around at her comrades, concern furrowing her brow as she gathered herself for one more attempt at forcing her family to see reason.
"Listen, we need to think this through," she urged, her voice steady despite her anxiety. "Seok, you're still injured, and it's not safe for you to join in."
"Hey, I can handle myself just fine," Seok replied, striking a pose, and gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm. "I won't let an injury hold me back. Besides, I have [Second Wind] to push through."
"Jiho, you might do well in the second and third challenges," Sooji continued, turning her attention to her brother. "But let's be honest, you're not going to win any new followers with your performance in the obstacle course."
"Are you kidding?" Jiho scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. "I think I can scale a few walls, Soo. The sweating masses will beg to follow me by the end of today."
Sooji sighed. Her words had fallen on deaf ears. Ambition was an intoxicant for Jiho, and Seok hadn’t gotten where he was in life by thinking things through. Rusty wasn’t particularly worried for either of them. From what Grik had described, there would be plenty of opportunities for them to back out before they were in any real peril. Though Sooji continued to dissuade Jiho and Seok from going forward with the competition, they were both dead set on becoming the next Great Goblin, and confident that the tribe would recognize their brilliance. Jiho confided in his sister that he was worried Seok would hurt himself, and Seok told her he was afraid Jiho would be let down when the other goblins didn’t support him, but neither had any doubt about themselves.
"Fine, but remember what Grik said, this isn't about personal glory," she warned. "We're doing this for the future of Midden."
As if on cue, Grik's high voice was raised over the din of the goblin throng once more. "Brave goblins of Midden! Step forward and claim your destiny! Now that you know what’s what, this is your last chance to register as a candidate! The first challenge begins at high noon!"
Though most of the goblins who wanted to take part had already added their names to the roster, there were a few among the crowd who were freshly inspired to do the same. Rusty caught sight of Chul making his way toward the group forming around Grik, and he slithered through a forest of legs to reach him.
"Wait!" Chul shouted, though there were others ahead of him in line, and no reason to believe that he was running out of time. "I want to compete too!"
Grik glanced at Chul, his lips curling down. "The youngest fool. This isn’t the game for you, Chul."
"Trust me, you'll think differently when you see me and my scaly dog in action," Chul replied, undeterred by Grik's attitude.
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Chul beamed as Grik reluctantly scribbled his name onto the list of competitors. "You won’t regret it," he insisted, brimming with good cheer.
"I already do," Grik muttered, before motioning for another goblin to step up.
Rusty had come to his side in time to hear the exchange, and Chul crouched down to rub the sides of his head in affection.
"I signed us up!" he announced proudly.
“Shouldn’t you have asked me first?” Rusty said. He wasn’t angry with his friend, but that didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea.
“Oh,” Chul looked genuinely contrite, “I’m sorry, Rusty. Do you not want to be the Great Goblin with me?”
“I don’t think we can both be the Great Goblin,” Rusty said, “and no, I didn’t want to compete.”
“Oh,” Chul looked down at his feet. “It’s just that, I didn’t think it was a good idea before, but I saw Froglick, and he gets to compete with his friend, and his friend is just a rat, and I’m basically the king of rats. Rats are stupid, I’ve decided. You and me, we’re better than rats. And I thought, if we were together, that it would be fun. Do you…do you want me to take it back?”
Rusty saw how much this meant to Chul and didn’t want to disappoint him. They could try the first trial and withdraw after they didn’t get any supporters. They wouldn’t have to put themselves in harm’s way.
“It’s okay,” Rusty said, nudging Chul with his nose. “We can do it.”
Chul beamed and rushed back to the gang to give them the good news.
The reactions from the others were less than enthusiastic.
Jiho glared at him. "You fool! This will put too much of a spotlight on Rusty!"
Sooji disagreed with him, taking pleasure in her twin’s consternation. "It’s not any worse of an idea than you and Seok competing. And besides, aren’t we using Rusty to get us back into the tribe? We want the other goblins to see how strong he is, don’t we?"
Jiwoo knew his grandson better than anyone.
"Do you really think they shouldn’t join in,” he said, “or are you just afraid people will like Chul more?"
Jiho scoffed, adjusting his hair to distract from him not having a ready answer. Chul’s mind was set, and in the end, it wasn’t his decision to make.
The sun arched higher in the sky, warming Midden, and releasing its multifarious smells. They made their way to the obstacle course, joining the throngs of spectators gathered to watch the first competitor take on the challenge. The course was a testament to the ingenuity of goblin kind, constructed, as was all the architecture of Midden, from the leftovers of humanity's industries.
The first candidate to meet the challenge was Heavyarm, a [Tribe Champion], with a ready fanbase that had pressed their way to the viewing spaces closest to the course. He was a squat, muscular goblin with a varnished wooden tower shield strapped to his back and a dwarven short sword at his hip, an heirloom of his family. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, chatting about the obstacles, and about the candidate himself, who was known both for his prowess and a stilted manner of speaking that was widely ridiculed.
The first obstacle was a scrapheap climb, followed by a straight run through a hail of slingstones and rolling wagon wheels. He made it over the heap, proceeding in a deliberate, careful manner that avoided the steeper portion of the incline. His shield served him well in the second portion, but it may have overburdened him in the third, as he missed the jump from the rope swing and ended up splashing into a sewage pond below.
"Even the best make mistakes," Seok noted. “Not me though. I’m studying the competition.”
"I can’t see," Jiho grumbled. “You should switch spots with me.”
“No way,” Seok said, crossing his arms. “I’m waiting for Grizzletooth.”
As the trial went on, each candidate took their turn on the obstacle course, with varying degrees of success. The crowd's reactions ranged from animated cheers to disappointed groans as they watched their fellow goblins attempt the challenges, more exhilarated by failure than victory.
When Grizzletooth stepped up, the spectators fell silent. True to his reputation, Grizzletooth navigated the course with fierce determination, and scarcely a pause. With every obstacle he conquered, the climb, the swing, the maze, and a final gauntlet of traps, the anticipation grew. When he finally crossed the finish line to ascend the victory platform, he was greeted with resounding shrieks, applause, and the stamping of countless green feet.
“That was pretty good,” Jiho admitted.
“Getting nervous?” Sooji teased.
Jiho met her remark with a dead stare. “Never.”
Seok's turn came soon after, his broken arm an obvious handicap. As he approached the starting point, he called on [Second Wind], and pulled his arm out of its sling. Sooji groaned, and Rusty felt a sympathetic twinge as he saw the swollen state of the arm, but Seok made it over the pile with aplomb, and the fact he was competing with an injury was not lost on the crowd.
There were cheers, and Jiwoo grunted approvingly at the performance. Seok tackled the first few obstacles with ease, earning impressed murmurs from the crowd. But as he rushed across a balance beam over another sludge pit, he faltered. The beam was wet, and though he tried to steady himself, he was already falling. With a cry of frustration, he tumbled off the beam and into the pit below.
"I knew he wouldn't make it!" Jiho said smugly, unable or unwilling to hide his satisfaction. The crowd's reaction, however, told a different story, as many cheered Seok's effort despite his disadvantage.
Jiho approached the first obstacle with feigned confidence. But as he attempted to climb the slippery heap of discarded wooden planks, ropes, and barrels, he slipped and slid back down repeatedly.
"Come on, Jiho! You can do it!" Sooji called, though her voice was lost amid the jeers of the onlookers. Some of them recognized him, and Rusty heard the word [Songstealer] repeated around them.
"Ha! Look at him!" Jiwoo laughed uproariously with each failed attempt, his delight in his grandson’s struggles impossible to contain. “What a clown.”
The jeers and catcalls from the crowd grew louder as Jiho's frustration mounted. His face reddened, and after one final, futile attempt, he admitted defeat and stormed off the course in shame.
Chul and Rusty were the last to be called. As they waited, Rusty could feel the curious glances and murmurs of the surrounding goblins.
"Our last candidate for the day," Grik announced, "Chul, of the Gang of Fools, and his scaly dog." Grik, of course, knew exactly what Rusty was, so from his mouth, the phrase was an insult. Chul, though, seemed to take heart from being reminded of his friend’s presence.
He grinned down at Rusty. “Easy peasy,” he said. “Let’s climb.”
The first obstacle was nothing to Chul. He spent nearly every day exploring Midden and had never been faulted with caution when it came to approaching its most treacherous slopes. A slippery climb over a precarious heap of discarded planks, ropes, barrels and loose shells was his idea of a good morning. He reached the top easily as quickly as any of the other candidates, only to look back and see that his companion was struggling. Agility was one of Rusty’s lowest attributes, and he found he was even less adept at ascending the slope than Jiho had been. After sliding back down to the bottom, he looked up at his friend in distress, but Chul was unfazed. He clambered back down in an instant and pushed Rusty up by his backside.
It was slower going, but Chul kept up a constant stream of encouragement, and seemed incapable of being dislodged, even when Rusty lost his footing and fell bodily on top of him. The crowd laughed at these antics, and Rusty felt himself growing embarrassed. Still, they made it over in the end, neither willing to give in so quickly.
The second obstacle was a pathway of uneven cobblestones with goblins lined along both sides. Grik had invited spectators from the crowd to throw stones and shells, and there were more at the end of the run to roll wagon wheels meant to force the candidates off the course. Again, Chul navigated the challenge with little difficulty, ducking under stones and dodging around the wheels. Rusty took hit after hit. The goblins seemed more interested in throwing things at him than at Chul, but his scales absorbed the impacts, and he was more annoyed than hurt.
"Sturdy little thing, isn't he?" He heard someone comment, and he hissed in their direction.
The stagnant pond loomed ahead, and the swing posed an impossible hurdle for Rusty, who could neither fly nor properly grip a rope, but Chul had an idea.
"Climb on my back," he urged. "I'll carry you across."
Rusty hesitated for a moment before nodding and clambering on. It wasn’t as if riding piggyback would be any more degrading than what had come before, though he worried that his weight would be too much for Rusty. The crowd watched as the duo launched themselves into the air, swinging across the murky pond. Chul released the rope at just the right moment in their arc, and they landed heavily on the other side. Rusty fell off Chul at the impact, and nearly rolled over the edge of the platform, catching himself at the last moment.
Chul giggled. “Why did they make this look so hard?”
The maze was constructed of old sailcloth, and tearing through it was strictly prohibited. Apart from a few pits, it wasn’t a dangerous challenge, merely one that would make a prospective Great Goblin look foolish if they took too long or gave up after too many wrong turns left them back at the beginning.
“I guess we just walk,” Chul said.
In the challenges so far, Rusty had had little opportunity to focus on his material sense. This wasn’t the time to gather new materials for his hoard, but the skill was always active, whether he was focusing on it or not. The entire obstacle course was receiving a lot of attention from the goblins, and he was getting the impression that it had been a part of their traditions and lore for a very long time. To his sixth sense, the objects which composed the maze, the sails, and the poles, were all connected, and he had a vague idea of its structure as a whole.
“Let me lead,” he told Chul, and the goblin was happy to oblige.
Trusting his instincts, they made it through with hardly a misstep, much to the bewilderment of the spectators.
"Wow, Rusty!" Chul exclaimed as they reached the exit, amazed at his companion's abilities. "You really know your way around a dump, don't you?"
“I like to know where my stuff is,” he replied, not entirely sure how he had navigated the maze, but pleased that he had done so.
Chul tugged at his hat. “This isn’t your stuff, though, is it?”
“Huh,” Rusty said, “I guess not, but it could be.”
The balance beam would have been Rusty’s downfall. He regarded it, and the sludge pit below, with trepidation. His Agility was not high enough for him to trust his claws on the wood, which looked to have been freshly slathered with oil. Perhaps it was a weakness common to hatchlings, but four legs sometimes seemed too many for him to keep track of. He wished he could stand up straight, like a goblin, but that would have made matters even worse.
“It’s okay,” Chul said, “we can scooch.”
Instead of trying to sprint across, as they had seen other candidates do, they both got down on their bellies and crawled to the end. This earned them insults and boos from the spectators, which bothered Rusty, but Chul couldn’t have been happier.
“One more,” he cried,” just one more!”
They had reached the gauntlet.
The final challenge was composed of a series of perilous rope bridges and stone platforms, stretching from one side to the other of yet another malodorous pool of Harborfell’s runoff and decaying waste. Dangerous looking machines were at work around the platforms, their mechanisms cranked by goblin hands. Chul stepped cautiously onto the first bridge, testing it with his weight before motioning for Rusty to follow. The ropes creaked, and the planks sagged beneath them, but held firm as they made their way across. Rusty's claws clicked nervously on the weathered wood, his shoulders tense. Only a handful of candidates had made it this far, and fewer to its end. Rusty didn’t doubt that Chul could navigate the rest of the course but knew that his own clumsiness could easily finish the exercise. Competing together meant that if he failed, Chul could not complete the trial on his own.
On the first platform, a heavy burlap sack swung towards them like a pendulum. Chul nimbly slipped under it, the motion barely breaking his stride. Rusty shuffled back on his haunches, then burst forward, scrambling through before the sack came in on its backswing.
"Good run!" Chul called over his shoulder. More platforms and bridges awaited them, each with its own treacherous obstacle. Rusty steeled himself and pushed on, matching Chul's pace. The second bridge pitched wildly as they crossed, the ropes unspooling from their moorings. Chul splayed himself flat, inching along on his belly until he reached the next landing. Rusty followed his example, sinking his claws into the cracks between the planks to keep from sliding off.
They reached the platform just as an avalanche of refuse cascaded down around them, poured from a seemingly endless decanter. Rusty yelped as the cascade pummeled his back, but his scales turned aside the barrage.
"Look at us!" Chul taunted the tinkerers manning the machines. “We can’t stink any worse than we do! What else have you got?”
Rusty shook off the residual debris and hurried after his friend onto the third bridge. Halfway across, the planks beneath them abruptly see-sawed, launching them into the air. Chul landed nimbly on his feet, Rusty less gracefully on his belly with a grunt. Before them loomed a row of bladed pendulums, their jagged edges shredding the air as they swung by.
Chul tapped his foot, timing the blades. "Easy peasy!" he shouted, and at precisely the right moment, he darted forward, Rusty close behind. They wove between the pendulums, feeling the wind of their passing. A blade grazed Rusty's tail, and he yelped, but his body was low enough that the pendulums mostly passed over him.
The last bridge was made of stone. It had to be. A vast apparatus of gears and counterweights rhythmically raised and dropped heavy rocks from above, threatening to crush any candidate who dared attempt the crossing. The pair paused before it, gathering their courage.
"This is it, buddy," Chul said quietly, “do you have to pee?”
“Do I have to what?”
“Pee. Now’s a good time, I think.”
“No, Chul, I don’t have to pee.”
“Suit yourself. I already dribbled a bit on the way over.”
Rusty had thought he smelled something, but against the backdrop of the cesspool below them, a little urine was hardly noticeable.
Chul watched the pattern of the machine, brow furrowed in concentration. "Mmmmm…” he hummed, “mmmmm…Now!"
Rusty was a step behind Chul as they sprinted across the bridge. Halfway there, the boulders began to fall in sequence. Rusty poured every ounce of speed into his legs, but it wasn't enough. His claw caught on the edge of an ill-fitted stone, and with a sickening crunch, one of the suspended rocks came down on his back.
He felt himself compress; the air pushed from his lungs, his vision lost in dizzy darkness as the rock covered his entire body. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears, but a moment later, he realized he was at the end of the bridge. Chul had dragged him out when the stone lifted, and though he was sore all over, nothing felt broken.
“Oh no, oh no oh no,” Chul repeated. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I made you come.”
“I’m okay,” Rusty said, though he didn’t feel okay. “I think I’m fine.”
Chul’s response was lost in the roar of the crowd.