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“Hard to believe it’s been so many years already.”

Razan’d grown a fair bit older. Grew a slight beard since graduating mage’s college. He had to look the part!

“Well, here we are again,” he continued. “Another Wintersgrip festival. Another visit to the grandparents.”

Domitia was there, looking a bit more like her mother each day. She held onto Razan’s hand, twin marriage bands on their ring fingers –alexandrite-inlaid Fellmire gob-iron for the husband, and Rivergale emerald amidst a gold-hued band for the missus.

The pair stood at the edge of a glen amidst the Rivergale forests. Short grasses cropped up in and around some local mausoleums of big name landholding families.

“They were always very nice to me,” Domitia said, gently rubbing her husband’s hand with her thumb.

“You must have made quite the first impression.” Razan chuckled. “Grandpa always did enjoy jousting. I’m sure that helped thaw things out.”

Domitia smiled, recalling a long and storied semi-professional jousting career. She’d won three more tourneys before college was done, and even a few in the Fellmire minor leagues.

“So, here we are,” the red-headed gob-kin said.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Indeed.” Razan knelt. “Hey, Grandpa Nasir, Grandma Lise. We were off in Fellmire for awhile after college. Wasn’t able to make it for a few Wintergrip festivals. And before you know it, we had some new responsibilities to take care of.”

The pair knelt before a pair of simple headstones. Nasir and Grandma Lise having passed away within a year or so of each other, thereabout five years prior. And at Domitia and Razan’s feet were not one, not five, but nine squirming and inattentive gob-human hybrids, too young to truly grasp the significance of the tombstones.

Gregnarb, William, and Amanda took after their father’s side of the family a great deal. They had Razan’s nose, especially Greg’, with the addition of a mild green complexion.

Sally and Rutitia, meanwhile, could have passed for clones of their mother. They had a tendency to bite their father’s ankles.

And Gerald, Bianka, Cassandra, and Yorblarg all took a bit from mom, a bit from dad. Yorblarg had Grandpa Nasir’s features, while Cass had a bit of Lise.

“Now, now, children. These are the graves of your great grandparents,” Domitia said.

“Yorblarg ate my dire-chicken!” said William with a whine. “And I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Razan cleared his throat sharply. “Children. Children! Gobnorgernackep blesses those who respect their departed elders.”

That got roughly half the children listening. Domitia smiled warmly; her darling husband had adopted the faith of gob-kind more devoutly than she ever did. Still, it was kind of nice that he was so interested in her family’s culture. Enough so, that he’d moved with her to Fellmire for a time, and so his poor grandparents had never seen their great-grandkids before they passed.

“Daddy, are these your great-grand-grans, or mommy’s?” Asked Rutitia, her adult tusks just barely growing in.

“They were mine, dear. Mom’s family is from back home. You’ve met them.”

“Did they ever meet mommy?” Rutitia asked again.

“Well.” Razan and Domitia looked to each other. “That’s quite the long story.”

“And wouldn’t you know it, it involves jousting,” Domitia said. “So, get situated, children, this will take a while…”

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