Battered and bruised Grubbub is thrown inside, landing on a rolled-out blue carpet that leads from the door to the desk of the Overseer.

His eyes made contact with the Overseer, who stared at him with contempt, disgust, and maybe a hint of pity. He was an elderly hobgoblin with a gray and white beard that hung below his waist. Small round glasses that reflected the outside sunlight through the window made Grubbub wince his eyes.

"Well, what did this one do?” he said with a sigh. As if it was the hundredth such case this very week.

“He claims someone stole his mineral harvest; there’s not enough time for him to keep mining the rest of the day without it being detrimental to the rest of the mines. You know, as well as I do, sir, why we don’t allow late-night work shifts.”

"Yes..."

It never occurred to the Grub that there was something wrong with working late, but they always stopped when the sun set at the latest, which made it weird now that he thinks about it. He has heard rumors of things lurking in the mine.

The overseer stroked his beard a few times, then rubbed an itch in his long, sagging ears and probably took something wet and sticky out as well. That is a disgusting thing to do, but the little goblin kept it to himself.

“Accusations such as these are to be taken very seriously, Mr..”

He prostrated himself before the overseer, bending over.

“Grubbub, sir, you got to believe me; they took it from me. I need my daily meal tokens so I can eat. I need my daily money to survive, sir. There's a thing coming up on the weekend, and I need money to spend with my friends, sir.”

He put his hands on grubbub.

“Shhhhhh… Grub…bub. Do you understand why you are working in those mines? Do you comprehend why the man besides you is treated with much more respect than you are?”

What did that have to do with anything?

“Because he was a hobgoblin.”

He was an idiot, but he wasn’t suicidal; he knew what his ‘worth’ was in society; he wouldn’t dare question it.

“Yes and no. He is of a higher social class than you are, more evolved than you are, to put it mildly. Without us, you green goblins are nothing but psychotic cavemen who struggle to control your impulses.”

He moved closer into his face, a thin metal stick in his hands. Grubbub bowed his head, half expecting the elderly man to beat him in the face with it.

“So when you struggle to do your job properly, you disrupt the efficiency of the established system; you hold us back. You become detrimental to goblin society.”

“But what about the culprits? I think I know who it is; I can point them out.”

“It could be anyone!!! It is your responsibility to ensure nothing such as that happens, not ours!”

Tears were beginning to form in his eyes. He was rarely yelled at like this. He couldn’t understand why they were being so unfair; he was a good worker, clocked in at the right time, and did his best to ensure everything was in right order. Why did they punish him for it?

“I heard you found a jade deposit down there yesterday." The old man lowered his tone. "It was you, yes."

Grububb was surprised that the Overseer would have knowledge of that. He wasn't nearly important to be acknowledged by the top brass.

“How do you know that, sir?”

“I know lots of things, Grubbub. It seems you have a talent for mining. I would hate to send you away somewhere. On a raid, somewhere where tall humans dwell, who will hunt you and gut you like a fat pig. And put on a pole where all their children could watch and laugh from as they play with your dead corpse.”

The image given to him was cruel, and he is reminded of the stories he was told right out of the incubation chambers about how the humans would hunt them for sport. Men, women, children—it didn't matter to them.

“Please don't, anything but that,” he pleaded and started sobbing. Tears are falling on the carpet below.

“I will give you a chance tomorrow to prove your reliability; the last thing I need is defective mine workers. You will go to your sleeping chambers right now, and first thing tomorrow you will report here, and then I will assign you to another part of the mines.”

They were taking mercy on him?

“Thank you, thank you; you are so kind, sir.”

“I am not done." The hobgoblin moved behind his desk, searching the cabinets for something. The sound of metal flicking together in a bag. It sounded like coins. “Here is your payment for the day; you will pay back 7 times what was stolen from you as punishment. May this be a lesson to you. To stop being neglectful. So work harder or be sent away.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He was being punished after all. Damn

The overseer handed him the coins, and he took them with reluctance; he wasn’t winning here at all. At least he still had a fighting chance; he’d hate to be sent away to die in a raid.

“Now get out of my sight!” He gestured with his hands; it was time to go. The guard picked him up like a sack of limp potatoes, closing the door to the overseer’s office.

He was thrown out of the building shortly after. Immediately instructed to retire himself, as he is expected early. And so he did. The walk to the sleeping chambers was a long and arduous one. Being sent early meant two things: you were rewarded for good behavior or you were being punished for something bad. The people in the sleeping room are going to make laughing stock out of him today yet.

Better to go to sleep early.

As he moved through the long hallway that were called the sleeping chambers, he took note of the absence of the mass goblins that occupied the spaces between dusk and dawn. There were very few occupants inside, safe for the sweepers and the cooks and patrolling menaces that were the guards.

Sometimes he wondered if being sent away would be freedom, because he feels no better than the human slaves they made fun of. A slave.

He took a long stroll past the room he slept in. He wanted to put the money where it was safe. The hobgoblin clerks, though they took a partial percentage of his gold, it at least wouldn’t be stolen when he drifts asleep.

Putting the day’s sum on the counter and waiting to be helped, he called out to the clerk.

“It’s a bit too early to deposit money. Why aren't you working in the mines?”

He twiddled his thumbs. Scratching the back of his head.

“I got punished, sent out early.”

“Sucks to be you." The clerk smiled at him, one of the few female goblins permitted in the industrial zone. “That will be a ten-percent fee, with a mandatory one gold fee.”

‘Ten pah-sent'; it was 9 a few weeks ago. He didn’t really understand numbers all that much. Just that it would be a few more.

“Ok.”

He signed a piece of paper; he couldn't really understand because he couldn't properly read. He had to do it every time he came around here.

He returned to the sleeping champer, a massive room more akin to a hall, spanning probably more than a few hundred beds, he believed. It was crowded to the brim.

He went to his bunk bed; he slept on the lower part. He had an annoying partner who slept on top of him and would occasionally drool, fart, and do all manner of disgusting things before he slept. Some nights he had to drown himself under the pillow to cancel out the noise.

He covered himself; hopefully most of his room occupants will leave him alone. They’d probably be too drunk to act on pranking him.

‘Filthy imps.’

He closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would work extra hard to do his part, so he can get off the debt as quickly as possible. His stomach grumbled, and he wouldn't mind fetching chow, though he'll probably be in bigger trouble for it.

Grubbub felt groggy; he woke in a daze; he was being taken somewhere; he struggled to lick his dry lips off properly; he struggled to open his eyes. He saw nothing but darkness; his eyes were obscured. He’d like some water now to make him feel better. He was being gripped by several hands. Someone was dragging him away. He wanted to clear whatever was obscuring his eyes, but his hands were tied.

He couldn’t breathe properly. There was something covering his mouth.

“Krobber, he’s waking!” A goblin said he could not recognize the voice—not someone he was familiar with.

He could hear several nasty laughs, like a pack of hyenas had pounced on him. He was the butt of the joke, but only they knew why they were laughing. He hoped this was nothing more than an elaborate prank, so they should let him in on it immediately.

“Is that it?” one of them had asked.

“Yes, a fine spot. Those management fuckers have completely ignored this well for some time now. It was made by the humans before Kara Dum was settled; my father told me that.”

A well. They were taking him to a well. To do what. Drown him?

“Nobody asked for stinkien history lesson, Barknut; will crush his body?”

crush what

“It’s deep enough and dry; it should do the job. Blunt trauma, and he’s out for good.”

He started shaking and trying to throw his body in all directions. But it didn’t help; he was wholly bound. He tried screaming, but it was futile; he was muffled.

“Stop struggling, you wimp.”

They threw him on the ground. It had been several times he had been thrown now, in a row. He didn’t know how many times he could be thrown before breaking.

They took the blindfold off. Grubbub’s hearts started beating hard. He spotted the group of goblins holding him captive. There were four of them, and in the center of the group stood the same person he suspected of stealing from him, the rat-face goblin.

They stripped the rag of his mouth. Grubbub takes the deepest breath he has felt in months—finally some fresh air. He coughed right after, spitting on the ground.

“Ya just had to cry, moan, and bitch to the overseer, didn’t you? Because of you, they’re planning on tightening the security, which means fewer opportunities to make a good profit. You’re a real piece of work.”

“I didn’t say anything; I didn’t point to you, I’m just trying to get by.”

‘Krobber’ started kicking him repeatedly in the abdomen, forcing him to bring his arms and his legs together in a fetal position.

“Shut up; no one likes you, weirdo. I'm doing everyone a favor by taking you out."

“Careful Krobber, you might off him before we dumb in him in the well. Remember, we want no physical bruises on him.” A tall goblin said, holding the rat face goblin back. The one named Barknut

"Hmmm…fine, let’s get it over with then.”

They picked him up and held him over the well, slowly moving him back and forth."

"Please, I’ll give you what I have saved up.”

One of the goblins chuckles as they lift the well’s cover. “It’s nothing personal, Grubbub. We’re doing you a kindness. Do you know how many people hate your guts? If it wasn’t for those red fuckers, you’d have been shanked a long time ago. You're no goblin; you act like a fucking gnome.”

"Alright, that’s enough yapping. Ay last words?” said. Krobbler.

“My friends will find me, and then they’ll make you pay.”

They laughed him off.

“What friends.”

With a swift push, they shove him deep into the well.

As he falls below, his body hits one of the stone bricks and then another. The motion of falling without control makes him dizzy. His skull cracks with a large thud as he collides with the ground, blood leaking from his head. His whole body ached with pain; he could not feel his legs; he was practically paralyzed.

Lying there alone in silence, he thinks of his two mates as the taste of iron and blood fills his mouth. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the night sky above; there up in the outer sky, he could see a small patch of glowing stars through the well opening.

“I don’t want to die... I didn’t even eat dinner yet.”

He sees the entrance of a shadow lurking nearby; in the horribly lit well, it looked like that of a monster. What was that? Was it death coming to take him away?

“Are you satisfied, Grubhub? Are you satisfied living the life you have led? Don’t you want to make them pay, don’t you want to make them suffer.” The shadows voice asked him

“Yes,” he told the dark shadow.

Then a nasty thought starts clawing at the back of the mind.

“I’d show them if I could, I showed them and stabbed them all to death.”

“Good.”

Then the shadow crept away.

The stars started to twinkle, lighting up in an unnatural way, as if they’re watching him die. He lets out his last breath; his little goblin body has given up.

Suddenly, a spark appears. Out of the sky, it landed straight on Grubb’s chest, as if he were struck by lightning. His eyes snapped open, and yet he wasn’t there. Grubbub was gone. Garrick had awakened.

His head hurt severely. He saw memories go off in rapid succession; you could not make out what or why. Just flashes of images and conversation that weren't his.

Who was Grubbub? How did he get here? He lifts his hand up; he had small green but childlike hands. They’re veiny, like an old person who had worked too much. He was barely able to make sense of the current reality. Was he tripping, was this dmt firing off, or did he step into some kind of hell?

“Where the fuck am I?”