Goblin Thievery
Xoscyl - May 21, 2006
The goblin mail carrier squatted by the fire, a piece of freshly
cooked meat in his green hands. The darkness drifted around him,
night insects hovered near by. His day had been long, delivering
letters and packages to many different places, and all he wished
to do was relax a moment alone.
As the goblin took a bite of the tender meat, he couldn’t help
but feel as if he were being watched. Slowly, he turned his head
to search the surrounding shrubbery and trees. There was nothing
to be seen. Only the pests that flew in to take a sip of his
blood, and the moon, gazed upon him. He breathed a sigh of
relief, and returned to his dinner. Still, something did not seem
right. There was an odd presence about, and he decided it was not
the night for his ‘me-time’.
As he finished what he had in his mouth, the goblin packed up
camp, and prepared to make his way back into town. He listened
between each of his steps for those of another. And between each
of his breaths, he listened for a creature’s low growl. The
silence was deafening, and it rang in his ears. Concerned, he
picked up his pace and continued onward towards the road.
Just a few steps in front of him lay the road into town, and as
his eyes fell upon it, his tension eased. Surely if something
were to be stalking him, it would have taken him by now, before
he reached the dirt path. But as the goblin took one more step
towards his saving grace, a white blur flew at him from the
right, catching him by the shoulder, and sailed him through the
air.
The goblin landed hard against a massive root of a near by tree,
his shoulder bloody and torn. But before he could even gasp a
whimper of pain, his attacker, a white lion, pounced on top of
his chest, compressing it and knocking the wind from his lungs.
Unable to speak or breath, he could do nothing but watch as an
orc woman approached.
“Our loyal mail courier,” The woman spoke in orcish as she knelt
down beside him. Sweat rolled down the goblin’s brow, his vision
blurred by the lack of oxygen. “You owe us a duty, to deliver our
messages and items to those we wish, and yet you are unable to do
such a simple task. How many of your deliveries end up in your
own pocket, eh? Well let me tell you, I will take back what is
mine, and perhaps a bit of what is yours.”
The goblin’s eyes rolled back into his head. Unconsciousness
greeted him as he gave into the suffocation. But he was torn from
it, and he awoke to being shaken violently. His angry capturer
had taken him up by the heels and was forcing out any loose items
from his body. The sounds he heard inside is head, were the
sounds you would imagine you’d hear when one’s brain were shaken
loose from the skull. The goblin, once again, struck the floor.
He lay there, humped over, as the woman searched the scattered
items on the ground. Her face grew angrier, and she reached over,
grabbing the goblins collar, pulling him close.
“Where do you have them stashed?” She spoke in a low growl. The
goblin’s face sit an inch from hers, and all he could see were
her vicious eyes, and all he could feel was her hot breath
against his face.
The goblin whimpered and shook his head slightly, unable to move
it much more than that. The Orc woman’s face eased a little, as
if some wave of compassion washed over her. Laying the goblin
down, she spoke softly, “Very well, perhaps you do not have what
it is I am asking for. I am sorry to have done so much when it
was unnecessary.” The goblin’s eyes widened as he watched her
take out her sharpened axe, “I’ll simply take something to
compensate me for my loss and I’ll be on my way. Perhaps this
will be a lesson for you to not take other people’s things,
especially from those like me.” She raised her axe high and came
down promptly on the goblin’s right thumb and forefinger.
Instantly, the goblin was unconscious again, as he had reached
his threshold of pain.
The goblin awoke in the middle of the road he had so desperately
tried to reach. His body was bloody and ached to high hell. He
looked at his hand, only to be filled with horror. Not only were
his forefinger and thumb removed, but also the wound had been
cauterized, making it nearly impossible to be repaired properly.
The goblin sobbed as a priest rode up to his aid. “Who did this?”
the human asked while he frantically began to heal the mutilated
goblin. But the goblin could not remember, most of the night
remained such a blur and his sub-conscious would not allow him to
revisit that event. And he was grateful for that.