Goblins - Printable Version

Goblins
"Flesh woven by vile wrath."

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Narrative's laughter, joy, love, her feelings of creation trickled down through the rocks and the silt. It filtered, dripped and percolated deep into the cold and dark places of the realm, untouched by light and teetering ever-so-gently upon the lapping surface of the Abyss. It angered that ancient writhing mind, and the beast hated such that the hands of Narrative had built. It despised the humans for their places of wealth and learning, it hated the elves for their great and lofty philosophy and their decadent industries. It was this hate, that formed into a thought - a thought in a mind so ancient that the concept could be before it was, wrath. It would not be that the men and the elves could stand in their grand cities and opulent fortresses - the beast envisioned war, flames licking and banners jostling. Hate, felt as though filled in the mouth with metal and fury - roaring. The thought grew teeth and gut and voracity; the thought grew ears, eyes, and a mind that craved that which it did not have. From the slime and the muck of the low places of the world, there arose a physical form with which it was embodied.

It was symbolic, in a way, that the most wretched swamps and mired valleys would produce a form of life in antipode to the high things of men and elves. From the muck arose creatures, similar in stature to man, ranging in height from four to six feet. Equally varied in mass and shape, there were those with sharp minds and round bellies, equally those with but a stone between their heads and bodies of wrought iron. Skin as tough as the hide of an ox and with muscles that drew more from the beasts of the realm than that of men, the forms of these creatures seemed truly an antithesis. Facially, they possessed features that were an admixture of man, of hog, and of frog - the alliteration potentially important to the mind of the demiurge. Animal affects such as horns and nodules appeared, mostly depending upon the faculty and the locational origin of the specific tribe. these goblins bear a strong resemblance to frogs magnified and twisted by malign purpose. Their hind legs are powerful, capable of carrying them in great, sudden bounds, while their hands—webbed but tipped with sharp, grasping claws—serve equally well in water and on land. Their skin glistens with a constant sheen of moisture, mottled in greens and blacks that render them nearly invisible among reeds and rot. They do not seem to breed as other creatures do, nor have any found nests, eggs, or young. Each sighting describes them as fully grown, as if the swamp itself disgorges them when conditions are met.

Aggression in them is not situational, but constant, a simmering state that seeks outlet. They hunt, certainly, and will devour fish, fowl, and flesh alike, but feeding does not appear to lessen their hostility. Indeed, there are recorded instances of them turning upon one another in brief, savage clashes that end as abruptly as they begin, with no lasting feuds or signs of rank established. Of particular note is their reaction to the works of men and mer. Structures, fences, and—most especially—fire kept under control seem to draw their attention. Some speculate that the scent of smoke carries far across the wetlands, acting as a lure. Others argue that it is the very notion of order imposed upon the wild that provokes them, though such thinking strays from natural philosophy into the realm of metaphor. The destruction of a small riverside settlement some decades past offers the clearest account of their behavior beyond the swamp.

As recorded by a lone survivor, the creatures emerged at dusk in unnerving silence, only to erupt into a cacophony as they breached the outer palisade. They moved with alarming coordination, overturning carts, scaling walls, and seizing torches from their victims. Fire spread quickly thereafter, leaping from thatch to timber as if eager to assist its new masters. Yet the goblins did not behave as raiders seeking plunder. They took no goods, claimed no ground, and made no effort to pursue those who fled beyond immediate reach. Instead, they remained amid the growing blaze, darting through smoke and flame with seeming indifference to heat or injury. When the settlement had been reduced to smoldering ruin, they withdrew as suddenly as they had come, vanishing back into the marsh without a trace.

Some goblins appear to have integrated with the societies of Sangreal at large - these occasionally being outcasts from their tribes, though some see them more as intelligence-gatherers for future raids. It is still too early to determine the end-goal of every Goblin, but it is know their origin is with the dark, and not the powers of the light.