Goblin History Lesson
A goblin crone tells a story to her kids and some travelers.
The goblin city was hewn into every corner of the ancient quarry, firelight flickered in hovels and tunnels fighting back the chill night air. The masses of goblins were scurrying up ropes hooked to towering rock spires, and clattering down chains that plunged deep into the earth, linking fungus farms, mine-shafts, and dozens of other chambers. Amidst all the chaos four pointy-eared figures darted up a spire that curved up to scrape the sky like a rusted scythe, leading a small procession of hooded figures to a flickering opening.
The group filed into the small cave, the four goblins hopping onto little rocks situated before a single large stone, atop which perched a one-legged purple goblin, leathery skin pulling into a sharp-toothed grin as she pivoted and threw out her arms, empty eyes looking forward as she grasped for the extended hands of her children. "Ah! My little mischief makers, who've you brought me?"
"Said they're Historians Kemmi, they want the story bout the elves and the rest of them..." Noggin, a fiery red goblin without any hair muttered as he clasped her hand tightly.
"Finally, been a while since we heard that one." Guuma, a deep brown goblin with curving marks painted over herself purred.
"My favorite." Bruum, a portly blue goblin rumbled as the hooded figures awkwardly settled onto cushions behind the goblins and pulled back their cloaks revealing their faces.
Grinn, a spindly green fellow and last of the goblins, glanced back at them. "Well you lot might as well say hello, or are y'gonna just sit there like a bunch of fungus lumps?" The three of them laughed lightly before scooting a bit closer as one finally spoke.
The voice was from a squat Inkblood barely four feet tall, its skin black with one golden eye the size of a dinnerplate in the middle of his face. "Miss... Kemmi yes? I am Guhurka The Wandering Record and these are my colleagues..." he gestures to a thin brown human, who quickly bows his head. "Archivist Giles Brightquill, and..." he looks to his left to a smiling ogre woman who towered over her two companions, and had to bend her neck to avoid scraping the two horns that sprouted from her skull against the ceiling. "Vuzza Debursa, Claimsmaker of House Morgund. We hope to hear from you, venerable one, the tales of your people for our respective patrons."
"Ogre?" Kemmi quirks a brow over a blind eye as she leaned back onto her seat. "You should know the stories well enough little sister..." The purple goblin grins as she reaches behind herself to pluck up a small bowl and a vial with a lizard tail suspended in green fluid within it, setting them both on the ground before the crowd of listeners.
"We want the goblin version for our archives." Vuzza grinned, two small tusks poking from her lower jaw. "Chancellor Morgund is dedicated to having as accurate a view of the shaping-era as possible."
Kemmi snickers as she uncorks the vial and nods. "Ah he would be, he was a fidgety little one... do tell him the purple squirt says hello." she pours the contents into the bowl and plucks out the lizard tail, holding it between two fingertips ever so delicately. "Well let's get started then, Noggin light this for me, I'll give you lot the same story we give the young ones..." The three historians mutter eagerly in anticipation.
The crimson goblin leans over, plucking a burning piece of rubbish from a brazier set against the wall and tapping it to the lizard tail before tossing it back into the fire and licking at his fingertips.
Purple smoke rose from the end of the lizard tail, Kemmi inhaled it slowly and then blew a plume of it into the bowl. The smoke rose black and white this time as it spread out, blocking her from the view of the onlookers.
"In the beginning the land was empty, none dared live in the shadow of the mountain, for it belched fire and smoke year upon year..." The white smoke bloomed amidst the black, spreading as it outlined a volcano, a series of scraggly trees, and a barren landscape. The tension was palpable as a plume of red pulsed in the middle of the volcano.
"But time passed, and travelers from other lans whispered the mountain was cursed, sickly, or wounded as they snuck past it, or watched from afar...but none of those tales were true... the mountain... simply could not contain the greatness that burned within it..." the red smoke burst from the top of the volcano and spread through the landscape with an audible crack that had the historians jump in their seats as the four goblins giggled.
Thin figures took shape amidst the smoke as the trees grew taller and gnarled, mines dipped the landscape, and forges belched smoke anew into the sky. "From the fires came the Iron Elves... proud and hungry children... they fought amongst themselves until their mightiest leaders arose... King Oberon of the Bloodwoods and Queen Titania the Steeldrinker." Two armored figures took shape amidst the smoke, Oberon carried a staff while Titiania carried a spear.
"But outlanders harassed their fledgling nation, and their siblings, born in wood from wind and water, were jealous of their might... and war came to their lands..." A plume of blue smoke swept over the land, and soon the cloud was a mishmash of colors. Green, blue and gold figures, human, elf, atlantean, crash against red soldiers, slowly pushing them back. Giles shifts uncomfortably as the others watch intently.
"And so great Oberon reached into the soil and lifted the first of the orcs, broad of shoulder and strong of arm, they were his axe and his soldiers against his enemies..." Dark green and grey smoke took the shape of towering muscled figures that began to beat back the soldiers ahead of the Iron elves... but then lightning crashed upon the orcs. "But the greedy djinni of the south, bought with the promises of the wood elves, marched upon the iron kingdom as well..."
"Titania looked upon the field of battle..." An elven woman in a red veil took shape in the smoke above a battlefield riddled with corpses as djinni, atlanteans, elves, and humans picked through the remains. "And she wept at the desecration of her children, her tears of pity, sorrow, rage, grief and disgust fell to the earth..." each tear struck the bloodsoaked ground and turned into a grinning clawed figure that leapt and screeched at the looters across the battlefields. "...and those were the first goblin... born to take back the treasures and secrets of the dead. We were not the first, nor would we be the last..."
"But our enemies were many... our allies few, and our family alone could not stand against them..." A low rumble shook the room as massive metal treads shaped from grey smoke churned their way across the battlefield, the battles raged on as Dwarves watched from a distance, for each new enemy brought against the Iron Elves, a new life would be breathed into existence by Oberon or Titania... until at last the smoke drifted to grey and ruined spires. The Iron elves wept over the bodies of Titania and Oberon as the goblins scrounged amidst the ruins, and the orcs, ogres, and others fled the devastation with their creators no longer able to provide for them.
"The Kingdom of Blood and Iron fell... and we have lived in its shadow ever since, we remain the keepers of the dead, our land shall keep its treasures and its secrets." Kemmi sobbed out the last words as the smoke finally dissipated, wiping her eyes as the other goblins, their mirth gone, gently embraced her.
The historians slowly stood, drawing their hoods over their faces. "We... thank you for your tale... we will take our leave." The squat Inkblood's voice was deep and respectful as the three slowly made their way out into the cold night and looked out upon the city.
The air shimmered around the ogre as they looked, her skin turning blue and scaley, her eyes turning a depthless black, finned flaps replace horns, her tusks vanished as she sighed, her voice lighter. "The same as the others then... no precise record of the war's end with any of the goblin historians, and none specifically say Oberon or Titania died..."
"Lady Malira, is it wise to drop your disguise while we're still in their city?" Giles muttered nervously to her before recoiling in pain as a metallic blue bracelet locked around his wrist pulsed with a crackle of electricity, the atlantean kept a fingertip pressed to the magical mechanism in the sapphire of her enchanted bracelet. "I have suffocated in that ogre skin for hours prisoner, I don't need to debase myself on the walk down away from prying eyes, and I certainly don't need your advice...."
"Really? If you'd been half as careful as he suggested I might not have heard you out here, not that it matters really..." Kemmi grins her empty eyes staring at them from further back on the path. "I know Atlantean slave bands when I see them deary, I picked oh so many of them off corpses in the war, you two, what'd you do to get shipped off with her I wonder... no matter. We goblins keep the dead... you'll be ours soon enough."