Chapter 1: The Odd Goblin

Chapter 1: The Odd Goblin



On the Ebon Realm, within the Vulture Woods, an odd child was born to a goblin tribe. He was a goblin, yes, but odd. He was smaller than the rest of the goblins, and where most babies were a chubby forest green color, he was a sickly blue. Not sickly because of the color blue, in fact he had more of a cyan skin tone, no, but because he came out frail, scrawny even. He coughed incessantly the first few nights. The goblin Mothers were annoyed by the childs wheezing, saying it only denoted the childs weakness. Some of the male goblins thought it odd that the Mothers would find coughing annoying since they were surrounded by crying babies. But, after the first male had pointed it out, the rest had quickly decided not to say anything as they looked at their bloody brother lying on the ground, out cold. Most thought that the goblin baby wouldnt survive the first week, but he did, which simply made him more odd. To the bewilderment of the Mothers it took two entire weeks for him to finally open his eyes. Even stranger, while the child had slit pupils, they had never seen a goblin with lilac irises, although they had never met one with cyan skin either, so they decided to let him off. Had he been born albino they would have burned him over the fire pit and had him for dinner; tragically, he was instead born odd. His name was Stryg.

For the most part the first few years of his life were the same as other younglings. Like other goblins, Stryg was raised collectively by the goblin Mothers. They taught him the most important things in life, such as how to hide from wolves that prowled the trees only a few miles from their village. The cooks showed him how to skin a rabbit or even better, how to skin and cook goblins from rival tribes. Stryg enjoyed the taste of goblin flesh like any other upstanding goblin, especially when the tribe managed to get the rare prize, salt. Although, if Stryg had to be honest with himself he much preferred eating venison. Sadly, deer wasnt very common in the area, what with wolves and all. Of course, most goblins hated the taste of venison anyway, so Stryg had learned not to request any from the hunters. He wasnt very popular with the hunters.

All he wanted was to be strong, like the hunters. So, when Sigte, one of the older and more eccentric hunters offered to give him private training lessons, Stryg couldnt have been more ecstatic. Stryg hadnt expected the lessons to be about writing strange symbols on the ground with a stick. Sigte called it the dangerous technique of words. He said it was a powerful weapon, in the right battle, a different kind of strength. Stryg had a difficult time believing him since the goblin laughed as he spoke about this reading thing. Stryg knew there were different kinds of strength though, like Cruvor, the tribes venerable shaman, who could make fire with his mind. And since Stryg had no other hunter willing to teach him, he gave it his all to learn the strange technique. It had taken him over two years to master the skill. But, when he went to proudly present the squiggly symbols he had drawn to the other goblins, they all laughed at him. Stryg had run off in shame, his face a shade of dark blue. He was no longer odd, now he was just weird.

As for Sigte he had gone on a hunt one day and came across a dire bear. All they had found of him was a broken bow and his left shoe. So much for his words technique, Stryg thought with small clenched fists.

At least the Mothers had taught him important matters. Especially the most important life lesson of all, The strongest get what they want, so be the strongest. Such a simple yet profound lesson, Stryg mused. He was closer to being the weakest, but that didnt stop him from dreaming. He was grateful to the Mothers for their teachings, even if he was one of the few goblins who didnt actually view the Mothers as parental figures. Well, none of them were actual mothers. Most goblins didnt know who their parents were. It was almost impossible to tell who the father was since most slept with different women each night and vice-versa. As for the women, birth mothers gave their babies to the Mothers immediately after labor, to be raised not as an individual but as a tribe. After all, a lone goblin would get picked off by the wolf packs, but a group of goblins could slay a dire bear.

Goblins didnt bother telling the young who their actual mothers were. Except for Stryg, he knew about his mom. Some of the Mothers had made it abundantly clear that she had died during his birth, a bad omen sent from the moon herself. Stryg guessed his mom had been weak, how else could she have died in labour while the rest lived. To be honest, he didnt really care about her death, only that she had passed on her weakness to him. He cursed her for that. As for the bad omen, he knew he looked different than the rest, with his grey hair, and strange skin, he didnt even want to think about his purple eyes, they were practically pink for moons sake! He wished he had bright yellow eyes like the rest.



The chief gazed at the young goblin walking away.

Oh, its the weird little blue one, whats his name again? One of his women yawned as she gave the boy a dismissive glance.

Stryg. Hes not that little, only an inch or two smaller than you, the chief responded.



Yeah, but hes a guy. He should be like, four feet, she giggled, not three and a half.

The chief sighed, That boy trains harder than anyone in this tribe. He has the heart of a true goblin.

Too bad he doesnt have the body of one, not much of a fighter is he? The chiefs other woman chimed in.

The chief shook his head and kept walking, Tonight he becomes an adult. Well see how well he can fight then.

The women followed without another word.