Xoscyl
05-25-2006, 11:34 AM
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.
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.