The old man couldn't have picked a worse day to send Skrog on this errand. The clouds hung low and the dew dripped heavily from them making the already putrid stench of the bazaar that much more powerful. Days like today the common races were huddled inside their shelters away from the rain. Inside Skorg could hear cheering from happy patrons at the pub as a bard praised visiting adventurers.
The streets were nearly empty today, the only humanoids on them were the lower races. So Skrog did not feel out of place as he walked along the uneven cobble stone roads. The poor excuse for sandals he wore on his feet did little to keep his dark green feet off the wet stones. On occasion he would slip, just a bit, when he stepped on a vile greasy patch.
Two silver and a grocery list were all the old man gave him.
One pound of dried rosemary
Three pounds of black cat fat
Ten ogre teeth
Half a pound of mint
Two dried chicken heads
One cyclops eye
One ounce of mercury
Skrog put the list in his leather pouch, inside he had five of the seven items on his list. The ogre teeth were the most difficult thing so far. Never again would he go into an Ogre cemetery. His arms would be sore tomorrow from all that digging. All that was left were the half a pound of mint and the ounce of mercury.
The old man was a hard ass, to be sure, but he made life as easy for Skrog as it could be. Life wasn't particularly easy for anyone of mixed blood and Skrog learned that the hard way until he met the old man.
"Go to the holy temple of Asward for the mercury. They use it as a holy offering to the metal god. They drink from it, and in time its said they can have visions. But for now," The old man told Skrog before he departed. "just get the ounce of it."
"How much will it cost?" Skrog replied.
"Possibly just a confession, or type of offering to Asward." The old man said.
Skrog saw the temple of Asward and approached it.
On the outside it looked like any other human structure, strong and sturdy, built of wood and stone. It was decorated with the vibrant blue of the metal god and bore his holy symbol. The image of an axe. Skrog came to the building's opening, just an open doorway covered by a blue sheet. It was a way of showing that all were welcome should they choose to enter.
Skrog pushed the sheet aside and politely made his way inside. It was crisp and warm inside the small entryway. The floor was made of impressively lacquered oak panels and the walls were solid marble. Just before him stood a monk wrapped in blue robes.
"Welcome to the house of Asward, brother." The monk spoke.
"Umm." Skrog began. "M-m-may I-I-I." He paused and adjusted himself. It was uncommon for strangers, especially humans to be so polite to him. "Apologies. May I have an ounce of mercury?"
The monk turned and began walking further into the temple. Skrog wondered if he had offended the monk and quickly followed him.
"I beg your forgiveness, monk. I-I-I work for the old apothecary in the center of the city and h-h-h-he asked me for an ounce of-" He was cut off when the monk turned around to face him.
"Your reasons for our divine liquid are your own, and we needn't a detail. We give all our brothers and sisters whatever Asward can give."
"Really?" Skrog was shocked, maybe he could keep the two silver after this job was done.
"We ask only that you make a simple offering to him." Then the monk turned around again, deeper into the temple.
The ceiling rose several dozen feet higher making Skrog feel tiny. There were no windows in the massive one roomed temple, just long banners of blue and white that hung from the walls. All along the oak floors rested monks in similar robes as the one Skrog followed although the hue of each carried from a soft pale blue to a deep ocean blue. Each of the monks lie crouched with their heads on the ground resting just next to their knees. They rocked back and forth and would occasionally rise upwards and lift their arms to the heavens.
The first monk had reached the other side of the temple and Skorg hurriedly followed. He noticed that the monk stood next to an ornate fountain that flowed a shiny silver liquid from it.
"Now, brother." The monk began. "An offering must be given in order to receive Asward's holy liquid."
"Okay, what kind of offering?" Skrog asked.
"An offering of blood or flesh." The monk said flatly.
"My blood?" Skrog asked. The monk nodded and turned to face the fountain. When he turned back he held a decorative dagger.
"Place your hand above the alter and grasp the blade firmly. Gravity will take care of the rest." The monk spoke. Then he handed the dagger to Skrog.
Skrog didn't know what to do but he took the dagger. This was not the first time he'd held a dagger, nor would it be the last time. But he still felt uneasy.
"Breathe evenly, my brother." The monk said calmly. He gently grasped Skrog's wrists and lifted them above the alter. It was majestic and humbling at the same time. It wasn't a gaudy alter with decorative charms, just a simple bust of Asward atop a column. Below it was a pool of water with small silver fish swimming in it.
"Now grasp." The monk said. Skrog obeyed and lightning sting of the blade dug into his left palm and dropped the blade into the water.
"Oh, no! I-I-I'm sorry!" Skrog said in a panicked voice.
"Be calm, my brother." The monk assured him. "For this in not the first dagger to be lost in offering." The monk turned to the small mercury fountain and waved his hand to it. "Your offering is accepted, now be blessed with the metal god's gift." Skrog removed an empty one ounce vile from his leather pouch and dipped it into the mercury. When he removed it and put a cork in the top the monk was facing him.
"Here you are, brother." He extended a blue wrap. "For you hand." Skrog bowed to the monk and wrapped his hand.
"Uh, thank you very much." He said and turned to leave.
"Brother." The monk called to him softly. Skrog turned back.
In front of him the monk held a scroll.
"These are the teachings of Asward, please read them and return to us. We can be a place of safe haven for you. For I imagine there are few for your kind in this city." Skrog took the scroll and put it in his leather pouch and slung it over his shoulder. He bowed again, thanked the monk and left.
"I am never doing anything like that again, old man." Skrog said to himself when he was outside again.
The last item on the old man's list was the half a pound of mint. No big request, so to speak.
"The half a pound of mint should be obtained at Sky Hook's Tavern." The old man told Skrog prior to his departure. "They brew the most divine minted ale. You really should try it."
Skrog shrugged the idea off. There was no way he'd be able to purchase ale at a tavern like that. It was a common race tavern and Skrog knew to stay away. However, Skrog respected the old man and knew he'd never send him someplace that was too dangerous.
Before he knew it he was standing outside Sky Hook's Tavern. He hadn't noticed until his feet just naturally stopped. He had hoped it would have taken longer, to delay the inevitable. But he was here. So he stepped toward the door.
Sky Hook's Tavern had been established after the great Goblin war that raged between the common races and the goblinkin for decades as a form of celebrating the common race victory. But the prejudices still ran strong in this country as well as the surrounding ones.
Skrog took a deep breath and entered.
The sound hit him first. Sky Hook's Tavern was loud with bardic music and boisterous chanting of drinking songs in human tongues. There was clattering of mugs slamming against one another and the occasion thud when one landed proudly on a table. Skrog had never drank socially, there weren't any pubs or taverns who'd serve him. So if he drank, which he rarely did, it was with the old man to celebrate one of his human holidays.
The warmth hit Skrog next. Sky Hook's Tavern was a wet hot kind of warm that happens when too many people are crammed into a small space together. It was a nice feeling and made Skrog feel comforted. That was all meaningless when he approached the barkeep whose back was turned away from him.
"E-e-excuse me, sir?" Skrog tried to make his voice as loud as it could be despite the fear that was rising within him. The barkeep turned around slowly. He had a rag in one hand and a mug in the other.
"Yeah, what'dya-" Then he saw Skrog and his grasp of the mug went limp. "What in the name of!?"
It was then that the entire bar just happen to fall silent. The gaze of the patrons all shifted in Skrog's direction.
"A goblin!" Someone in the crowd shouted in disbelief.
"What business do you have here, creature? We don't serve your kind." The barkeep shouted.
"I-I-I am on an errand for-"Skrog began but was soon cut off by a clammer from behind the barkeep. The barkeep turned slightly but he never shifted his gaze from Skrog. Behind him was a door that could have easily been missed, it was made from the exact same wood as the rest of the bar. It had no frame and the handle was a very small metal grip that resembled a leaf.
The door swung open and a giant of a man stepped through.
"A goblin! In MY bar!?" The words shot from his bearded mouth like fire. His face was cracked with age and his hair had long since gone white. He was a man well into his last years, however his frame was still a massive thing to behold. He peered over the bar and saw Skrog. He looked him up and down and then his brow turned sour. He turned to the barkeep.
"Is this the goblin, Fen?" The giant man raised a finger and pointed it at Skrog.
"Yeah, sir." The barkeep replied.
"Did you fight in the Great Goblin War?" The giant man asked.
"N-no, sir!" Fen replied. The entire room was breathless, watching the exchange.
"No, I don't suppose you did." The giant man turned back to face Skrog. "I, on the other hand, did."
The giant man leaned forward toward Skrog.
"I daresay I may have killed hundreds of goblins, hobgoblins, orcs and even trolls." Skrog's hands began to shake. "They are vile, sickening creatures with no sense shame!"
Skrog wanted to flee. Maybe he still could, just turn and bolt for the door. It wouldn't have been the first time he was chased out of a tavern. Then the giant man stood up straight.
"Give the poor creature what it wants and let him on his way." He said to the barkeep.
"Sir?" The barkeep replied.
"I pity you, boy. You seem about the right age. You were born during the war, weren't you?" He was talking to Skrog.
"Y-y-yes, sir. During the last years."
"That sounds right." There was a deep sadness in the giant man's eyes. "Fen, do as I say. Give this boy his drink."
"He only asked for mint, but sir, why?" Fen was confused. "We don't serve goblinkin."
"Was your mother human, boy?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied sheepishly.
"Then out of respect for her you will get this one admittance into my tavern. But let it be known, if you should enter again, I, Sky Hook the Mighty Claw of Woncehall will strike you as dead as if you were your raping father." The giant man brought his face close to Skrog's. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied "Very clear." Then Sky Hook stood up again and faced Fen.
"The mint, Fen."
"A half-goblin?" Fen replied in shock. "But how did you know?"
"One of the more haunting traits of goblins are their heads and pointed ears. As bald as eggs, they are." Then Sky Hook looked at Skrog. "Is this one bald?"
Fen, as well as the entire tavern looked at Skrog, he was not bald. He had black matted hair that wasn't very long, and a short curly beard that grew in patches along his face.
"But the most haunting thing about a goblin are their beady red eyes. Those eyes still haunt my dreams."
Fen gazed into Skrog dark brown eyes. They were still the size of a full blood goblin, larger in proportion to the rest of their face, but very humanly brown. Beyond those two differences, the only other thing that set Skrog apart from a full blood goblin was his height. He was about as tall an average human. Full blood goblins were, in general, the size of halflings or gnomes; typically the size of human children.
Sky Hook turned and headed through his door and left the bar. There was coughing and murmurs from the crowd but within a few seconds the roaring and cheering continued as if nothing had happened. Fen hadn't taken his gaze off Skrog until a loud thud was heard in the crowd. It was then that he snapped to.
"How much mint did you say?" He asked.
"Half a pound, sir." Skrog replied.
"No, its fine." Fen replied as he turned to fetch the mint. He lifted a jar from beneath a floor cupboard. "You are my elder, all things considered." Then he turned back around with a wad of mint leaves in his hand. Skorg extended his hand with the two silver pieces in it. Fen drew his hand out to take them then reconsidered.
"That's quite alright, sir." He said. "Enjoy the mint."
And with that Skrog left Sky Hook's Tavern. He could;t be sure if it was the smell of the alleyway or something else, but his eyes began to water as he headed back to the old man's hut.
-Jestro
The streets were nearly empty today, the only humanoids on them were the lower races. So Skrog did not feel out of place as he walked along the uneven cobble stone roads. The poor excuse for sandals he wore on his feet did little to keep his dark green feet off the wet stones. On occasion he would slip, just a bit, when he stepped on a vile greasy patch.
Two silver and a grocery list were all the old man gave him.
One pound of dried rosemary
Three pounds of black cat fat
Ten ogre teeth
Half a pound of mint
Two dried chicken heads
One cyclops eye
One ounce of mercury
Skrog put the list in his leather pouch, inside he had five of the seven items on his list. The ogre teeth were the most difficult thing so far. Never again would he go into an Ogre cemetery. His arms would be sore tomorrow from all that digging. All that was left were the half a pound of mint and the ounce of mercury.
The old man was a hard ass, to be sure, but he made life as easy for Skrog as it could be. Life wasn't particularly easy for anyone of mixed blood and Skrog learned that the hard way until he met the old man.
"Go to the holy temple of Asward for the mercury. They use it as a holy offering to the metal god. They drink from it, and in time its said they can have visions. But for now," The old man told Skrog before he departed. "just get the ounce of it."
"How much will it cost?" Skrog replied.
"Possibly just a confession, or type of offering to Asward." The old man said.
Skrog saw the temple of Asward and approached it.
On the outside it looked like any other human structure, strong and sturdy, built of wood and stone. It was decorated with the vibrant blue of the metal god and bore his holy symbol. The image of an axe. Skrog came to the building's opening, just an open doorway covered by a blue sheet. It was a way of showing that all were welcome should they choose to enter.
Skrog pushed the sheet aside and politely made his way inside. It was crisp and warm inside the small entryway. The floor was made of impressively lacquered oak panels and the walls were solid marble. Just before him stood a monk wrapped in blue robes.
"Welcome to the house of Asward, brother." The monk spoke.
"Umm." Skrog began. "M-m-may I-I-I." He paused and adjusted himself. It was uncommon for strangers, especially humans to be so polite to him. "Apologies. May I have an ounce of mercury?"
The monk turned and began walking further into the temple. Skrog wondered if he had offended the monk and quickly followed him.
"I beg your forgiveness, monk. I-I-I work for the old apothecary in the center of the city and h-h-h-he asked me for an ounce of-" He was cut off when the monk turned around to face him.
"Your reasons for our divine liquid are your own, and we needn't a detail. We give all our brothers and sisters whatever Asward can give."
"Really?" Skrog was shocked, maybe he could keep the two silver after this job was done.
"We ask only that you make a simple offering to him." Then the monk turned around again, deeper into the temple.
The ceiling rose several dozen feet higher making Skrog feel tiny. There were no windows in the massive one roomed temple, just long banners of blue and white that hung from the walls. All along the oak floors rested monks in similar robes as the one Skrog followed although the hue of each carried from a soft pale blue to a deep ocean blue. Each of the monks lie crouched with their heads on the ground resting just next to their knees. They rocked back and forth and would occasionally rise upwards and lift their arms to the heavens.
The first monk had reached the other side of the temple and Skorg hurriedly followed. He noticed that the monk stood next to an ornate fountain that flowed a shiny silver liquid from it.
"Now, brother." The monk began. "An offering must be given in order to receive Asward's holy liquid."
"Okay, what kind of offering?" Skrog asked.
"An offering of blood or flesh." The monk said flatly.
"My blood?" Skrog asked. The monk nodded and turned to face the fountain. When he turned back he held a decorative dagger.
"Place your hand above the alter and grasp the blade firmly. Gravity will take care of the rest." The monk spoke. Then he handed the dagger to Skrog.
Skrog didn't know what to do but he took the dagger. This was not the first time he'd held a dagger, nor would it be the last time. But he still felt uneasy.
"Breathe evenly, my brother." The monk said calmly. He gently grasped Skrog's wrists and lifted them above the alter. It was majestic and humbling at the same time. It wasn't a gaudy alter with decorative charms, just a simple bust of Asward atop a column. Below it was a pool of water with small silver fish swimming in it.
"Now grasp." The monk said. Skrog obeyed and lightning sting of the blade dug into his left palm and dropped the blade into the water.
"Oh, no! I-I-I'm sorry!" Skrog said in a panicked voice.
"Be calm, my brother." The monk assured him. "For this in not the first dagger to be lost in offering." The monk turned to the small mercury fountain and waved his hand to it. "Your offering is accepted, now be blessed with the metal god's gift." Skrog removed an empty one ounce vile from his leather pouch and dipped it into the mercury. When he removed it and put a cork in the top the monk was facing him.
"Here you are, brother." He extended a blue wrap. "For you hand." Skrog bowed to the monk and wrapped his hand.
"Uh, thank you very much." He said and turned to leave.
"Brother." The monk called to him softly. Skrog turned back.
In front of him the monk held a scroll.
"These are the teachings of Asward, please read them and return to us. We can be a place of safe haven for you. For I imagine there are few for your kind in this city." Skrog took the scroll and put it in his leather pouch and slung it over his shoulder. He bowed again, thanked the monk and left.
"I am never doing anything like that again, old man." Skrog said to himself when he was outside again.
The last item on the old man's list was the half a pound of mint. No big request, so to speak.
"The half a pound of mint should be obtained at Sky Hook's Tavern." The old man told Skrog prior to his departure. "They brew the most divine minted ale. You really should try it."
Skrog shrugged the idea off. There was no way he'd be able to purchase ale at a tavern like that. It was a common race tavern and Skrog knew to stay away. However, Skrog respected the old man and knew he'd never send him someplace that was too dangerous.
Before he knew it he was standing outside Sky Hook's Tavern. He hadn't noticed until his feet just naturally stopped. He had hoped it would have taken longer, to delay the inevitable. But he was here. So he stepped toward the door.
Sky Hook's Tavern had been established after the great Goblin war that raged between the common races and the goblinkin for decades as a form of celebrating the common race victory. But the prejudices still ran strong in this country as well as the surrounding ones.
Skrog took a deep breath and entered.
The sound hit him first. Sky Hook's Tavern was loud with bardic music and boisterous chanting of drinking songs in human tongues. There was clattering of mugs slamming against one another and the occasion thud when one landed proudly on a table. Skrog had never drank socially, there weren't any pubs or taverns who'd serve him. So if he drank, which he rarely did, it was with the old man to celebrate one of his human holidays.
The warmth hit Skrog next. Sky Hook's Tavern was a wet hot kind of warm that happens when too many people are crammed into a small space together. It was a nice feeling and made Skrog feel comforted. That was all meaningless when he approached the barkeep whose back was turned away from him.
"E-e-excuse me, sir?" Skrog tried to make his voice as loud as it could be despite the fear that was rising within him. The barkeep turned around slowly. He had a rag in one hand and a mug in the other.
"Yeah, what'dya-" Then he saw Skrog and his grasp of the mug went limp. "What in the name of!?"
It was then that the entire bar just happen to fall silent. The gaze of the patrons all shifted in Skrog's direction.
"A goblin!" Someone in the crowd shouted in disbelief.
"What business do you have here, creature? We don't serve your kind." The barkeep shouted.
"I-I-I am on an errand for-"Skrog began but was soon cut off by a clammer from behind the barkeep. The barkeep turned slightly but he never shifted his gaze from Skrog. Behind him was a door that could have easily been missed, it was made from the exact same wood as the rest of the bar. It had no frame and the handle was a very small metal grip that resembled a leaf.
The door swung open and a giant of a man stepped through.
"A goblin! In MY bar!?" The words shot from his bearded mouth like fire. His face was cracked with age and his hair had long since gone white. He was a man well into his last years, however his frame was still a massive thing to behold. He peered over the bar and saw Skrog. He looked him up and down and then his brow turned sour. He turned to the barkeep.
"Is this the goblin, Fen?" The giant man raised a finger and pointed it at Skrog.
"Yeah, sir." The barkeep replied.
"Did you fight in the Great Goblin War?" The giant man asked.
"N-no, sir!" Fen replied. The entire room was breathless, watching the exchange.
"No, I don't suppose you did." The giant man turned back to face Skrog. "I, on the other hand, did."
The giant man leaned forward toward Skrog.
"I daresay I may have killed hundreds of goblins, hobgoblins, orcs and even trolls." Skrog's hands began to shake. "They are vile, sickening creatures with no sense shame!"
Skrog wanted to flee. Maybe he still could, just turn and bolt for the door. It wouldn't have been the first time he was chased out of a tavern. Then the giant man stood up straight.
"Give the poor creature what it wants and let him on his way." He said to the barkeep.
"Sir?" The barkeep replied.
"I pity you, boy. You seem about the right age. You were born during the war, weren't you?" He was talking to Skrog.
"Y-y-yes, sir. During the last years."
"That sounds right." There was a deep sadness in the giant man's eyes. "Fen, do as I say. Give this boy his drink."
"He only asked for mint, but sir, why?" Fen was confused. "We don't serve goblinkin."
"Was your mother human, boy?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied sheepishly.
"Then out of respect for her you will get this one admittance into my tavern. But let it be known, if you should enter again, I, Sky Hook the Mighty Claw of Woncehall will strike you as dead as if you were your raping father." The giant man brought his face close to Skrog's. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied "Very clear." Then Sky Hook stood up again and faced Fen.
"The mint, Fen."
"A half-goblin?" Fen replied in shock. "But how did you know?"
"One of the more haunting traits of goblins are their heads and pointed ears. As bald as eggs, they are." Then Sky Hook looked at Skrog. "Is this one bald?"
Fen, as well as the entire tavern looked at Skrog, he was not bald. He had black matted hair that wasn't very long, and a short curly beard that grew in patches along his face.
"But the most haunting thing about a goblin are their beady red eyes. Those eyes still haunt my dreams."
Fen gazed into Skrog dark brown eyes. They were still the size of a full blood goblin, larger in proportion to the rest of their face, but very humanly brown. Beyond those two differences, the only other thing that set Skrog apart from a full blood goblin was his height. He was about as tall an average human. Full blood goblins were, in general, the size of halflings or gnomes; typically the size of human children.
Sky Hook turned and headed through his door and left the bar. There was coughing and murmurs from the crowd but within a few seconds the roaring and cheering continued as if nothing had happened. Fen hadn't taken his gaze off Skrog until a loud thud was heard in the crowd. It was then that he snapped to.
"How much mint did you say?" He asked.
"Half a pound, sir." Skrog replied.
"No, its fine." Fen replied as he turned to fetch the mint. He lifted a jar from beneath a floor cupboard. "You are my elder, all things considered." Then he turned back around with a wad of mint leaves in his hand. Skorg extended his hand with the two silver pieces in it. Fen drew his hand out to take them then reconsidered.
"That's quite alright, sir." He said. "Enjoy the mint."
And with that Skrog left Sky Hook's Tavern. He could;t be sure if it was the smell of the alleyway or something else, but his eyes began to water as he headed back to the old man's hut.
-Jestro
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment