Wealth Mountain is an ancient structure in the far away, uninhabitable northeast. It's taller than any other peak, protected by an unfathomable monster, and apparently filled to the brim with precious goldatinum metal.
Four goblins, all of which ha...
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It was a sunny day in Skaal. Goblin children were muddying up their cheap, ragged clothes as they played in the dirt. Spiderbats were gliding overhead, searching for their next meal. Colb, a stout goblin, 23 years of age, let out a peaceful sigh as he crammed the last toadroach into his culinary masterpiece.
Colb took a step back to admire his work. A few days ago, he had purchased a large chickengoose from Gugs, a farming goblin of the Kreet tribe. Here in Skaal, chickengoose cuisine was a rare delight. Most goblins renowned the creature for its plump, spherical hide – this is where the bulk of its nutrition comes from. However, to the more delicate goblin pallet, the best part of a chickengoose is, in actuality, its long, feathery neck. The white feathers coating the outside of the neck give it an elegant, crunchy exterior, while the inside of the tube is a blank canvas of possibility.
For this particular meal, Colb filled the chickengoose neck with crushed and boiled toadroaches. Toadroaches – a small, green insect – melt into a soft and juicy goo when boiled for just the right amount of time. By placing them inside the throat of a chickengoose, Colb had created a masterpiece for the tongue: a crunchy, feathery outside with a gooey, juicy interior. A perfect meal for a particularly wealthy customer.
Colb picked up a broken metal shield, which he had been using for the past ten seasons as a plate for customers in his tavern. He gave the shield a quick polish, and saw his beady red eyes and gnarly green skin reflect back at him through the metal. "Another excellent meal, hmmm!" Colb said to his hairless reflection, as he slid the tube of meat onto the busted shield.
The 3' 2" tall goblin carried the meal through his small, tent-like tavern. He glanced at his restaurant's fabric walls, which were decorated with a set of ragged drawings given to him by some Skaal children – the only decoration in this otherwise dull and dreary building.
Colb let out a short, anxious sigh, then tread towards the single wooden table he'd set up for customers. As he walked barefoot, his sharp toenails gripped the dirt of the unfinished floor. He hobbled along carefully, so as not to drop the precious cargo.
"Hmmm! This will taste good, yes?" Colb stated, placing the busted shield down on the mapleoak table. Across from him sat 27, a wealthy, middle-aged goblin of the Yiklar tribe. Although nobody in Skaal would have such an unusual name, number names were commonplace amongst the Yiklar goblins. To a Yiklar, the numbered name was a symbol of honor, representing great success in some aspect of the goblin business world – with a lower number generally correlating to a more important goblin.
With a number name as low as 27, the customer sitting at this table alone likely represented more wealth than the entirety of the Skaal tribe. Just one look at him verified this suspicion – 27's sharp black robe of fine silk, sinched together at the neck with a shiny purple clip, gave stark contrast to Colb's old leather uniform and dusty white chef's hat.
