Prologue
This world has been around for many millions of years, but unlike many other worlds I have heard of, we have maintained the magic and the creature of "myth" here as an everyday thing. I am Christopher, the father of the goblins, or so my people call me. Most of them are not my fault, and I wouldn't even claim a quarter of them even if I could. I got this illustrious title because I am the first goblin of this World. Since the title demands the respect from all races that keeps me from being killed, I'll keep it. Although I may be greatly respected, especially by my own people, I was not so gently informed that it is esteemed duty to tell the brief history of these stories (. . . yippe . . .).
I could be quite brief as I have done before, but the dirty looks I get from my present audience from this suggestion, tell me that I need to expand on our violent history. Unfortunately, the goblins of this world are no different than any other world, or so my wizard friend Midnight tells me. Midnight has spoken about many different worlds that co-exist with our own. He says that the barriers of our world are much weaker than most worlds. This is why there are such things as dimensional hopping, the wide use of magic, undead creatures, and eternal life here. We also have much bleed over from other worlds. That is why we can acquire strange names, stranger legends, and even stranger religions, and we are all none the wiser.. Magic and dimensional rubbish is not my forte. I leave such matters in the capable hands of Midnight.
I stray the subject. We were talking about the goblin race, and it is sad to say that this is my forte. The goblin race is a vile disgusting bunch of lowlifes on the whole. I would like to disown the whole lot of them, but all I have to do is look in the mirror to stop the denial. I am much too old for denial. Goblins were created a long (and I do mean a long) time ago to be the expendable fighters for the forces of darkness. So, I am a 75,973,208 year old goblin, who can fight fairly well and can see in the dark. Most of the inherent violence has worked its way out of me in my great age. So, I am not as inhospitable guest to other races as you might guess. Goblins will kill (and I might add, eat) anything that is not our own race. We tend not to like other goblins from different tribes or kingdoms, and the stray goblin may well end up on the menu as well. We are our own worst enemy. We tend not to trust other goblin nations, and we will happily make war upon them. It is said that the only way the entire goblin race could unite is for me to be murdered. They would unite and totally obliterate the race of my murderer and anyone else in the way. You didn't think that the other races paid me homage for nothing. I try not to impose my presence upon other races often, but I do like a good meal every once and awhile. Some humans have some excellent dishes, mind you. It is touching though. The goblins would starve to make sure that I am well fed. So, I try to impose my presence on the well fed goblin nations, and where there is something to keep me interested. I am old and bored!! I do perform some duties to earn my keep. I have tutored many a king, and I have often been an adviser. Most of my advise has been ignored, and I often wonder why did they ask in the first place! I have been recently king. I will never do that again! It isn't worth it.
We have fourteen Dark Lords in this world. Each of them is striving towards world domination. Yes, our world is in deep trouble. I don’t get it! Kings and world rulers are marked men. Everyone is out to kill them. I was king once and never will I ever do that again. The hell with it, I say. I’ll stick to be a wandering wise goblin. It pays better with less work. Anyway, out of the 14 Dark Lords, Salcivar, was the most powerful and he created goblins to be his slaves.. Dense as we may be, we are independent souls, and unchecked abuse breeds rebellion. After a couple of thousand years, many goblins broke in freedom from the Dark Lord’s power, and this did not settle well with Salcivar. So, he screwed around with the nature of this world some more and created a few more races to annihilate the goblins (like we weren’t doing a good enough job of that on our own), and they helped create more havoc upon the forces of light. Thus, the gwamin came into existence. Although the gwamin will not kill their own, like we will happily do, they never quite numbered as high as the goblins, and they do harbor a much stronger dislike to sunlight. We dislike sunlight, but when necessity calls, such things must be endured. The gwamin outright despise magic. Goblins aren’t too fond of magic either, but we are resourceful enough to make use of it. Midnight has his uses, and the more you understand a thing, the less forbidden it becomes.
Gwamin, for all their dislike of magic, will ally themselves to a powerful wizard, especially if their tribe is completely and utterly defeated by said wizard. Since Salcivar has not been heard of for many millennia, the other Dark Lords have taken advantage of conquering gwamin tribes for their own minions. Not to mention, Dark Lords have been busy conquering goblin tribes as well. Gwamin are so dedicated to their conquering lord, that they will work with goblins, if the lord so wishes it, but they are not so gullible to let the goblins take advantage of them. The gwamin are an honor bound bunch, and they would die before disgrace. At least, that is how it works in theory. Some things that they call dishonorable, we laugh at. Another reason why we don’t get along. They believe such nonsense as females should not do battle. Hey, we like a feisty female. They keep life interesting. The gwamin do not believe in the raping and pillaging of the conquered. We only disclaim the offspring of such activities. Half elven offspring are an interesting lot, because it is so hard to keep the mother alive until the birth. We allow these half bloods to survive, because not only does their existence piss off our mortal enemies, but the half bloods are usually amusingly insane.
This leads to the history of our young heroine of this particular story. Small goblin tribes are often defeated in large scale raids, and what surviving goblins, who are whole of body, are sold off to different Dark Lords. In this case, the buying Dark Lord was Maltere. A female goblin child was sold in this transaction. A mistake that he lived to regret. When this goblin child reached her fourteenth year, she rebelled and left one hell of a bloody mess behind her, including a bloody heap that once was called Maltere. Since most of his cohorts and servants didn’t care much for the sunlight, she acquired the name of Aurora. I’ve been told enough times by her! She fled to another goblin tribe, where she was not exactly welcomed, but she nearly skewered their best swordsgoblin. They were impressed, and a couple of years later she married this goblin. This story is about some of the most interesting troubles that Morithil, the said swordsgoblin, got himself into, and how Aurora gets him out of it.
