McIan
Journeyman
Ever since PDoink, PD for short, arrived at Sanctuary, the little female green goblin had worked diligently to assimilate into human culture. It was slow going. She had to be house trained, taught manners, how to use food utensils, what the limits of excessive conversation were, etc. Deminatza had done a fine job with her, being patient, comprehensively guiding her into the finer points of human social mores and manners. PD had taken to Deminatza, calling her "friend" which appeared to be a moniker of honor evidently, since that aspect of existence eluded their one-dimensional, selfish, lives.
Alderia had hired her to do menial chores at the tavern, and, so far, all had worked out well; only a few mishaps had occurred. Her pay was good, but most of it went to a dusty backpack reserved for Deminatza. PD had left a book warning anyone from taking the gold therein. The threat was real. From what Scar had heard from the various tenants of the building, she handled a wicked bow and knew quite a bit of magic and would back up the warning.
After the blazing, bizarre, fight in Trinsic, Scar had been consumed with learning what these red goblins were, where they came from, and what was their objective - besides burning, pillaging, looting and basic cannibalism which had been evidenced wherever they had appeared. He decided to invite PD to breakfast with him, to learn what he could from the strange guest they now harbored.
PD knew of and respected Demi and Scar's relationship. She did not fully understand the concept of marriage, but liked what she did see of it. Such a thing was unheard of among her clan, if not among all goblins. So she readily conversed with him, answering his queries as a child would respond to an adult.
"Tell me of your tribe or clan, PD. How many are they and where do they call home?" he asked, using his fork and knife to reduce his over-easy eggs to an orange mush.
PD watched him and tried to copy his actions. She only achieved a process by which egg flew all over the table, floor, and herself, attended by a clanking of metal on porcelain that resounded throughout the dining hall.
Scar frowned. "Please, stop," he asked kindly, extending a hand for emphasis. "This is *my* habit. It is not required to know or do to eat these things. Most people don't even like their eggs cooked this way," he added, smiling.
PD complied. "Not like either! Like all," she stated, meaning eating eggs, shell and all, were quite within her tastes. She began eating what she could from wherever it resided. "Tribe is green. Not grey. Live in... caves. Other land, not here. Many, many of me... us. Mostly tubaks, not many gommas."
Deminatza had told Scar that "tubaks" were males and "gommas" were females. He nodded. "That place we call Ilshenar. It is a strange land to be sure. But tell me, what do you know of the red goblins?"
At that descriptive, PD's eyebrows raised. "Red?! Not see of but hear of. Not know much. Know they very mean! Other goblins afraid. Reds do what want. We keep from or we their slaves."
"I see," Scar replied nonchalantly, finishing off his meal and wiping his mouth. "Are there other kinds?"
"Yes, Others too, but not talk of. Mostly bad. We fight them and orcses too. Some tall two-heads and big uglies join and lead tribes. They like war. They hate humies and others. They talk of war all time. Keep from! Bad! Will hurt humies!" She also completed the meal, devouring the last crumb.
"Do they have a leader... the red ones?"
PD nodded. "All tribes have leader or... group... of leader. They fight sometimes to see who big leader. Not last long mostly. Others kill. Then others kill that one. They all hate others; want only rule!"
"Well, some of the red ones were seen in Trinsic, a city of humans. I was hoping you could tell me how we might deal with them... uh... beat them back to their home?"
PD shook her head, scowling, and locked gaze with Scar. "Then you run like PDoink! Run fast away! Too many. Too strong. You run and live!. You stay? You die. Happen every time!"
Alderia had hired her to do menial chores at the tavern, and, so far, all had worked out well; only a few mishaps had occurred. Her pay was good, but most of it went to a dusty backpack reserved for Deminatza. PD had left a book warning anyone from taking the gold therein. The threat was real. From what Scar had heard from the various tenants of the building, she handled a wicked bow and knew quite a bit of magic and would back up the warning.
After the blazing, bizarre, fight in Trinsic, Scar had been consumed with learning what these red goblins were, where they came from, and what was their objective - besides burning, pillaging, looting and basic cannibalism which had been evidenced wherever they had appeared. He decided to invite PD to breakfast with him, to learn what he could from the strange guest they now harbored.
PD knew of and respected Demi and Scar's relationship. She did not fully understand the concept of marriage, but liked what she did see of it. Such a thing was unheard of among her clan, if not among all goblins. So she readily conversed with him, answering his queries as a child would respond to an adult.
"Tell me of your tribe or clan, PD. How many are they and where do they call home?" he asked, using his fork and knife to reduce his over-easy eggs to an orange mush.
PD watched him and tried to copy his actions. She only achieved a process by which egg flew all over the table, floor, and herself, attended by a clanking of metal on porcelain that resounded throughout the dining hall.
Scar frowned. "Please, stop," he asked kindly, extending a hand for emphasis. "This is *my* habit. It is not required to know or do to eat these things. Most people don't even like their eggs cooked this way," he added, smiling.
PD complied. "Not like either! Like all," she stated, meaning eating eggs, shell and all, were quite within her tastes. She began eating what she could from wherever it resided. "Tribe is green. Not grey. Live in... caves. Other land, not here. Many, many of me... us. Mostly tubaks, not many gommas."
Deminatza had told Scar that "tubaks" were males and "gommas" were females. He nodded. "That place we call Ilshenar. It is a strange land to be sure. But tell me, what do you know of the red goblins?"
At that descriptive, PD's eyebrows raised. "Red?! Not see of but hear of. Not know much. Know they very mean! Other goblins afraid. Reds do what want. We keep from or we their slaves."
"I see," Scar replied nonchalantly, finishing off his meal and wiping his mouth. "Are there other kinds?"
"Yes, Others too, but not talk of. Mostly bad. We fight them and orcses too. Some tall two-heads and big uglies join and lead tribes. They like war. They hate humies and others. They talk of war all time. Keep from! Bad! Will hurt humies!" She also completed the meal, devouring the last crumb.
"Do they have a leader... the red ones?"
PD nodded. "All tribes have leader or... group... of leader. They fight sometimes to see who big leader. Not last long mostly. Others kill. Then others kill that one. They all hate others; want only rule!"
"Well, some of the red ones were seen in Trinsic, a city of humans. I was hoping you could tell me how we might deal with them... uh... beat them back to their home?"
PD shook her head, scowling, and locked gaze with Scar. "Then you run like PDoink! Run fast away! Too many. Too strong. You run and live!. You stay? You die. Happen every time!"