Breden was in over his head, and he knew it. The green-skinned goblin had tracked the doe for three miles, doing his best to follow her subtle hoofprints. At long last, he had found her in a narrow clearing in the woods, but to what end? While Breden hid in the nearby bushes, he could see that the female deer was just as alert and skittish as ever, her eyes fixed in his general direction. The young hunter did his best not to do anything which would give away his location, but the doe somehow knew where he was.

With few other options, Breden leapt out of the bushes, a stone-tipped spear held above his head. The deer bolted from the clearing down the path she had entered, easily escaping from the goblin's weapon. Not for the first time, Breden drove his spear into the soft Earth in anger, beating his fist into the ground as he cursed his luck.

"Damn it! How does anyone do this?!" It took him a few minutes to calm down. One ruined hunt was no big deal. Not by itself.

Unhappily, he picked up his spear and began the long march back to his village.

"Looks like I'm having a squirrel for dinner again..." he muttered to himself, kicking a pebble as he walked. It made a skittering sound as it bounced forward before coming to a halt. Not satisfied with kicking little shards, Breden kicked a larger rock. It moved, but it hurt. Although goblins had tough, leathery soles not entirely unlike those of a halfling, the same couldn't be said for the rest of them, including their toes.

"Ah, gods! Sonofa-!" he hopped around for a moment, clutching the first and second toes of his right foot. The pain mostly died down after a few minutes, but a lingering soreness remained. It would be hard to run like this, let alone do any more hunting. A tougher male would have been able to suck it up and go through it, but he wasn't a tough male. Not yet. As much as it pained the goblin to admit it, he was still a member of a fragile species, even if goblins were said to be strong for their size. Even hunting a squirrel was out of the question for him today. Not wanting to make things any worse, he slowly made his way out of the woods, eventually reaching the grassy space between the woods and his tribe's village.

The clearing in which his village lay was natural, although it had been expanded to make room for farmland as well as to prevent enemies from launching an ambush from the cover of the trees directly onto the village itself. The soft grass surrounding the village felt much better on Breden's feet than the pine needles and twigs of the forest, and he soon found himself growing relieved as his home grew visibly closer and closer with every step. The walls of the village were made of wood, and were easily the best-built part of the entire settlement, consisting of tall, conical pieces of wood with sharpened tops reinforced by ramparts which were little more than flat surfaces to walk on which the defenders could reach by ladder. Humans called them 'ramparts' but Breden was unsure of what to call them himself.

The huts inside the village were cylindrical structures made of twigs and straw, and it wasn't uncommon for them to catch fire. Fortunately, they were built far enough from each other that the flames were unlikely to spread in that event, and few goblins ever died in the village itself. Few adults, at least. Most goblin huts had just one or two rooms each, apart from those belonging to the chief, shaman, and a few of the more skilled artisans. Privacy was hard to come by, although it was obtainable by putting a blanket between two halves of a one-room hut and staying on the far end of each half.

Breden looked around the front entrance to the village, which was kept open in peacetime. It was little more than a pair of big wooden doors which could be closed and blocked with a thick wooden board, but it did its job well. He scanned the area, looking for anyone he recognized. The village was bustling with activity, and there were plenty of other goblins around at this hour in the late afternoon.

Several young goblins hovered outside the main door into the hillside forge. And several more by one of the windows nearby. A young girl peeking into the window whispers, "Is he at it again?" As if to answer her one of the boys nods. Punctuated by the resounding clang of a hammer on steel. Many of the young globlins maybe 2 years old all told gasp at the sparks kicking off the piece of iron that the old dark haired goblin within the forge works at. One of the girls gasping. It's not the hot metal she's watching but the ripple of the old goblins muscles. She and maybe a few others watch as Koglan Ironweaver, one of the tribes smiths, works at a length of iron.

One of the boys leans over the sill and whispers, "What do you think he's working on this time? It's not the sword like two days ago. I think that's the one in the corner there." Another boy whispers, "It's too big for a sword, and not thick enough for armor. Think it's an..." They go quiet and quickly hide as the weathered face of the goblin, streaked with sweat suddenly turns, his scarred face peering at the door and windows. Koglan grunting and hissing softly, he's not a surly sort, but he is known to be a little gruff every now and then. Again he goes back to work. The thunder of his hammer before he lifts the piece of iron up and back onto the fire.

The young goblins return to watching. One of the boys leaning forward, "I wonder if I could do that someday. Koglan needs an apprentice someday...and none of his kids wanted to be a smith." A roar booms from inside the hill forge as Koglan works the billows heating the metal up again. The young male goblin gasps, "The flames...look at them...you can feel the heat from here!" Lost in the flames he's not prepared to duck back when Koglan turns, and with two scarred hands drags several of the girls and boys into the forge through the window, "If you're just going to babble then get in here and watch closer!" The old goblin growls seating the three he managed to catch, two boys and a girl, down on a stone bench near the wall of the forge. He looks at the doors and windows, "If you've not got lessons with the shaman or your mothers then get in here and sit and watch. Maybe you'll learn something!" He returns to the forge, and pulls again, the children coming to sit down gasp in awe as the flames and heat in the forge rises. From the outside the top of the hill shimmering and spitting sparks into the air.

The old Goblin pulls the iron piece from the fire again and starts to thunder his hammer against it again, calling to the children, "I make an axe today. And maybe tomorrow. I intend to gift it to the young chieftain at some point. It's no master work, but perhaps he'll take well to a gift." His hammer falls again as he shapes the metal, "I am called Ironweaver for a reason. I read the shape of the metal, and bring it to the surface." He brings his hammer down, "Blow by blow." He shifts the metal flipping it and thundering his hammer again several times, "Moment by moment..." He looks at it then returns the axe head to the fire, "I bring out what the metal was meant to be." He points to a side of the forge, "There, a shaft of oak. Strong wood. Well grained. And hefty. Once the axe head is shaped, I'll shape the haft. Chisel and blade to whittle out the shape of the haft." he pulls the rope for the billows again, shoulders, back and arms rippling, "This is the work of a weapons and armor smith. Maybe one of you will get the urge to try it. And I may teach you." Some of the boys look interested. A few of the young girls, on their way to maturity have eyes only for the rippling muscle of the old goblin.

The old smith grins at them all, "Who knows in the end." He turns and pulls the billows again, sparks and flames rising high. Thse young goblins would stay for a few hours later to watch Koglan work. The old smith would gladly show them how he works the entire time. Hoping one of them girl or boy would catch the urge to learn how to weave iron like he did.

A small figure observed the younger goblin stalking a doe in a clearing in the woods for the last mile and a half...well from what Griz assumed to be. He had only decided to follow and observe the lone goblin when he spotted him dipping in and out of bushes when the sun was still relatively low in the sky. The sun had now properly risen in the sky when the younger goblin managed to finally get close enough to the doe, but the doe had already known he was there hiding in the bush. The doe knows he is there...did he forget to mask his scent? No. That would be a mistake of a youngling but not someone older. Perhaps his sweat from the trek? Griz thought to himself as the goblin in question burst forth from the bushes in a last-ditch effort to perhaps kill his mark. Though, sadly, the deer had the advantage of speed and already noticing him and scampered deeper into the woods even before the spear could have been thrown. He frowned slightly at the frustrated hunter. He knew all too well that failed hunts were frustrating; all that time, all that effort, all that energy spent for nothing. But this may be a learning experience for him and a chance to grow from it.

"Perhaps next time, Brenden." Griz muttered quietly to himself as he sees the younger comedically kicking a stone heavier than he could kick and clutching his foot and hopping around in pain. Now that he finished observing the process and outcome of Brenden's hunt, it was time for him to do what he originally went out for. Observing a couple of humans that seem to have wandered a little too close to the village. Griz knew that they were in good terms with the human village, but that did not mean that they were the only humans in the world. He hopped from tree branch to tree branch under the cover of the leaves and shade of the canopy above as he moved closer and closer to where the others said to have seen them. It was unlikely that they were anything else other than hunters that wandered too close to their tribe's territory, but he couldn't take any chances. Especially if they were adventurers. Griz sneered at the thought. Adventurers. Greedier than dragons and more prone to violence than an orc berserker that drank too much grog. He would never forgive them for what they did years before. The raid hurt the tribe as a whole, but it hurt Griz more than other goblins.

An hour or so of hopping from tree to tree later, he finally finds the two humans. They were camping. From what he could see and hear, they were neither hunter nor adventurer. They were travelers that had gone astray from whatever road they were following and decided to stop moving until they finally know where they are...well arguing where they were then and there. The goblin hopped closer to the camp and once he was above them he spoke to them. "If you're trying to reach the human village you're going in the wrong direction." Their reaction was sudden, one of them lept for cover in the tent while the other drew forth a short sword and pointed it at the goblin squatting on a tree branch above them. "It would be wise if you lowered your weapon, humie. If I was your foe I wouldn't have given away my position." The human said nothing but lowered his sword, but did not sheath it. "You're heading towards goblin territory. If you want to reach the human village, you head back where you were walking and upon seeing the large tree split by lightning you head northwest until you reach a dirt road. Use that road and I'm sure you'll be there before the dawn of the next day. Got it?" The man wielding the short sword nods and says thanks to Griz, who waves it off rather casually. He was happy enough from the fact that the humans will be gone soon.

The two pack their things, but never break line of sight of Griz for more than a minute before walking off to follow his directions. Once he sees the silhouettes of the two travelers disappear in the treeline, he makes his way back to the village to report that the two humans near their territory were dealt with accordingly.

Breden walked through the village, hoping to see some of his friends. In truth, his walk was almost a limp, as he tried his best to keep pressure off of his somewhat-injured toes. The village had streets of dirt and had no concept of sanitation in the ways humans or elves understood it. As such, Breden had to watch his step in some areas of town even in the best of times.

He made it to Koglan's smithy. He knew the old blacksmith, but given his age and lack of major successes, never had the money to purchase an iron weapon from him. He wasn't sure how much longer Koglan had, given the short lifespan of the goblins. He stood, watching the smith work, seeing that his endeavors had attracted no small number of females, young and old alike. Most were either too young or too fixated on Koglan to pay an unproven male like Breden any heed, but there was one female who was different.

"Look at that swing. It's almost hypnotic. I could watch it all day." Breden snapped out of his daydream of owning an iron blade by a familiar voice.

"Oh. Siwa. How's the dancing thing going?"

"Pretty well. I still get a few copper coins for it. Wish they'd give me food instead of little metal discs. Can't eat those, and it takes a lot of these coins to get a tiny bit of food from the humans, and they're useless here." The goblins bartered for items among themselves, only using money when they had to interact with merchants from other races. "I don't know why they put faces on them." Siwa showed Breden a copper coin with what appeared to be a king's head on the obverse, with the symbol of the town it was minted in on the reverse; the symbol was that of a triskelion.

"Huh, interesting."

"And how've you been doing, Brey?"

"Eh, so-so. I was on a hunt earlier. No luck."

Siwa took a moment to look him over. "And I see you hurt your foot again."

"Again? How'd you notice?" A small smile came over Siwa's face.

"I'm not just a dancer, you know. My mother taught me the art of massage, and with that comes a certain eye for other goblin's bodies. I noticed that you're avoiding putting pressure on your right foot, that you have a tense posture, and even though I can't see a bruise, there's some discoloration on your toes."

"I... may have kicked too big of a rock after failing to kill a deer."

"Well, if you like, I can help you with that, but not quite yet. When I'm done here, I'll help you out with your foot." She looked directly at the smith, giving a smile. Breden thought about it for a moment.

"Oh, you want to-"

"- I'm thinking about it; not like I'm gonna do anything like that today; I'm just not in the mood. Still, if I'm going to have my first litter, I want a good sire, and getting some blacksmith blood in my children's background might be good for 'em. Plus, if I'm gonna get him to help me there, it'll have to be soon. Best to at least bring the subject up with him."

"You'll have me for a long time, Siwa" Breden looked down at his feet, embarrassed. With a warm smile, Siwa walked over to him and gently ran her right hand through his red hair.

"Brey, we'll have plenty of time to consider that later. You've got years of hunting and fighting ahead of you, and I'm sure you'll be a great prospect for mating one of these days, but for now, a girl's got to go with who she thinks will be good for her kids, not who might be good someday." She gave him a little hug, only serving to interest him in her further. He wasn't going anywhere with her today, tomorrow, and possibly ever. "Plus, while we can't be sure who the father is, it would be nice to think that he'd sire an apprentice or two with me."

"Yeah, yeah. I understand" Breden remarked, not happy at being snubbed yet again.

Siwa waited until it looked like the old smith was nearly done with his work. When the crowd began to die down, she stepped into his shop while Breden waited outside.

The goblin scout returned to the village as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Not a bad time to cover four miles considering his small stature. He was met at the gate by one of the sentries, a rather skittish goblin with a simple wooden spear. "S-so, about those humans the hunters saw last night..." Griz raised a hand to stop the guard goblin from speaking any further and lowered his hood and exposed his bald head to the warmth of the sun. "They weren't adventurers or bandits if that's what you were thinking. They were just a couple of travelers that got lost. I sent them away from our land and hopefully they won't bother us again." The skittish guard goblin's features relaxed as the anxiety left his body. "Thank the Gods, Griz. I really thought they were bad news." The skittish guard goblin let out a chuckle.

Griz too hoped that he made the right decision. He hoped that they didn't bring trouble.

Well, there was no point in thinking about it now. The travelers must have already reached the tree by now and was a long way away from the land and village. He considered entering the village and perhaps resting for the remainder of the day, but opted not to as he did not want to waste a day. He gave the skittish goblin a nod and turned away from the village and donned his hood once more. He then left the village to patrol their borders and watch out for anything that would warrant investigation. Perhaps he may even go hunt something for his dinner and for something the village can trade with.

Vos awoke, alone on the floor of an unfamiliar hut. A small fur blanket covered his equally small frame as he became lucid. As he stretched his limbs, he felt the familiar swirling in his head that came from a night of heavy drinking. As Vos tried to piece together the previous night, he spotted an empty bottle of Elven wine a few feet from where he lay, the answer to why his head was pounding. The hungover Goblin lifted himself off the floor of the hut, moving ever so slowly as to alleviate the spinning sensation. Vos then staggered his way out of the hut.

As Vos pushed open the cover to the hut, he immediately regretted it as the rays of the sun pierced right into his eyes. While it wasn’t an especially sunny day, the alcohol in the Goblin warrior’s system amplified it a hundred fold. Vos covered his eyes with his hands as he waited for his eyes to acclimate to the bright morning. Eventually the pain from the Sun’s light faded to a level where Vos could function, as he removed his hands from his face.

The first thing he then did was to turn around and see who’s hut he had just exited. While most Goblin huts would seem identical to other races, to the eyes of a Goblin there would be many tell-tale identifiers, especially if one was in the village of their birth. Due to that knowledge, Vos recognized it as the home of the sisters Jut and Muk. Upon realizing who’s home it was, Vos briefly remembered some of the night before, but only some. He had just made a successful trade with some elves, explaining the Elven wine, and decided to share it with whichever female would be willing.

The question now was whether that was Jut or Muk? With how similar they appeared, and how hazy his recollection was, Vos couldn’t be sure. Whichever sister it was, they clearly held their alcohol better than Vos, as they had already gone to work today. A hard working woman like that might be a good mother to his young, thought Vos, if the fruits of the previous night took root. Being the venerable age of ten, Vos has sired many a litter in his time, sure that his bloodline would continue. But Vos wondered about how many more young he could produce.

Vos was in something of a mid-life crisis, unsure of what his mark would be on his village. He had been a warrior for the majority of his life, but there were many Goblin warriors. While some considered dying in battle the greatest legacy one may leave for their village, Vos was not so sure anymore. Wanting to be something more, Vos had turned his eyes toward something else. His long-standing interest in the rituals of his people had pointed him in the direction of the village shaman.

Vos had secretly been trying to learn all the knowledge of the shaman, so that one day he may replace them. Of course he was still a long way off from being ready, but he was still persistent in his quest for knowledge. Figuring that he was still too drunk to hunt today, Vos decided that he would hang around the shaman today, hoping that the alcohol had not affected his ability to learn.

The older Goblin warrior set out for the shaman’s hut, a decent walk as it lie on the other side of the village. The bandolier he wore of bones, artifacts, and trinkets, made a clinking sound as Vos set out, the outfit piece a sign of his interest in magic. Along his path he neared the smith’s hut, but what caught Vos’s eye was Siwa, one of the more attractive young Goblin women. She was young enough that he might not have even birthed one litter. As he eyed her, Siwa stepped into the smith’s hut, leaving a dejected young male outside. Vos wasn’t sure how Koglan did it, even in his advanced age he still attracted the females of the village. Perhaps it was in due part to his physique, as his chest looked like that of a warrior in his prime.

Vos chuckled as he approached the younger male outside the smith, Breden was his name. “Yet another impressionable young beauty, enticed by the old man of the hammer,” Vos mused, “Perhaps he bought a charm or some other glamour that makes him so interesting to them?”

A hiss fills the air, as the vat of oil that Koglan stands beside begins to bubble and roil. The fire of his forge flares red as the billows give one more hiss. And soon he pulls the axe head from the oil quench and lifts it high for those who have come to watch, a few men, women and the children, to see the finished product. He hums lays the axe head to the top of his anvil and with abit of a flourish as the old goblin is enjoying the attention he takes a file to the edge of it. And with a grin on his face he listens as the file sings against what will be the edge. He steps back, "And tomorrow I work on the handle." He crosses his arms across his chest, the sweat of his work trinkling down his arms, what can be seen of his chest and down his broad back. He looks around at those gathered, "One day I may make something like for one of you. A head shaman, a new warrior. With hope I am alive and you prove yourself worthy of my iron. Or." He gestures to the precious ingots of steel stacked against the wall. Ten pristine ingots of steel he had procured three years ago from a human trader for the price of four months of work for several iron swords made in the goblin way for some scheme the man had. They rested there waiting to be used. He hums, "Or perhaps you will do something unlike any other, and earn my steel."

The goblins having enjoyed the show begin to leave, a few of the girls lingering for abit trying to catch the old goblins eye. Sure he's old for a goblin, but he's still virile as they know. He's sired no less then ten children through out his life. But Koglan does not seem to be of the wooing mind. They leave.

He's turning spotting Brendan at the door, the young hunter, he knows him he's seen him about. He gives the young goblin a nod. And also ther ebeside Brendan, Vos. Koglan gives him a nod in greeting as well. Koglan very nearly turns away then, when he notices someone approaching. He turns again and narrows his eyes abit, "Siwa." He says, his voice strong despite his years, as strong as those great arms crossed over his chest, "What brings you into my forge young goblin?" The fire behind him outlines the old goblin's body in red as he stands there, "Come to look, come to petition me for something maybe?" He looks to Brendan and Vos, "How about you two? Or are you just here to gawk?" He turns and motions to the three, "Come." He heads for his kitchen area, on the far side of his forge. And sits at his table, waiting for the three to join him.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just... fine" Breden replied, not really sure of what to say as he joined the smith, stepping inside as he was invited in. He didn't plan on entering, not wanting to watch as his chances to lie with Siwa slipped out of his hands once again, but he didn't want to say not to Koglan's invitation either.

Siwa marched forward into the kitchen area, confident that Koglan would accede to her wishes one way or another. The trick was making sure she didn't come off as overeager, and to be sure that he wasn't going to be too eager himself. While he was getting up there in years, Siwa was sure that the smith was still capable of siring children for another couple of years, and that he'd be capable of performing during the process, so to speak. Even so, she didn't want to do anything quite yet, and had to make that clear. This was for the future, not a statement of her wanting to do anything this instant.

"Who wouldn't want to come to watch a big, strong blacksmith do his work? You've contributed so much to our people over the years. Gods knows that our warriors wouldn't be nearly as good in battle without your iron weapons."

Breden couldn't help but to feel inadequate once again. He was only armed with stone armaments and could only dream of getting his hands on an iron dagger, let alone a spear. It wasn't that Koglan charged an arm and a leg for his work, but that he needed to be compensated for his time and materials. The village had to import iron from the rare merchants which came their way, or else scavenge iron tools and weapons from the woods. Breden had looked for such weapons before, but never had any luck. Of course, he knew that humans had other metals far beyond iron, such as steel, a very rare material for goblins. They couldn't even make steel themselves; it had to be bought from the humans. Other races in the area used materials he had never even heard of, let alone used in combat.

Siwa continued her speech, knowing that flattery could only go so far. "I know that males don't know who sires whom. It's our way, and I wouldn't want to imagine kids running around this forge anyhow. Not safe. It's best that you continue your work alone. That said, no one lives forever. Wouldn't it be nice to have an apprentice to take on your duties when you're gone? I can help with that. Maybe he'll even have your blood, too." She gave a seductive grind of her hips, but kept her clothes firmly on. "That, and I'm sure I can give you a very nice break from all this hard work, if you know what I mean."

Breden only heard Vos enter after Siwa gave her little speech.

"Oh, Vos! I didn't notice you there. Heh, Siwa has her way with males, but I don't think she's being charmed by anything. She's looking for sires - but not me - for her kids." Goblin females could have children in a litter from more than one father, depending on how many males they laid with, in part. If a female had a litter of four children, it was possible that two might be from one male and two from another. Of course, it was also possible that the ratio might differ based on luck, potency, and how often she 'saw' each male during a given time period. Even when goblin females had contact with only one male and thus had reason to know exactly who the one father was, the male played no real part in raising his kids, but if he could be reasonably sure they were his (a very rare occurrence), it wasn't uncommon for him to stop by with food and other gifts for the family.

Griz had forgotten how long he was squatting on the tree branch near the river bank. An hour? Two? Or maybe it had been only a few minutes and he was too engrossed in observing his quarry for the day. A giant frog. The creature in question was currently sitting in the shallow portion of the river bank. It was rather uncommon for Griz to find such a specimen this close to the village, perhaps it was seeking for a mate? Improbable. It wasn't the rainy season yet; not at least for another month or so. So for what reason did this giant frog appear from its burrow and this far upstream? The goblin had no answer to that question, but he sure did want to eat frog for his meal today. Slowly he crept from tree branch to tree branch, these animals were not exceptionally dangerous foes but he did not want to be swallowed whole and smell like frog spit for Gods knows how long.

Once he had positioned himself to a branch stable enough and linear to the position of the frog, he brandished his hunting knife. He wasn't sure if he could finish the slippery beast with a wooden arrow, but was sure that stabbing something with eight inches of sharpened iron on the head killed most things rather quickly. With a single bound, the hunter lept ten feet towards his prey. Iron met flesh, and Griz waited for the creature to drop dead instantly. A beat. It didn't die. He missed the head by a handsbreadth and pierced it's back instead. Griz's eyes widened as the giant frog began to thrash around in agony, causing the little goblin to clutch onto his still embedded dagger for dear life. The chaos scattering all his wooden arrows around the bank and as the giant frog did one particularly strong buck, the dagger was dislodged from it's back; goblin and all, and into the river. The current was simply too strong to resist against and Griz was swept away by the river.

Deeper into Orc territory.

Everything hurts...
It's so dark...
Mama, help...
I'm so scared...
Please...

---

Griz's eyes shot open just as his body forcefully expels the water contained in his lungs and esophagus. Burning all the way. A violent coughing fit as he tried to remove any vestiges of water out of his lungs. Leaving him breathing haggardly as he tries to regain his bearing in the darkness. Hazy and blurred eyed his surroundings, hoping that the moonlight would serve enough illumination. There were dozens of what seemed to be trees. An odd bush or so. And a totem that caused the goblin's heart to sink to the pit of his stomach.

An Orcish war totem.

A sturdy looking stick with a stag skull that bore the symbol of their god, painted black and red. At the bottom of the stick were stones to keep the stick standing tall and proud, and just after the stones laid the skulls of many a foolish trespasser...or sacrifice. Several were small, goblin-sized skulls. The remaining four were from larger humanoids but Griz couldn't distinguish if it were from a human, an elf, a halfling, or a dwarf. More skulls meant that this was an area where Orcs would find victims often and would be patrolling this area more than usual. "Shit..." He wheezed out as he stumbled to his feet and looked around for his hunting knife. Thankfully, the large blade was only a few feet away from his position. At least some of the gods smiled on him. He sheathes the knife and does his best to find a clearing in the dark woods so that he can at least know how far he was from the village.

Koglan hummed, reaching to the middle of his table and pouring a quad of glasses with a juice made from some nearby berry bushes. Pouring out a sample for everyone. Siwa had said her piece. And the old goblin smith had not expected any overt attempts at a mating proposal at all. Atleast not today. He sips his drink, mulling over what was said to him just now. He looks at the two other male goblins in the room, wondering for a moment or so, what their opinions on the matter at hand is. A female propositioning another male in their presence for well help with a litter. After a moment Koglan speaks, the old smiths voice rumbling, "Do you know, how many females come to me? It is, some kind of allure maybe, borne from my work in the forge, and the signs of my youth as a warrior briefly." He slides a hand over the angry white scar on his face, "I served Tili, the matron of six litters. And young Biy just the other day. Her first litter as well. But do you know what they had in common." He grins brightly as he relaxes back in his chair slightly, "I'll tell you, they came to me second. I am an exacting father." He gets to his feet suddenly, motioning Siwa and the two young males over to a window.

Outside across the street behind his forge a training session is in progress. One of the warriors had a few of the younger hunters and warriors with him, going over some skill or trait that older warrior felt would be useful for the younger goblins. Koglan motions to them to look out the window, "Here...see...the slightly grey skinned ones there..." Two in the group knelt and listened to their elder. "Those two I know, are mine. It doesn't look like it but I know. But I know it. And though I wished one of the last litter or the litter before that felt the pull of the smith, the allure of the hammer and forge, I couldn't be more proud." He steps back from the window, "You're what...five? Seven? I'm not quite sure. Tell you what Siwa." He reaches up and grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the rough calluses of his hands rubbing her skin, "Gain bearing, this is your first litter? Gain some bearing. Find yourself a young male, someone in need of his first breeding. And when you feel you have some experience." He grins, letting her go, "Come to me. And I will give you not just the lay of your young life. But a smiths seed to add to the mix." He nods crossing his arms across his chest, "I have spoken on this matter." He nods again sagely.

He's about to turn but stops, and points to Vos and Brenden, "Maybe one of these young fellows will help you with your first litter. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a good lay with a comely young goblin like yourself Siwa." He nods then motions, "Stay or go. The axe is ready for the next phase. But I still have iron to work for the warriors. I have been tasked with hammering out a set of iron heart plates." He walks to the forge, "Or perhaps one of you three would brave the heat of the forge to learn the art of the hammer?" He looks at them, as he pulls the chain for the billows. The three large contraptions relax and the flames flare behind him. He's already picking up hammer and tongs again as the flames grow hotter and hotter, "Either way, I make weapon for our warriors, knives for our hunters. Maybe you will get one Brendan." He nods, "Maybe." He pulls the chain again, the fires roaring again, "Time will tell, for all of you. Siwa, Brendan and Vos. Time will tell when your destinies come forth and your are ready for greater things." He smiles again as he lifts a ingot of iron into the forge. "I hope I'm still here to see it."

Needless to say, that was not what Siwa had wanted to hear. Time was not on her side, for while Koglan wasn't exactly about to keel over dead, his reproductive life was somewhat shorter than his actual lifespan, as it was with all goblins. While he could technically have children later than a female could, the odds of conception went down after a certain point. Still, he was firm in his decision. She wasn't going to get anywhere on this point with him.

"I understand. You ought to know that I'm not going to breed with an unproven male, though. Still, nothing is stopping Breden from proving himself later on."

"I'm right here, you know!" he exclaimed, not liking it that she was talking about him as if he weren't in the room." Siwa looked him over, still unwilling to bed him. As for Vos, she didn't really know him that well.

"Also, if you were willing to 'serve' Biy, why not afford me the same favor? It's not like I'm a virgin, just that I've never done it enough to conceive a litter. I have experience, trust me."

"She's going to come back later" Breden explained. "She'll take no for an answer today, but I guarantee you she'll be here within a week again. Probably the day after tomorrow."

"Brey, you shouldn't speak about someone as if they aren't here" Siwa reminded him.

"You just did that to me yourself!"

"When?"

"About a minute ago!"

"I-I-uh..." Siwa had to realize that she wasn't exactly making herself look mature in the eyes of the old smith. "Tell you what, I'll give your advice a shot, look for another male, and whether or not I find someone else who's suitable, I'm coming right back in here. It works out anyway; even if you had said yes, I wouldn't have done it tonight."

"She gets her way, sooner or later. Might as well give in now, Kog." Breden remarked, wincing a bit as his toe continued to throb with pain.

For a long while, the only sounds that were heard in the forest was the ambient noises that nocturnal animals and creatures made and the soft footsteps of the lone goblin. Griz shivered slightly as a rogue wind hit him in the back. The nights were not unfamiliar to the goblin...but it just seemed that tonight was colder than usual. His soaked clothing was the most likely suspect as to why but perhaps his growing anxiety was also to blame? I mean, who in their right mind would be comfortable in orc territory? Nonetheless, he marched on deeper into the shaded forest.

A couple of hours passed without any issue nor encounters with beast nor orc alike. Though another pressing issue was the hunger pangs. A whole day of moving around and nearly drowning only made the hunger worse. "I'm gonna have to find something to eat soon." He muttered to himself before stopping his search for a clearing and starting to look for something to sate his bodily need. The easiest method was searching under some rocks or fallen branches. He would have searched for some herbs or even fungi, but he had never been in this territory before and doing so would possibly be fatal.

Approaching a rotted branch that seemed to have fallen down some time ago, the goblin used his knife to pry it open and reveal a myriad of insects that writhed and wriggled around aimlessly. Griz looked and scanned each one and identified which insect was safe to eat or was not. Usually, he could identify them by color but in the dim light only made the vibrant colors into shades of grey and black. Rather than risk eating a poisonous bug with no shaman or antidotes nearby, he would opt to only eat the larvae and beetles he found. They were bitter and mildly difficult to eat fresh but at least now he was no longer hungry. He continues his trek through the forest in search for the clearing.

As the ingot heated in the flames, Koglan stood listening and watching Siwa. He quirked his head to the side and a short smile graces his lips briefly as he watches the shock and maybe even outrage pass over the young goblins face. Like her plans had just come undone. He couldn't help but be a little proud of that fact. The powerfully muscled smith nods slowly, "Siwa. Right now, we stand at a point you will not get your way. Yes I served Biy, it is true. It's not that you aren't or are a virgin, nor that you have a lack of experience. I want to know that you have atleast explored your options."

He couldn't help but boom a short laugh as he watched Brendan and Siwa banter. The young gobliness was not giving a good show of herself at the moment. He finally nods, "Well perhaps at some point in the near future you will return, having atleast attempted to find someone to start your first litter. And when you return we shall speak again." He turned, as if the conversation is forgotten. With a pair of tongs he pulls the angry red heated iron ingot from the forge. And sets it to the anvil, taking up the hammer he uses to work the heated metal he begins to work at it.

He speaks with some amount of effort now while he works, "You will come back I'm sure, and we can speak again of your wish for a litter. We all know that I will not be the only one offering up his seed to that litter. But if you come back, I might be convinced to help you." He looks up at Brendan, a look on his face. It's clear, he's playing hard to get. This look is hidden a moment later as his hammer descends and slams into the metal. He motions with his hammer at Siwa and Brendan, "I have spoken on this matter." A clear dismissal on this portion of the conversation it seems.

Siwa nodded, not wanting to continue this right now. "See you soon. We'll do it next time, Kog. Brey, let's go get that foot checked out."

Breden kept silent, knowing that Siwa, although honey-tongued when she wanted to be, was rather volatile when angry, and she wasn't happy at all right now. Breden walked alongside her, too slow for her taste, given his injured toe. The two of them left the forge and slowly made their way to her hut. Siwa calmed down a bit as they traveled, leading Breden to finally work up enough courage to ask her something.

"So... you are looking for another male, right?"

"Just to appease him and be able to return without lying. The gods don't like it when goblins of the same tribe lie to each other. And no, I'm not gonna mate with you, so don't ask."

"Wasn't going to."

"Just making sure. It's not like I think I'm too good for you, Brey. You're a nice guy."

"Maybe I should try being a jerk. They seem to have more luck getting laid."

Siwa thought about that for a moment. "It's not because they're jerks, but because they're seen as strong by some naive females. Even so, you'd need to be more fit to pull that off, or at least, get better at hunting."

"Gee, thanks Siwa."

"I don't mean to be harsh, Brey. You're not weak, but you need to do more than just barely feed yourself to be seen as good mating material. It's not gonna just happen, and it's not going to happen overnight." They arrived at her hut, and she entered first, gesturing for him to lie down on the pile of straw which served as her bed. He did so and she picked up his sore foot, immediately getting to work on his injured toe. She gripped the digit, using her thumb to rub the underside of the toe. It felt good, but she could tell that the rubbing along wasn't fixing the issue. Siwa firmly tugged on the toe, loosening the muscle which had tightened, then squeezing it and flexing it to restore its flexibility. She then moved her hands down to massage the rest of his foot, attempting to console him for his lack of mating success with her.

"Just lie there for a few minutes, Brey. I'm gonna rub both feet. They body abhors imbalance, after all."

Breden closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Today had not been a good day for him on any level, apart from this little treat.

"Feels good. Thanks."

"Anytime, my friend."

After another five minutes, she ended the massage, then stretched out her hands. "Well, that's it. I'd stay for longer, but I've got to get looking for a mate. Gotta at least be able to say I tried."

Breden stretched his foot. "Feels much better. Thanks!" He stood up, flexing his now-better toe. "What was wrong with it that you could fix with just a rub?"

"Nothing special, just a cramped muscle. It's easy to fix if you know what to do. Well, goodnight!" Breden left her hut and slowly headed down to his place on the other end of the village.

Koglan hums, one hand moving oneof the five heart plates he's been working on in the heat of his forge. The other hand is pouring a strange amber liquid into his quench trough. His face is ruddy, sweat dripping from his arms and down his neck. He smiles, the acid he's going to use for the quench, the very last of the basilisk acid venom he had bartered for almost 10 years ago now. His master had shown him this, a quench in acid would often turn the iron into something far stronger then a quench in water or oil. He stepping on the pump below the trough, setting the flame under there to heat the acid. Until heat haze rose into the air. He had to be quick, he wouldn't want to leave the acid too long, or he'd have to have a new trough made. The heart plates are for the warriors, protection is paramount after all. And it would not do to leave them waiting too long.

As he waited for the acid to heat up correctly he looked to the heart plates. They were ready for the quench. He nodded, he looked to the acid, almost ready there. He looked about his forge, clean, and ready for the next task he'd be asked to do. He waited and his mind drifted a little. Hmmm much had happened this day and evening. He'd started work on that axe, and finished the head in good time. He could heat it again come morning, and work the haft. Before burning the axe head onto the haft to fit it right. A gift for the young chief. But the spark of the day. He had to give that to Siwa, and her mating proposal. He chuckled a little, the young gobliness had been very articulate. And very smart, even if the end of the situation had left her without the answer she wanted. He found it amusing. But it was well intended. He had sent her off with a challenge.

Koglan pulled the first of the five heart plates from the forge and with his tongs plunged it into the acid bath. The hiss of heated metal in a liquid the acid roils, the quench if swift as he pulls the armor free letting the acid drip off. He takes a file and slides it across the edge of the armor. It's a perfect sing his of iron on iron. Perfectly quenched. As he brought up another heart plate, he thinks forward rather then backwards. Siwa will be back, he knows that. Brendan had said as much, and he knew that he and Siwa are close. He'd just have to wait. He swore if she came back and had atleast try, he'd give her what she wanted. Another heart plate went into the quench.

Somewhere in the night outside a coyote called to the moon the dark of the night have set in completely. And yet Koglan worked on.

Not long after his meal of larvae, he finally found a clearing in the forest large enough for him to identify the constellations and perhaps know how far he was from the village. The gods were merciful to the goblin as there was nary a cloud in the night sky and the twinkling of distant stars could be seen with clarity. He was a seasoned survivalist and knew over a dozen constellations that would tell him which direction he was facing. After locating the Cavia Oriental and the Southern Star, Griz knew that he was walking northward. Ironic considering that he was trying to move away from Orc territory but instead was heading deeper into it. It was a miracle that he had not encountered any traps, what more, any patrols.

After reorienting himself to face South East he let a quiet prayer of thanks to the goddess of stars and gazed upon her celestial canvas one more time before he started walking again. There was one star he would solely focus on. It was a lone star that was not part of any constellations, major or minor, he had learned or heard about nor was it the biggest and most brilliant star there was in the sky. Still, the sight of it brought a smile on his face and filled him with a sense of comfort...of grief and anger to a lesser extent. It was one star he would never forget in a million years. It was her star after all. He gave the star a faint nod before leaving.

---

Of all the times his luck and favor from the divines to run out, why did it have to be gaking now?! Griz lamented mentally as he ducked underneath a chop of an orcish axe, by mere inches, that would have easily cleaved him twice over. Made more clear as the crude axe blade imbedded itself deep into a tree twice Griz's width. "Gah! Stand still ya weazly thivin' grot!" His brutish pursuer roared at him as he promptly ignored it and kept running for his life and keeping the burlap sack gripped tightly in both his hands. The goblin was regretting the decision to take the thing, but better in his hands than the orc's. Another swipe barely misses him and causes the loose earth beside him to propel upwards, showering both in bits of dirt and stone.

Fighting was out of the question, especially after a single strike from the brute had half broken his knife as he parried a lethal blow. If he were to survive this night, he was almost sure Koglan would tan his hide for letting this happen to one of his. He just hoped that the contents of the sack would be enough to justify keeping him alive. But that was a problem for future Griz, he needed to focus on surviving this encounter first before anything else. Outrunning the orc would have been child's play for the goblin under normal circumstances, but with the added weight of the sack made the escape far more difficult than it needs to be, compounded with the orc's reckless axe swinging.

Then a slip-up...

He had failed to spot the mud and before he could react fast enough, he lost traction and slipped. Everything went in slow motion. First, he slipped, then the orc. It seemed that there was still some luck in play. Griz scrambled to his feet and drew his half-broken knife and slammed the knife into the prone orc's throat. The effect was immediate as the brutish humanoid slammed his fist into the goblin's ribs sending him three feet to the side. Clutching to his severely wounded throat, the orc's eyes filled with bestial anger and was on the goblin in a second. Wringing Griz's throat and slowly squeezing the life out of him. Struggle as he liked, it was a completely one-sided battle and the corners of his vision were getting darker and darker each passing moment. Griz had to act now or die. Mustering all his might into his legs, he curled up and loosed a kick with herculean force to his still embedded knife. There was a sharp snap as the lower half of the knife dropped to the mud below, the upper half stuck out of the back of the orc's neck. He looks at the still imposing body of the orc, fearing that even after all that damage it was still not enough. The orc's grip loosed at his throat and he scurried out under it and gulped down as much air his lungs yearned so much for. The orc's lifeless body slumped to the mud and, even dead, it still scared Griz to the core. He was mere moments from death and he still managed to nearly kill Griz in those few moments.

The other races were right to fear orcs.

Griz rubbed his sore throat and, sure enough, he was still alive...albeit bloodied and battered. It would likely take him days to recover, even with the help from the shaman. Slowly, the goblin stood up and collected the discarded sack and sheathed what remained of his knife. This was going to be a longer walk than he was expecting, but at least he will be back to the village before the next day's dawn. "Gods above...this was going to be a long walk."

Breden's hut was only slightly larger than Siwa's, and was just as sparsely adorned. Neither goblin was had much wealth, although if he had to guess, he was slightly richer than Siwa, as most of her payment was in the form of food, while Breden could at least sell the skins from the animals he had hunted. Of course, no one got rich from selling squirrel and quail hides, and turtle shell, although attractive to some buyers, was generally seen as worthless to the goblins. Turtle meat also tasted foul, although it was sometimes the only food Breden could catch. He lay down on his straw bed and thought about the events of the past day.

By contrast, Siwa was determined to do her duties to the tribe and breed as many strong offspring as she could. At least, that's what she told herself. It was convenient that the tribes needs and her desires happened to overlap so well, perhaps. Or maybe she was merely wrapping her lusts up in a selfless package. Then again, her urges would lead to more work for her as a mother, so it couldn't all be selfish, could it? Was it so wrong for her to want strong children, to bear her blood to the next generation after them? And the generation after that?

The female goblin set aside such thoughts as she groomed herself using what few items her hut had to offer. Siwa was a gobliness through and through, and yet she still found uses for a number of human inventions and conveniences, perhaps the nicest of which was a comb. Goblins had brushes made from branches and pine cones, yet none of them had even thought to make a tool with fine "teeth" in it which one could run through their hair. Siwa had bought this with half of the coins she had been given one night in a human tavern as payment for her dancing on stage there several weeks ago. She wasn't quite sure why humans valued dancing so much. Goblins used dancing for religious rites and to attract a mate, yet none of the humans seemed interested in her. Not that Siwa knew it, but the humans considered her more of a novelty than anything else, an attraction which was only found in that one specific ale hall in that one village. No matter what the arrangement was to her, it paid for some things, and now was the time to use them.

Siwa finished combing her hair and looked into the glass she had found on the streets in the human town. Broken though it was, the clear glass served as a mirror, one of a few in the village. Her long brown hair had been made straight, and it fell on either side of her head, behind her pointed ears. She then sat down for a few minutes and rubbed her arms, legs, hands, and feet with a small rectangular bar of something the humans called soap. The last time she was in town, Siwa had bought two bars, one of which she had attempted to eat based on the fine smell. To her dismay, the pine-scented bar tasted terrible, and she concluded that it was not a food meant for goblins. She thought she was being clever by rubbing it against herself and washing the soap off with later from her bucket, as if no one else had thought to use the exotic human food in such a novel manner.

Satisfied that she was clean and fragrant, Siwa set out of her hut as the sun went down, hoping to find a male to mate with. Of course, if she didn't find one, Koglan was still there for her. Of course, she had no intention of actually mating with another male, only to look for one. She wanted the smith's children, no one else's.

Griz's vision was swimming and his breathing was getting more and more ragged as he went along. The adrenaline had long past and now the goblin's stride devolved into a limping gait. The numerous cuts he sustained from the pursuit had stopped bleeding but he was almost sure that the mud, even now that it dried upon his body and clothing, would risk infection if he didn't get clean soon. Worst of all was the swelling in his left ankle and the constant throbbing pain where the orc punched him. Likely a sprain and a couple fractured ribs; injuries that were far from fatal but were very painful to endure. He wasn't sure how much longer could he keep this up.

Finally, a light in the distance sparked hope in his heart. He was near. So close to safety and security, yet it all seemed so far. Griz mustered all that remained of his strength contained in his battered little body and pushed on to the task's completion.

---

A goblin with a stone-tipped spear lazily looked onto the darkness of the forest ahead of him, it had been hours since anything of interest happened and that was when he saw a young hunter, he thinks his name was Breden, limping after a botched hunt. Other than that? It was just the boring usual of seeing goblins going in and out and maybe seeing a funny looking cloud in the sky. He prayed to the gods for something exciting to happen. And he got his answer in the form of a bloodied and beaten dirt-caked goblin that carried a burlap sack. "Griz? What in the nine hells happened to you?!" He asked in mild panic while rushing to help the battered goblin, it was very rare for him to see Griz this messed up. Hells, even earlier today he saw him chatting with another guard and he didn't worse for wear at the time. "Got...into some trouble...but got some great loot...in return." Griz tried to smile, but all he produced was a tired wince. The burlap sack was finally released from his grip and its contents spilled out to be seen under the torchlight. There were a number of precious gems, varying from amethysts to opals, and some human coins that looked like silver but were much shinier.

Though the most eye-catching items were the pair of runed short swords of Dwarven origin and a necklace with an obsidian pendant resembling a black dragon with baleful emerald eyes, clutching covetously onto its chest where a lone lapis lazuli star is embedded. "G-griz...where did you even get this?" Griz only had one thing to say. "North." Before promptly passing out in the arms of the guard goblin. "Griz? Griz! Someone, please help!"

Koglan let his hammer fall one last time. The billet complete. And the time late. He looked out a window, hearing someone yelling for help. He stepped to the door of his forge, looking about, then hearing it again, body heat high and steam from his work filtering into the air above him he set off steadily to the location of the shout for help. Entering the gate area he spotted the guard and in his arms, isn't that young Griz? The old goblin hurries close, "Here let me help." He growled out, "Take his loot bag, and let us get this young man to his home. Then fetch one of the healers. He's going to need it perhaps." He takes Griz from the guard's arms, and with the ease of a goblin holding a great deal of strength in his shoulders and arms, he lifts Griz, and trying to remember which hut is Griz he carries him that way.

Soon he's shouldering open the door to Griz's hut, or what he assumes is Griz's hut. He doesn't bother to look around to make sure it isn't. He makes a beeline for the nearest bed. And places Griz down in it, "Here then." He looks about and spots the guard, "Put his loot bag down, and find a healer you silly goblin!" He calls. Then turns back to Griz, "What did you go and get up too I wonder." The old Goblin's eyes narrow, "But this...is quite a sojourn. Yes." He stands and waits for the return of the guard and the healer, "You I believe have earned my iron Griz." He looks over at the stone spear that the guard brought with them, going over to grab it, and as a healer and the guard return he nods and sets off, taking the spear with him, "Tell him, when he wakes, to come and visit me." He tells the guard and healer.

It's not long after that, that the sound of Koglan's hammer can be heard from his forge again. A long, thick billet being hammered away at, the head of a spear by the looks of it.