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The story of one goblin character:
Muska The Chiseler
Two goblin tribes were at war for one another, spurned by who owned a certain cranberry grove in the swamps.
They fought and neither gained much advantage. Now one goblin chief had a friend in a large mining town or rather an acquaintance. The Lord of this town oversaw the whole procedure and was well known for his mining slave workers. The chief and him had struck a simple deal, the goblin chief would sell several of his people a year to this Lord in exchange for food and occasionally money.
Since this kept the tribe fed they did not mind too badly to lose a few of their own. This time the Chief made a deal that if the mining Lord would send him a few warriors to aid him in this fight he would give the Lord a quarter of the surviving goblin of the opposing tribe. This was done, and the Chief won. The chief of the losing tribe was bound and brought before both tribes.
The family of this chief was forced to watch as his head was smashed to a pulp by the spiked club of his winning adversary. The several wives of the dead chief let out a wail and sank to their knees. The Chief laughed all the more and announced to the warriors, with manacles ready, that they would not be sold, and they were required to be carried of bound to a hut.
Kneeling by one of the wives was the now dead chief's eldest son of around 9 winters. He gazed at the living Chief with a look of dark hatred in his large black eyes. He tensed to run but several of the attentive warriors had taken hold of the child. The Chief swaggered over and with a gloated grin patted the little goblin on the head. But he found a few moments later that this was a mistake for before he finished the second pat the child had whipped his head up and bit off his middle finger.
The Chief howled in pain and the guards tried to pry the youngster's jaws open but with a triumphant look on his face the child quickly swallowed. Hand bloodied and throbbing, the Chief nevertheless took up a knife and would have slain him right then and there if not for the restraining hand of one of the snickering warriors. "This was one of the ones agreed on. I will not allow you to slay him... out of hand." The company of warriors roared in appreciative laughter.
The Chief scowled in fury but managed to get out, "Take him. But make him work hard. VERY HARD." He forced another laugh and turned his back as the goblin child and a quarter of his people were manacled neck-to-neck, wrist-to-wrist and led away.
The child proved to be of uncommon cunning and deviousness and many a time in the succeeding years came within a hair of escape. He would then lay a torrent of verbal abuse upon his slave masters despite the fierce beatings. They found that no matter what was done to him he would not close his mouth except between bleatings of pain. Finally one day he pushed the Master beyond endurance, and seizing a pair of smith's tongs he had two others grab him and held him still as the Slave Master seized his tongue and with a brutal motion ripped it from his head. A red-hot poker was quickly stabbed within his jaw to cauterize the wound. The goblin writhed and clutched at throat and jaw and face until his face was black with the blood of his clawings. From that moment the goblin was subdued and shunned all goblins and humans as much as he could. He did not eat for several weeks and if not for the thin gruel forced down his throat he would have died. He grew little after this and though he filled out with muscle and scarring, vertically he was stunted. His cunning remained and he was given the job of crafting weapons and shaping stones for the free residents of the town. His attempts to escape did not stop and he was fitted with cruel spiked manacles that dug into the skin just short of drawing blood. He was chained and attached to a small boulder and was forced to drag it about as he worked and with him to his bunk. He started to work impurities into the weapons he crafted and weaknesses into his stonewalls and pillars. This was unnoticed for awhile before a structure being surveyed by the Lord collapsed and the ruins examined. He was decided still too dangerous and unbroken to be kept.
The Slave master gave him to his second in command to do with as he pleased. The sub-chief was soon sent by the Master to strike up a trading arrangement with a pitifully small, yet surprisingly rich mining down in the north of Edra. The chain was unwound from the boulder and with a pull of the chain Muska, former son of the chief of the tribe of the Trembling Prairie was forced through the gates and down the road. Muska was forced to carry a load of supplies and other articles of the sub-chief and was lashed with a whip if he as much as paused for breath. When they at last came to the town muska was chained to the board where he collapsed into a nearly comatose state of exhaustion. He awoke many hours later to hear the subchief's booming voice from the nearby tavern. He no longer cared what happened so long as he was free and with a somehow steady hand, reached to the heavy pack on his back and grabbed a smith's hammer. With several quick intakes of breath he let out a fierce cry and brought it down on his manacled hand. The bones crushed and the muscles jellied he withdrew it from the manacle. With chest heaving and pain beating upon him he ran from the board and directly into the form of a furious sub-chief who had heard the cry. Muska wheeled around and ignoring the commanding voice of the subchief to return he dived down a dark hole in the side of the mountain. Ignoring the gasps of surprise by several bramans he zig-zagged around massive piles of some dead reptilian creature and lost himself in the deep, maze-like area of the Underworld. There he lived off snake and rat and nursed his hand for many months in the pool of mineral water that dripped from the ceiling. Once he could again lift his hand he took off the sack of his enslaver's pack and took from it a chisel. He took several large rocks and crafted two immense marble clubs. Brushing dust from his face he returned his chisel to his side and with eyes set in determination, set out for the above world...
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