Tatoo's of a Lost Goblin

[Trouble_x_2]

** The Goblin stands in the middle of Hempstead fields, looking lost and bewildered. It was going somewhere... it had something to do.... something important...but as it glances around the empty fields... it can't remember for the life of it what it was.

It looks down at it's hands... and suddenly gives a shrill cackle, memory flooding back to him. But then, with a panicked expression, it dashes over behind one of the farms, waddling and tripping over it's own feet as it goes... as though it had only just learnt to walk.

Resting against the wall, it pulls out a daggar, and slowly, carefully, begins scratching pattern's and vague drawing's along its arm **

"No forgetsh... no'sh.... no forgetsh.... membersh.... membersh" it mutter's to itself over and over, carving various words and phrases on its arm.

It stops... pulling back and examining the work... and for a brief moment... examines the patterns on his skin with total confusion, tracing the outlines with his finger....

... a berry... a pair of wings... a small child... the sea.... a boat....

... it fumbles with some words... trying to articulate them... but... his tongue seems to big... his jaw too wide... and nothing intelligable comes out. It stares at the imprints on his arms again... and... now unable to make sense of it.... grabs a nearby stick of wood and begins banging and smashing nearby things in a fit of anger.

[Trouble_x_2]

** curled up in a dark corner of the Orc Basher's, the little goblin rocks back and forth, muttering and grumbling strange words. In it's hand it holds a daggar, slowly and, obviously painful, begins cutting and scratching new tatto's along it's arm.

" Noesh forgetsh... noesh forgetshh.... noesh forgetshh"  it mumbles, over and over.
Through the blood, the cutting of an arm with huge muscles can be seen.... and two swords crossing one another, with a fire behind them.... and the picture of a berry has been scratched out.

" Badshh Shall! Badssh Shall!" the little creature suddenly begins sobbing and wailing, drool and spit flying from its mouth as it begins banging on the walls in frustration.

[Trouble_x_2]

* The little goblin patters its awkward feet across the grass, coming to stop in a clearing and glancing around, sniffing.
It rummages through its pockets a moment, pulling out several News posters and Warning leaflets and drops them on the floor atop what seems to be a map of Dregar with certain locations circled, and across the top " Find Sall" has been printed in huge, wobbly letters.

Then, as an after thought, it pulls carefully out a Blue rose, tucked safely in its pocket. It gurgles a moment, sniffing it, and for a brief moment, cant seem to remember what the flower was for.
Then it blinks as its memory jolts back, and begins sobbing and wailing, whipping its little coat off and drawing out two rusty short swords.

It widens and stretches its mouth, clearing its throat, then begins hacking and slashing at a wooden post stuck in the ground, shouting things as it does, slowly and.... trying to be clear.

" Notsh fairsh.... notsh fairss... nots fairs....." it hacks more and more furiously, anger creeping in its voice despite its attempts to remain clear.

" Mes goodsh... goodsh... nots fairsh...."

More furious, it hacks and slashes more at the post, till in pure rage, it slices viciously and snaps the heavy wooden post in two. A little surprised, it steps back, looking at its little short sword, and then cackles.

" Bloodys hellsh! Paggeredsh! "

[LordCove]

* The Red bowl sits squarely on the grass, the torn sheet of paper trapped under it flattering in the breeze. The Goblin sits cross legged infront of it, its back to the Wild Surge Inn, scratching its bald head and pondering.
What is it? Where did it come from? The poor creatures little mind just cant seem to recall.
It fidgets a moment, absently chewing on an apple and drooling all over it, when, with a triumphant cackle, its memory returns and it quickly begins scratching and cutting pictures on its arm....  a mountain with a figure falling off, a dogs head and a house on fire.
Sighing contently it drops the daggar and leans back, only to have a poster off the wall stick to the back of its sweaty head and come off the inn wall.

Muttering, it pulls the sheet down and takes a few moments to read it.

It's bloodshot eyes open widely in fear and begins whimpering and whining. Quickly tossing the bowl and paper into its little backpack, it suddenly races out of Hlint, whizzing past startled townsfolk as it shrieks " Storoldsh no killsh! Storold no killsh!"

[Trouble_x_2]

* The Red bowl sits squarely on the grass, the torn sheet of paper trapped under it flattering in the breeze. The Goblin sits cross legged infront of it, its back to the Wild Surge Inn, scratching its bald head and pondering.
What is it? Where did it come from? The poor creatures little mind just cant seem to recall.
It fidgets a moment, absently chewing on an apple and drooling all over it, when, with a triumphant cackle, its memory returns and it quickly begins scratching and cutting pictures on its arm....  a mountain with a figure falling off, a dogs head and a house on fire.
Sighing contently it drops the daggar and leans back, only to have a poster off the wall stick to the back of its sweaty head and come off the inn wall.

Muttering, it pulls the sheet down and takes a few moments to read it.

It's bloodshot eyes open widely in fear and begins whimpering and whining. Quickly tossing the bowl and paper into its little backpack, it suddenly races out of Hlint, whizzing past startled townsfolk as it shrieks " Storoldsh no killsh! Storold no killsh!"

[Trouble_x_2]

** The goblin hovers over the table in the Wild Surge,emptying its pockets of various maps and posters, an Orange bowl and some boar meat wrapped up in rags, spreading them all neatly across the table with its little hands. Then... taking a moment to gaze almost challengingly at the other patrons of the inn, it throws back its hood to reveal its goblin features and settles onto the chair.
Toying with a necklace made of colourful dyed macaroni around its neck, it flips through the various maps, mumbling to itself as it examines each mountain range on it curiously.
Eventually, a rather burly looking man walks over, staggering just a little, a slaps his hand on the goblins shoulder.
" Now 'ere you... we dont appreciate goblin scum in this place... so why don't ya get yer skinny little butt out of here huh.."

There is a slight pause, and suddenly, the little goblin leaps up to stand on its chair and pushes the drunken man back with startling speed.

" You touchsh mes agains and you'll losesh your bloody armsh.... you gotsh dat! Stupid sodsh... I'm "nots" a Goblinsh!!"

The drunk humans face flushes angry red, and seems about to charge forward and ring the little goblins neck, until Ragrian the bard suddenly stops him and leads him away. The goblin, anger smoldering in its eyes, continues to stare a moment longer, then settles back on its chair, flipping through the maps muttering and grumbling.

A few minutes later, it pulls a daggar from its belt and stabs one of the maps with it, sticking it right into a mountainous area.

" Theresh...." it nods to itself, resting its head on its hand....
" I'll bloodysh starts theresh."

[Trouble_x_2]

** The snow fell slowly around the little goblin as it hunkered behind some boxes, the ship lolling slowly from side to side as it sailed down the fjord.
It kept a distance from the rest of the adventurer's on deck, hardly recognising any of them, though it felt sure it would have known most had it been able to remember like it did.
Toying with the coloured macaroni necklace around its neck, and eating half-frozen food from its orange bowl, it reads and re-reads and reads again the letter in its hands, pausing to smile happily to itself or venture a little cheer.

" Founds him... founds him at lastsh. Good olds Storoldsh! " it cackles, and pulling out one of its many maps, it makes a huge X in the Forest of Fogs on Dregar.
" Goblinsh leader mys foots! The buggersh getting hish arse draggeds to jails tilsh me knows where to go to getsh fixedsh!"

It gives itself another, happy smile, before dumping everything back in its pack and moving over to the group and settling next to an elven cleric who he vaguely recalls being nice to him. The dwarfs of the group however, cast him disgusted glances.
He simply listens quietly during the rest of the voyage, snippets of information coming to him, many jogging his memory of times gone past.
Fisterion... Max.... The white Dragon... the poison... the Dragon hunters... the tatooed people.... Kattyrn....
... all of it was making sense, but the little goblin just couldn't seem to piece it all together.

A few moments later, it had curled up into a little ball beside Allei, tugging its coat around it and shivering pathetically. **

[Trouble_x_2]

** The goblin struggled and squirmed in the half-Giants grasp, clawing and rugging at the hand around his throat, holding him suspended a few feet off the ground.*

" Mesh not bloody caresh who you tinks mes is! Gets der hellsh off mes!" it screeched, and sunk its teeth into the half-giants hand.
Barely flinching, and with a frown, the Half-Giant tosses the scrawny goblin off the wall like a rag doll, where it slides and slumps to the floor in a semi-conscious pile.
" Next time we meets... you had best tell truth of who you ares and hopes me not sees you in a dark corner." the Halfgiant mutters, giving a final kick to the collapsed goblin and storming off.

The pathetic goblin begins sobbing, hammering its fists off the damp earth angrily, cursing and swearing, eyeing the mammoth of a beast as it walks off, its huge double axe resting over its shoulder.
" Mes Sall you stupidsh buggersh... and whens mes betters mes gonna kicks your ars...... "
It stops in mid sentence, blinking stupidly at something that floats gently down from the sky. Slowly, it plucks it from the air with its bony fingers and holds it in its hand... almost in awe.
" Mountainsh.... " it whispers to itself, and begins rolling around on the floor, cackling and laughing gleefully. It opens its palm again and kisses the small black feather it had caught, and shoves it safely into a pocket.
" Mountainsh mountainsh mountainsh!" it cackles, practically turning the single word into a song, and waddles its way into Hempstead, sneaking past the guard and hanging around the Orc Basher's shop.

" Toolsh mes up... magicksh mes up.... and me getsh Sall backs!" it giggles, pulling out a daggar and slowly carving some words into its bare skin on its arm. Satisfied, it rubs the wound, making sure the words are clearly readable, and, in shocked joy, it bursts into tears on the steps of the Orcbashers, weeping and sobbing happily.

" Nowsh... " it sniffles, " mes readysh. "

[Trouble_x_2]

** The goblin awoke, and instantly begain wailing and cursing in agony. It lifted its head feebly, and through tear filled eyes, glanced around.

It lay in a cage, hung from the ceiling, in a dark, torch-filled room. Various tables and cages littered the room, racks, torture devices, the very sight chilled the blood.
It struggled to sit up, but every movement was an agony. Its face was beaten, bloody and scarred. Its clothes and possessions had been stripped from it, leaving it with nothing more than bloody rags, and its left hand was broken in several places, some finger twisted and bent back.

Misery took hold as it struggled to remember where it was... how it had got here.... why it was here....

In the distance, through the steel door at the far end of the room, it could hear muffled chanting and talking, and other than the gentle swinging of the cage, it was all it could hear.....

... with its free hand, it rubbed at its bare arm... where it appeared it had cut a recent mark onto its arm... the words Travie with an X beside it....

... the pain getting too much, it slumped its head back to the floor of the cage, banging its head a few times and wailing...
.. which is when it felt it. With a puzzled frown, using its only good hand, it reached into the tatters of its shirt, felt something hard, and pulled it out...

... torchlight reflected off the dull surface of the key in its hands...

... with a fearful expression, it poked its good arm through the cages, twisted its hand and inserted the key slowly into the cages lock...
... it clicked.... and a second later... the cage swung open...

... the goblin blinked, chewing its lip and fighting back the searing pain that sprung from its movements. For a moment, it looked back into the cage....
... its face saddened, misery took hold, and for a moment, it seemed all the poor creature wanted to do was lay down and die....

[Trouble_x_2]

* The goblin stood infront of the spiral of magic pulsating before him. Sweat teemed from its brow, and it fidgeted with the tight ropes that bound its hands together.
It glanced around the room, vague memories coming back. The tubes lined along the wall.. it could remember being in one. And the one that was smashed... the one the "other" Sall escaped from.
And of course... the wizard... decomposing in the corner.
It seemed so clear now. A swap. A transference of minds. And then zap... put them straight back.
But the wizard mis-judged what would happen when a goblin appeared in Sallaron's body.
It smashed its way through, and killed the wizard.
And of course... what was a man in a goblins body to do? Watch its own body run out the door to freedom? Leaving it trapped?
No. It chased after him... not counting on a slight problem with the transference.
A large human mind in a small Goblin mind. After running so far... the goblin forgot what it was doing... where it was going.... and forgot where it was.

Seems it all came full circle.

It stepped slowly into the spiral infront of it, watching as Grohin poked and prodded the "other" Sall into the one next to it.
How strange it was. Not a few days earlier... the goblin, Sall,  had been stood over a cliff... ready to throw itself off... to kill itself... unable to take anymore after the torture and the beatings. Restoration had seemed so bleak and far away then.

And now it stood, glancing around at the people who had risked all to save him. Tegan, Pyyran, Grohin, Saira, Storold. They had brought him to this... a salvation.
Strange how tables can turn so quick.

Tugging on a colour dyed macaroni necklace about its neck, it handed it to Tegan, smiling as best it could... despite the nerves... and stepped into the spiral.

A minute later... Tegan pulled out the Scion of Balance... holding it over the machine which seemed to power the transference.
Again... how strange it was.
The Scion. All those years back.... when he knew there was a reason to claim it, knew there was a purpose to it. How bizzarre it was that it was "that" which was needed to free him.

With a final, deem sigh, and a longing look at his love... the little goblin held his breath as magic crashed on him.....