She was naming the treasures available to them. The four trinkets were indeed some of Goblinhome’s greatest possessions. There were other artifacts, like the enchanted longbow Badarrow had been granted that had a magical string and bow that resisted the elements and never needed replacing—but the four artifacts had been the most valuable, each in their own way.
Badarrow got up, leaving his post. Snapjaw was already opening the little hatch that led into the fortress. Into Goblinhome. And Badarrow stared at her back.
But he was still here. And somehow, he was going. Slowly, the Hobgoblin followed Snapjaw; if he didn’t come, she’d pull him along. She was pushy. But she was lonely too. She’d lost her friends. Her Chieftain. And she and he had grown tired of crying alone. So Badarrow took his bow and entered Goblinhome.
What was surprising was to see a fight in Goblinhome. But then—the two read the body language of the other Goblins watching and picked up on what was happening.
Poisonbite was hopping around a female Redfang Hob. Badarrow recognized her as…Shineshield. The female Hob, was a [Shield Maiden]—a survivor of Garen’s last charge—had a unique class. As did many Goblins, actually. They were fewer in Goblinhome. But much stronger.
Snapjaw muttered. Badarrow rolled his eyes and nodded. The Mountain City Tribe, one of the many tribes that now made up Goblinhome, was known for this. They were troublesome, had a different view of relationships and social dynamics, and were much pickier about food.
Shineshield watched them go. Poisonbite looked at her back and half of her warriors dragged her back into her seat. But that was Goblinhome. Building, growing. Remembering. To carry on, Goblins worked or laughed or cried.
She was a bit taller. And as she opened her eyes, a little key dropped forwards, hanging from a necklace. Garen’s key. The Chieftain of Goblinhome looked up. And she sighed.
The little Goblin sat in her quarters in Goblinhome. That was the name for the fortress she’d built in the mountains, with the remnants of every tribe. The Flooded Waters Tribe, the Mountain City Tribe, the Redfangs, the Cave Goblins—even what few of Reiss’ subjects had survived.
Goblinhome was quiet as the Eater Goats were butchered, the rest salted and stored away. Rags was overseeing resource collection. Managing the fortress was all about resources.
And your [Cooks] wanted salt. But you had to find a salt mine, which the expeditions around Goblinhome hadn’t found yet…or buy it. The same went for things like wax for candles, metal for nails, hammers, pickaxes…so many mundane things Goblins prized.
These days, Goblinhome was producing metal. And Goblins at least had a surplus of stone. Some were even growing plants in the valley, thanks to the lake. Water was not an issue. Besides that, they made do. They’d found a way to trade with Humans, and the Eater Goats and other animals provided a lot of resources. Tallow, fat…
