Tale of a Goblin

[Rat the Goblin]

My name, it’s Teafsi Phoenix-Flame, though since I adopted it, I prefer the moniker “Rat, the Starbound Trickster” and this is my story.

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My earliest memories are sitting in a room alongside my siblings, dozens of us, within a few years of age, goblins, we tend to reproduce like rabbits, often, and in litters. My litter, I was the youngest of three, all of us identical, our poor mother, Tyn, the oldest, Ezia, the second of us, and me, Teafsi.

Each of us was trained under the expectation that someday we’d need to have the power, and the know-how to lead our people, of the city state of Spicemound, as the next hive mother. However, goblins tend not to be long lived at the best of times, more so when running trade routes with the others, see, we were just goblins really, and someday, whoever survived would get the throne.

One by one our siblings died along the pass, until it was their turn. I had already gotten into trouble for… unladylike behaviour, also known as pranking our tutors, so I had been sent to learn the ways of spice farming from our father.

It was here I discovered my love for creating, my love for mixing things together to see what I could create. It was also here that I lost my ability to truly participate in what our home was known for, the production of spices, of making food that would be sought after by those who traditionally wouldn’t have thought a goblin capable of such a feat before my mother took the throne, before our enslavement to the drow was broken.

You see, under the right circumstances, certain spices grown and mixed together can create deadly poisons, or in my case, shit strong enough to burn off taste buds.

That was how I found myself sent to the run, scared out of my mind, a recently discovered knack for poisons, and a knack for knives.

I remember sneaking to the thieves guild, barely able to speak from my injuries, and begging for help, I didn’t wanna die, sure, goblins are raised to be disposable, but that didn’t mean a single one of us looked forward to it, it just meant we knew it was coming, be it from assassin or travel hazards.

I remember the guilds conditions, I had to prove myself before they would teach me. I remember beginning with petty theft, pickpocketing those who were none the wiser, and slowly getting better. I remember the guild master taking interest in me early on, I was still a Royal, looking to escape the training to be a khan, looking to just cook. He knew I could get into the palace, a place very few others could, already several of my siblings had tried what he was requesting before their runs… he wanted me to get the crown, to prove that I was loyal, and that I had learned enough in these few months to be taught.

So I made my attempt, I dressed in my gown, I placed my own tiara upon my head, and hid knives among my skirts. Underneath I had my tunic and pants, if the dress had to be sacrificed I didn’t care, the important part was escape, I needed this, the run was a death sentence to the unprepared, and those who would prepare the others always had a type, whether it be champions or sneaky people like me.

I snuck past the guards, I remember my eyes trailing after each guard as I made my way through the halls, moving slowly, an action that perhaps is why I got caught when I slipped through that door, eyes on the prize. Why I kicked and screamed as I was hauled in front of my mother, holding my youngest newborn sibling, tutting at me as I recognized, “Teafsi, you know better than this,” she looked to her guards, shaking her head. I remember being taken home, and being told to simply pack a bag. My mother didn’t want me killed for my transgression, but simply exiled.

I remember leaving my gowns behind, taking nothing but a short sword and simple leathers. I remember approaching the entrance, a shake in my step, taking one look back, before taking off down it at a run, moving between shadows as I had taught myself. I remember the beasts that lunged at me, confusion on their faces as I threw vials of alchemist's fire. At night I bandaged my wounds, hissing in quiet pain beside a hooded lantern as the deep claw marks marred my skin, slowly healing, the scars vanishing with various doses of my alchemy. I travelled like this for years, refining my craft and hopping thieves guild to thieves guild. My reprieve came in a certain city called Vister, at a certain festival, by now long having abandoned the name of the princess, instead adopting the name of vermin, I was simply “Rat.”

[Rat the Goblin]

I remember the day of my arrival like it was yesterday. It was warm, a festival, the streets were bustling with people, excitedly talking an eating, I remember using stolen coin to buy a new outfit, tailored to me, a simple black halter top dress with a split side, in case I had to run. It wasn’t the gowns I had grown used to, but I liked it more, it was simple.

I remember exploring the grounds, encountering an archery competition with several individuals, a burly fighter guy, Zecht, a little magic guy, human I think, Salem, a dwarf with a bright orange beard, fighter type person, Gotri, an elf magic type, Aurum. Salem disappeared early on, Gotri was sent home, and Aurum runs a bar on a boat we stole.

It was soon just Zecht and I from the group that met that day, though we were later joined by Marris, Lira, Arbor, and Errik, along with snake friend, Goblin (the rat) and Cesar, Erriks wolf friend, who joined us after the loss of his master. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I remember stepping up to that archery competition, and I remember losing. But I remember Zecht, leaning down to eye level, and going, “I think you can use this better than I can.” And handing me a bow that had been runed, it was the first time since home someone had shown such genuine care, and every once and a while, my dreams take me back there, back to the peace, before the first devils attacked and we sent them packing, before we saved people from burning buildings and endeared ourselves to Dorothea. I remember when we found ourselves at the same inn, gathered around a table, the original group, cheering at a fight well won, out of our formal clothes.

I remember eyeing up a gold mug, and planning how to steal it, when a competition was announced, a drinking contest for the mug. I entered, cause it would be fun, I wasn’t expecting to win, just to steal the mug from whatever drunk got it.

I remember watching my party fall unconscious as it didn’t affect me… that’s a lie, by the end I was sloshed, but those toxins I had made and my goblin fortitude had me outlasting even Gotri, a feat that shocked everyone.

That night, I remember drinking coffee from my gold mug. I remember a vagabond approaching our table, threatening us for my prize… Zecht knocked him out, and his ass was dragged outside. We got a running deal, room and board, and while we were there we took out anyone who would tarnish the name of the inn.

Our adventures continued, each step took us further down that path of the unwitting adventurers who ended up saving the world. We learned of a man trying to destroy our world and rebuild it with him as the one true god, and that was where my mortal story ended.

[Rat the Goblin]

The dust settled, I watched, I watched as my friends beamed to each other, I watched as they looked to where I had been standing before the spell had hit me, a small pile of dust had settled where I had stood. I heard the roar of anger and anguish from Zecht, the confusion from Lira, I saw Erriks shock as they realized not everyone had made it out of the fight.

I remember taking a step towards them, to tell them I was still there, a hand rested on my shoulder, the lady of the stars shaking her head, "Sadly, this victory must be bittersweet, your time has come. Though not all is bad, for you can join me among the stars."

I looked from my goddess to my friends, and back, "Can I at least say goodbye?"

The goddess shook her head, wrapping her arm around the goblins shoulders, "Normally I would say yes, but not with the lord of brambles knowing of your existence, he would just put you through the same pain and misery that the drowned one went through for so many years."

The next thing I knew I was settling among the stars, nestled in the tapestry of my goddesses domain, safe, yet unable to visit the people I had come to see as family. I remember sitting with the drowned one who Lira had once been so afraid of, telling me tales of the eternal oasis I had left behind.

I remember the first time I was summoned, it was the first of my cult, the drowned one standing in the back for the first time my feet touched the soil of the world I had once left. I remember looking to each, looking to my friend, a question dying on my lips as I saw the smirk. I had changed, starry wings shone behind me, dark blue eyes flecked with gold landing on each of them as they requested my help, the help of the one bound to the stars, the help of the one they believed I followed.

When I reached home, I stared at the drowned one, voicing my questions at long last, "They wanted my help, why?" A long pause followed, "Why not Ascella's?"

"Technically they did want Ascella's, but many voices cry out, and only a few she is able to help," There was a long pause, "That's where we come in."

I remember a slight swelling of pride in my chest as I looked back down at the world I missed, "When can I go back?"

Time passed, the cult grew over the decade since my life had ended, and I found myself watching the world, longing to return to tell them I was ok. I remember looking an ill gained bag of holding, a sacrifice from one of my own followers who had heard tales of my early exploits. I stepped towards my shelf and pulled down my portable hole, I remembered when I had accidentally created the rift, I knew this may be the only way to bypass the Lord of Brambles gaze.

I was smart, but I was not wise, alone in my own domain I sat, shoving the portable hole into the bag of holding, like any experienced adventurer knows not to do. The rift was opened, and I stared down at my home, carefully guiding the portal to where it belonged.

I remember taking a step through, and I remember searing pain. I remember waking up, my brain foggy as the people around me spoke unfamiliar dialects of languages I knew, goblin, common, undercommon, thieves cant. My head was splitting as I stumbled, unaware yet where I was, only that this wasn't Spicemound, it wasn't home.

My hands found pockets and I found myself guided to the capital, a vaguely familiar brand of assistance being the draw. The dialects spoken bringing a greater sense of familiarity and home as I worked alongside the others.

The letter that soon found my hands would take me on a different path, and I would find myself promising to return to those who had taken me in, that there was a chance for greater profits to be made yet for the guild.