Post by Maur on Oct 12, 2015 5:35:11 GMT
“Are you sure there's nothing following us?” One silhouetted man asked another, as he stopped walking, turning on his heel and scanning the area around them, in the early dawn little was illuminated, and that which was had very little of it. They were standing at the entrance to a narrow valley pass which led through some rather rough terrain. It was the only channel through this region of Piriihu, and these two men sought to enter it.
“I am surer of it than anything my friend, now let us enter.” The second man replied, this one a tad older, and by far the wiser, though a mere two or three years separated them, by his weathered face one could tell he was by far the more experienced, and superior. With his word, and a hesitant glance from the younger, the two plunged into the passage.
Their progress was aided only by the light of a single torch, which the younger of them carried as the sun slowly began to rise over them. Soon they began to tire, the torch, having long burned out, was cast aside somewhere along the path. It was a far distance this 'road' would take them, being through a mountain range. The high walls of this ravine only ascended, and grew straighter as they progressed, before the duo knew it, there were two sheer cliff faces on either side of them, directly up and down, apparently mined out long ago, here the sun had difficulty reaching them being so deep and so covered, which bred a rather cold environment. Most of this passage was uneven stone and sharp, jagged rocks, not forgetting of course, that it was only wide enough for two maybe three men to walk abreast. After a while darkness began to fall, and with the late day sun quickly fleeing the sky, these two weary unknown travelers stumbled upon a hovel of sorts set into the rock, large enough for both men to sleep in should they choose so. It seemed as if some workers of this lane or sojourners such as themselves had excavated this hole, as it was set about half a meter into the ground with shallow, sloping walls, and there appeared to have been some old, rotted bedding material. Seeing that their options were limited and night was falling, the both of them stumbled into it, and unrolled their own decrepit blankets to sleep underneath for this night, as they had done for several before. Soon all was quiet in the passage, one so sparsely journeyed as this had a tendency to be as such, and the pair slept with ease.
As they slept calmly, two dark figures descended the cliff face across from the humans with ease, one was about three, maybe four feet tall, the other however, was nearer to five, both humanoid, and significantly hunched, with wicked looking daggers in their dominant hands. One of them, The taller one, approached the two men, checking to see if they were asleep, should they be, all would go according to the primitive plan these figures had. Should they have been awake however, the investigator would fight them while the other would quickly ascend the cliff face, and back into the night. Lucky for them, the men were not conscious, and the second, shorter figure, made some hand motions facing upwards. After a moment, two more of these mischievous creatures made their descent, this time right next to the humans. One of them readied a bow and backed away slowly, whilst the tallest one, being the first to arrive, went to slit one of the men's throats. Covering the humans mouth with his hand to prevent his victim from making too much noise, at the same time the bowman’s friend prepared to intervene should the situation become distasteful, with a small three foot pole-arm ready to strike.
As soon as the primitive blade began its descent towards the succulent esophagus the tallest of the Goblins whispered something along the lines of 'I'm sorry', and the soon-to-be victim's eyes sprang wide open, the horrid stench from the creature standing over him had driven him to consciousness, perhaps the whisper was a contributing factor, but most likely, it was just the smell.
“Ahh!” The adult male exclaimed in revulsion, staring down at him was a tall and lanky Goblin, with a sickly gray-green face and a sad visage, without thinking the man went for his knife and quickly impaled the creature through the eye, blood spurted from the wound as the wretched thing backed off, hands groping at the blade, still embedded in its face. As the tallest one retreated the man quickly roused his older companion, and stood to face any potential threats, it was dark however, and without a torch he could barely see the outlines of the four Goblins. The second man stood as well, groggy from sleep, however he, was immediately cut down upon standing, the Goblin with the pole-arm standing over him as his body collapsed back into the hole, head split wide open. The younger man stabbed the Goblin without hesitation, a four inch blade pierced its heart and was subsequently ripped violently from its chest, creating a gaping wound, although this was of no consequence to the Goblin as it was dead upon the first strike. The man then turned to face the other two, but an arrow stopped him dead as it lodged itself in his shoulder, two more in rapid succession and he was down, bleeding profusely.
“Finally a meal!” The fourth and as of yet silent Goblin chimed in as he rushed forwards, ending the mans suffering with a few vicious thrusts, “I'm so hungry even these humans look appetizing!” It said as it began to cut off an arm for consumption, after successfully removing the appendage, the beast went to chew off a bit of flesh, regardless of what he was going to do however, he never got to do it, as another arrow placed directly in the back of his head ended his plans right then and there.
“I'm fairly hungry as well, and I don't feel like sharing.” The Goblin bowman said as he also approached the pit, and began feasting upon his bounty.
“Such is the nature of my kind.” A voice spoke in the darkness, so quiet as to not be heard by the bowman, the last thing he heard was a sharp crack as a blade was slammed into his skull, it was the first Goblin, the tall one, he had managed to pull the knife from his eye, and now stood over his fallen comrade.
“Never an ounce of dignity.” He said, speaking in the usual, guttural dialect of his kin all the while pressing a scrap of cloth to his now empty eye socket. “Nafagonn will be a name told as having been different, but right now, I am so hungry.” The green creature, Nafagonn, said as he began to tentatively eat, after consuming all he could without retching, Nafagonn piled the bodies, setting them ablaze in the very hovel which a mere hour earlier had held two live, breathing human being, The lone survivor then began a steady pace along the path, moving with purpose, partly motivated by his goal, but also by the horrors which he had committed.
'the things I've had to do in order to disguise myself amongst these ruffians, dear Kren the things I've done, it will all be worth it, at least I haven't had to murder any children, at least. It will be worth it, when I escape this place, when I reach Etirath.'
BASIC INFO
Name: Nafagonn Dorclun. (Nafagonn the Tall)
Age: Twenty-eight years.
Gender: Male
Race: Goblin
Height: 5'1
Weight: 102 pounds.
Rank: Citizen.
APPEARANCE
Some tribal markings adorn his scarred and young body, being the demarcation of a warrior, and a friend of one deceased, among others.
COMBAT CREDENTIALS
Style: Quick, vicious hacks of whatever he happens to have on him.
Abilities:
Charisma: Nafagonn will distract his opponents with small talk, quips and taunts while he manuevers to end them.
Weapons:
Pole-arm, a three foot pole with a foot long blade set about six inches into the handle from the top, wrapped tightly with strong cord to secure it in place, three knives of various make, one small and hidden, the other two of eight or so inches, and a short-bow for relatively closer\ ranged combat.
Gear: Currently he wears very little, a leather kilt with accompanying vest, boots, and gloves, these being hard to find for a Goblin as their hands are generally thinner and a bit longer than a humans.
BACKGROUND:
(This has been cleared with Isengrim.)
Nafagonn was born in Piriihu, to a ruling Chieftain by the name of Corcluss Dorclun, the tribe of Dorclun being noted as a powerful clan which controlled what land it had with prowess, it was a shining beacon for all other Goblins that they were not doomed to a life of squalor. The tribe of Dorclun had proven, that Goblins could be great.
(A library entry should follow soon after this to further elaborate on the clan of Dorclun.)
Nafagonn was the youngest of his family, and easily the most skilled in the ways of Magic, being that rarely any Goblins have the slightest hint of Magical inclination, he wished to practice his skills, and become a powerful mage, unfortunately, his father did not approve of Magic, having seen dark tribal magic ravage Clans, and leave them broken. He forbade his son from learning Magic of any kind, and reluctantly, Nafagonn obeyed, casting aside his dreams of mystical grandeur, he learned to fight with spear, ax, bow, and pole-arm, the chosen weapons of his people, like his brothers before him he dedicated himself to betterment in combat.
Ultimately, he could never achieve what those before him had. This awakening came in the rudest of ways, an attack on the Dorclun clan, from an up and coming Warlord to the East, this newly arrived Goblin and his army bore down on the house of Dorclun, and decimated it, it happened so fast and without warning, that by the time Dorclun's Nwaati allies had heard of this attack far up in a mountainous region, they could only be of assistance to what few refugees had escaped.
Nafagonn had fought hard during this encounter, killing many, and maiming many more, gaining a few scars along the way. Towards the end of the day long conflict, his brothers having been killed, and the central town of the tribal region entangled in its final stand, Nafagonn's father ordered him to take his infant sibling, and run.
For days Nafagonn wandered the mountains, barely managing to feed himself, eventually, after much downhill struggling, did he arrive at a Nwaati village, this one being an ally of the Dorclun family. They explained to him, that in his absence, his clan had fallen, and the Warlord had established a fort in the mountains, on a high plateau not far from he had slain Nafagonn's tribe. This mountain was highly defend-able, but Nafagonn knew the Nwaati would fight against these invaders regardless.
Knowing he would be of little help in the coming conflict, Nafagonn decided to strike out east, to a land of prosper where he might raise a force of his own, in order to return and reclaim his mountain. Leaving the child with the Nwaati. He soon set out towards Etirath.
Escaping his homeland was no picnic however, as his tribe had many enemies, in order to avoid detection, he replaced his incriminating armor with that of a beggars, and joined a band of his countrymen with a similar goal in mind, or that is what he thought rather.
Two weeks into their journey, things took a turn for the worse, as his companions were not from Dorclun like they had claimed, they were really from a feral tribe, further into the mountain range than even Nafagonn's own tribe, theirs too was destroyed by the Warlord, and they, figuring they could use him to return and gain victory over the Warlord, lied and allowed him to join them.
This in itself was bad, but what followed was even worse, these Goblins were cannibals, thieving cannibalistic ruffians of the worst sort, Nafagonn did terrible things in order to stay in their company, which he felt at the time to be the best course of action, the necessary course of action.
His first taste of Goblin was a defining moment, further solidifying his belief that what he had done, needed to be done, and hating himself for it all the more.
For their staggering faults his companions were good at one thing, hiding, after three months they had made their way to a narrow valley like pass, that had been carved through a mountain range, it was their way out, nearly a day in, and they hadn't eaten for three, so when they happened upon two human travelers, they attempted to acquire a meal. None but Nafagonn left alive, and he was out an eye for this encounter, on a shamefully full stomach, he continued onward, to Etirath.