Heroes of the Lore Backstories

Greck'lil

The goblins were a nomadic, scavenger people, choosing to move their camps across the greater continent in continuance of loot and trade. Generally pitching their camps along rivers and beyond the walls of cities, goblins traveled light and quick. No such different was the camp Greck’lil was born into. Hailing from the Usglyth tribe, Greck’lil’s people were foragers and experts at herbology, fashioning poultice and poison alike from the various shrubery and wildlife across the land.

The Usglyth were also renown trackers, and the tribe made a living of looting errant caravans that have oft been waylaid along their route. That is to say, the Usglyth often ambush caravans along dark paths cutting through the Darkwoods. Armed with poisoned darts and arrows, the goblin tribe makes quick work of unsuspecting merchants, though always attacking from the shadows. Minute in statute as they were, the goblins were careful not to attack head on.

Caravan ambushes were a right of passage for young Usglyth goblins, and the youth were taken on their first ambush on their eleventh birthday. Such was the case for Greck’lil, whom on his eleventh birthday found himself in a treetop, poisoned arrow nocked and ready, laying in wait for a merchant’s caravan. The goblin looked across to the treetops on the other side of the snaking path, where his keen eyes lay upon the Cheftain’s son, Wyrmle. Born on the same day, Wyrmle was on his very own rite of passage. In the tree to the left was Rott, the third birth-brother. While the goblin young were raised communally, both Wyrmle and Rott were born to high ranking members of the tribe, while Greck’lil was merely the barkeeps whelp. Up in his tree, he could not help but notice that where his compatriots were reeking nervous energy, Greck’lil was both buzzing with a sense of excitement, yet unnervingly calm.

As the sun began to set, Greck’lil heard the first rumblings of what must be a caravan. No, it was more than that..two caravans? He peered over to Wyrmle, who was slumped over his branch, seemingly asleep. Annoyed at the prospect of a botched ambush, the goblin flung a pinecone at his sleeping tribesman, signaling for quiet.

The hunt begins.

The young goblins could see it now, two caravans accompanied by cavalrymen. This wasn’t an ordinary merchant out to ply his wears at the nearest town, this caravan was carrying something important. A quick assessment returned that the cavalrymen were not heavily armoured, favouring instead flexibility in their choice for leather armour. The cavalryman held torches and wore light crossbows at their hips, giving Greck’lil pause. A bolt from one of those was more than enough to punch a fist size hole through a goblin, and the young ones would have to plan their attack accordingly.

As the caravan approached, a foul stench greeted Greck’lil’s nose. Sickly sweet, the goblin was reminded of his time outside the Blackthorn Manor armoury, where Everfire was loaded in large white barrels. Surely these fools weren’t carting Everfire out in the open like this? A sense of dread creeped into the young goblin, as he considered retreating back to camp. A glint of white wood under the canvas of the second caravan confirmed his suspicions. While the contents of the first caravan were unknown, the second was most definitely carrying Everfire.

Just as he finished his thought, a piercing scream cut through the air as one of the cavalrymen slumped on his horse. Seeing a barbed arrow sticking out of the rider’s throat, Greck’lil hissed in frustration as he realized Wyrmle had drawn first blood. His eyes flickered nervously towards the second caravan as Wyrmle continued to rain arrows upon the traveling company. The scene below erupted into chaos, as two armed guards from each caravan joined the fight.

Calm and calculated, Greck’lil kept his distance as the other two goblins darted out of their trees and onto the forest floor. They had swapped their bows for poison tipped daggers, and Greck’lil looked on with amazement as Rott danced in the moonlight with his dripping blade. One of the guards fell silently, while another dropped to his knees, clutching his throat with an ugly gurgle.

Fools, thought Greck’lil to himself as his gaze followed the first caravan, which appeared to be making a run for it. Hopping from branch to branch, the lone goblin tracked the caravan down a couple hundred yards before taking aim at the sole rider in the front. With one arrow, the caravan came to a halt as the rider slumped lifelessly over his horse. Greck’lil hopped down from the trees to inspect his loot, a sense of glee overtaking him as he crept towards the caravan. Hopping in the back, the young goblin found crates of produce and ore, no doubt a trade caravan. A thick, steel banded chest was parked in the corner of the caravan, bound by a thick steel padlock. The goblin knelt next to the chest and reached to his side for a set of lockpicks. The sounds of screaming in the background faded away as the he honed a laser focus on the task ahead.

As he slipped the lockpick into the padlock, the silence was shattered by a deafening roar. Greck’lil snapped his head back to look at the horrific sight behind him. A few hundred yards away, where he could only assume the second caravan was merely moments ago, a torrential blue inferno pierced the forest scene. Gazing upon the carnage in horror, Greck’lil assumed one of the torches must have come too close to the Everfire barrels. After a moment of stoic reflection, Greck’lil turned back to the locked chest.

—-----

As they years passed, the young goblin Greck’lil grew into a seasoned tracker and an even better thief. His risk aversion served him well among the usually rash goblins, and he became adept at studying the parameters of a battlefield before getting involved. Greck’lil rose to riches quickly in the Usglyth community, often bearing the best spoils from the toughest ambushes. As his prowess grew, so did the goblin’s greed for rarer treasures. Gold and riches barely interested Greck’lil now, for he coveted things rarer still. While the Usglyth stuck to raiding caravans, Greck’lil grew bolder, raiding the armouries of manors and kingdom cities in search for rare mystical artifacts, if only for bragging rights more than anything.

And so it came to pass that Greck’lil heard tale of The Dungeons, and the unknown treasures within the belly of the great trial. He would need a party of like minded adventurers, and he was not going to find them among the rash Usglyth. The rogue goblin had to head north, towards the mouth of the God’s Trench, towards the Drunken Wineskin, where adventurers quench their thirst one last time before meeting the unknown. Armed with his bow, and the knowledge of the Usglyth, the goblin Greck’lil left the tribal came, no longer willing to be a big fish in a small pond.