Grisk held a battered short sword in his hand, and glared down at it with a tinge of sadness. This blade held was what guided him through the first attack on his tribe, what slayed the murder of his parents, and what encouraged him to strengthen his resolve.
That day, years ago, his chieftain encountered a troupe of gnolls, prompted with the tale of riches, his tribe’s leader fell into the gluttonous trap of an unfortunate alliance. The gnolls promised that, with their help, they would cull riches from the higher races around, unfortunate travelers who didn’t have the proper means of defense against an en-masse attack. As an unscrupulous method, it was an order given that Grisk despised following, but did so out of loyalty.
In the sunlight, the sword glinted and sparkled with an unnatural sheen. Pilfered originally from gnomish traders, it was a blade his former leader kept by his side at all times. Grisk didn’t ever look upon that weapon with envy- his wit and will were far more effective tools than a sword- but having any edge with him had proven useful on more than one occasion.
“How goes the talks?” Grisk had heard while lost in thought. His mind snapped out of its trance, and Grisk looked up at the speaker before him.
A smile spread across Grisk’s lips. Remgrack, Grisk’s best friend since childhood, stood before him. A loyal servant since Grisk’s rise to power, he accompanied him as he travelled across the plains. Grisk never treated his friend as a servant, but as a page rather, a lifelong friend and assistant. Few goblins could comprehend the true concept of comradery, and adhered to the basic instinct that fell within goblin rule. Such unwritten laws made Grisk scoff at their mention, but they served their purpose for a disorganized folk.
There was a discontented sigh as he spoke up. “There’s an attack the Utaraki tribe made in the west. A small battle broke out, and many souls were slain.” More and more conflicts continued to erupt across the landscape as of late, a frustrating piece of news for a negotiator to hear.
“Urg. That’s not good, not good at all…” Remgrack shifted his stance and shuffled his feet. Such a stance was all too familiar a display when Grisk spoke about the troubles he endured. Remgrack wasn’t the smartest ‘gobbo in the pack, but he was a loyal friend, and tried his best to show he cared and wanted to understand.
The trials of leadership had been a long set, wearing him down quickly over the year. All the previous encounters he had with the other chieftain were initially met with hostility. He couldn’t blame them- their lot hadn’t been the most welcome in the land, what with his former leader spurring arguments at council meetings and covertly sending soldiers to raid on the other villages.
Regardless of the complications, Grisk did his best to try and unify the tribes. To see his people fall apart from poor leadership and attacks from the other races was heartbreaking, more than enough for him to take initiative and put his talents to good use. The better his people stood on their own in peace, the better a life they would have. Maybe they eventually would be seen as a fully civilized race one day… he only could hope.
It was a dream, an incredibly long-spanned dream, and Grisk speculated if he ever would see it happen in his lifetime. There was a great deal of work ahead of him, and with all complications involved, he doubted he could do it with his will alone. He had hope that those who helped free him from his predecessor’s tyrannical rule would help him with the task.
He breathed in a quick sigh, sheathing the glinted sword in his hand. “Remgrack?” he muttered, feeling the sides of his lips tighten. “How soon do you think you could prepare a travelling pack?”
The left side of Remgrack’s face twitched slowly, a sign of the gears in his head turning. “Dunno, maybe an hour or two? Depends on if we can find camp food.”
“If rations are all we need for the trip, then we’re all ready to head out,” Grisk confidently spoke. “Perhaps only being in the Utaraki’s village for a day only was good after all.” He held his hand lightly over his blade’s hilt, turning his sulken expression into a smile.
“Grab your pack and gear, good friend. We’re going on a hunt.”