Explanation of the world and it's inhabitants

Varten

The Varten race can be traced back to the mountains of the far north. To this day, they remain highly acclimated to colder environments and susceptible to the dangers of hotter locals. While some have learned to deal with the heat and taken up residence further south, the majority of the race still resides to the north of the Fariah mountain range.

Despite sharing a body shape with other humanoids, one head, two arms, two legs, one torso, Vartens' can almost always be spotted amongst other races because of a set of three features, skin color, horns, and height.

Skin, Vartens' have two skin tones, red, and yellow. Thus far, we have been unable to discover what determines the color of a Vartens' skin, as two Varten of the same skin tone are capable of having a child of the other. The vartens' believe the colors are a way of determining potential, with the red-skinned being talented at physical skills and the yellow-skinned skilled at more magical ones.

Horns, Vartens' each have a set of black horns, 0 to 4 inches in length depending on age, growing from their temples. The horns of the men grow upwards, while the women's horns grow back towards the ears.

Height, Vartens' are among the tallest of the blessed races at 7 to 9 feet tall.

Vartens are blessed by the god of tradition and culture Lordon and the god of Valor and strength Meetros.

The Old Man stood and watched the children's training. The sound of wooden weapons colliding and the occasional cries of pain were the only sound in the courtyard. The plot of coarse sand sat, surrounded by three tall stone walls, each wall built from randomly sized chunks of stone stacked atop each other to form the structure. A wooden building dominated the final side of the yard. It's many patches and reinforcements suggesting it had stood for many years. However, unlike others of its time, the building still stood firm.

In turn, The Old Man's eyes checked each child, making small comments to himself as his eyes swept past them. The children were a mix of races and genders, all approximately five to fifteen years of age, each child paired with another, with no regard to age, height, or weight. Every pair engaged in a sparring match of some kind, some with weapons, and some with bare fists. When a pair was formed of two older children, they used blunted metal weapons instead of wooden ones.

The Old Man's eye lingered on one of the younger children, a boy, about six years old with shoulder-length raven black hair that was slicked back. The boy glared at his opponent, his eyes aglow with a piercing shade of acid green, the pupils slit vertically. The boy's angular face contorted in an inhuman manner, his lips pulled into a bestial grin showing his serrated teeth. The child's pointed ears grew in length with each passing instant, and his black claw-like nails were doing much the same. The boy's predominantly white skin was taking on a green tint, starting at the tips of the lengthened ears.

'HAL," The Old Man's powerful voice boomed across the yard. "CONTROL YOURSELF."

The boy, Hal, did not respond to the command. His ear twitched at the sound but, his eyes lacked the light of recognition. Seeing this, The Old Man moved towards Hal and spoke to his opponent, "Joran, step away from him before he bites off your hand. go find another partner while I deal with him." Quickly complying, Joran scampered off to find a new opponent, while The Old Man moved towards Hal.

Quicker than any of the children could see, The Old Man struck down ontop of Hal's head, slamming him into the ground and rendering him unconscious. Grabbing Hal by the back of his shirt, The Old Man began dragging him in the direction of the wooden building. "Continue practicing while I deal with this troublemaker." commanded The Old Man before disappearing inside.

Hal, or more specifically Hal F breed, awoke sitting in The Old Man's office. Looking around to get his bearings, he took in The Old Man's appearance. The Old Man seemed to be about sixty years old. His posture was straight and firm despite his apparent age. His head was completely bald. However, he was sporting a short white beard and mustache. The Old Man's eyes were a deep black, much like an ancient abyss. The cloths of The Old Man were as simple as those the children wore, but they fit him perfectly and barely concealed the toned muscles beneath.

"It happened again, didn't it. Did I hurt any of the others?" Hal asked.

"Not this time." The Old Man said compassionately. "And you seem to be doing much better" The Old Man gestured to Hal's body were his features had returned to normal. His skin a pale white, his pupils no longer slit, eye no longer glowing, and his ears returned to a more rounded shape. "Things can't go on like this, Hal, we need to do something." He said, his voice taking on a sterner tone.

"What can we do? I try to stop the changes, but they just come back worse the next time." Hal cried. "You always tell me I'm lucky to be alive. I don't feel lucky. I feel like I'm cursed."

"You are lucky, Hal. Most half-goblins are killed before they're your age." The Old Man said softly. "Honestly, I don't know how to help you, but I can try to come up with something if you tell me everything you can about the change." The Old Man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and placing his chin on his interlocked fingers. "Start at the beginning. Don't tell me about the fight itself, but about what you felt during it."

Taking a moment to collect himself, Hal began explaining. "It always starts the same, an ache in my bones, like somethings pushing on the inside of them." Hal's eyes seemed to drift as he spoke, failing to focus on the room around him.

"You've told me about the aches before. You said they were one of your first memories. They aren't as painful as they used to be?" The Old Man questioned.

"No, that part isn't painful, not anymore," Hal responded as if lost in thought, then paused, staring blankly.

"Continue when you are ready," The Old Man coaxed.

Returning to himself at The Old Man's voice, Hal proceeded. "After that, my veins start to burn. Like raw energy is rampaging through me, looking for a way out." With a strained look, Hal continued his eye now closed. "Then, my entire body seems to fight itself. My heart can't decide if it wants to stop or race. My eyes keep losing focus, then snapping back to a clear image of the world. My stomach churns, I want to puke but I can't. All of my senses get overwhelmed with information. I can hear everyone's heartbeats, and I can feel the air as it moves past everyone's attacks. I can smell the sweat on those around me." Visibly distressed, Hal stopped again.

"yes, this is as far as we've gotten before. I need you to go further."

Grabbing at his arms, Hal spoke, "I- I can't."

"Hal, Tell me what happens next." The Old Man spoke with a commanding tone that he had not yet used with the young man.

Hal's body stilled, his eyes opened wide, revealing that they had taken on the same glow as before, his pupils once again vertical slits. He spoke in a soft tone as if something might hear him. "I'm chained down in a dark space. The chains pull tighter the more I resist, constricting my lungs. I can feel something in the dark. I can feel it prowling, watching, waiting. I see a small clouded window up above. I can't make out what is on the other side." Hal's voice took on a hint of fear as he continued. "It knows I'm here. It feels angry, neglected, rejected, betrayed."

"Angry at what, Hal?" The Old Man questioned. Hal did not respond. "Why does it feel neglected?" Hal did not respond. "Who rejected it?" Again, no response. "HAL, betrayed by who?"

"Me."

Immediately after he spoke, Hals features began warping in the same inhuman manner from before. His skin had turned almost entirely green in an instant. Hal lept from his seat, and like a wild animal trapped in a cage, he began trying to open the office door. Finding the door locked, he attempted to leap for the window only to be struck down by The Old Man just like before.

Hal once again came to, in The Old Man's office. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Not long. You reverted just as quickly as you changed once you were out." The Old Man said, looking up from the letter he was writing.

"What's wrong with me? Did you figure anything out?" Hal's voice cracked, desperation seen in his eyes.

"I have a theory. Would you like to hear it?" Hal nodded at The Old Man's question. "I believe that when you change, you are losing control of your body, and the goblin instincts inside of you are taking the helm. I also believe those same instincts are the presence you felt in the dark space."

Hal starred at The Old Man for a moment, stunned by what he had just heard. "OK, what do I do about that?"

The Old Man set down the quill he'd been using to write. He stood from his seat, moving to join Hal on the other side of the desk. "Do you trust me, Hal?"

"Yes"

"Verry good. I have a plan, it may work, and it might not. Unfortunately, you will be forced to sail in uncharted waters at every turn, but hopefully, we can prepare you for whatever lurks in the depths" Sticking his hand out for Hal The Old Man continued. "If you accept, tomorrow you will start training directly with me, no longer will you spar with the other children. It will be hard, and I am sorry to say, you might die, but I will do my best to help you. Do you accept?"

Hal moved to take The Old Man's hand, only to have him grab Hal's forearm. "I accept."

"Good, meet me in the yard at sunrise, we will begin working to solve your issues then. For now, go do your chores and get some rest."