SLICE

That was the last thing Malcolm remembered before he passed out. Now it was the next day. His first day without toes.

Once he woke up, still laying on the crude cot, he demanded Sven tell him everything. EVERYTHING.

Sven had conveniently 'forgotten' to mention a tiny little detail on the trip to the camp. The toe cutting ceremony. A sacred ritual that all Toe Goblins must go through when they first join their Foot.

Despite popular belief that Toe Goblins are born toe-less, they actually have toes. Until they are cut off, that is. The Goblins' natural toes are hideously twisted and deformed, so cutting them off is seen as a barbaric 'beautification' procedure.

As Sven explained to the distraught Malcolm, "Earning your toes is a great honor among us Goblins! If you really want to be one of us, you need to feel like one of us. And that means you need to earn your toes!"

"How exactly will that be accomplished?" Ask Malcolm. "Do I have to steal a certain number of toes or something?"

Sven laughed. "If only it was that simple! You see, you get your toes back at the end of your year of servitude! You've tricked me once! You didn't really think I wouldn't take precautions!"

Struggling to stand, Malcolm swung his fist at Sven, forcing the Toe Goblin to duck. "How about I just steal my toes back you little imp!"

Malcolm tried to walk, but promptly fell on his face. Sven jumped up and down on top of him. "You can barely stand! Let alone steal your own toes! Plus, only the great Toe-Smiths of Toehalla can reattach them correctly!"

Poking the man with a dagger, Sven continued. "So unless you want to be toe-less forever, I suggest you behave!"