Battered and bruised, Skrakch lay on the cold stone floor panting. Honestly, he was seriously beginning to wonder if he was some kind of masochist. Somehow, nowadays, nearly all of his downtime ended with him in pain or gasping for breath. Maybe he needed to pick up a hobby or something. It was all well and good to keep his eyes on the prize but it was beginning to prove a very exhausting and frankly humiliating pursuit.

He felt someone nudge his repeatedly bruised ribs. Skrakch rolled over slightly to see Blazock standing above him. The ancient Goblin was smirking slightly, clearing relishing the situation.

“Have you at least learned the basics?” He asked disparagingly. “Remember what I have always told you, Rotten One. Runic magic is about precision. Focus on the rune as you spill forth your Mana. If you do that, even an ungrateful lout like yourself can do great things.”

It was, as usual, a terrible motivational speech from his taciturn Master but Skrakch pushed himself back up into a seated position. He’d always known that he was destined for greatness, no matter what. Any of these tips and tricks he picked up? Well, they simply served to nudge him in the right direction.

Plus, he told himself when he felt a particularly sore spot on his rump, if a Goblin could figure it out, anyone could. He chuckled to himself and puffed out his sore chest a little. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

Blazock suddenly reached out and slapped him upside the head. Skrakch bit back a growl as the old coot let loose a drawn-out sigh.

“You’ve nearly depleted your Mana reserves haven’t you Rotten One?” He shook his head. “As fun as I find it, there’s no point in me tossing you around this room until your Mana returns.”

He stepped away from Skrakch and made his way back over to the crimson chair, heaving his aged body into it. He picked up a brown leather-bound book from the table beside it and flipped it open. When he saw Skrakch looking at him questioningly, he sighed once more.

“Go and earn your keep Ratling. The guards tell me that Meekknuckle spotted a group of feral Iskrin. I have upheld my end of this bargain. It’s time that you do the same,” He explained offhandedly, thumbing through the pages of his tome.

Blazock gave Skrakch one final withering look before turning his attention to the book in his lap. A nearby nervous looking Goblin servant replenished his tankard and brought him a tin plate full of dubious-looking meat.

Slowly picking himself up, Skrakch gave a small nod to his Master, limping his way out of the building. Still, no matter how much pain he was in now, magic was worth it. Who wouldn’t break a shin to get the ability to toss his foes through a wall? Maybe the next time one of Zach’s idiotic plans went awry, he’d be the one dealing with the Gregores and Rodyrs of the city!

Perking up at the idea of testing his newfound abilities, Skrakch set out to find Meekknuckle. Luckily for him, there was only one place in this dump of a village that the goblins went to for fun.

Pushing his way through the streets, only stopping to grab a skewer of some mystery meat, Skrakch made his way over to one of the few hovels around that could fit more than five goblins inside at once.

Garishly colored and covered in the chicken scratch goblins called a language, Skrakch stepped into a Goblin gambling hall. Inside he spotted goblins of all different shapes and sizes. Little mutants that they were, the Goblin race had a wide range of physical differences. From a lanky tall build to a rotund dwarf-looking fellow, Skrakch looked them over carefully to find his quarry.

The gambling hall was to the Goblins like a church was to the Human folk. Except it wasn’t some deity they were worshipping. It was gold, or more likely in their cases, silver and copper. At the various mismatched tables, the Goblins were all seated playing crude dice or card games.

There was a bar at the other end of the room. It was nothing like the well-stocked tavern that he liked to frequent. No, this was a rudimentary bar at best. A plank of wood propped up on two wooden barrels to serve as the bar top and some crudely constructed shelving behind to hold a few barrels of the swill water that passed for ale with bent and rusting tankards hanging beside them.

The barman was a squat fellow, his green-skinned belly bursting over his ragged trousers and straining the material of his stained shirt. He was picking at his teeth with a large splinter of wood, stopping occasionally to spit onto the floor beside him.

Every so often, a game would get out of hand, whether it be by cheating or the accusation of such. When that happened the barman nodded to a pair of burly Goblins in the corner who would make their way to the table in question and bodily throw the troublemakers out.

Skrakch was tempted to spend some time here, gambling away the hours. He had a set of enchanted dice he’d been meaning to try out. It was a subtle thing, nothing so overt as Zach’s weighted dice, but the Ratling had enchanted the dice with his Featherfall rune.

It took more Mana to supply then he’d expected, but the lightness on half of the die was perfect to gently nudge the rolls towards desired result.

He just needed to figure out a way to hide the effect from anyone with basic Mana Sight. The Ratling himself was a poor example, as it took him quite a bit of effort to read the flow of Mana in an area around him, but some folks did it passively, the lucky pricks.

Still… it was better to quickly snatch up his prize and get it over with. Skrakch scanned the tables quickly, eager to be done and away from the den of fools and the desperate both.

It didn’t take Skrakch long to find his target, as his eyes darted to the smallest Goblin in sight. Nearly half the size of the average goblin, Meekknuckle was a runt of a creature, the yellow-tinged goblin standing on his tiptoes just to see the top of the table he was at. Wearing little bits of fur that barely covered his scrawny backside, Meekknuckle hardly inspired dread as his overly large ears flopped down his naked scalp.

Making his way over, he could tell Meekknuckle was well on his way to losing his dice match. Skrakch had spent years living amongst the Goblins, and he’d never gotten the hang of the dice game they’d play. Mostly because the little runts would change rules randomly, and would resort to fighting if you complained.

Sadly for him, Meekknuckle earned his moniker by his cowardice, and it was in full display as he cowered back from the brasher goblins who were cursing and singing crude songs with aplomb. Snorting to himself, Skrakch couldn’t help but wonder why he bothered playing if he always lost. It was surely the definition of idiocy, repeating the same moves and expecting different results. Shrugging, Skrakch leaned forward before grabbing the scrawny fool by an oversized ear.

Ignoring the now-squealing Goblin’s protests, he dragged his quarry through the gambling hall as most of the other Goblins burst into unrestrained laughter at the sight. There were few things in life that they enjoyed more than the sight of physical violence. Especially when it wasn’t directed towards them.

Stepping out into what passed for a street in this dump of a village, Skrakch tossed Meekknuckle bodily into the dirt outside the gambling hall. He couldn’t help but grin as he did so. There was nothing like the feeling of thrashing someone weaker than yourself. It was almost cathartic, really, getting to stretch your muscles, and not having to worry about your life. Skrakch was a fan of the simple things, after all!

Stepping up to kick the goblin while he was down, the Ratling unfortunately heard a bone-shuddering thump ring out from behind him. Stifling a sigh, he turned around to see a massive stone statue looming over him, its grim countenance a Human male glowering in bestial rage.

“Oh hello Ornn, I was wondering what you’d gotten up to.” Skrakch greeted the creature casually. “I was just grabbing Meekknuckle so we could take care of my Master's business. As you can see, he tripped over his own feet again. Odd that it keeps happening, no?” He said, his face a picture of innocence.

The towering brute dwarfed Skrakch easily, standing at nearly 8” feet tall. With arms larger than Skrakch’s waist, Ornn looked strong enough to squish the offending Iskrin’s head into a disgusting mulch. Thankfully, the stone construct was just that, a mindless homunculus that followed Meekknuckle around like a lost puppy.

The golem’s overbearing presence was aided by its etchings, its chest chiseled to look like a soldier in plate mail. With a kilt of stone, the chunk of rock was quite the imposing sight, and the main reason Meekknuckle was considered one of the more dangerous goblins to mess with.

Staring down at Skrakch, the silent behemoth simply remained fixated on the Ratling, its vacant eyes no doubt trying to understand if he was a threat. Scoffing, Skrakch turned to Meekknuckle and laughed.

“Still haven’t taught him any tricks, eh Meek? At the very least you need to teach it to fetch. Something tells me no one would want to stop it from grabbing whatever you wanted.” The furry rogue chuckled, helping the mud-splattered Goblin to his feet. “Listen, I don’t have time for any of this anyways. I hear you found some feral Iskrin? Well, I’m here to sort them out, one Ratling to another.”

Rubbing his sore ear, the little goblin turned a scornful eye on Skrakch, “Me was about to win game. Why you ruin Meekknuckle’s chance to shine? Stupid vermin, Meekknuckle should make Ornn thump you.” The Goblin complained peevishly as he started to brush off his already filthy clothes.

“Ah, but there’s the rub, my spineless friend. I’ve only seen you sick your pet Golem on people you dislike. And I’m your best pal!” Skrakch replied, clapping the goblin on his shoulder, almost knocking him down again. “Who brought you that wheel of blue cheese you love so much, eh?”

Nodding happily, Meekknuckle started drooling a bit, lost in thought while picturing the fine cheese delicacy. “Me did like cheese. You okay, but me have news for you. Father say I have to show you to bad vermin.”

“Lead the way, Meek. I’ll have them sorted out in no time.” Skrakch confidently claimed.