A Village, Unmade

When you arrive, all is as Gromgol had said. The palisade that had once surrounded the village is gone, leaving only piles of logs. It's the same inside, with logs and tarps where their huts had been. The place was flush with goblins, mostly first and second level, and all ugly. The air is filled with their chittering and barking in the goblin tongue.

A lot of them, all crowded together, were also shouting “DEE-OO.” Gromgol scowled.

“Over there,” Gromgol gestures to crowd, “they’re imitating the error sound.” He turns to his apprentice. “Take the basket to the workstation, and sort everything into piles. I’ll be with you before long.”

She scampers off in another direction, and Gromgol leads you deeper into the crowd, which parts before the both of you. They eye you warily, but evidently they trust the shaman enough not to swarm or flee. At its center is another goblin, unnamed, standing mournfully next to one of the piles. He hasn’t noticed your approach.

Gromgol says something in his language to the nameless goblin, who jumps in surprise, before looking up at you. Gromgol barks something at him, and he sets back to work on the pile of resources, conjuring a window.

Building materials detected. Building: Tribal Hut. Build?

He accepts the prompt, and a progress bar appears above his head. He beats the pile in front of him, and the bar fills in time with his hits. Each hit conjures another window, which quickly fades.

Low Skill Level, -60%. No Tools, -50%. Dexterity Penalty, -30%. Total Build Speed: 12%

When, after several hits, the bar is filled–

DEE-OO

The goblins surrounding you echo the sentiment.

You have not claimed this land, you cannot build here. To claim land, find a Claimant Crystal.

That settles it, then. You turn to Gromgol and nod. He says something to the nameless goblin who just failed to build a hut that you don’t understand.

Gromgol leads you through the camp. You attract the attention of just about every goblin you pass by, but it doesn’t bother you. You can hear some goblin shouting in the distance.

“I’ll admit, I found the error confusing,” says Gromgol. “This has been our tribe’s land since the beginning. That we might need to do something claim it now is, I think, patently ridiculous. I tried to discern the truth of it by communing with the spirits, but they were no help, so I put it out of mind.”

“It is a good question. In truth,” you say, “I do not know why you were deprived, only how the situation might be rectified.”

“One of these claimant crystals.”

“Yes.” You are a little surprised Gromgol didn’t read the patch notes, which explained things quite clearly. But you aren’t going to reveal that as your source of information until after the deal is agreed to, if at all.

You take a moment to consider what Gromgol said. It is strange that their land was taken from them. Very strange. Like nothing that had ever happened.

“Something on your mind?”

“Like I said, it is a very good question.”

It had become very clear by this point that the two of you are walking towards the shouting. Whoever it was continued to grow angrier.

When they come into view, you see a she-goblin wearing black leathers, her hair tied back. She has a whip in one hand, and is screaming at another goblin, cowering on the ground. She was ugly, like all goblins, and all the more so for the way her face contorted in rage.

Lyrbek, Level 4 Goblin Rogue

Monster, Goblin, Explicit

Ah. Gromgol had mentioned that he was working with the other named goblins to maintain order.

Lyrbek lashes out with her whip, striking the cowering goblin. The blow hits hard, opening a bloody gash. The strike seems to be enough to rouse the goblin—but only enough to flee.

Gromgol takes this moment to walk up to her. You might have given her a moment to cool off, but he knows her better than you do. As they speak, you look past them. There are a number of people—not goblins, but humans, half-elves, a couple wood elves, and one high elf, laying on the ground. Each of them is completely naked, save for a heavy iron collar around their necks, fastened by chains to wooden posts that had been driven into the ground. There are maybe two dozen of them in total. Your Perception gives you a read on some of the humans—all first level, all without names—before you're interrupted.

“Admiring merchandise?” Big words for a goblin with terrible grammar.

Both Gromgol and Lyrbek have finished their discussion, now facing you. You’re surprised she’s so calm this soon. Was it an act? Maybe to cow the other goblin, or perhaps intimidate the slaves?

“More or less,” you say. “I would guess they were taken in the raid yesterday?”

“Yes,” says Lyrbek, “Guards asleep, goblins kill. Take riches and slaves.” She regards you levelly. “Enough for sid-hee’s secrets.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. Gromgar whispers in her ear.

“Ah. Shee’s secrets.”

Better.

“Krombor is with the rest of the loot,” says Gromgol, “at where Brogung’s hut was.”

The three of you set out across the village again.