Costalos, Home of the Harpies

Pillars of rock loomed over a singular rudimentary settlement of tents, and a large pen. The settlement itself had a thick aroma of salt, filth and wet dog. Astraeus was silently grateful he could simply turn this sense off. Standing up, he dwarfed the goblin queen’s guard. He barely came up to his hip. He looked up at him with a long deep sigh, rolled his eyes and wandered off into one of the tents before Astraeus could so much as open his mouth. His mouth curls into a small dissatisfied frown as this goblin continues to disrespect him. Instead of tracking this goblin down, he begins to wander the camp itself, answering his own questions.

The tents were made of treated leather, the leather itself farmed from wolves. Astraeus himself watches in awe as the diminutive goblins handle wolves nearly a whole head taller than them. The wolves, despite possessing the ability to rip their handlers limb from limb, seem docile. Moving when prompted with sharp whistles and loud vocalizations, feeding peacefully from troughs of stringy red meat and water. The pen itself possesses a manufactured ‘cave’ for which the wolves take a turn taking food in, and younger pups and their mothers flock around.

The meat itself, takes a lot of work to retrieve, the trough, which is close to the fence, is closely guarded by an older looking wolf, who snaps their jaws around Astraeus’ wrist when he reaches for some. With a warning, low growl and a long look into Astraeus’ eyes. As soon as his hand was free, Astraeus pulled a handful closer for inspection, leaving the old wolf to bark and snap angrily as he inspected it. His HUD evaluated it as mostly red moss, ground cave gull meat and bones and trace amounts of cave wolf meat. He looked to the old wolf who guarded his meat so fiercely, and tossed what he had back in his hand into the trough, a disgusted look on his face. The old wolf sniffs it confusedly, and leaves Astraeus to feel ill to himself. He supposed it was wasteful to not use the meat from the slaughtered ones, but… it felt wrong to do so.

He paused, thinking of the goblins he had seen, how in Ruyanei slaughter worked. He wandered the grounds of the wolf nursery, with little success. Slaughter is for the moment a mystery, as every wolf seems to be deeply valued, and their products are tended to with the utmost care. Astraeus observes a goblin patching the clothes of another as he sits on the fence of his wolf pen, and approaches.

Both look at him with slight worry and apprehension, craning their necks to meet his eyes.

Astraeus tries to break the tension with flattery and slight humor, saying in a soft voice.

“Your farm is beautiful, and your wolves are so happy. Some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

The goblin on the fence doesn’t lift his head from his work, but shakes his head with a slight smile, the other goblin gives Astraeus a confused look. Then says softly, not intending to be heard.

“Didn’t he just wake up?”

The goblin on the fence kicks him gently in the arm and hisses. The other goblin presses his lips together and looks aside, the fence goblin answers, and introduces himself.

“I’m Gruda, and thank you for your compliments, and interest… I saw you mussing with their food, dja figure out what was in it?”

Astraeus looks surprised, but supposes it’s his job to survey his flock, commending his sharp eyes silently to himself, he nods.

“Gulls, moss and wolves. I… have to admit that last ingredient disgusted me somewhat.”

The goblin nodded solemnly, pausing in a stitch before saying as his hands worked red thread through thick leather once more.

“It’s no excuse, but it’s only a small part of it all, we use their blood for the meal, it’s cruel, and I wouldn’t if I could, but, when we didn’t, wolves were growing up sick and weak. A lack of iron we figure… They don’t got the madness most animals get, so my great-grandfather says, but I learned the hard way two years ago, and I won’t be going back. No disrespect meant my lord.”

Astraeus doesn’t presume to know better, truthfully he does know one way this would all be better, but it’s not something that’s in Gruda’s grasp. He shakes his head.

“The health of the village is paramount, my emotions should never figure into the matter. Why… live here where you can’t feed your livestock properly though…”

He asked, but he already knew the answer. Gruda hung his head and ears, gritting his teeth. He answers after a calming and composing sigh.

“It’s the damned humans and their damned pets, the kirin. My father had set up a farm, on the other damn island, far away from their idyllic forest covered little island, not so much as a sapling growing there, and their hunters and guards slaughtered all his livestock, and took one of his arms to remind him of his infraction.”

He shakes his head, tugging at the stitch he’s made to test it’s strength. Satisfied, he hands the shirt back to his temporary audience, who takes it, puts it on, and runs off with a curt bow to Astraeus. Astraeus is taken aback by the quick display of respect and escape, but moves his attention back to Gruda.

“I’m sorry for bringing up a painful memory. If I may, I have one more question.”

Gruda shrugs, unbothered by it all, his father long gone, the humans a constant threat to him. It’s distant dull pain that doesn’t even bother him anymore.

‘S’fine. The more you know, the better you can rule us. Ask away.”

Rule us? He supposed that was his role now. That slightly overwhelming thought pushed aside he asks.

“The moss? Is it a harmless filler or… does it serve some sort of purpose?”

Gruda smirks. He supposes the presence of a plant is an odd thing to the under educated.

“A healthy wolf won’t just eat the meat and bones of it’s prey, but their intestines. Greeny contents and all. They gain some nutrition from the partially digested foodstuff, and the moss is similar enough to serve that purpose, since the intestines are something we keep for waterskins and the lining of clothes. Keeps things watertight and makes the leather go farther. Back when we were on the surface, we would use wax or gourds for such things. … we lived better then it seems.”

Astraeus listens carefully and looks to Gruda’s face. Saying with sure, practiced confidence.

“We’ll have such things again. It’s my duty.”

Gruda smiles at him.

“Thank ya, for taking the time to reassure me and listen to my ramblings, if I don’t get to my chores they won’t get done though, could you excuse me my lord?”

He wasn’t ready to hold onto hope anymore. Astraeus understood and nodded, waving his arm to the side, Gruda wandering off to a particular tent where Moss was stacked high about the outside. Astraeus wandered outside the tent city, past clusters of tents huddled around fires. He heads deeper into the caves, his fingers touching bare stone, soon his feet find the soft moss they harvest. Surrounding a still pool of water. The soft bioluminescent glow of the red moss lights up his face and body in the reflection.

He was surprised to spy his own face. Taking a few moments to even accept it was his own face.

Something in his body said it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. He pushed that feeling down and took stock of his appearance.

His glowing neon blue eyes grabbed his attention first, the sclera of which seemed to be a dark gunmetal grey. His thin eyebrows sat between his eyes and his hairline, and seemed to sit naturally in a slightly angry angle. He tried to soften his own expression, and was somewhat satisfied with the slightly cocky smile he could pull. Turning his head, and making faces, his long hair splashed into the water, his own hands grabbing for it to dry it out. It hadn’t occurred to him, but he lacked traditional hands or arms. His eyes falling on the simple shapes making up his hands, and the singular square plate acting as his ‘elbow’. He felt some pain, looking at the muscular shoulders and arm ending suddenly only a hand width in a shiny golden cap. This illogical pain bothered him, so he suppressed it once more. Shifting his attention. Other plates of gold came to his attention, on his chest sitting beside his pectorals and wrapping around his back, and wrapping up his jawline near his ears. His ears themselves were sharp, long and seemed articulate enough to match his emotion like his goblin family. His eyes fell once more to his hair, and the twin triangular shapes that sat above his ears, he felt slightly silly spotting them. They reminded him of the wolves ears, but so much more simplistic. Above that, a crown-like hair tie kept his long hair tamed into a long ponytail. Stopping at his mid back as far as he could feel, the cold water dripping down his back.

He wiped his hands down his muscular body, the cold magic of them catching in his absolute minimal clothing, the navy blue of his underwear sticking out in his mind as foreign to the goblin settlement. Did carnachias really give the goblins-

A singularly loud screech broke his trance, lifting his head from his hips to the nearby cliff.

The screech came from an emerald-hued harpy, her birdlike legs wrapped tightly around a hefty bag, its contents bleeding where her claws have messily pierced the fabric, and clearly heavy. Her enormous wings catching the wind and struggling to haul the heavy bag into the arms of the waiting goblin. Who is quickly bowled over by the massive weight, landing on his ass. The harpy helps him up and checks over the bag. Her high-pitched voice carried easily over the crashing waves below.

“Ah damn.. Sorry my grip slipped, I … had to run, they’re getting awfully curious and bold why we’re hunting just so many damn gulls I swear it!”

Astraeus couldn’t hear his response, but hers came soon after, he moved closer as stealthily as he could, hiding behind a nearby pillar as she spoke.

“I- No! I’m not dumb, of course I made sure. They’re too busy tearing the forest apart, trying to deal with the plants and such to follow a single harpy, I just noticed some kids in the village watching me work, that’s all.”

“-Awlright. If you say so. Just keep up your patrols-”

She laughs, covering the bottom of her face with her wing. Lacking a hand to coyly touch her jaw, feathers do just fine as she taunts him.

“Yeah yeah. I won’t slack off, not like you Casanova. Is this the part where you whip out your dick to punish me for being clumsy?”

She flies off too fast for him to really respond, the goblin now covered in blood and struggling against a gust of sea-air. Leaving him to grumble and walk past the other side of the pillar past Astraeus to the village. Astraeus stayed behind to collect some moss, hoping to be useful. Taking a few moments between hunting for clumps to look out over the sea. Distant islands pierce the horizon over the choppy water. After collecting literal armfuls of the moss, he heads back. The warm glow of the fires touching his skin and making him feel warm once more. As he drops the armfuls of moss beside the tents, Gruda’s voice rises up from inside the pen.

“Thank you! Preciate ya!”

Before his attention goes back to the wolves, who bow into playful poses around him from his raised voice. Figuring he wants to play, Gruda is quickly roped into giving them playful pats and gently wrestling with them. Astraeus leaves him to his job, and wanders back farther into the camp. He settles down near a campfire that had been set up where he woke up. A nearby goblin chiming up.

‘Welcome back, my lord.”

He smiles up at the goblin, lowering his hands into his lap and crossing his legs, sitting up straighter. Feeling a slight calm in his heart now that the goblins aren’t terrified to merely talk with him. He smiles to them and nods to them, saying softly.

“Thank you. How’re things holding up?”

A familiar voice picking up in the background.

“I’ll answer that.”

The goblin queen joined Astraeus at the fireside, joined by three more goblin women, who all sit close to him, facing the fire. One of them, leaning against him, her head pressed against his shoulder.

The goblin queen that woke Astraeus was herself short with thick thighs, like most goblins. She was adorned in wolf-fur boots that were wrapped tightly around each foot and her calves, making her feet look particularly small. The ropes red color a comfortable compliment to the deep reddish brown fur, she wore a dress, similarly intricately wrapped in red ropes that wove and were sewn into the fur, to model her body, support her breasts and keep most of her body otherwise modest. A hood hung loosely from her shoulders, and from where Astreaus was sat, he could see two ears sewn into it, making for a cute flourish on an otherwise refined looking gobliness. She spoke in the same calm, chirpy tone that he was used to, saying to the group.

“I think, to start this rather grim discussion, a round of introductions are in order. My name is Gella. I am the youngest of the four Goblin Queens.”

The next one to speak was stockier. She had thicker arms, with a slightly muscular physique. She wore similar clothes to Gella, with a cape hanging from one shoulder, pushed aside as she had both hands pressed into her feet as she leaned forwards intently, looking at Astraeus with, what he could ascertain to be barely controlled interest. Her face barely reflected her build, she had a slightly angular nose, and her eyes, wild looking as they were, were a soft blue. Like the oceans around their home. Her black hair tied back into a messy ponytail that seemed to explode from the back of her head every which way it could. She had noticeably large fangs where Gella’s canine’s were. As she spoke Astreaus noticed them catching her tongue, which didn’t impede her speech too harshly, giving her a slight lisp to her Th’s and S’s.

“This guy’s awesome Gella! My name is Dirt.”

She seemed quite proud of the name, and Astraeus had to hide the instinct to laugh behind a gentle smile, saying softly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and to have your name formally, respectively, please, continue.”

The one on his shoulder spoke up, draping her hands over his shoulder. She had deep, almost black hair that shone purple in the dim light. It hung over her face in a curtain hiding most of her features, except for a single half open eye and black plush lips. Her face seemed more angular, and she had a sharp little nose which gently poked into Astraeus as she pouted a whine and said quietly.

“My name’s Fett. I’m a goblin queen like the rest. I can be a pleasure to you too…”

She punctuated this sentence by moving her entire body up against his arm. Making Astraeus critically aware of her soft breasts, stomach and thighs, which all settled around his arm. Astraeus cleared his throat and looked down at her, she wasn’t nearly as curvy as the other two, possessing smaller breasts and hips, but she had a strangely gothic-sad appearance to her. Even her clothes seemed darker in her presence. Her long hair cascaded down over every inch of her body, with no sense of order except to bring attention to her curves. Her skirt was shorter than the others, and her bust was pushed up to bursting against the top of it, her clothes had no sense of preserving her modesty like the other two.

“Of course you can, I’m honored to meet you Fett.”

The fourth, sat on her hands, looking into the fire, even as the other three looked at her expectantly, she remained quietly vacant. Her deep green lips curled into a vacant grin as she admired the fire. She was clad in a long tunic of fur, that split just above her thighs and hung around her crossed legs in great piles. Decorated with swirling patterns of red. She had thinner features that complimented her medium breasts in a way Astraeus could compare as lithe, even if she was short.

Astraeus watched her for a few minutes with the rest in contemplative silence, laughing softly to himself. Clearly, she enjoyed fire, she would giggle at every crackle, and seemed tempted to touch it, her fingers dancing across her ankles in restraint.

Fett sighed and said.

“She’s Vedra. She likes explosions.”

Vedra made a soft noise in response and Grella cringed at the mediocre showing of Goblin culture. Hoping to impress, but in her mind, she had failed. She pushed the emotion down and says after a calm measured sigh.

“We’d intentionally saved the hardest step for last, when it came to our invasion plans. Which was building you, Astraeus. We intend to push an invasion… tomorrow if nothing explodes, prematurely.”

She shoots Vedra a look, which goes unnoticed.

“If it’s all the same to you, we want to have you lead the push, as our strongest soldier and soon-to-blossom leader. We will invade the surface of Costalos tomorrow at noon.”