Slagwort, Goblin Mage, Unstable

The wizard Torfild was in a sour mood. Those idiot goblins were supposed to have attacked the town at dusk. Weeks of planning were now wasted. He would need a new way of making the villagers see him as their new protector.

Torfild had arrived in the hamlet of Drogstine just over a month ago. He had previously been in the employ of a baron far to the east, but when word of some of his more unsavory magical experiments had reached the baron's ears, Torfild was forced to flee in order to keep his head attached to his neck. He managed to slip out of the barony without incident, but was unfortunately forced to leave most of his belongings behind. Only his most precious of possessions accompanied him on his journey to Drogstine.

Immediately after arriving into town, Torfild had attempted to ingratiate himself to the village council. Two of the four councilmembers were awestruck by his mystic garments and finely carved staff and were more than willing to contract Torfild as the first ever village wizard once he offered his services. The other two councilmembers and the mayor were not as swayed and after a closed door discussion , the council decided to say thanks, but no thanks to Torfild's offer at this time. Every time he thought about the smug look on Mayor Kerb's face as he was being dismissed, Torfild's face burned with anger.

But Torfild was resourceful. And the goblin clan that called the foothills of the nearby mountain range their home would be a most useful resource. In the days following his humiliation before the council, Torfild spent his time roaming the forests and fields surrounding the village until he gathered enough materials to craft some simple fetishes and charms, that while primitive, would be more than enough to impress the goblins and let him use their greed for more to bend them to his purpose.

Torfild had entered into the goblins' territory with an air of arrogant resolve. He was soon accosted by a pair of goblins armed with short spears acting as a border patrol. Torfild was able to persuade them to take him to their boss man without much more than a steely gaze and a threatening tone to his request. The wizard was relieved he hadn't had to use force on his escorts. It wouldn't have bothered his conscience or taken any real effort on his part, but Torfild knew he might need to save his strength for when he met with the goblin leader.

As it turns out, Torfild's caution was unnecessary. The head goblin was a massive, slovenly creature that had obviously not indulged in any activity other than gluttony for many years. Now Torfild understood why the town seemed so unbothered, despite having a goblin clan so nearby. It was apparent that this wretched mound of goblin flesh had no interest in leading his clan into raids on any surrounding communities, only in indulging his base desires.

Boss Man Slarbig's eyes lit up when Torfild showed him some of the trinkets he had prepared and brought along as tribute, but they glazed over when Torfild began to explain what he wanted of the goblins. Torfild felt his temper rising at the grotesque Slarbig, but before he got too heated, a small goblin named Slagwort took over the negotiations. As Slarbig fell asleep and began snoring in his makeshift throne, Torfild and Slagwort went over Torfild's plan. The goblins would attack Drogstine at dusk during the late summer festival. Most of the townsfolk would be celebrating in the surrounding meadows all day and by early evening, they would be in no state to mount any defense against a goblin raid.

That is when Torfild would appear and drive out the goblins with his magic. Sure, a few villagers or farmers may die, but that is the price their council would have to pay for treating him with such disrespect, Torfild thought. He knew there would have to he a few goblin dead as well, to make it look convincing, but Torfild left that part out of his explanation to Slagwort. A few extra gifts would smooth that over after the fact. The deal was struck. The goblins would attack in two weeks time and in exchange, Torfild would supply them with minor magic charms and trinkets.

But last night, the town celebrated through the night, without so much as the mere scent of a goblin. Now at dawn, Torfild was making his way back to the goblin encampment, visions of revenge for their duplicity dancing in his mind. As he neared the nexus of their territory, any goblin he encountered scurried away after one glance at Torfild's enraged face. He faced no opposition as he stormed into Boss Man Slarbig's sizable hut. What he found inside sent an icy shock down Torfild's spine. Standing next to Slarbig's grotesque form was not only the smaller goblin Slagwort, but Mayor Kerb as well.

Before Torfild could react, Slagwort raised a gnarled stick and pointed it in his direction. A blast of green energy hit Torfild in the chest. He fell to his hands and knees, his staff clattering away. He could feel a twisted power flowing through his body, shifting and warping him. His robes suddenly felt too big and heavy on his frame. Torfild looked up and gasped "What have you done to me?!" He watched with horror as Kerb and Slagwort grew to massive size in front of his eyes, both of them watching him with bemused expressions. Horror turned to primal fear as conscious thought slipped from Torfild's mind.

Slagwort swiftly reached down and grabbed the toad that had formerly been the wizard Torfild. "Do we still need this bit of him?" the goblin asked the human standing next to him. "No," replied Kerb, "the staff will serve as proof of his demise. Dispatch of...that...as you wish"

Slagwort shrugged and tossed the toad to Slarbig. "Have a snack, cousin." He turned back to Kerb as the massive goblin stuffed the former wizard into his mouth. "So who wanted him dead, anyways?"

"The Baron of Pepperridge. We recieved word of the bounty on him not long after he arrived in town. I would have had him killed right then, but I know the Baron is impatient with his grudges. Another couple weeks sweetened the pot nicely."

"Just how much was this bounty?" Slagwort asked, narrowing his eyes at the mayor.

"I will worry about that, my small friend," said Kerb, "You will get your agreed upon payment, and the continued peace with the people of Drogstine. More than fair, I would say."

"You WOULD say." muttered Slagwort under his breath. He then put on his most charming goblin smile and bowed to Kerb. "Of course! You have been very generous!"

"Keep that in mind!" huffed Kerb as he left the hut. As he watched the mayor leave, Slagwort swore that one day soon, he would feed that fool human to his cousin.

"You would like that, wouldn't you, cousin? Another tasty morsel for your gullet?" giggled Slagwort.

Slarbig's only response was a loud snore.