Fourteen

It is decided then. I can no longer stay here, it is time to move on. Not only does it hurt having goblins around me all the time, but I do not feel like I am fulfilling my destiny. I must do good in the world and there is no way I can do that holed up in a cave hanging out with a bunch of goblins. I love working on my potions and bombs and chatting with my friends, but what good will it do the greater good if I don't use what I learned to help others?

"It is time to go," I said solemnly to Fizzle. 

"Already? We just got started and you nearly perfected the solution to make the liquid fire," Fizzle replied, clearly disappointed.

"Oh I finished it last night," Wyrtt said excitedly. "It's perfect now. Just a bit of tinkering with some acid and I'll bet you I can get it to melt rock too!" 

"You see what I mean, Wyrtt? You need to stay. We need you here," Fizzle pleaded, his big yellow eyes brimming with sadness.

"But the world needs me more," Wyrtt said resolutely. "I feel I have done all I can do here. Now I need to find a way to use what I know to help others and unite our kind so others don't think we are all monsters." 

Fizzle's ears drooped. "I can come with you!" he offered hopefully.

"I would love that," Wyrtt said warmly, placing a hand on his friend's slender shoulder, "but this part of my journey must be alone. Perhaps we will meet again on the trail. I need to say goodbye to the master and show him the final adjustments to the liquid fire, and say goodbye to Sqee and the others."

Fizzle held his forehead to Wyrtt's affectionately and said "May the road treat you kind, brother." 

Wyrtt grabbed him in a tight embrace, ignoring the bony points of Fizzle's shoulders poking into him. "What's with the formal goodbye? We are family, and we will meet again."

Wyrtt said his goodbyes to the others. Squee gave him a bundled travelling cloak, woven from spider silk. "Stay safe out there," she said in her squeaky voice. 

He showed the master, a wizened old goblin named Rakkt, what he needed to know about the liquid fire formula. Rakkt said he would miss Wyrtt and that he had been a valuable asset to the group while he was there. He provided Wyrtt with the best traveling alchemy set up and as many supplies as he could carry in a sturdy leather pack, and gave an open invitation for him to come back anytime if he ever needed anything.

Wyrtt said he would remember that and promised that when he became famous, which he undoubtedly would, he would remember the ones who helped him when he was a lowly apprentice. 

Wyrtt took one more longing look around the grotto, blinking back tears. This damp cave had been his home for so long. He would miss the glow of luminescent fungi on the walls, the constant drip of water somewhere deep in the tunnels, the laughter and bickering of his friends. With a deep breath, he steeled himself, turned, and left. 

As he was leaving, all his friends gathered to see him off, cheering him on. "Kudos to the greatest alchemist of goblinkind! Wyrtt is number one! We will never forget you, brother!" There were many tears and cheers as Wyrtt set off into the distance.

Now what? Wyrtt said to himself as he walked along the dusty road, the late afternoon sun warm on his green skin. He adjusted the pack on his back, heavy with supplies. I need to find a way to help others using my talents, but how can I do this? 

As he crested a hill, he noticed a job board in the village below, with many notices listing tasks people in the area needed help with. Wyrtt struggled to make out the words from a distance as he read:

ADVENTURERS WANTED: NEED STRONG HEROES TO DECIMATE GOBLINS IN AREA WHO ARE TERRORIZING STEADS ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN. SMALL REWARD FOR A BIG JOB. THE PEOPLE HAVE GATHERED ALL THEY CAN TO REWARD. SEE BLACKSMITH JAKE.

Goblins really? Wyrtt sighed. He took the notice off the board and headed into town. 

Immediately he noticed people giving him sideways glances. A woman pulled her child closer as Wyrtt approached. Many grabbed at their weapons or shielded their children. Wyrtt started asking around "Excuse me, can someone tell me where to find the blacksmith?"

People gave him a wide berth, some spat at him or yelled "Go away, goblin! Shoo!" Others ran away in fear. 

My, they really do see me as a monster here, Wyrtt thought sadly. "Please, I'm a nice goblin!" he said, trying to give the biggest, friendliest smile he could muster. "I just need directions to the blacksmith."

Suddenly, Wyrtt felt the point of a sword between his shoulder blades. 

"Who wants to know where the blacksmith is?" a gruff voice growled.

"I do, kind sir," Wyrtt replied politely, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.

"Well don't you speak all proper for a goblin piece of shit," the man said.

"Well sir, I'm not your average goblin," Wyrtt explained calmly. "I'm educated. I know 8 languages and the art of alchemy."

"You don't say," the man said, switching to dwarvish. "Are you Blacksmith Jake?" Wyrtt asked, also in dwarvish.

"I am," the man replied, "but I don't deal with goblins, educated or not, so best be on your way. And tell the rest of your gods damned clan that if they plan to attack again, we'll be ready for them."

"Well sir, if you would just put down that sword..." Wyrtt said, slowly turning around with his hands still up. The man was tall and broad, with a bushy red beard. Wyrtt noticed the thick muscles of a blacksmith under his rolled up sleeves. 

Wyrtt handed over the job notice. "I'm actually here because of this. A lowly goblin answering the call of duty against his own kind?" 

The blacksmith looked puzzled, lowering his sword slightly. 

"You see, I do not consider goblins to be my kind," Wyrtt explained. "Well, I am goblin by birth but my tribe kicked me out, so they are no longer family to me. I mean to do well by humanity and help where I can. I want to use my alchemy skills to make the world a little better."

The blacksmith lowered his sword completely now. "Well, we only gathered 3 pieces of gold and 15 silver as reward, so we can't..."

Wyrtt cut him off. "Please sir, you can keep your money. You need it more than I do. Let us talk details of this goblin problem and see what I can do to help."

The blacksmith eyed Wyrtt warily for a moment. The afternoon sun glinted off his bald head. Then his weathered face cracked into a smile. "Well by the gods, a goblin with a conscience! Never thought I'd see the day. Come on then, let's talk this over with an ale. The name's Jake, by the way..."

He put a meaty arm around Wyrtt's bony shoulders and led him towards the tavern, all suspicions gone. Wyrtt smiled to himself, his sharp little teeth gleaming in the dusk. Though the road ahead would not be easy, helping even one human see him differently gave him hope. This Jake seemed a decent man, despite his initial prejudice. If he could continue finding folk like him, folk willing to look past race and see personhood, perhaps he could make a difference after all. 

With new optimism, Wyrtt followed Jake into the rowdy tavern, ready to discuss how he might use his alchemy for good.