Fate Deals the Cards Temperance

  Chapter 32

  Broken Toys

  Stumbling onto the Violet clan, while seeking a place to move my tribe was a wrinkle I really didn’t need in an already complicated process. My usual method involved hunting while scouting out a campsite, then slowly and methodically dispersing, defeating or avoiding threats on my return trip, once the house was all set up at our new destination… That posed a problem, with the presence of the goblin witch, her apprentices, several hopefuls, a few hangers on and a small swarm of kids, all girls. I needed absolute privacy to summon my home from… wherever it went when it wasn’t and the goblins were insatiably curious, especially when I produced my thin, swan bone flute and began piping an old song from somewhere far away. ‘Lillies In The Dell’ rose, sweet, sharp and melancholic, teasing the emotions of the listeners; who quickly crept over and became watchers.

  Those peeping eyes stuffed my magic right back in me with a jarring, uncomfortable jolt, shutting down the music and giving me a tight, sharp pain in my heart. I raked the surrounding bushes and trees with an angry glare and the sense of watching eyes vanished instantly, but who was I kidding? They were gonna come right back, summoned by the music. Goblin girls loved to dance… music moved their bodies almost effortlessly, sending them into wild, unschooled performances that often took my breath away. Not that I had any great musical talent or charisma… that I was aware of, anyway.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d had to backtrack and choose a site closer to our old spot than I’d prefer; but I couldn’t just march them out blind. Instead, I trotted a mile back down my path to a dip in the land that was less desirable, but would serve for a day.

  I kept the music low and soft, the house and garden too. Everything sat low down and blended in with the sere, dusty grasslands; even my hedge walls were low, vicious things, more bark, thorn and branch than leaves. No house appeared, just thorn-bush bowers and the bathing pool, surrounded by a cluster of bamboo and willows.

  Naturally, by the time I got back with my tribe, the sun was rising and Violet’s clan had moved in and made themselves comfortable… of course.

  “Ugh… these bitches!” I sighed into Emmie’s hair, once I settled down in the nest, exhausted to the point that I no longer cared about the interlopers, or their desires.

  “Sleep, Ghnash… Emmie has you.” The tiny, golden eyed goblin cooed and purred, her arms wrapped as far around me as the poor dear could manage. She wasn’t cut out for ‘big-spoon’ but she tried and that was more than enough to send me off to sleep like a baby at his mother’s boob.

  /

  The sun rose slowly over the ugly little fortress town lurking in the mountain pass; cocks crowed, leaves stirred softly as the first breaths of wind moved up the valley. With that breeze came a tremendous roar of rage, as a landslide of angry man-mountain crashed down on the rough-timbered gate. Beams and ironwork flew into the courtyard in a thunderous, earth-shaking blast, followed by the raging giant. “Good morning, slavers! I’m your wake-up call!” He howled at the sky, while casually bashing a watchtower with his iron strapped, bronze knobbed tree trunk. The west watchtower slowly collapsed, mud brick and local, forced labor construction unable to withstand his might. The guard stationed at the top actually managed to strike the alarm bell twice on his way down; for all the good it was going to do them.

  “Ugh… that was a juicy one!” Strength complained, using a broken broadsword to pry the corpse of an armored knight from around his club. A loud, metallic bang and wet splat announced the completion of his grizzly task and the end of that knight’s chivalric glory in service to his faith. Strength shoved the wreck aside with his boot and spat. “Greela is already scouting our path for tomorrow; Lets make this place livable for tonight, we’ll burn it down when we leave in the morning.” He ordered his band of Swords. “The Coins are already working the gate spells.”

  The men groaned quietly, then fell to work; clearing the bodies away and stacking them in a hay-barn for easy burning, later. They moved in near perfect unison, trading jobs and assisting each-other with teamwork that made the ugly, nasty job fly by in a few short hours.

  The barracks building became their camp, once all the bunks and bedding got hauled out and tossed onto the dude-pile in the haybarn. More fuel for the body burning and far fewer fleas and bugs in the barracks was a win-win for the team. The commandant’s house and officer’s quarters had too much bad mojo to be attractive lodgings, considering the ‘recreational equipment’ and often scrubbed blood stains present in both buildings.

  Strength was busy setting up a nest for himself in the stable, when the Eight of Coins coughed to announce himself. “Done with your magic stuff?” The giant rumbled in query at the much, much smaller man.

  “All done. We're pretty tapped out, so you won’t be the only one drinking this swill tonight.” He held up one of those awful jars of sludge and smiled weakly. “Believe me, if there was a way to make it taste better, we’d have found it.”

  The enormous creature took the jar from his tiny brother and popped the whole thing in his mouth, unopened. With a little tongue acrobatics he got it between his molars and with a soft ‘crack’ he bit the jar and swallowed it down entirely. “Much better!” He grunted happily.

  “What about later, when that broken glass…? Never mind, I don’t wanna know!” Eight grumbled unhappily, while drinking a swig from his own jar of putrid muck.

  “I have a gizzard with rocks and accreted stones in my throat, like a bird.” He announced happily. “I’ll poop out a little sea-glass in a week or so and that’s that!”

  “Thanks for the in-depth anal info…” Eight grumbled. “I’d say shove it up your ass; but whatever.”

  “Shush, you’re annoying the horsies!” He rumbled at his smaller brother, shooing him out of the stable.

  “Liar! Equines love all of us and you know it, you big jerk!” Eight griped and complained as he headed for the barracks. “I wanted to sleep with the horsies too.” He ambled aimlessly back to the low, long structure, sulking just a little, when a soft sound caught his attention from behind a pile of rubble.

  “Who’s there?” He asked gently, voice low and soft. “I won’t hurt you.” Only a tiny shuffling noise answered him from behind the boards and junk. “I’ll get you out of there…” Slowly and carefully he pulled the accidental shelter of random planks away from the adobe wall of the commandant’s house.

  Huge bright violet eyes glared at him from a green, snarling face that featured sharp teeth and long fangs. It hissed at him and scrabbled back into the corner, slashing with blunted claws at the man. He was tiny, child sized, scrawny and feral. Scars covered his taut, green skin; evidence of whips, hot irons, rough handling and all the usual things the cultists tended to get up to, spread over his emaciated body, an indictment in flesh, blood and bone.

  The tattered, dirty waif was dressed in pale yellow gauze rags, all that remained of a sexy nightie and a collar of oiled leather tightly cinched around his throat.

  “I won’t hurt you…” Eight whispered gently, still holding the boards and planks with one hand, while the other crept to a pouch at his hip. With a subtle flick of his fingers, a small clot of brown stuff hit the small creature in the face, accompanied by a whispered spell. The goblin collapsed into a softly snoring heap in a heartbeat, zonked out and lost to the world. “Guys, I found a goblin.” The man called out in the quiet, empty outpost.

  /

  The sun was still shining through the narrow, heavily barred window when the tiny goblin stirred and woke with a feral start. “Easy… I won’t hurt you.”

  The child-sized creature sat up in a desperate panic, looked around the tiny room which held only a bed, a small table with something under a cloth, a stool and the man seated on the stool…

  Eight watched as the little creature realized he was locked in a room with a human, decided there was no escape, then sat back and opened his mouth, lolling his long green tongue out in silence.

  “I’m not going to do that to you… Not that either.” He remarked calmly, when the tiny goblin got up, turned his back and presented his ass.

  “Can you speak?” He nodded silently and that was all; after a long moment Eight spoke again. “There’s food and water beside the bed. Eat, drink. No-one will hurt you.”

  He sat there patiently and waited until the tiny creature snatched the loaf of bread and devoured it entirely, followed by the jug of water. He ate, curled up in the corner of the bed, as far from him as possible, never taking his eyes from the human’s.

  “Will you talk to me now?” He asked gently. “We will let you go, when we leave this place, I promise. Do you have a name?”

  “Fucktoy.” He answered in a voice so small he could barely be heard.

  “That’s your name?” Eight asked, shocked for the first time in a long while. The goblin nodded and sat there, curled in a ball, silent. “Has that always been your name?” He shook his head so faintly, eight only picked up on the denial by the movement of his long, pointed ears.

  “What were you called before? Can you tell me?” The man’s voice was soothing, musical and calm.

  “Fillip was my name.” He whispered so softly Eight barely heard him.

  “Fillip, why were you hiding? You could have run away.” Eight asked gently.

  “Fillip slave… Waits for master… You master now.” He nodded twice in rapid succession and grinned, displaying his sharp, pointy teeth. “Pound my ass?” The goblin stood and turned around, exposing his ass once again.

  “No, thank you Fillip. Please stop doing that.” Eight asked awkwardly, deeply awkwardly. “My people don’t keep slaves…”

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  The creature blinked at him a few times, unable to comprehend the idea. “Fuck-slave.” He announced with absolute conviction, prodding himself in the chest with his thumb.

  “No… Free goblin.” Eight spoke very slowly and clearly, as if that were going to help. “I removed your collar. You can run off into the woods.”

  “Fuck me, in woods?” The tiny green man asked.

  “Fillip, please… I give up.” He sighed. “Wait in this room. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okies!” The little guy chirped, suddenly excited to have an order to follow. He bounced over onto the bed and kneeled there, buns up. “I wait here.” The soft click of the door closing brought a sigh of relief from the little creature, as it sank down on the bed to await its master.

  /

  “The goblin dungeon is completely siloed, even within the light cult itself. I gather that those who find themselves stationed here, never leave. They go to such lengths to conceal their connection to the goblin raiders that plague the worlds.” Greela sighed in her low, purring tone. “As such, they are even more vile and debased here than elsewhere; some kinks however, even the cult despises. Keeping intact male goblins as pleasure slaves is deeply taboo, which makes it a common practice... That goblin has probably been kept as a secret sex-slave since his birth. He knows nothing else and no other way.” She shrugged her huge, orange striped shoulders and growled.

  “I spoke to a few of the former slaves before we left… It seems that the cult failed to breed goblins in captivity; so they ranch free range gobbs in the wilds, and send out raiding parties to capture them regularly. Once forced through the veil, they become our familiar savage goblin raiders. In the wild the males are shy, sneaky, nocturnal and solitary, outside of mating season.” She glanced at the closed door to the small cell in the barracks. “That little guy’s Will has been broken… He won’t survive in the wilds and can’t follow us home. If we bring him across the veil, he’ll go mad or become a blood-thirsty monster, or worse.”

  “I feel bad for the little dude.” Eight muttered sourly. “There isn’t anywhere safe for him?”

  She shook her head and gave an angry rumble, deep down in her chest. “We can turn him loose near a light cult town… Some perv might take him in for exactly what he’s already been used for; or they’ll sacrifice him.” Her huge, orange furred paw landed on his shoulder gently. “We fight monsters, brother; we cannot expect to come away unsoiled by this war. I’ll end him swiftly for you, when you are ready. He’ll feel no pain or fear.”

  “No Greela… If it must needs be done, I’ll do it. Until then, let him follow me. I’ll keep him in line.” Eight murmured quietly.

  “Are you sure? It’ll be harder if you get attached.” She muttered softly.

  “I was sold, when I was very small, freshly landed on a new world and alone… The men who found me, passed me around among themselves for a while, then they sold me to an old man for his use… The Wheel found me while I was being shipped to him, found me by pure chance. You know how he is…” Eight chuckled darkly and sighed.

  “He looks like a silly goofball; but he tore those slavers to pieces in ways I still don’t understand, before he even knew I was in that wagon. That they were shipping a cartload of chained children was enough for him…”

  “You can’t heal what’s broken in that gobb, little brother; not with all your potions, pills and philtres.” She grumbled. “He can’t leave and you can’t stay here, long-term.”

  “For now, he wants to stay with me and I feel like I owe him… or something.” The man looked up at his huge, feline sister and sighed. “You know how we are.”

  “You can’t bring this stray home. He won’t survive the journey intact.” She insisted gently, as her brother walked away.

  “I understand.” Eight of Coins answered calmly. “Come what may, I’ll take responsibility.” The man vanished through that door into the little cell without another word.

  Eight buttoned one of his spare shirts around the little creature and belted it with a length of leather cord around his waist. The hem almost reached his ankles and he looked ridiculous, but the dude’s jarringly large cock and balls were no longer dangling around loose. “Wear this, alright? Keep it on and don’t expose yourself to or offer any… services to these people. That is not our way.” He spoke firmly and quietly, then patted the tiny man on his shaggy, dark haired head. The creature purred and leaned into his hand, like a cat… “Come on, Fillip. It’s time to eat.”

  The mismatched duo stepped out into the late evening darkness, into a busy courtyard, bustling with a scant dozen identical men. “These are my brothers… We all look the same, but that’s normal for us. You are safe here, but stay with me.”

  Fillip nodded so vigorously his long ears swayed as he grinned up at the dark-haired, giant human. “Yub-yub, master! Will pleasure your friends!” He nodded again and smiled… which really didn’t help.

  “No Fillip… You will sit quietly and follow my instructions. No one is going to… do anything to you or demand you do any of that.” He repeated gently. “Just stay with me and keep your shirt on.”

  As they approached the small crowd, Fillip looked from one man to another, seeming unconcerned by their odd similarities. “More masters? Many masters.” He nodded with satisfaction and smiled, not eagerly, but with a calm resignation.

  “No, you should stay close to me. The others won’t hurt you, but they won’t understand.” Eight spoke softly and firmly, letting a faintly commanding tone float in his voice, just under the surface.

  The little guy nodded, his huge, violet eyes wide and uncomprehending. “Okie.” His small, green, blunt clawed hand took the huge man’s in a trusting, childlike grip and followed his master into the swarm of identical, rough looking men.

  “Gang, this is Fillip. Be nice to him, he’s my friend.” Eight spoke clearly and gently, for the goblin’s benefit, not his brothers’.

  As Eight declared the little guy ‘my friend’, the small hand in his tightened just a little and the small man pressed close to his master’s leg, trembling with excitement. “Friend!” The goblin whispered softly, joy and awe tinging his voice. “Fucktoy… no… Fillip has a friend…” The little guy cooed and burbled, clinging to his master’s trouser leg as they passed through the crowd.

  The man gathered a huge quantity of food from the bounty spread out on hay-bale tables under the stars, then led his tiny companion to a seat on a blanket spread out in the courtyard, where he laid out a huge meal between them. “Eat all you wish, Fillip. We eat together here, all of us.” The man whispered, when the goblin sat there for a long moment, paralyzed by fear. “This is our way, little brother.”

  Eight watched his new pal hesitate, then give in; devouring everything in his reach as quickly as he could. Before long, the small green man passed out on his back, belly distended comically and his tongue lolling out as he snored at the sky.

  “Keeping a pet?” Deuce of Coins asked gently, as he sat down on the blanket with his brother and the passed out goblin.

  “Don’t mock him; or me, brother.” Eight answered a little coldly, as he tucked his jacket around the tiny form. “When I look at him, I see what I might have become, if no one saved me…”

  “Ouch… No fair being all vulnerable and honest about your feelings, asshole!” Tuppence muttered quietly, with a wink. He reached into his coat and removed a bundle of cloth, tied with a neat ribbon. “A few of the boys are handy with a needle and thread.” He grinned and passed the bundle over with a nod. “A gift for our new mascot, from the family.”

  /

  Fillip woke bundled in a warm, good smelling coat, in the arms of his new master as the giant human carried him back to that small room. The human set him on the bed and then scolded the puzzled goblin with that calm, gentle tone, when Fillip turned over and offered up his butt.

  “No… please stop that.” Eight sighed tiredly. “Just hold still and do what I tell you.”

  Fillip nodded vigorously; he could do that! The little man sighed and relaxed a little, when his master untied the crude belt and pulled the voluminous shirt over the little goblins head. He stood still, waiting to discover how he could please this strange new master best… trembling with more than a little fear at the terrible uncertainty… he hadn’t even been beaten yet!

  Gently and carefully, the master bathed Fillip all over… Without doing any of the things he’d come to expect, during the process. The huge man just washed his tiny charge with soft cloths, a pleasant scented herbal soap and two whole basins of warm water, before toweling the little man off just as gently.

  With the same tender care, he dressed Fillip in a soft, clean tunic that actually fit him, a kilt of brown and gray tartan, a neatly fitted doublet and coat of brown wool, with big, polished antler buttons that would be easy to use, even with claws. A soft cap of the same woolen plaid crowned the tiny tartan clad dude, with a small gray hawk feather behind his ear. “Looks good, little buddy!”

  “Ooo… Cosplay!” The tiny green man purred happily, before turning around and flipping up his kilt, offering himself again.

  “This is going to be an ongoing issue, I think.” Eight sighed weakly. “Fillip… I will tell you when I want you to do that, alright? No more of that without orders.”

  “Okies!” He chirped, admiring his new outfit and playing with the buttons. “Tell me when you wanna pound my ass or throat, master!” He smiled with genuine happiness and purred. “Old master never let Fillip talk, or eat so much!” He hugged up to Eight’s leg and purred again. “Handjob? Fillip good goblin, keeps claws short!”

  “No, Fillip… I mean yes, you are a good goblin, but no, no handjobs, thank you.” Eight sighed wearily as he sank onto the cot in the corner and got undressed. “I’m going to sleep, you can roam the camp, but stay close, follow my brother’s instructions and behave yourself. Remember… No sexual offers. That’s an order.”

  “Yub-yub, master!” He sang merrily, while reaching for Eight’s wedding tackle with an earnest and intent look on his little green face.

  Eight carefully pulled his junk from the goblin’s grip and slowly pushed back with a finger between the goblin’s big, liquid eyes. “No. We respect each other’s boundaries, little brother. No touching without permission.”

  “No touching without permission?” Fillip repeated and frowned at his confusing, incomprehensible master. “You naked.”

  “Yes, because I’m going to sleep. You may encounter others naked as well, as we travel. Fillip, please do not offer your… services to them. This is not done among our people.” Eight explained gently to a wide-eyed little man who seemed unable to understand the concepts. “I will tell you when I need you to… do things for me.” The human let out a long, exhausted sigh and pulled his blankets over himself. “Good night, Fillip.”

  /

  Fillip nodded confidently, as his master fell asleep. He knew this. Humans seldom moved around at night, but were active by day, mostly! He slipped out of the small private cell where his master slept and crept out of the barracks into the night, where a few of the giant humans were playing musical instruments beside their cookfire in the courtyard. The light hurt his sensitive eyes whenever he tried to look their way, but the music continued unabated, despite his presence, so he closed his eyes and listened.

  No one reacted when he tentatively stepped out into the dimly lit, outer circle of firelight and began to dance in a circle around the musicians, swaying and leaping however the music instructed; his eyes tightly shut in the dim glow from the dying cookfire.

  After a few seconds, one of them noticed him, out on the distant edge of the circle, spinning and leaping wildly in his unschooled dance of joy. The music shifted, drawing greater effort and more acrobatic twirling leaps from the small man, his skinny green legs hurling him around the cobblestones in a mad whirl. Gasping and exhausted, Fillip landed back on his unsteady feet, when the music slowed and dwindled away.

  “Nice moves, little guy…” One of them spoke from the crowd of indistinct figures around the blinding fire.

  /

  Eight of Coins woke late in the night and stepped outside to use the privy… The haybarn they planned to burn at dawn, along with all the bodies, assorted torture tools and cult paraphernalia they’d heaped on the dead assholes, among the haybales. He closed his hastily donned robe and wandered over to the inevitable jam sesh over by the embers of the fire.

  The music was soft and low, a gentle and sensual rumba, flirting with a tango. They had their backs to the weakly glowing embers, arranged in a semicircle around Fillip, who danced for them, swaying and spinning on his nimble little clawed feet, his eyes closed and a smile of unblemished pleasure on his face…

  “This little dude is amazing…” Deuce of Swords muttered quietly from behind his guitar. “Can we keep him?”

  While they spoke, even with his eyes shut among so many men with the same voice, face and scent, he wound up clinging to Eight’s robe. While his feet kept sketching simple dance steps to the slowly fading strains of ‘Playa Azul’ and the whispers of the brothers, as they packed their instruments away for the night.

  “He’s a person, bro.” Eight reminded them gently, as he collected the exhausted goblin in his arms. The tiny guy hugged around his neck like a child, clinging there and sighing deep, slow breaths, already almost asleep.

  He carried his tiny armful back to the cell, undressed them both and climbed into bed with the warm. Green body pressed against his back, asleep and completely trusting.

  Eight woke with the goblin curled up around his head, his long green tongue hanging out on the man’s cheek. Fillip purred and stretched when the man moved, leaping to the floor with silent, feline grace.

  “Master help Fillip put clothes on? Nub gruk clothes much!” The little naked man asked merrily, when the human sat up and stretched.

  “Sure, pal…” Eight muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and having a stretch of his own… which was mildly troublesome.

  Fillip spotted his master’s morning wood and zeroed in on the tumescence with almost terrifying intensity. “Pound time?” The goblin asked, not eagerly, but with conviction.

  “No, Fillip, not pound time.” Eight sighed, as he dressed himself, and then the confused but happy goblin man.

  “Fillip was worried master nub wanna slam Fillip’s ass…” He purred warmly, a note of deep worry hidden in his huge, violet eyes.. “Nub send Fillip away, master…please?”

  “I won’t send you away, little brother. But I won’t make you do those things, either. Do you understand?” He spoke gently and adjusted the goblin’s sharp little doublet and coat.

  “Almost parade ready, little guy. Here, my sister Greela had these made before we left.” He gently settled a set of dark, smokey crystal lenses set in bone rims over the goblin’s eyes and tied them on with a soft leather strap. A wide brimmed pith helmet landed on the little guy’s head and his look was complete. “Adorable and practical!” Eight enthused, hugging his new buddy excitedly. “Be brave, little guy.”

  Thin, wiry green arms wrapped around the man and clung like a monkey to its mother, as they stepped out into the bright morning of the courtyard, together.

  /