Zigtok's page

About Zigtok

Meet Zigtok. He was an (unknowingly) gifted goblin who was born into the Bloodcrown Tribe, whom only really cared about the meanest and the biggest goblins there were (and lacking in both departments, he would be called Zigtok "the Runt"). The tribe was mostly associated with stealing, raiding, and pillaging villages to get all of their shinies and trinkets, because trying to find them like other goblins do was too boring.

Zigtok would take minor parts in these raids and pillages (according to the other goblins, anyway), using his speed and agility to acquire as many hard-to-reach riches as possible. In his first raid, he stole a precious gold necklace from a little longshank that had the inscription of a face of an old-looking longshank, seeing the tears in his unusually white eyes, hearing the screams from his strange-looking maw, and his face contorted in a strange manner, confused as to his expression; after all, he was raised in a tribe who only cared about fighting and stealing, he didn't know any better! Zigtok couldn't take the sound and thrashing of the kid, so he took the nearest blunt object, and whacked him over the head. Finally, that grating noise and struggle was over! Now he can continue with getting the other shinies and trinkets the longshanks had!

Zigtok took that object and necklace as trophies of his first successful raid. His object would prove invaluable, and his necklace gave him the desire to continue his duty to his tribesmen, in hopes of being treated more and more like an equal.

After a string of successful raids, each more successful than the last, the tribe celebrated Zigtok's success and riches he's brought to them thus far. At this moment, Zigtok would be considered a major part of his tribe. Finally, his hard work has paid off. But their victory would come at a cost that Zigtok would finally experience and understand.

In the dead of night, when all of the goblins were boozed up and asleep, mercenaries attacked after a nearby city placed a bounty on goblin heads. Zigtok, being a "runt," didn't drink too much, so he wasn't as drunk as the others. Incidentally, because of this, he would awaken from his slumber, hearing the screams of longshanks charging in the distance. He tried to wake his tribesmen up, but they were passed out, unresponsive from the drink they consumed. He hid from the longshanks, seeing them armored up and ready to fight, trying to stay alive and watching as the mercenaries destroyed their buildings and chopped up his kinsmen.

Seeing the brutality, his eyes began to turn a wet haze, his voice begin to spasm out of control, and from a shiny mirror on the riches pile revealed to him a face twisted in a shape similar to the longshank boy he beat unconscious on his first raid. It was at this point that the confusion he got from that raid was made clear; the emotion of despair from losing his kinsmen who had just begun to treat him like real family, the wave of fear from realizing that his situation was no different than the boy he beat into unconsciousness, and the sheer hopelessness in being unable to do anything to stop the longshanks, or to save any of his kinsmen.

Unfortunately, his inability to control his emotional turmoil alerted the longshanks of his presence. They turned to him, and attempted to slay him like they did his tribesmen. They seemed extremely skilled and well-geared. Zigtok was really only able to handle citizens, not guards or even trained mercenaries.

So, he did the only thing he thought of that the tribesmen normally forbade: Run. He leaped from the hut he was atop of, ran from that place into the nearby woods, and ran as far as he could, gripping his object and necklace so hard blood drew from his elongated nails. All he could accept was looking forward and running, not looking back, for fear of seeing the longshanks that slaughtered his people, their bloodlusted faces imprinted onto his mind, the screams of the longshank boy wracking his brain, the woods getting more and more blurry as his body grew weaker with each passing step.

After running what seemed like an eternity, he collapsed, his mind going blank from his nightmarish stress and his self-inflicted wounds being too grievous to support. He jolts upward hours later, a face contorted in absolute fright, the sunlight penetrating onto his eyes from the edge of the forest, object ready to face any longshanks that he may have inadvertantly come across, but it was clear. No longshanks, no creatures...just the buzzing of insects and the chirping of birds.

He walks a few steps outward, his eyes meeting the rising smoke in the distance, finally coming to terms with the fate of his tribe, closing his eyes with regret and remorse. He was finally starting to become accepted by his tribe, but it was taken away from him in the very same manner that his tribe thrived upon; by slaying longshanks and their own "tribesmen," and taking away the things most precious to them. It was with this that he contemplated that, perhaps his own kind and the longshanks aren't that different after all, and that the longshanks merely exposed to him the sort of horror that he and his tribesmen inflicted upon them.

Conflicted with this realization of his tribesmen and the longshanks, he hears a very familiar grumbling sound. He had no more time or energy to mourn his fellow tribesmen, nor should he. All he could think about was surviving, moving forward, and carry the legacy of his tribe in the best way he can, even if it is uncertain.

Of course, no respectable goblin can do so on an empty stomach. He grips his trophy object and necklace, in remembrance of both what he has lost, and what he has learned, and trudges onward into the plains he has truly awoken from, in hopes of understanding a better way of life.