Grubnick sat in his bed at the High Hand mulling over the terrible situation in the city. Leaning back against the wall his bed was pushed too, he pondered the events of which he had heard.
Desperation. Plain as a black goat in the mountain snow. The refugees, fanatics misled by a charlatan, even the seekers casting about for anything; like a drowning man grasping at floating twigs knowing they can't hold him. And now... Takhisis...
Delarn, his mentor, had taught him of Takhisis. Indeed, he taught him of all of the old gods; though less of most than his own patron diety Sirrion.
Renewal. Rebirth. The city had been brought to it's knees, it's people to the brink. Now was the time to plant the seeds. The people Knew now, beyond any doubt, that the old gods were real. Now he just had to show them that Takhisis wasn't the only one...
His belly burned with anger but he calmed himself with slow breaths.
Carefully now. He chided himself.
You can't rush off headlong into foolery. Still he hated those who hid the truth, those who misled others for their own gain, those who held an iron claw and prevented the sharing of knowledge or freedom of peaceful worship.
Thaksis.
Takhisis had paved the way for Sirrion, perhaps. Unknowingly. Perhaps now the people would listen, with proof of the old gods on their doorstep. With proof of a cleansing fire and hope of renewal. He would plant the seeds of hope, but it would not be easy. He would have to be very careful...
Grubnick had hidden his true nature most of his life. Other goblins never questioned why kill, why burn; they just did. He was not satisfied. He sought knowledge, wisdom, he cherished learning... And Sirrion had sent a gift, a friend..
Delarn, what should I do?
Shaking his head in frustration Grubnick left and locked his room. Still wearing his hide armor against the cold, he headed downstairs. With his belt knife tucked into his large pouch, he left his other weapons and pack in his room.
Perhaps there will be a game I can join or watch. He always thought better when half his mind was on something else. It was as if the distraction allowed him to work a problem around differently; to see new angles.
Entering the common area he orders a beer and glances around the room slowly looking for a game or any entertainment, always keeping a careful eye out for troublemakers.
(OOC: sorry, first-post-flood
)
I know Gregeddin did nothing to Tulbas, but Tulbas is frustrated and eaten by guilt and he tries to throw it at someone. Gregeddin getting rich after Raetmal helped him and murdered seemed like a good target.)
