This is part of Pies backstory, whee 4 short paragrahs were expanded on quite a bit.
After the incident with Alveena the caravaners attitude changed. They let Pie stay wit the caravan, but they were wary of him now. He felt them staring as he went about his day and by nightfall they had asked him to move on in the morning. So pie nestled beneath a wagon for the last time that night, drifting off into fitful dreams. The dreams shifted to nightmares, as he saw the shadowy figure stalking him, first in complete darkness, just two red eyes following him, watching him, but that soon gave way to the Ardenne forest, scenes from home, but dark and twisted.
He ran as the shadow creature took shape behind him, towering over him, with long lanky shadow arms reaching out for him. No matter how much he ran, those claws got closer and closer until they grabbed him and lifted him off the ground. The creature opened a gaping maw, and chomped down on pies head, the teeth gnashing into his chest and torso over and over. He screamed in pain as each clenching of the jaws pushed strange magical symbols into him, his blood was ritual lines spraying out,. His eyes swam with the sigils and signs, as they burned themselves in, the pain searing them into his memory.
The creature opened its mouth, lining its jaws up with his neck and snapped forward with force that would surely remove his head from – He jolted upright, hitting his head again as he was released into the waking world, still lying under a wagon. Ignoring the pain cascading from his temple, he rummaged through his pack for something, anything, to write with. He found a charcoal stick, from a time he had tried drawing back home, a bit surprised that it was still there after all this time in the Feymarch. The Feymarch he remembered a little better now. Though still fuzzy, his thoughts were able to briefly focus and remember roughly what had transpired there. Then those thoughts were crushed by the memory of the magical symbols, words, signs, and lines began pouring out of him, guiding his small hands to write them on the underside of the wagon. Frantically he pounded out those symbols exorcizing them from his mind by transcribing them on the wooden panels of the wagon. His writing was sloppy and haphazard but the symbols and images in his mind just wouldn't let him rest. The camp roused around him but he paid it no mind as he continued frantically scribbling.
It was then that two large hands wrapped around his ankles and pulled, hard. The charcoal stick broke in half, as he was dragged out by one of the caravan guards. "I thought you was 'posed to be gone this morn!" He said with a broken grin. "Well, gid on! Gid outta here!" The guard lifted him to his feet and planted a kick on his backside, which from the angle sent him tumbling back to the ground face first. As Pie picked himself up, one of the caravaners peered under the wagon. "What was he still doing under there? We thought he had left during the night. What - Tis a curse! He been scratching magical curses into the wagon! Grab 'im! We need to hold 'im for the guard! This goes way beyond unnatural!"
Pie tried to run, but the guard was on him quickly, and restrained him easily. The city guard arrived soon after, but the guardsmen didn't have any experience with magic, so they waited, enduring the caravaners tales of the strange goblin that they rescued and how he paid them back with curses. Eventually, a guardsman with magical aptitude arrived and inspected both Pie and the Wagon.
"You a wizard? He asked Pie.
Pie shook his head. "Uh, no. My name is Pie Spiderfoot, and I come from a village that does logging, though I was never really good at it." He tried to look under the wagon, but they pulled him back. "I had a horrible nightmare, a big monster was chasing me and it was making these strange symbols appear. I don't know what the writings are, they just tumbled out of me after the dream. It seemed like I couldn't stop writing them!"
The guard looked under the wagon, and began laughing. "Well if we don't have us here a right Wagon Whisperer. My my, you folk are cursed for sure! These runes are some of the basics to invoke a simple spell that sends a short whispered message. By golly if that ain't the scariest thing I've ever seen! Good thing you caught the culprit! We don't want them wagons getting any funny ideas now do we?" Seeming pleased with his joke, he turned to the other guardsmen. "Vandalism, Fine him and move on. I don't believe his story about not knowing any magic, but I don't care enough to investigate further since no harm was done." He chucked again to himself as he began walking away. "I learned magic from a monster in my dreams. That's solid funny, gonna have to share that around the tavern tonight to get some good laughs!"
The guards took Pie away from the disappointed and slightly angry caravaners who hurled insults his way as he was led off. "That will be 50 Silver since it's a first offense. An I suggest you leave them folks be and be more respectful of others property." Pie looked through his belongings, he had no money, he had never intended to travel, and had been living off the kindness of the caravan for the last week. He shrugged and grinned sheepishly, as the manacles were clamped in place and he was hastily brought before a magistrate for non payment of fines and sentenced to 1 week of labor.
Pie was put in the jailers cell that night, along with some other criminals, mostly a few older men too far into their cups that had started a brawl. In the morning the old men were set free to return to their homes, while Pie was guided to a logging camp on the edge of the city.
A guard ushered him into the camp, where he was met by a big angry looking foreman. "Hey Minkle! Got you another helper. Sentenced to one week. Work hard little vandal!" The guard was laughing as he exited, shaking his head.
Minkle eyed the small goblin skeptically. "They said a week, but time here is measured in trees. Two trees per day. five days, that's ten trees. Work hard and you might be able to get out in less time. Slack off and you might be with us a bit longer." He opened a storage closet along the wall and pulled a long two handed axe that was nearly as tall as the goblin himself. Pies pack went into the locker. "Use this. Get to work. One meal in the morning, miss it and you wait till the next morning. Sleep wherever you want, but don't leave the camp. Ever." He placed a metal bracelet on pies wrist and fastened it with a key. "We've got a wand that can track these. We'll find you right quick if you don't show up for your work in the morning. Your fines double or worse if you try to run off so don't do it."
Pie lifted the the heavy axe and groaned under the strain of the tool made for someone the size of the predominantly humans in the camp. "Do … do you have anything a little smaller? This might be hard for me to swing…"
Minkle chuckled. "Not my problem. We don't put kids to work in the mine, so we don't have kid sized axes."
Pie stomped a foot indignantly. "I'm not a kid! I'm 23! Goblins just don't get as tall as you people!"
"I know, it was a joke. Get used to it, little man. Now get to work. I've got quotas, and I'm not missing them teaching you how to do something simple." The big man ushed Pie out. Pie dragged the heavy axe and started following a path to the clearing area. There were a few camp workers directing the prisoners as well as the prisoners themselves, about 20 of them. One of the workers laughed out loud at the sight of the goblin dragging an axe as big as he was, and just pointed to a stand of trees.
Pie tried to work appropriately, but he was hindered by several things. Pie found it difficult to wield the big axe, he could only manage a swing or two before he had to rest, and his strikes were weak and hard to place where he wanted both due to his size and his frail limbs. He tried suggesting better, less strenuous methods from his previous experience, but the guards running the camp were not interested. As the sun set he had barely made a dent in the tree he was working on. The guards directing them blew a whistle and the prisoner all trudged back to the main area of the camp where they all settled in talking and laughing, comparing their progress and how much time they had left.
Pie settled up against a stack of logs away from the others, not sure how he was going to make this work. Rest claimed him easily, he was exhausted from the stress and the labor of the day. The dreams returned to him, and he spent the night running from and failing to get away from the dark shadowy monster that had chased him before. Each time he was caught the creatures attacks broke symbols out of him and the pain and torment felt real. When he woke he was exhausted and madly trying to scribble the images onto any surface he could with any implement at his disposal.
One of the guards saw the scrawled symbols and angrily kicked the pile. "You know we're going to have to cut those off before we run this through the mill now? Don't make extra work for us. I'm adding two days to your sentence." Pies attempts to reason with him met deaf ears as the guard walked away.
Pie trudged to the breakfast table that was set up in front of the main building. Bowls of porridge like gruel and some stale bread were set out for the workers. The human men were devouring them and Pie ran forward to grab some before it was gone. He ate in silence, dreading the long day of trying to make progress on his tree. When he finished he returned to his sleeping spot and grabbed his axe, and dragged it back to his tree.
When he got there however two men were already well into the beginning of the cut he had made. "Hey! That one was mine! I started it yesterday!" His voice cracked a little, as he realized the predicament he was in.
The two men looked at each other. "Did you see any work on this one? I sure didn't" The other grinned and shrugged. I think a squirrel scratched the bottom but that hardly counts as 'working on it.' Get your own tree greenskin. This one is ours." Pie dejectedly moved to another tree, going a little further away from the others. He tried to find a smaller tree, but they were mostly the same size. He resigned himself to working through it the hard way and worked hard all day making a sizeable cut into the tree.
When the forman blew the whistle that night Pie decided to leave his axe by the tree. If he could get back before the others they wouldn't be able to steal his tree. As he walked back into the camp, Minkle approached him. "I hear you aint turned in any trees yet? You just liking our company?"
Pie sighed in frustration. "Look I tried but some guys stole my first one and that stupid axe is way to big for me. In my village we had some longer saws two people could use that you didn't need to be a big person to use, and some ones that worked with blades on a wire. Don't you have anything like that or even a hand axe that would be smaller?"
Minkle shook his head. "Figure it out you don't leave till you turn in your allotted trees. Which I see here is no 14. You are really falling behind here." The man moved off, not concerned with the little goblins struggles.
The reminder of what had happened earlier that morning made the goblin question coming back to the camp. He decided to return to the tree and grabbed some rope along the way. He tied himself to the tree he was working on, hoping that if he scrawled those strange symbols again when he awoke it would be on the one he was working on anyway. He could then cut those parts off himself so that they wouldn't add more time.
He woke with a painful ache in his head, to find that he had escaped the rope and had scrawled all over several of the trees, making him glad that he had moved his spot away from the others. He collected himself and trudged to breakfast, arriving early despite the morning chill. He wanted to get back to his tree before the others finished their meal. He hurried through the plain breakfast, and rushed off ahead of the bigger men. His spot was undisturbed and he sighed in relief.
He began work again, swinging the heavy axe, taking breaks, until he had the tree ready to topple. He yelled out to warn others as was the custom, even cross cultures among his goblin village. His tiny voice was drowned out amongst the sounds of the humans chopping and yelling elsewhere. With a final swing he chopped the last support holding the tree in place, and watched it topple with satisfaction. He could feel blisters forming on a few of his fingers, but he had done it, felled his first tree.
He found one of the supervising guards and reported his success, but was met with yet another challenge. "Done? You have to trim the branches, cut it into sections and haul them to the lumber yard before you get credit for the tree. You been here a couple days and you havn't even gotten one yet? Pick up the pace!"
"I can't! These tools don't even work for me! How am I supposed to do big people work? Can't I do something to help the others instead?" He was frustrated and his complaints spilled out.
"Oh, talking back to your supervisors, that's a two day additional sentence. Lets see that puts you up to 18 trees. Better buckle down and get to work."
Pie was exhausted, his arms and his back hurt, his legs hurt, everything hurt. He slumped against the stump, resisting the urge to cry over the impossibility of this situation. He thought briefly about trying to run, but the bracelet locked to his wrist was a cold reminder that he wouldn't get far before being detected.
He'd only been here two days and had already almost had his sentence double. He drifted off to sleep once again finding that the shadow monster chased him through his dreams again and again, always ending in the same painful attacks and symbols. The trees around his little spot were once again covered with symbols by the time his compulsions to spill them out had finsihed.
By the end of the day he had trimmed the branches, and another day saw the tree sectioned. He had to rest a day when the blisters on his hands were too bad and at the end of his first week he was almost done with one of his 18 trees. This was a hell that would never end.
Three weeks went by in a bur, and pie was haggard. H'ed managed to get through 4 of his trees, but had been cited for vandalism, insubordination, and more several times and his tally of trees was up to 26. That left 22 to go before he could get out of this terrible place. Would he ever be able to leave? These nightmares wouldn't leave him alone, he was weary and barley eating, and he was afraid he would miss a week just being exhausted if this horrible cycle continued.
There were new additions every few days, and faces that were briefly familiar finished their sentences and left. Pie felt increasingly alone as the days wore into the 4th week. On the 2nd day of that week a new addition arrived, a small red kobold wearing a red and gold outfit. He hopped and skipped around, little flowers blooming behind him as he walked and sung and hummed as he worked.
The kobold approached him early on, and bounced up to him extending one of his scaled and taloned hands. "Hello!" his voice was very gravelly and high pitched. "I am King Fitz the Magnificent! We will be friends."
Pie giggled at the silly introduction. "Pie spiderfoot!" He said as he took the offered hand. "I hope you are stronger than me Mister Fitz, because I don't think I will ever get out of here!"
The kobold shook his small dragon-like head. "King Fitz is not strong. King fitz is smart. Man says trees just need cut. Fitz will sling the song of cutting." The kobold did not appear concerned in the slightest. Pie showed him to the logging area but Fitz did not take an axe with him nor show any interest in borrowing Pie's axe. Pie watches as the draconic man pulled a knitted crown from his pocket and placed it on his head, adjusting the floppy spikes of the crown until they sort of stood up on end. He posed and pie clapped in appreciation, though he was unsure how that was going to help.
Fitz began a low song, calling upon mystical forces, he began to chant the arcane words in the ancient Kobold tongue. Circling the tree's trunk, Pie watched him carefully envision the paths the conjured daggers would follow. Each dagger was not to find its mark in a living being but rather to strike strategic points up the tree's trunk, cutting through the old bark to weaken it.
As he finished casting the spell, a shimmering cloud of dozens of daggers materialized before him. Fitz then guided the cloud toward the base of the immense tree. The blades split through the tree's surface, carving out grooves as they ascended, reaching further than a human climber could, all without pause.
Following the daggers' calculated path, Fitz's spell severed the essential fibers near the trees base and along the branches and several places higher up. When Fitz felt the tree start to quiver, he dismissed the spell abruptly, letting the magic dissipate.
The tree, now weakened beyond repair, toppled over dramatically, crashing to the ground with a resonant boom, and breaking into three neatly sized pieces. The quaking earth signaled the success of Fitz's ingenious application of the Cloud of Daggers, which normally only played a part in an offensive battle.
Pies eyes bulged as the task that took him an entire week was completed in mere heartbeats. "Wha- …h - how? " He stammered.
"I telled you! King Fitz is Magnificent! Not done yet. Must still deliver." Fitz walked around the tree and the little flowers sprouted in his footsteps forming a circle. When he finished he said another set of words in draconic and then walked over the three lengths of trees. As he walked along the felled pieces of the tree each step caused the log to shrink a bit until they were about half of their original size. The kobold bowed when he was finished and carefully folded the knit crown and placed it back in his pocked. He grabbed a rope and began dragging the first part of the tree, it still a little difficult for him even at half the size. Pie was still stunned, but helping the kobold for a short time really wouldn't alter his day, so he helped until all three sections had been delivered.
When finished King Fitz marched up to Minkle and declared his first delivery. The big formans scowl deepened but upon seeing the proof in front of him he was forced to recognize the achievement.
"Well if it isn't the slowest worker paling around with apparently the fast worker we have. You picked a tiny tree to begin with. I didn't think there were any left that sma-" Fitz waved a hand and the log portions extended to their original size with a loud groaning of the old wood. " All right. Fine. Good job. You won't be spending much time with us I see." The forman shrugged. "I'm not here to punish yo, just get the work done. So fine. If you want to do it all like this I won't stop you." He glared at pie after speaking though. "You on the other hand better get to work. You're weeks behind schedule. What are you up to now, have you hit 5 yet?"
Pie studied the ground. "Uh, no… I'm working on that one today." He had no reason to be embarrassed, the task was nearly impossible for him, but he was struggling to try anyway. "I better go get started." He turned to leave and was surprised to see Mister Fitz in step with him.
"King Fitz talks to you. Fitz can only cut down a few like that. Needs to rest." The kobold followed him and stayed with him as he worked, singing occasionally dancing around when he was bored. Pie found himself a little more energetic with the company, and felt the strain in his muscles lighten a little bit. He still didn't finish the tree he was working on, but his outlook had improved a little as he talked to his new friend. When the sun began setting and Pie stopped working, Mister Fitz had magiced two more trees into delivered logs and was a tree ahead of schedule on his own 10 tree sentence.
They sat and talked as the night wore on, Pie dreading that he would have to warn his new friend about the dreams and what happened afterwards. "So what did you do to end up in here Mister Fitz?"
The kobold barked a laugh. "King Fitz sings many songs. Not Fitz problem if important merchant's wife not impressed by Fitz describing all the tavern ladies the merchant has made adventures in the silks with." Pies eyes bulged and then laughter spilled out.
"Oh no! He was cheating on his wife! Why would you sing about that!" The colorful kobold smiled and bowed. "Fitz sings about many things. King Fitz does not care who likes songs. Just wants to sing. The king must sing."
Pie looked up tentatively. "You really are a king?" He asked a little surprised that that didn't seem to be just a passing joke.
Fitz nodded and gave him a toothy smile. "Yes! King is Tiz! Fitz is king! My home is very far away, through the fae, and further than that even. Very far far away it is." The kobold did not elaborate further, and Pie wasn't sure more explanation would even make any sense so he left it at that. Fitz was the king of a far off land, and he had a knitted crown to prove it.
When their laughter died down pie grew more somber. "As for me, I'm in here because i have these nightmares and afterwards i have to draw out these symbols that I keep seeing in my dreams. I tried, but I can't stop it, they just have to come out after I wake up." Pie motions to one of the trees still covered in the arcane symbols.
Fitz examines them, his clawed hands tracing over the symbols slowly. "Magical these are. Like mine but different. Doesn't seem hurtful. Fitz no expert on that."
Pie explained what happened in his dreams and warned the kobold about his inability to control that urge to scrawl the symbols out in the mornings. He didn't want the kobold to wake up covered in magical runes. Fitfully when it was time to rest pie apologized in advance and suffered through another night of terrible nightmares. When he awoke the urge to etch the signs into everything was there and Mister Fitz watched quietly and moved occasionally to stay out of the compulsory goblins way.
Fitzed felled several more trees and Pie made progress in felling his one, and beginning to remove its branches. Fitz continued to spend time with him and the two were laughing and joking through the entire day. Being with Fitz pei found his blisters melted away and he was invigorated more, even making progress to finish that 5th tree on the third day, well ahead of his usual pace even though Mister Fitz hadn't even lifted a finger.
That night instead of preparing to sleep Fitz was very active and was pacing about waiting for Pie to finish his work. When Pie finally set the axe down, ready to rest his aching muscles, Fitz shook his head.
"No time to rest, Apple Juice has un out. I must get more. To the tavern we must go!" He started walking toward the edge of the camp. Pie ran to catch up, struggling through his aching muscles.
"W-Wait! We're not supposed to leave! Ever! We'll get in trouble if they catch us!"
"Only trouble if they catched us. We don't get catched!" Man said they look in the morning, we just return before morning." And so, following the kobold that was even shorter than he was, Pie broke out of the prison camp.
They only had to walk a short while before they were entering the city of Flechester, and the tavern that the kobold sought was lively with people drinking, dancing and wiling the nite away. He found his apple juice dealer, the proprietor of the tavern, who traded it for the promise of a song on stage. The middle aged woman was as round as she was friendly, and she was sweetalking the kobold with promises of all the apple juice he could carry if only he'd perform on their stage tonight. Pie was grateful to take a seat and an ale that appeared though he hadn't paid for it, he had no coin after all. Apparently this tavernkeep really wanted Mister Fitz to sing.
It was then Pie saw for the first time the true magic of Mister Fitz's craft. He sang several songs and the air itself curled up to listen, magical lights danced as the fancy dragonkind pranced around the stage, singing sad songs in his gravely voice, funny songs that were a gathered from sailors in far off ports, some of them quite rowdy and even salacious. His energy and enthusiasm whipped up the crowd and coins flew from their hands landing on the stage in a rain of gleaming silver and even gold coins clanking among them.
When the performance was finished Mister fiz sat and shared a drink with Pie for a while as many folks came up and spoke to them, complimenting the kobolds performance. As the night wore on the tavernkeep loaded up Fitz with many little boxes containing his prized apple juice, and they set off again for the camp. Their breakout would have been perfect had one of the guards not been in the tavern during the performance and the next morning, they were both assigned a penalty of 3 days, 6 more trees each. Pie groaned as his servitude looked like it would extend beyond time itself at this rate.
Mister fitz however was not concerned and was indeed already hatching a plan. Instead of having pie work on his 6th tree, now that the total had risen above thirty, Mister fitz told pie to rest for a day.
"Get some resties. We will do some things tonight to make a plan for you to escape this place. Trust King Fitz. Perfect plans are perfect."
Pie though not as worn as before, found little reason to argue. If whatever fitz had planned didn't work out, eternity couldn't be extended any further. So he rested. To his surprise he was not plagued by dreams, and actually slept well. He hadn't had the chance until now and when he awoke, refreshed, he was in good spirits.
"So what are we doing? What's the plan?" He was curious to find out what the kobold had in mind.
Mister Fitz would not say, he just snickered and motioned for Pie to follow him. They walked around the camp, taking care to not be seen by anyone that was still awake. Fitz handed pie a whetstone. "Sharpen the tools of everyone." He himself produced a needle and thread. "Mend their patches and holes in clothes. Season the bland foods. Gather snacks to leave for them. Happy pranks will win the day." Pie was a bit skeptical. How would helping other prisoners out do anything to lessen his sentence of indentured servitude? He put those thoughts aside as Mister Fitz snuck over to a sleeping prisoner and began patching their coat. Pie meanwhile sharpened the mans axe and fished out a few berries he had stowed in his pockets to leave for him. He smiled, it was a nice thing to do. Something maybe he might have tried if he hadn't been so exhausted and overworked trying to meet the impossible quota.
They snuck around to a few more sleeping workers, doing what they could with their limited supplies. When they finished they snuck back to their usual sleeping spot amongst the trees pie had claimed with his symbols. AS they settled down Pie felt really good. They'd done something and even if it did nothing but break up the tedium and harshness of the sentence it was something positive and different.
His optimism was short lived though as the dreams were still there during his sleep in the night, and his cries rang out as he thrashed through them yet again, seemingly nothing was enough to stop whatever terrible thing had entered his dreams and was forcing these symbols into him.
Several days passed like this, each day they found some new thing to do. Mister Fitz sang a broken window whole with his magic, and snuck out with some of his song money to buy some kegs of ale and have them delivered, one for the guards and one for the prisoners. Pie now a bit more rested and able to think clearly while he was skipping the grueling work, was able to talk to some of the prisoners and explain methods he had seen that the goblins used to move the heavy logs. Things that would work even better for the big humans.
And thus three more weeks passed, and despite the never ending nightly nightmares, Pie was healthier and he and Fitz enjoyed creating good havoc each day. They had such an impact that the guards began to notice the work of the other prisoners had slowed down, so busy they were talking about the good things happening, looking forward to more surprises, and the like.
Minkle, seeing his production numbers dropping approached the two mischief makers. "Get out. You're done. You-" He said pointing at the kobold. Have met all but one of your quota and just stopped trying." His gaze shifted to the fidgeting Pie. "You will never finish your quota and i'm surprised you even called yourself a logger. You are terrible at this. Here is the mandatory ten silver each that the city pays so you arn't destitute when you leave. Now get out." he tossed Pies pack at his feet, and A small stick with a cloth bundle tied to the end for Mister Fitz.
Pie was shocked, Fitz was smug, and as they walked out of the camp, escorted by one of the guards who used a key to remove the metal bracelets they wee applauded and cheered on by the workers and even some of the guards. Pie was so worried about never being able to complete the quota he could barely comprehend having his freedom again.
Sensing Pies discomfort Mister Fitz clapped him on the shoulder. "To the Tavern! I am almost out of Apple Juice! I do not want to meet a nasty monster and have nothing to power my Aledritch Blast!"
And thus the two set off to the tavern, where they would stay for many weeks together, Mister Fitz singing and dancing on some nights to earn coin, while Pie asked him questions about magic that he couldn't quite seem to answer. His magic came to him naturally and he hadn't studied. Fitz tried to explain the enchantments he evoked from his music, but it was just as much nonsense to Pie as the symbols and glyphs now filling several loosely bound books of parchment were to him. Despite Pie's attempts to study them in the work camp, he could make no sense of any of them. So Pie used his time asking around looking for someone to help him understand the strange things happening to him in his dreams.
It was then that he learned of two people who might hep him in the town of Fletchester, Keiran Darkstar a notable wizard and Mister Duncan, a wizard that ran a shop selling magical curiosities. Duncan was away on travels though and thus it was that Pie sought out Mister Darkstar.
That though is a tale for another time!
After the incident with Alveena the caravaners attitude changed. They let Pie stay wit the caravan, but they were wary of him now. He felt them staring as he went about his day and by nightfall they had asked him to move on in the morning. So pie nestled beneath a wagon for the last time that night, drifting off into fitful dreams. The dreams shifted to nightmares, as he saw the shadowy figure stalking him, first in complete darkness, just two red eyes following him, watching him, but that soon gave way to the Ardenne forest, scenes from home, but dark and twisted.
He ran as the shadow creature took shape behind him, towering over him, with long lanky shadow arms reaching out for him. No matter how much he ran, those claws got closer and closer until they grabbed him and lifted him off the ground. The creature opened a gaping maw, and chomped down on pies head, the teeth gnashing into his chest and torso over and over. He screamed in pain as each clenching of the jaws pushed strange magical symbols into him, his blood was ritual lines spraying out,. His eyes swam with the sigils and signs, as they burned themselves in, the pain searing them into his memory.
The creature opened its mouth, lining its jaws up with his neck and snapped forward with force that would surely remove his head from – He jolted upright, hitting his head again as he was released into the waking world, still lying under a wagon. Ignoring the pain cascading from his temple, he rummaged through his pack for something, anything, to write with. He found a charcoal stick, from a time he had tried drawing back home, a bit surprised that it was still there after all this time in the Feymarch. The Feymarch he remembered a little better now. Though still fuzzy, his thoughts were able to briefly focus and remember roughly what had transpired there. Then those thoughts were crushed by the memory of the magical symbols, words, signs, and lines began pouring out of him, guiding his small hands to write them on the underside of the wagon. Frantically he pounded out those symbols exorcizing them from his mind by transcribing them on the wooden panels of the wagon. His writing was sloppy and haphazard but the symbols and images in his mind just wouldn't let him rest. The camp roused around him but he paid it no mind as he continued frantically scribbling.
It was then that two large hands wrapped around his ankles and pulled, hard. The charcoal stick broke in half, as he was dragged out by one of the caravan guards. "I thought you was 'posed to be gone this morn!" He said with a broken grin. "Well, gid on! Gid outta here!" The guard lifted him to his feet and planted a kick on his backside, which from the angle sent him tumbling back to the ground face first. As Pie picked himself up, one of the caravaners peered under the wagon. "What was he still doing under there? We thought he had left during the night. What - Tis a curse! He been scratching magical curses into the wagon! Grab 'im! We need to hold 'im for the guard! This goes way beyond unnatural!"
Pie tried to run, but the guard was on him quickly, and restrained him easily. The city guard arrived soon after, but the guardsmen didn't have any experience with magic, so they waited, enduring the caravaners tales of the strange goblin that they rescued and how he paid them back with curses. Eventually, a guardsman with magical aptitude arrived and inspected both Pie and the Wagon.
"You a wizard? He asked Pie.
Pie shook his head. "Uh, no. My name is Pie Spiderfoot, and I come from a village that does logging, though I was never really good at it." He tried to look under the wagon, but they pulled him back. "I had a horrible nightmare, a big monster was chasing me and it was making these strange symbols appear. I don't know what the writings are, they just tumbled out of me after the dream. It seemed like I couldn't stop writing them!"
The guard looked under the wagon, and began laughing. "Well if we don't have us here a right Wagon Whisperer. My my, you folk are cursed for sure! These runes are some of the basics to invoke a simple spell that sends a short whispered message. By golly if that ain't the scariest thing I've ever seen! Good thing you caught the culprit! We don't want them wagons getting any funny ideas now do we?" Seeming pleased with his joke, he turned to the other guardsmen. "Vandalism, Fine him and move on. I don't believe his story about not knowing any magic, but I don't care enough to investigate further since no harm was done." He chucked again to himself as he began walking away. "I learned magic from a monster in my dreams. That's solid funny, gonna have to share that around the tavern tonight to get some good laughs!"
The guards took Pie away from the disappointed and slightly angry caravaners who hurled insults his way as he was led off. "That will be 50 Silver since it's a first offense. An I suggest you leave them folks be and be more respectful of others property." Pie looked through his belongings, he had no money, he had never intended to travel, and had been living off the kindness of the caravan for the last week. He shrugged and grinned sheepishly, as the manacles were clamped in place and he was hastily brought before a magistrate for non payment of fines and sentenced to 1 week of labor.
Pie was put in the jailers cell that night, along with some other criminals, mostly a few older men too far into their cups that had started a brawl. In the morning the old men were set free to return to their homes, while Pie was guided to a logging camp on the edge of the city.
A guard ushered him into the camp, where he was met by a big angry looking foreman. "Hey Minkle! Got you another helper. Sentenced to one week. Work hard little vandal!" The guard was laughing as he exited, shaking his head.
Minkle eyed the small goblin skeptically. "They said a week, but time here is measured in trees. Two trees per day. five days, that's ten trees. Work hard and you might be able to get out in less time. Slack off and you might be with us a bit longer." He opened a storage closet along the wall and pulled a long two handed axe that was nearly as tall as the goblin himself. Pies pack went into the locker. "Use this. Get to work. One meal in the morning, miss it and you wait till the next morning. Sleep wherever you want, but don't leave the camp. Ever." He placed a metal bracelet on pies wrist and fastened it with a key. "We've got a wand that can track these. We'll find you right quick if you don't show up for your work in the morning. Your fines double or worse if you try to run off so don't do it."
Pie lifted the the heavy axe and groaned under the strain of the tool made for someone the size of the predominantly humans in the camp. "Do … do you have anything a little smaller? This might be hard for me to swing…"
Minkle chuckled. "Not my problem. We don't put kids to work in the mine, so we don't have kid sized axes."
Pie stomped a foot indignantly. "I'm not a kid! I'm 23! Goblins just don't get as tall as you people!"
"I know, it was a joke. Get used to it, little man. Now get to work. I've got quotas, and I'm not missing them teaching you how to do something simple." The big man ushed Pie out. Pie dragged the heavy axe and started following a path to the clearing area. There were a few camp workers directing the prisoners as well as the prisoners themselves, about 20 of them. One of the workers laughed out loud at the sight of the goblin dragging an axe as big as he was, and just pointed to a stand of trees.
Pie tried to work appropriately, but he was hindered by several things. Pie found it difficult to wield the big axe, he could only manage a swing or two before he had to rest, and his strikes were weak and hard to place where he wanted both due to his size and his frail limbs. He tried suggesting better, less strenuous methods from his previous experience, but the guards running the camp were not interested. As the sun set he had barely made a dent in the tree he was working on. The guards directing them blew a whistle and the prisoner all trudged back to the main area of the camp where they all settled in talking and laughing, comparing their progress and how much time they had left.
Pie settled up against a stack of logs away from the others, not sure how he was going to make this work. Rest claimed him easily, he was exhausted from the stress and the labor of the day. The dreams returned to him, and he spent the night running from and failing to get away from the dark shadowy monster that had chased him before. Each time he was caught the creatures attacks broke symbols out of him and the pain and torment felt real. When he woke he was exhausted and madly trying to scribble the images onto any surface he could with any implement at his disposal.
One of the guards saw the scrawled symbols and angrily kicked the pile. "You know we're going to have to cut those off before we run this through the mill now? Don't make extra work for us. I'm adding two days to your sentence." Pies attempts to reason with him met deaf ears as the guard walked away.
Pie trudged to the breakfast table that was set up in front of the main building. Bowls of porridge like gruel and some stale bread were set out for the workers. The human men were devouring them and Pie ran forward to grab some before it was gone. He ate in silence, dreading the long day of trying to make progress on his tree. When he finished he returned to his sleeping spot and grabbed his axe, and dragged it back to his tree.
When he got there however two men were already well into the beginning of the cut he had made. "Hey! That one was mine! I started it yesterday!" His voice cracked a little, as he realized the predicament he was in.
The two men looked at each other. "Did you see any work on this one? I sure didn't" The other grinned and shrugged. I think a squirrel scratched the bottom but that hardly counts as 'working on it.' Get your own tree greenskin. This one is ours." Pie dejectedly moved to another tree, going a little further away from the others. He tried to find a smaller tree, but they were mostly the same size. He resigned himself to working through it the hard way and worked hard all day making a sizeable cut into the tree.
When the forman blew the whistle that night Pie decided to leave his axe by the tree. If he could get back before the others they wouldn't be able to steal his tree. As he walked back into the camp, Minkle approached him. "I hear you aint turned in any trees yet? You just liking our company?"
Pie sighed in frustration. "Look I tried but some guys stole my first one and that stupid axe is way to big for me. In my village we had some longer saws two people could use that you didn't need to be a big person to use, and some ones that worked with blades on a wire. Don't you have anything like that or even a hand axe that would be smaller?"
Minkle shook his head. "Figure it out you don't leave till you turn in your allotted trees. Which I see here is no 14. You are really falling behind here." The man moved off, not concerned with the little goblins struggles.
The reminder of what had happened earlier that morning made the goblin question coming back to the camp. He decided to return to the tree and grabbed some rope along the way. He tied himself to the tree he was working on, hoping that if he scrawled those strange symbols again when he awoke it would be on the one he was working on anyway. He could then cut those parts off himself so that they wouldn't add more time.
He woke with a painful ache in his head, to find that he had escaped the rope and had scrawled all over several of the trees, making him glad that he had moved his spot away from the others. He collected himself and trudged to breakfast, arriving early despite the morning chill. He wanted to get back to his tree before the others finished their meal. He hurried through the plain breakfast, and rushed off ahead of the bigger men. His spot was undisturbed and he sighed in relief.
He began work again, swinging the heavy axe, taking breaks, until he had the tree ready to topple. He yelled out to warn others as was the custom, even cross cultures among his goblin village. His tiny voice was drowned out amongst the sounds of the humans chopping and yelling elsewhere. With a final swing he chopped the last support holding the tree in place, and watched it topple with satisfaction. He could feel blisters forming on a few of his fingers, but he had done it, felled his first tree.
He found one of the supervising guards and reported his success, but was met with yet another challenge. "Done? You have to trim the branches, cut it into sections and haul them to the lumber yard before you get credit for the tree. You been here a couple days and you havn't even gotten one yet? Pick up the pace!"
"I can't! These tools don't even work for me! How am I supposed to do big people work? Can't I do something to help the others instead?" He was frustrated and his complaints spilled out.
"Oh, talking back to your supervisors, that's a two day additional sentence. Lets see that puts you up to 18 trees. Better buckle down and get to work."
Pie was exhausted, his arms and his back hurt, his legs hurt, everything hurt. He slumped against the stump, resisting the urge to cry over the impossibility of this situation. He thought briefly about trying to run, but the bracelet locked to his wrist was a cold reminder that he wouldn't get far before being detected.
He'd only been here two days and had already almost had his sentence double. He drifted off to sleep once again finding that the shadow monster chased him through his dreams again and again, always ending in the same painful attacks and symbols. The trees around his little spot were once again covered with symbols by the time his compulsions to spill them out had finsihed.
By the end of the day he had trimmed the branches, and another day saw the tree sectioned. He had to rest a day when the blisters on his hands were too bad and at the end of his first week he was almost done with one of his 18 trees. This was a hell that would never end.
Three weeks went by in a bur, and pie was haggard. H'ed managed to get through 4 of his trees, but had been cited for vandalism, insubordination, and more several times and his tally of trees was up to 26. That left 22 to go before he could get out of this terrible place. Would he ever be able to leave? These nightmares wouldn't leave him alone, he was weary and barley eating, and he was afraid he would miss a week just being exhausted if this horrible cycle continued.
There were new additions every few days, and faces that were briefly familiar finished their sentences and left. Pie felt increasingly alone as the days wore into the 4th week. On the 2nd day of that week a new addition arrived, a small red kobold wearing a red and gold outfit. He hopped and skipped around, little flowers blooming behind him as he walked and sung and hummed as he worked.
The kobold approached him early on, and bounced up to him extending one of his scaled and taloned hands. "Hello!" his voice was very gravelly and high pitched. "I am King Fitz the Magnificent! We will be friends."
Pie giggled at the silly introduction. "Pie spiderfoot!" He said as he took the offered hand. "I hope you are stronger than me Mister Fitz, because I don't think I will ever get out of here!"
The kobold shook his small dragon-like head. "King Fitz is not strong. King fitz is smart. Man says trees just need cut. Fitz will sling the song of cutting." The kobold did not appear concerned in the slightest. Pie showed him to the logging area but Fitz did not take an axe with him nor show any interest in borrowing Pie's axe. Pie watches as the draconic man pulled a knitted crown from his pocket and placed it on his head, adjusting the floppy spikes of the crown until they sort of stood up on end. He posed and pie clapped in appreciation, though he was unsure how that was going to help.
Fitz began a low song, calling upon mystical forces, he began to chant the arcane words in the ancient Kobold tongue. Circling the tree's trunk, Pie watched him carefully envision the paths the conjured daggers would follow. Each dagger was not to find its mark in a living being but rather to strike strategic points up the tree's trunk, cutting through the old bark to weaken it.
As he finished casting the spell, a shimmering cloud of dozens of daggers materialized before him. Fitz then guided the cloud toward the base of the immense tree. The blades split through the tree's surface, carving out grooves as they ascended, reaching further than a human climber could, all without pause.
Following the daggers' calculated path, Fitz's spell severed the essential fibers near the trees base and along the branches and several places higher up. When Fitz felt the tree start to quiver, he dismissed the spell abruptly, letting the magic dissipate.
The tree, now weakened beyond repair, toppled over dramatically, crashing to the ground with a resonant boom, and breaking into three neatly sized pieces. The quaking earth signaled the success of Fitz's ingenious application of the Cloud of Daggers, which normally only played a part in an offensive battle.
Pies eyes bulged as the task that took him an entire week was completed in mere heartbeats. "Wha- …h - how? " He stammered.
"I telled you! King Fitz is Magnificent! Not done yet. Must still deliver." Fitz walked around the tree and the little flowers sprouted in his footsteps forming a circle. When he finished he said another set of words in draconic and then walked over the three lengths of trees. As he walked along the felled pieces of the tree each step caused the log to shrink a bit until they were about half of their original size. The kobold bowed when he was finished and carefully folded the knit crown and placed it back in his pocked. He grabbed a rope and began dragging the first part of the tree, it still a little difficult for him even at half the size. Pie was still stunned, but helping the kobold for a short time really wouldn't alter his day, so he helped until all three sections had been delivered.
When finished King Fitz marched up to Minkle and declared his first delivery. The big formans scowl deepened but upon seeing the proof in front of him he was forced to recognize the achievement.
"Well if it isn't the slowest worker paling around with apparently the fast worker we have. You picked a tiny tree to begin with. I didn't think there were any left that sma-" Fitz waved a hand and the log portions extended to their original size with a loud groaning of the old wood. " All right. Fine. Good job. You won't be spending much time with us I see." The forman shrugged. "I'm not here to punish yo, just get the work done. So fine. If you want to do it all like this I won't stop you." He glared at pie after speaking though. "You on the other hand better get to work. You're weeks behind schedule. What are you up to now, have you hit 5 yet?"
Pie studied the ground. "Uh, no… I'm working on that one today." He had no reason to be embarrassed, the task was nearly impossible for him, but he was struggling to try anyway. "I better go get started." He turned to leave and was surprised to see Mister Fitz in step with him.
"King Fitz talks to you. Fitz can only cut down a few like that. Needs to rest." The kobold followed him and stayed with him as he worked, singing occasionally dancing around when he was bored. Pie found himself a little more energetic with the company, and felt the strain in his muscles lighten a little bit. He still didn't finish the tree he was working on, but his outlook had improved a little as he talked to his new friend. When the sun began setting and Pie stopped working, Mister Fitz had magiced two more trees into delivered logs and was a tree ahead of schedule on his own 10 tree sentence.
They sat and talked as the night wore on, Pie dreading that he would have to warn his new friend about the dreams and what happened afterwards. "So what did you do to end up in here Mister Fitz?"
The kobold barked a laugh. "King Fitz sings many songs. Not Fitz problem if important merchant's wife not impressed by Fitz describing all the tavern ladies the merchant has made adventures in the silks with." Pies eyes bulged and then laughter spilled out.
"Oh no! He was cheating on his wife! Why would you sing about that!" The colorful kobold smiled and bowed. "Fitz sings about many things. King Fitz does not care who likes songs. Just wants to sing. The king must sing."
Pie looked up tentatively. "You really are a king?" He asked a little surprised that that didn't seem to be just a passing joke.
Fitz nodded and gave him a toothy smile. "Yes! King is Tiz! Fitz is king! My home is very far away, through the fae, and further than that even. Very far far away it is." The kobold did not elaborate further, and Pie wasn't sure more explanation would even make any sense so he left it at that. Fitz was the king of a far off land, and he had a knitted crown to prove it.
When their laughter died down pie grew more somber. "As for me, I'm in here because i have these nightmares and afterwards i have to draw out these symbols that I keep seeing in my dreams. I tried, but I can't stop it, they just have to come out after I wake up." Pie motions to one of the trees still covered in the arcane symbols.
Fitz examines them, his clawed hands tracing over the symbols slowly. "Magical these are. Like mine but different. Doesn't seem hurtful. Fitz no expert on that."
Pie explained what happened in his dreams and warned the kobold about his inability to control that urge to scrawl the symbols out in the mornings. He didn't want the kobold to wake up covered in magical runes. Fitfully when it was time to rest pie apologized in advance and suffered through another night of terrible nightmares. When he awoke the urge to etch the signs into everything was there and Mister Fitz watched quietly and moved occasionally to stay out of the compulsory goblins way.
Fitzed felled several more trees and Pie made progress in felling his one, and beginning to remove its branches. Fitz continued to spend time with him and the two were laughing and joking through the entire day. Being with Fitz pei found his blisters melted away and he was invigorated more, even making progress to finish that 5th tree on the third day, well ahead of his usual pace even though Mister Fitz hadn't even lifted a finger.
That night instead of preparing to sleep Fitz was very active and was pacing about waiting for Pie to finish his work. When Pie finally set the axe down, ready to rest his aching muscles, Fitz shook his head.
"No time to rest, Apple Juice has un out. I must get more. To the tavern we must go!" He started walking toward the edge of the camp. Pie ran to catch up, struggling through his aching muscles.
"W-Wait! We're not supposed to leave! Ever! We'll get in trouble if they catch us!"
"Only trouble if they catched us. We don't get catched!" Man said they look in the morning, we just return before morning." And so, following the kobold that was even shorter than he was, Pie broke out of the prison camp.
They only had to walk a short while before they were entering the city of Flechester, and the tavern that the kobold sought was lively with people drinking, dancing and wiling the nite away. He found his apple juice dealer, the proprietor of the tavern, who traded it for the promise of a song on stage. The middle aged woman was as round as she was friendly, and she was sweetalking the kobold with promises of all the apple juice he could carry if only he'd perform on their stage tonight. Pie was grateful to take a seat and an ale that appeared though he hadn't paid for it, he had no coin after all. Apparently this tavernkeep really wanted Mister Fitz to sing.
It was then Pie saw for the first time the true magic of Mister Fitz's craft. He sang several songs and the air itself curled up to listen, magical lights danced as the fancy dragonkind pranced around the stage, singing sad songs in his gravely voice, funny songs that were a gathered from sailors in far off ports, some of them quite rowdy and even salacious. His energy and enthusiasm whipped up the crowd and coins flew from their hands landing on the stage in a rain of gleaming silver and even gold coins clanking among them.
When the performance was finished Mister fiz sat and shared a drink with Pie for a while as many folks came up and spoke to them, complimenting the kobolds performance. As the night wore on the tavernkeep loaded up Fitz with many little boxes containing his prized apple juice, and they set off again for the camp. Their breakout would have been perfect had one of the guards not been in the tavern during the performance and the next morning, they were both assigned a penalty of 3 days, 6 more trees each. Pie groaned as his servitude looked like it would extend beyond time itself at this rate.
Mister fitz however was not concerned and was indeed already hatching a plan. Instead of having pie work on his 6th tree, now that the total had risen above thirty, Mister fitz told pie to rest for a day.
"Get some resties. We will do some things tonight to make a plan for you to escape this place. Trust King Fitz. Perfect plans are perfect."
Pie though not as worn as before, found little reason to argue. If whatever fitz had planned didn't work out, eternity couldn't be extended any further. So he rested. To his surprise he was not plagued by dreams, and actually slept well. He hadn't had the chance until now and when he awoke, refreshed, he was in good spirits.
"So what are we doing? What's the plan?" He was curious to find out what the kobold had in mind.
Mister Fitz would not say, he just snickered and motioned for Pie to follow him. They walked around the camp, taking care to not be seen by anyone that was still awake. Fitz handed pie a whetstone. "Sharpen the tools of everyone." He himself produced a needle and thread. "Mend their patches and holes in clothes. Season the bland foods. Gather snacks to leave for them. Happy pranks will win the day." Pie was a bit skeptical. How would helping other prisoners out do anything to lessen his sentence of indentured servitude? He put those thoughts aside as Mister Fitz snuck over to a sleeping prisoner and began patching their coat. Pie meanwhile sharpened the mans axe and fished out a few berries he had stowed in his pockets to leave for him. He smiled, it was a nice thing to do. Something maybe he might have tried if he hadn't been so exhausted and overworked trying to meet the impossible quota.
They snuck around to a few more sleeping workers, doing what they could with their limited supplies. When they finished they snuck back to their usual sleeping spot amongst the trees pie had claimed with his symbols. AS they settled down Pie felt really good. They'd done something and even if it did nothing but break up the tedium and harshness of the sentence it was something positive and different.
His optimism was short lived though as the dreams were still there during his sleep in the night, and his cries rang out as he thrashed through them yet again, seemingly nothing was enough to stop whatever terrible thing had entered his dreams and was forcing these symbols into him.
Several days passed like this, each day they found some new thing to do. Mister Fitz sang a broken window whole with his magic, and snuck out with some of his song money to buy some kegs of ale and have them delivered, one for the guards and one for the prisoners. Pie now a bit more rested and able to think clearly while he was skipping the grueling work, was able to talk to some of the prisoners and explain methods he had seen that the goblins used to move the heavy logs. Things that would work even better for the big humans.
And thus three more weeks passed, and despite the never ending nightly nightmares, Pie was healthier and he and Fitz enjoyed creating good havoc each day. They had such an impact that the guards began to notice the work of the other prisoners had slowed down, so busy they were talking about the good things happening, looking forward to more surprises, and the like.
Minkle, seeing his production numbers dropping approached the two mischief makers. "Get out. You're done. You-" He said pointing at the kobold. Have met all but one of your quota and just stopped trying." His gaze shifted to the fidgeting Pie. "You will never finish your quota and i'm surprised you even called yourself a logger. You are terrible at this. Here is the mandatory ten silver each that the city pays so you arn't destitute when you leave. Now get out." he tossed Pies pack at his feet, and A small stick with a cloth bundle tied to the end for Mister Fitz.
Pie was shocked, Fitz was smug, and as they walked out of the camp, escorted by one of the guards who used a key to remove the metal bracelets they wee applauded and cheered on by the workers and even some of the guards. Pie was so worried about never being able to complete the quota he could barely comprehend having his freedom again.
Sensing Pies discomfort Mister Fitz clapped him on the shoulder. "To the Tavern! I am almost out of Apple Juice! I do not want to meet a nasty monster and have nothing to power my Aledritch Blast!"
And thus the two set off to the tavern, where they would stay for many weeks together, Mister Fitz singing and dancing on some nights to earn coin, while Pie asked him questions about magic that he couldn't quite seem to answer. His magic came to him naturally and he hadn't studied. Fitz tried to explain the enchantments he evoked from his music, but it was just as much nonsense to Pie as the symbols and glyphs now filling several loosely bound books of parchment were to him. Despite Pie's attempts to study them in the work camp, he could make no sense of any of them. So Pie used his time asking around looking for someone to help him understand the strange things happening to him in his dreams.
It was then that he learned of two people who might hep him in the town of Fletchester, Keiran Darkstar a notable wizard and Mister Duncan, a wizard that ran a shop selling magical curiosities. Duncan was away on travels though and thus it was that Pie sought out Mister Darkstar.
That though is a tale for another time!