The Fiery Glazier

Serrana jumped back and gasped, not realizing that she was taking in a nice deep breath of said smelly rag in the process, though she'd stepped back enough to get a good portion of normal air just prior. The sorceress instinctively went for her book, attempting to fling up the Inferno spell she knew so well before she was further accosted. Her mind caught up to the fact that someone just tried to suffocate her with that, though she didn't know what that was, and that they didn't get a good grip on her. One thing was for sure - they'd managed to sneak fairly well; the glazier had been on high alert the entire walk home, and though she didn't expect an assault from inside, she'd not let her guard down fully. Though there was a distinct possibility that it may not do that much good...

(Can't do much more until I know what it is that they tried to do with her - it may just work yet, no less...)
 
Thick hands clamped the cloth tight against her mouth and nose. It reeked of alcohol, pipe weed, and something that was sticky-sweet. She felt her body rapidly go limp, and images danced in front of her face—images of sweet cakes that spoke to her in gentle voices and made all images of being assaulted in the darkness fade.

The images lasted for what felt like an hour, and as she came to, she found herself in a cold room made of sandstone, tied in place and stripped of her whites, her books, and any weapons she had with her.

The islanders were around her, talking quietly as they glanced at her, and a goblin was standing right infront of her, staring up at her. "You idiots." He growled as she came from her reverie. "Her eyes aren't even the right color! Ritual magic won't allow for this sort of laziness!" He turned to look at the men, a menacing scowl on his bulbous features. "She has to be from Driazhek, with black hair and pale brown eyes! I bet she can't even use all of the fire books yet, let alone dance!" He yanked one of the men down to his level—the awkward, pimply one—and slapped him so hard, the man staggered and fell, eyes unfocused as he began to rise, rubbing his cheek. "And now she knows you idiots have been stalking her and put your hands on her, so she either has to never go back, or I need to find new humans to help! I think the second option would be best, given that you're all more worthless than poison slimes and human alcohol!"

The men had their full attention on the fat, armored goblin, while his attention was on them.
 
Serrana gasped a bit as she woke up, staring into the eyes of a goblin. That was certainly not what she'd expected - though what she'd "expected" given that she'd just been abducted had quite a number of horrible possibilities. Quickly the realization that she was wearing only undergarments and was bound also came to her, and she cursed herself for not staying at the White Sands that night. Now that she was awake though, she watched what happened, her initial thought being to bite her tongue as she had no desire to make this whole situation work.

When the goblin decked his subordinate, however, the sorceress let out the briefest of chuckles Serrana was terrified, make no mistake, but she opted, despite also being somewhat dazed, to try to say something and maybe figure out what exactly was going on - and why they needed a firedancer so badly.

"Ugh... Now that's just rude... I may not have fire magic mastered, but give them some credit; if I couldn't dance, I'm fairly sure they'd have let me alone. Not sure what you need a dancer for, though, if all you're going to do is tie her up and show her the opposite of a good time..."
 
(( Only her whites—her regular clothes are still on underneath. =P ))

The goblin looked back toward her. "Fair enough, I suppose." He was not just a fat goblin he was even borderline obese—which meant he was a powerful one, at the very least among goblin society. The thinner the goblin, the lower on the totem pole. He eyed her up and down for a few moments. "I won't claim to be some master of magic, but I do know that the magicians need someone who has mastered each of the human fire books. You had two with you, so I suppose you're somewhat close." He grunted, then shook his head. "Beyond me. I'm best at swinging an axe."

The slapped human subordinate glared at the goblin. "You only said get a dancer who can use fire. We did. We should get our cut! it's not our fault you give shitty directions." His nasal accent, typical of an islander, was made further incomprehensible by a notable slur that hadn't been present before the brain-rattling strike.

The goblin ignored him as he focused on Serrana. "How fast can you learn, girl?"
 
The desire to give this creature a snide retort was, well, incredible at this point. She'd been plucked from home to who-knows-where, partially disrobed, tied up, and, well, still told her not really a lot. He hadn't started with the threats at least, which was among the few positives here. Serrana tried to mull over - quickly - how best to respond. Cooperating might make her, well, survive, and that also rated highly on her list. Though aiding a goblin really wasn't. That and Serrana wasn't completely sure how good she would be with anything that wasn't Inferno. She was very confident with that spell, and that she could master higher levels of it with ease. It was the other ones she wasn't sure about... After a brief moment, she opted for caution... at least somewhat.

"I'm good with Inferno, and I've always had a knack for fire. But I don't know for sure. I was planning on buying a book of Blaze in the morning before someone decided to choke me out..." she said, glaring at the human behind the goblin before refocusing on the green bloater, "but that's been put on hold for now, it seems. I suppose it depends on what it's for, really... why?"
 
"You only need to master your first book, I think." He crossed his arms. "You need to be present at a ritual. It won't kill you or hurt you, but you have to be present, use fire magic, and dance. If you can do all three, then you can feed many hungry children, and save quite a few human farmers' their crops." His gaze was honestly direct as he watched her closely. His body was relaxed and unmoving for a few moments. "Beyond that, you would have to ask the Lutin I'm going to take you to. In the mean time..." He turned towards the Islanders. "Bring every book she doesn't have, and then thank her for saving your sorry skins!" His order was booming, and the men winced.

"Yes, sir." One of them murmured as he grabbed the concussed member of the group and departed, followed by the others.

Once they were well gone, the goblin turned again to Serrana and untied her, then offered her whites to her. "Don't try to run, but do get dressed. It's some religious thing, isn't it?" He glanced toward the neatly-folded bundle of clothes in his thick hand as he furrowed his brow at the (to him) strange garments he'd seen on humans from the region called Aridefort by the humans.
 
Serrana listened. She was still suspicious... very suspicious. But as yet, the goblin hadn't hurt her, at least, not directly. His chosen methods of getting her here were rather untoward, but the glazier knew that matters could easily be much, much worse. Whoever this "Lutin" was, she assumed it was someone further up the food chain than this guy... and while she was distrustful, the goblin didn't seem - at least on the surface - like the type to lie. She'd expect his type to be far more likely to just bully and browbeat to what he wanted rather than use guile.

She also couldn't deny that there was a draw here - the magic. Not crazy goblin or monster magic, but actual magic; possibly more than the simple Inferno spells she was familiar with. Higher levels of it? Blaze? Something she didn't know about already? There were definitely possibilities - and it wasn't like she could do much without the books in the first place.

Serrrana opted to go along with the goblin for now. He seemed to be playing her straight, as best she could tell, and even if the green blighters benefitted from her actions, so long as what she did wasn't harmful to the human population (or even was beneficial), it was worth considering. Especially since, strangely, he almost seemed like her best ally right now, particularly since he'd just untied her. She let out a bit of a smirk when he mentioned religion and her whites though. "Not so much, no... the ones that were in my pack were my dancing costume. The whites are there because wearing dark colors and exposed skin under a desert sun and sandy winds is generally bad for one's health." Serrana took the clothes with a nod, looking over the bundle to see what all was there.
 
(( Finally, I get my ass in gear. >.> ))

All of her belongings were in order, except she lacked her books and any weapons or sharp objects. Also, any sharp-seeming decorations she had on her whites. "Your other things will be returned to you once I'm sure you won't try to attack me once you have them." He thought a few moments about her explanation regarding the dark colors and exposed skin.

The goblin's brows raised as he pondered. "Interesting. We usually shift to be more nocturnal when we have to come into the desert." He almost spat the word 'desert'. "You humans might be smarter than we thought." He rubbed his double chin, then began to pace. "What other ways do you make living in these sandy wastes more tolerable?"
 
Serrana frowned just a bit as she realized the books weren't there - more because they were simply gone than from any plan in her head. She relaxed a little bit when the goblin mentioned returning them upon being more sure that there wouldn't be reprisal. While she did still blame them for taking her in the first place, she had to acknowledge that she was at least dangerous on a small scale, so caution made sense. The dancer put her whites back on almost more out of instinct and modesty than any other reason, bundling up the costume and putting it in the pack that she had. Serrana noted that a pocketknife she kept on her was missing as well - not that it would help her much. The blade was small, and was near useless as a weapon. She only kept it around in case something need cut or scraped. She also noticed that the odd and sharply-carved token of ill-omen was missing. She didn't exactly feel bad about that, but the irony drew a little smirk.

"That depends," she said, responding to the goblin's question about desert survival, "some travel at night outside of the cities, because it's far cooler. It's harder to make your way like that though. Camels are better over long distances than horses for durability, so they get used frequently as well. As for actually living there, you almost have to plan around it. City walls and high buildings protect from windy sandstorms, and you don't put windows on everything unless you like to be baked. I suppose the heat isn't as bad for someone like me who plays with fire and makes a living in a glassworks though."
 
Absently, he drummed his fingers against his chins as he listened. "None of that except nocturnal activity seems like it would have a massive effect, but I can imagine it's helpful, if nothing else." He scowled as he looked up at the ceiling. I may have to figure out some training methods to increase the resistance of my troops to the heat, also." His voice trailed off for a few moments before he shook his head. "Right. The lutin." He grunted. "The books can arrive any time, but the lutin is probably not going to be awake much longer." He motioned to her. "Walk in front of me, and step only where I tell you. There are traps in this damned ruin."

He glared at the walls themselves, as though they were responsible for some ancient people's security preferences.
 
"When you live in the desert, there's a lot of little things you do in order to fight off the heat. Each may not seem like much, but when you add them all up..." Serrana shrugged a bit as she made to follow the goblin... though she didn't exactly follow for too long. The sorceress wasn't sure what a lutin was, but she was starting to piece together that he was an elder or mystic of some kind.

Serrana frowned at the new command though. It wasn't lost on her that she'd just been turned into a sort of living screen in case one of the traps went off. The woman's body tensed a lot more at that, her steps becoming notably more careful. She continued to follow the instruction though - she had no reason to doubt the traps, particularly given the goblin's behavior, and if she opted to defy him at this point, she'd have to contend with them without guidance. And survival was still high on Serrana's priority list. As he directed her, she tried her best to concentrate on where he told her to step, hoping to remember it should she need to come this way again...
 
The goblin's clear instructions saw them through into a small room not far away in only five minutes. "We made it." He grunted to her. "You can relax now." The goblin looked around for a short time. "Nikolov! The human is here!" He boomed into the room, and after a few moments a very thin goblin appeared.

The thin goblin looked at Serrana for several moments. "She's the right one? I expected..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Magic's weird enough without my expectations." He threw one hand into the air absently. "Anyway, I need to test her-"

"You'll hold off. She's only got part of the human fire magic mastered. Those thugs are getting the rest of the books she needs."

"Why bring her if she isn't ready!?" The thin goblin groaned.

"Why? Because humans are unpredictable, and the thugs were apparently tired of waiting. Anyway, it's too much trouble to get another human who can dance and use magic. This one already dances with fire. It can't be that hard to get her to dance with more fire." He snorted.

"It takes humans years to learn magic, sir."

"Years?" The fat one looked at Serrana. "Hrm. We'll have to step up the raiding if we have to watch her for that long." His eyes traveled up and down her body, and he sighed. "That, or send some of our troops back."
 
Serrana's brow arched and eyes widened at the mention of being tested - that wasn't something she expected, and it certainly didn't sound good. While the sorceress was talented, her scope was limited, and she knew it. What she did know of the Inferno spell she had managed to learn with comparative ease - particularly without a master to teach it to her. Unfortunately, her growth in magical knowledge was somewhat stunted by her age, income, and profession. She couldn't devote countless hours to it per day like an apprentice, nor did she have the money to just buy the next book whenever the fancy struck. So instead she'd concentrated on making herself an absolute savant with what she did have, and she'd done well enough so far.

More books though... that did have a draw. There was potential to learn there... though now there would also be pressure to do it quickly. The sorceress hoped that her familiarity with what she did know would help with the new lessons.

There was another matter though - raids? troops? Raids on who? Troops where? Was this a war effort she was going to be potentially helping feed, and if so, against who? Or was feeding these greenskins going to potentially halt the bloodshed? That was a possibility too, if the fat one was to be believed; he'd said something about feeding human mouths too. And for that matter, where were they in the first place? Serrana had no idea how long she was out, and really no way to figure that out. She'd assumed she was no longer in Driazhek - or Aridefort at all, for that matter (unless they were on the outskirts), given how the goblin talked about the desert.

The glazier had picked up on one thing though: "it was too much trouble to get another human that could dance and use magic." They'd said that, and right in front of her. She'd just been handed a bargaining chip on a silver platter, and she mentally tucked that one away almost immediately. She waivered for a long moment on whether or not to speak up further, rather than just listen in, but eventually settled on trying to prod the subject just a bit - particularly since, as far as she'd known, the fat goblin had played her straight, and he didn't (at least at first glance) seem the deceptive type... at least, not when he could just bully or muscle what he wanted.

"Raids? Troops? Wait, what? I was told this was about feeding people - human and goblin both. What... what's going on?" Serrana's tone made it clear that she had both curiosity and concern in her voice, but she was careful to only show a hint of hesitation rather than dissent, and hoped that the questioning in her voice would get her some more answers.
 
The fat goblin looked back at Serrana. "It is, but it'll take time. Until then, we need to still feed everyone, and goblins don't have land to grow on or hunt safely, nor do we have anything we can trade." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. A human. One of the very race that drove his people from their lands so long ago. The murder, the burning—all of it was told to each generation. All of those painful memories were stored in ritual magic orbs, to be seen by every goblin so they knew who began their decline. So they knew why less children could be born each year. So they knew why they were hungry. So they knew why they were all part of the army as soon as they became adults.

His eyes remained on her. "You don't even know why we raid human settlements, do you?" He pursed his lips as he stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Your history lessons are all about the glories of your heroes, with nothing before then, aren't they? Do you even study history?"
 
Serrana knew why she was told that goblins raided their settlements: a combination of scarce resources in the desert and the savagery of goblins on the whole - though the latter was being tested a bit here. The glazier certainly didn't approve of how she had been brought here, but she couldn't deny that she'd been treated better than most captives could expect to be treated, regardless of the captor. The concept of them raiding humans still made Serrana blanch a bit, though. As for history, well...

"No, honestly I haven't studied history much, nor do I at present. The opportunity doesn't present itself often when you grow up living in a desert, trying to ply a trade, make ends meet, and squeeze in learning magic. Even when I left my village, two professions and my other studies has left me little time to pursue history as a hobby." The goblin's narrowed gaze and tone was reciprocated slightly by the sorceress as she responded. "As children, we were told stories of our heroes, yes. Of Boran the Strong and his victory against the Coven of the Sinking Sands. Of the bandit king the Brass Adder and his eventual downfall when he tried to kidnap the Desert Princess Kamila. Of the Silver Dervish and her cadre, and the heroic stand they had against a small army from Hauteflamme intent on conquering their small holding - or burning it to ash trying. Just as all children, we were told stories of our heroes. But beyond that, no, I am no expert at history. I instead spent my life making sure that I was fed and had shelter, especially once I left my home, as there was noone to do such things for me."

Serrana did indeed have no idea about what the true history between human and goblin was - nor even very much of the history written by the victors when the humans did drive the goblins away so many years ago. All she knew was that there was a long-standing bile between the two races - a bile that was showing itself now, more in the goblin's response than her own, though she was about to bite back just a bit now. "And as you glare at me, with your seething anger, remember this: I have never raised hand, knife, or spell against you, or your people. But you have bid your minions to take me against my will, bind me, and give me the ultimatum of doing your bidding, or facing a potentially far worse fate. If either of us has the right to be angry with the other, goblin, it is I, not you." Serrana's brow furrowed a bit now, and her arms folded almost defiantly. "And even with that, I did not spit in your face, nor do I now. I would thank you to keep that in mind while you carry on about my ignorance."

The glazier kept her stern stare on the goblin, not willing to give an inch as she refrained from using the withering glare that had so many times sent her brother scurrying. Behind that facade though, her mind raced. She was banking on the fact that she had a point - and that they needed her too badly to hurt her when she wasn't a threat. It didn't stop her from worrying though - she was in way over her head if they decided she was expendable, and it wouldn't be the first time that tongue of hers got her in trouble...
 
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The goblin scowled, but held his peace as she ranted on. "You have a point, of course. It was never you as a person, but..." He trailed off. "Had you studied history, you would know that goblins have no land that we can farm. We have few water sources, and none of our land is our own. We just live in the places humans won't, and hope none come by on hair-brained heroic journeys. We need food, and we have no resources to get it. Trade isn't an option with a people that hate us, and that other country stopped trading with us as much as with you." He stood, arms crossed, as he watched her. "There isn't going to be enough for anyone soon, even if that other country opens its borders again within the next year." He absently tapped his arm. "That's where you come in. Nikolov says you can be used in a ritual that will..." He trailed off, then looked to the lutin.

"It will increase the size of produce by twice, without taking more nutrients from the soil." He turned to look at the fat goblin. "We still need the other ones, too."

"Other companies are gathering them. They aren't my concern unless they do something to get themselves killed." His eyes flicked toward Serrana thoughtfully. "I think she's heard enough, though. You have a room she can use, don't you?" He raised a thick brow at the lutin, who nodded.

"Of course." He motioned for Serrana to follow him as he went to a doorway with a curtain hung from its top. Inside, it had a hammock, a few pegs in the wall, and a candlestick that fitted into a socket attached firmly to the wall. Modest bedding rested on the hammock, and a few spare outfits (none of which looked like they were for women, nor did they include whites) hung on the wall pegs.
 
Serrana's posture eased almost as soon as the goblin yielded the point and seemed to relax a bit. In the back of her mind, she understood the greenskin's point somewhat - if your race perceived that it was continually oppressed by another for generations, you would likely develop quite the dislike of the race that oppressed you. She certainly didn't appreciate having the 'sins of the father' laid on her, but the goblin seemed to accept what she said, so she tried to at least consider his side.

"The ritual sounds... massive in scope, if it would be able to feed goblin and human alike." The look on the sorceress's face was notably less defiant now, and had moved to the thoughtful. "Other ones... I assume one from each element that casts and dances? You must be casting that net far and wide then. I would bet you'd have some difficulty finding concentrations of dancing mages that are easily poached. I am curious about the ritual itself though - what all will it entail? How does it work?" Serrana's natural curiosity (and love of the arcane) was starting to creep in a bit more now as she inquired, following the lutin to the next room.

The glazier looked at the hammock for a moment. Her own bed had varied from a padded mat to something a little more solid; this swaying contraption was going to be a new one for her. She looked at the clothing that they had left for her, trying to figure out if they were going to be remotely comfortable - or even of a size she could wear, given that they all seemed to be men's clothes, before glancing over at the lutin with a smirk. "Don't get a lot of guests around, do you?"
 
Nikolov the Lutin snorted. "Not the kind that aren't trying to kill us." A wry smirk appeared on his face. "You'll be sharing a room, so hang your hammock in the rings that you like best. You get first pick." He pointed to a series of rings driven into the walls, each one thick and heavy. Her hammock hung on the bottom two rings on the left side of the room—and there was room for three more on her side, despite the lack of headroom, and four hammocks on the other side.

"Get yourself comfortable as you can. The others shouldn't be here for some time yet, but when they get here, you will be a bit cramped." He let his eyes lazily trace where each hammock would be, then sighed. "If you want, we can arrange for you to write letters back and forth with your loved ones, as long as you aren't inciting them to go goblin-hunting. Probably better not to mention we're goblinkind at all." He snorted, then shook his head. "We'll also arrange to have any of your belongings brought here that you want, and if you have anything the local medical masters require you to take for your health, we'll fetch that, as well."

He went silent for a few moments. "We'll try to make your stay as comfortable as possible. It's in our best interests as much as yours, anyway. Comfortable people learn quicker."
 
The sorceress looked around the room appraisingly - Not exactly homey, but also not exactly prisoner treatment either. She counted her blessings on that one, and made a note to transfer "her" hammock to the top rings on the right; partly because she didn't want to sleep with a person above her, and partly to silently be at least slightly contrary to the fate she now was saddled with. "Only one room for the eight of us? That comfort thing is going to be limited."

Serrana's brow slightly furrowed in thought. "I would like to send letters, yes. Being stolen away has left duties of mine unattended, and I need to make sure that those who depend on me know that I will be unable to take care of them, and that I am sorry for that." The glazier's voice was not angry, or even matter-of-fact... more sympathetic and concerned. Her thoughts drifted to her family briefly, though she didn't have frequent contact with them, they would worry once they'd heard (likely from her brother in the army) that she had gone missing. Then to Gionni and his family - the folks at the White Sands had practically adopted Serrana, and she felt awful that she'd been swept away without a proper goodbye. And then poor Oran. The old goat had enough on his plate with his granddaughter before his primary assistant vanished like a flickering flame in the wind. Her first letter would be to him. She hadn't settled on taking up his shop when he retired, but she did not want to leave him in a lurch like this, not without some kind of explanation. "...and don't worry. I won't try to rile up hunting parties. Not that I could tell them where to look, anyway."

Serrana took a deep breath, trying to stifle the guilt before turning to look at the lutin. "You'll find that the clothes you brought for me are likely unsuitable," she said, tone almost instructive at this point. "They're large enough for covering me up, yes, but they're not conducive to learning magic, and they are precisely the wrong thing for dancing. That they're men's clothes are problem enough, but they do not allow for fluid movement, which is critical." She figured if she was going to be stuck here, she might as well find some way to gain from it... the fact that she was telling the truth didn't hurt either. "One of the smaller sets will be fine for simply relaxing between studies or practicing, but will do no good for anything else. There are a couple of outfits that I use at home, in addition to the one I had when I was abducted. Alternately, you could acquire different ones entirely, so long as they fit and look nice. You'll probably find that I'm not the only one with this issue, either. If you're planning on bringing a dance troupe here for this ritual, you'll have to make sure that, like any pratictioner of an art, they are properly equipped. And of course, my books... at this point, trying to use them to attack any of you is tantamount to suicide, so you can rest assured I'm not going to be stupid enough to do that. Even if I managed to get one or several of you, I'm sure there's plenty more where that came from; and again, I have no idea where I am. I would likely just escape into a wilderness and never be seen again, eaten by who-knows-what.

"No, I'll play the game for now, with the understanding that I expect to be returned home - intact and healthy - when the game is done. So long as you and yours do not harm me or the others you plan to bring, and that your ritual is not going to harm or betray my people, I'll cooperate. I am not so hateful and foolish as to cut off my nose to spite my face." Serrana's gaze met the Lutin's as she spoke, wanting to make it clear that she was serious about that, though being careful to not take an acidic tone. The lutin had offered a limited amount of help, which she knew shouldn't be spat on. "Oh, and I do want my books, if at all possible. I don't mind if you look at them or whatnot, but I'm more familiar with them, and practice will come easier if I have those. Plus, there is a sentimental value there... Now, do I refer to you as 'Lutin', and the other guy as 'Tubgut', or do you have something else in mind?" The sorceress's playful smirk crawled onto her face just a bit with that last bit...
 
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"I am Nikolov. A sergeant among the lutins. The goblin you met was General Golbev. Among goblins, the stronger they are, the fatter they get. He could probably punch a boulder in two, given his girth." He snorted. "Lutins are an offshoot of goblins. We don't get strong, but instead we get agile and smart, so we stay thin." He shrugged, then addressed her comments about the clothing. "Those clothes were from when Golbev acquired those humans you met before. We didn't want to throw them out." He thought a few moments about getting her new, then hummed. "I'm sure those thugs of Golbev's could get your own clothes for you. Those would be best, I'm sure." He tilted his head. "As for the books, they will get your own, plus any that have pages you don't have, and then you can just re-bind them to have more pages, which should increase your mastery. Humans do that, right?"

He thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes, they do. I remember watching one do it." He answered himself. "Anyway, take this." He grabbed a white board and a black stick of charcoal. "Write anything you need badly, and you will get it. Include anything related to writing letters, if you wish to, so that I don't forget you need that."
 
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