He found himself as overwhelmed with his first contact with the outside world, as he was devastated back when his vile master was slain in his lair, which was then promptly ransacked by a party of adventurers. Had they found his own secret compartment, where he hid himself with his precious tools, and from where he watched the destruction unfold, chances out that he would be felled, too. As his master's life faded away, so did his own sense of purpose…

Or did it? Having taken his time to think, he came to a realisation that he was free to brave the new possibilities his new situation had put him in. The tools he hid away were pretty much the only items of value that had remained within and as such, he had only packed them, before searching for an exit from the ransacked lair. Neither of the place's corridors looked familiar, with debris and bodies of his master's felled minions littering many of them.

It was upon his emergence from an entrance hidden within a cluster of mountains laid bordering Plains of Bohar, Laeto Rainforest and the western coast of Continent Canelux, when he felt born anew. It was the crucial moment in life of Xiobierd - an unassuming goblin, who until then had lived a sheltered life under vigilant eye of his villainous master and said master's minions, where he spent most of his life working metals given to him into tools and, for the most part, weapons of destruction. He had known no other life apart from one he lived, and so he remained lost in the seemingly empty wilderness.

Finding the torrent of possibilities he found himself under too overwhelming for him to bear with, he ran back into the mouth of the tunnel leading to the ruined lair's entrance, which had just caved in, and further rumbling noises could be heard behing the pile of rubble obstructing the entryway. The Goblin went on to put much thought into analysing his situation, and eventually, he had thought of one thing that kept him alive… He had to find a new master.

Still feeling vulnerable and shy to the new environment, Xiobiert slowly treaded southwards, into the expansive Plains of Bohar. Oblivious to the dangers, and pretty much everything else of the outside world, the Goblin had not as much as a clue, as of what to expect…

"Let's see here. Set up the rack like this, pile the firewood, insert the roasting spit, and there. Is the fire hot enough? Hrmph. Better toss in a few more pieces of pine." The day had started off well. Out on the open plains of Bohar, Delanac was taking a break in his trek to Mamlak. So far all the recipes he had were things commonly found in local pubs and taverns, and he wanted something more regional. Earlier that day he had successfully hit a deer with a well-aimed throw of his poleaxe and had spent the past few hours cleaning and dressing the carcass. Inside the empty body cavity were root vegetables, herbs, and a few lemons while the outside had been pat dry and rubbed with salt and spices. He had eaten roast chicken and goat before, so roasting a deer couldn't be that much different. Adjusting the position of the deer hanging from his spear-turned-makeshift spit, he waited. 

His tent was set up, the fire was burning, and the torch posts he had staked into the ground would keep wild animals at bay come nightfall. The only thing on his mind was how long the roasting process would take. He had made sure to start early, or else have to wait past dusk before he could taste a bite. He hummed to himself as he kept his eyes fixed on the roasting meat, not letting anything try to ruin his hard work. With arms crossed and poleaxe at the ready, he was ready to skewer any scavengers looking for an easy meal. Normally he wouldn't bother so much over a roast, but after putting in the effort to hunt the deer down, he was dead serious on seeing it to completion. And you didn't want to get between an orc and his objective when he was serious.

In such vast plains as Bohar, campfires were bound to draw easy attention, for there was little to obstruct the view. As such, the one lit by Delanac did not go amiss on Xiobierd, who was willing to investigate. As he closed in, he went on to see more abd more of the camp - a solitary tent, the flame itself, the meat being roasted above it… and a lone man, who presumably guarded all of those.

As said man turned to face him, his attention likely drawn to the Goblin upon hearing his heavy footsteps and clanking sounds of the many metallic tools clanking against each other in his comically large backpack, Xiobierd recognised the man's features - a tall, muscular stature, pointy ears and an odd skin coloration - as these of his felled Master's Orcish minions - the very same ones for which he had crafted many instruments of death, the ones that had been shouting over his ear and cracking whips over his back as he mined for ore and worked the metallic bars into shape…

His survival instinct may have prompted him to run, but such prompts were merely a faint whisper, compared to the Goblin's overwhelming anger, initially manifesting in an audible hiss expelled through his bared, pointy teeth…

- "YOU!" - the small creature then shouted in a venomous voice, pointing its finger at the Orc - "Where have you been when the Master was being felled?! What have you been doing when His home was ransacked?! Don't you dare thinking that just because He's no more, you're getting away with this!"

Having then emitted a roar which could possibly be quite impressive to his Goblin peers, Xiobierd, with his discolored teeth and fingernails bared, went on to rush the Orc down. However, the Goblin's charge turned unsuccesful when he eventually collapsed under the weight of his own backpack, landing face-first and burying much of his large nose in the ground just before the towering man's feet. It was then when Xiobierd realised that the odds were against him, and the place of growls and roard was soon taken by a pathetic whimper, as he went on to cover his head with his hands, and to tuck his legs in.

And then he felt his head being struck. It quickly turned out, however, that these strikes were not from the Orc's hand, but instead these were the few of his tools that had spilled from his backpack. Seeing his tools slid halfway outside, he did not hesitate to reach for them and struggle to push them back in, even in face of danger he had perceived just a few seconds ago.

Delanac was getting tired waiting for the meat to cook, which didn't seem to be working for some reason when out of the blue an angry goblin came screeching at him with accusations of things he had no idea of. Then, as said goblin charged towards him, he fell flat onto his face. As he watched this all unfold before him he blinked, confused as to what was going on. "…Wha? Who're you?! And what're you talking about?" What business did a goblin have with him? Was it a complaint from one of his father's former customers? No, it couldn't be. If they had any complaints they would have asked for it to be redone on the spot.

With poleaxe in hand, he got up and went over to the goblin being crushed by his own pack and used the non-pointed end to move it off of him. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're going on about. I know everybody thinks all orcs look the same, but I'm sure you're mistaken. Are those blacksmithing tools?" He raised his eyebrows at the sight of familiar implements he used to use himself back before he left home. This was also the first time he had seen a goblin in his travels. There was that one time a goblin merchant wanted to have a fancy mantelpiece made in the form of a bust of pure gold, but that was years ago.

What he really should be asking was how did he manage to carry such a huge load on his spine. The goblin had even more on him than the common packrat, and that was saying something.  

Having felt his backpack being poked, Xiobierd had a sense of impending doom, which quickly had turned into a feeling of surprise when he found himself not slain, but relieved of the weight of his backpack instead. That made it so much easier for him to get himself back from the ground, as the Orc went on to speak to him. However, the man's mention of the tools in the made the Goblin's heart race, for he was worried he was going to have them taken from him.

- "MINE!" - the Goblin had shouted as, being fueled with a rush of adrenaline, with a single swipe of his large hand he had stuffed all the tools that were poking out more than they should, and having swiped with his other hand, he grabbed the backpack and hoisted it back onto his back, nearly throwing himself off balance. And so, the nature of the tools the Goblin carried had betrayed his strength, significantly greater than that of most of the Goblin folk.

Xiobierd, surprised that the Orc had not yet show an overt sign of hostility, took his time to look him over. It was then when he realised that he differed quite a bit from the other Orcs he had faced back in his master's lair. He looked so much cleaner and did not smell anywhere near as bad, if at all. Most prominently, the head of his weapon did not look like anything the Goblin remembered crafting. As such, it seemed to him that the man was speaking truth when he claimed he had nothing to do with his master.

- "Xiobierd stupid and sorry…" - the Goblin went on to speak with a sad look in his eyes - "Xiobierd thought the big Orc served Master, like the others that had been slain in His home."

Still looking over the Orc, Xiobierd could not help but notice something was amiss, that in some way, his encounter was much different than the interactions he had with his felled master's Orcish minions…

- "Big Orc ain't going to beat Xiobierd?" - the Goblin finally asked, puzzled.

The mention of the goblin's tools made him snatch up all of them with a single swoop in a panicked act. It was typical goblin behavior, and Delanac was starting to grasp the idea of where this particular one was coming from. Not making any movements towards the goblin, he waited for his panicking to be over before speaking with him. From what he gathered, the goblin was formerly in the service of some megalomaniac as an indentured servant or a slave. Said 'master' must have had many others in his employ, including orcs. He was quite sure they weren't relatives of his, as no orc from his hometown would be willing to be some evil overlord's dog like the less civilized tribes. In spite of how torn up the goblin was over his master's death, Delanac considered it a good thing. One less madman for the world to worry about, as if there weren't enough problems as is. And from how the goblin had acted, abuse was a common thing. 

"Hrm…no. I've got no reason to hit you. Why would I? Anyways, it seems like you know how to forge and shape metal." Delanac was about to suggest bringing him back to Yovaesh but then remembered he was technically 'exiled' until he could prove to his father he was a master artisan in food. It wasn't like he really was exiled as the other families would be happy to see him after several months, but if his father caught wind of him back home he'd be challenged to a showdown. So far all Delanac had was deviled eggs, stew, and pubhouse food to show for his efforts, which definitely wouldn't garner him even a passing score. The old man was tough, but he was a good critic. He couldn't just waltz back in and expect him to be impressed with just any old dish. "…You know what, on second thought that idea I had probably wouldn't work well–for both of us. Since you have nowhere else to go, how about traveling with-" 

Delanac's attention was caught by the deer he had been roasting over a spit. The fire was roaring, but something seemed wrong. When did he start roasting the meat? It should've been at least an hour already. Breaking off his conversation he went over to the campfire and inspected the deer's progress. Checking the side of a haunch, he came to an awful realization. "…It's still raw." This was impossible. How was it not at least halfway cooked? The underside should be at least browning about now. When he had seen a group of people roast a whole goat over a fire it had already started to cook, but why? Why was the deer still raw?! There was no savory smell of cooked meat, of rendered fat sizzling on the surface. No smell of the dry rub he had smeared all over the sides. What had he done wrong?

Then, it hit him. Covering his face with his hands there was the sound of frustration. How could he have been so foolish? Why didn't he realize it before? He had started it all wrong, and now it would never be done before dusk. Unless… As the despair of wasting a perfectly good seasoned carcass of deer clouded his mind, a spot of hope glimmered. Wait! There was still a way! It was still possible to save the deer, but he would need to act fast. Running to his tent he tossed his poleaxe aside as he rummaged through his things. Producing a shovel and a bundle of firewood, he ran back towards the fire. "Xiobierd, was it? I'm in a bit of bind right now. You look like you can carry your own weight and some, so mind helping me dig a hole? I need one that's only a few feet deep, but at least one foot longer and wider than this deer right here. If we don't get this deer into the ground soon, it'll all be over."

The Goblin grew more puzzled when the Orc had expressed puzzlement himself in reaction to his question. He could not tell whether the Orc was the weird one or it was him who was being treated oddly for all that time. For now, however, he was quite relieved that at least for now, he will get to avoid a beating. Having listened to the man's statement, Xiobierd went on to answer:

- "Yes, Xiobierd was working in Master's forge for many years! Made many useful tools and big, scary weapons for Him and His big, bad Orcs! When Xiobierd was supervised by these big Orcs during mining for ore, many of them would often crack their whips over Xiobierd's back… but there was one big Orc, who would give Xiobierd a slap over his head instead! So Xiobierd was making the biggest swords and axe heads for him!" - having gleefully exclaimed, his cheerful expression was quick to turn into a frown, when he remembered that the ones he had mentioned are no more. In a much quieter voice, he added - "Xiobierd will miss that big Orc. And the others, too."

He did not worry himself for long, however, for he found himself distracted by the Orc's attention turning towards his roast. Even though it looked like nothing he was given to eat back under his Master's service, he was quick to recognise the roasting carcass as afood item. Even in its supposedly worrisome state, the sight of it made the Goblin's mouth watery. He was growing more and more tempted to ask for a bite, since his travels ade him feel as hungry, as he was weary. And then the Orc, having chucked his polearm aside, ran into his tent, apparently in search for something. Not willing to anger him wih trying his hand at helping himself to a bite of the roast, he walked over to examine the head of the weapon the Orc had left on the ground. Having skimmed his hands overthe poleaxe's blade and spike, he could not help but appreciate the fine craftsmanship. His examination was not that thorough, either, for it came to an abrupt stop when the Orc had stormed out of his tent, carrying a shovel and some wood. When he requested Xiobierd's help, the Goblin was quick to agree, hoping to earn himself a meal with his hard work. Having reached behind his back and producing a shovel of his own with his backpack, the critter gleefully exclaimed:

- "Xiobierd will dig, yes! Will dig a hole and make the big Orc happy and proud!"

And so with his newfound energy, fueled with motivation, he rushed over to the spot shown by the Orc, where he immediately proceeded to dig. His work was by no means tidy, as he flung dirt left and right, but efficiency-wise, he sure started out promisingly, especially for a being of his size.

While Xiobierd went to work on the fire pit, Delanac started lighting the coals in a bucket and gathered as many large stones he could find. Once the goblin was done, he poured out the burning coals and embers in, pile some wood and dry tinder, fanned it for a bit, then finally covered it with the stones. He waited for a half hour for the pit to heat up and when he thought it was ready, he removed the deer from the roasting spit and put it on the hot stones. He laid it down so the belly was on the rocks and the legs were spread out. Every now and then he'd add more combustibles to keep the embers under hot. "Whew…looks like we made it in time. Now we wait." Disassembling the roasting rack he had made from poles, he cleaned off the spear he had used as the makeshift roasting spit.

"Good work with the fire pit, at this rate it should be done before tonight. Good thing I had something saved in case this happened." Delanac pulled out a parcel of meat jerky and some hardtack. Not the best in his opinion, but they were called emergency rations for a reason. In an attempt to make them more palatable, he poured a little olive oil he had infused with a sprig of rosemary on the biscuits. He personally would've liked butter but it couldn't keep as well. The orc had never realized what a treat it was until now. "Here, gotta eat something while we wait for that meat to cook." He handed half of the hardtack and dried jerky to the goblin for his hard work. Xiobierd looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in…forever. Even though it wasn't much, it was probably leagues above what the goblin had to eat under that megalomaniac master of his.

Looked like he had it tough, being pushed by foremen like slave masters day in and day out. It was a wonder to Delanac why he hadn't heard of some evil overlord running such a big operation like this. In time the madman would've amassed a proper frightening army of his, and who knows where it would've gone from there? "Hrm, if you're still interested in working the forge I heard there are pretty good blacksmiths in the next continent over. Proper high up in the mountains they are, but other than that their work is second to none." His old man Carric was always looking to outdo the dwarven smiths in Baltil. You could say he had a very strong competitive streak, something Delanac thankfully didn't have. He was a diligent worker mind you, but he wasn't interested in keeping up with the Jorgens. Scratching his ear he wondered if dwarves had a thing against goblins. It wasn't common to see the two together.

Xiobierd became a tad panicky, seeing the Orc laying the deer down in the pit, not sure of his intentions. So far, it looked like the strangest sacrificial ritual he ever came to witness. The Goblin was about to acknowledge the whole ordeal as yet another one that did not pay out - just because - while the Orcish man, having disassembled his rack and cleaned his spit (the tip of which, funnily enough for Xiobierd, looked just as menacingly as the spear heads he used to craft), produced a parcel, which had turned out to have some more food, which looked as intriguing as the deer was back when it was being roasted. And, as it turned out when the Orc had handed the Goblin a portion of it, it was very tasty, too - much more so than what he was fed back under his felled master's service.

Despite being hungry as he was, Xiobierd took his time to savour each of the treats he was given, for he was not quite certain whether he will get to experience anything like this in the future. Or at least he tried to, for halfway through his hunger took over to such degree, he was quick to devour the remainder of his portion. It felt weird for him to have such a good meal, and sitting right beside a person who had employed him in the first place, but in the end, he could not object. The Goblin felt all merry and was slowly beginning to show it, until the Orc had mentioned that perhaps it would help him if he were to travel between continents. Yet again, the critter's face rolled into a frown, as he went on to plead:

- "Does big Orc want to give Xiobierd away? Did big Orc not like Xiobierd's work? Perhaps big Orc wants Xiobierd to dig a bigger hole? A trench, maybe? Xiobierd can keep big Orc's weapons sharpened, too, as well as do many other things, just please, do keep Xiobierd around!"

The Goblin kept looking at the Orc with his beady eyes, reddened by years of having bits of heated metal strike against them and inhaling fumes expelled from the implements he worked at the forge, while he kept his hands joined together in a pleading gesture. Seems he was genuinely convinced that the meeting of the two was the best thing that could ever have happened to him, and as such, he was not quite willing to depart from his new acquaintace.

When he saw how the goblin reacted to his words, Delanac realized he had come to a misunderstanding. Xiobierd had misinterpreted his suggestion to find work and maybe a new home as throwing him to the wayside. "No no, you've got it all wrong. I don't dislike you and I don't hate you. You did a very good job just now, even better than what I could've done too. I was just thinking that now your boss is gone, you can do things that you want to do. You're a free goblin, free to choose what you like. Since you said you worked as a blacksmith I thought you'd be interested in working for yourself from now on. There are lots of goblins out there like you, running their own businesses. And as you already know the basics of forging metal, learning how to improve your skills would be a snap of the fingers."

Pausing to give time for his words to sink in, he continued. "But if you want to stay around and follow me, then I'm not one to complain. I've got a mission of my own to finish, so to speak." Every now and then he stoked the embers watching the deer cook. It was coming along far faster than when he had it hanging on the spit, and soon it would be time to taste the fruits of their labor. Just an hour or two and then it'd be time to cut into the meat to see if it was fully cooked. They probably wouldn't be able to finish it all today, so he could see if he had enough firewood to dry the meat out into jerky strips later on.