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- Nov 9, 2022
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Deep in the depths of the Forest of Emeron, in the gears of its wilds and fae touched magics, were the last of the Goblin tribes. It's population driven to its razors edge by the Civil and taller races. The village was a clutch of hives, and aged males, and starving young lads. The females had been snatched up or abandoned the tribe to better times. Amongst the lot of the unlucky was Strag. Unimpressive as the next, a thin, gangly, weak creature...by in his weakness, he had solved the first problem if his situation. Hunger. Standing over a kill, a stag that he had managed to shoot with his sling and gut, he was the first of his kind to taste meat again, to feel its strength.
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