Fergus was a goblin, and not just any ol’ goblin, but a magic wielding goblin. And he was no amateur at slinging spells. No, Fergus was a mid level talent, goblin wizard, and who wanted to be a master level wizard.

Goblins were a common people to find in any cosmopolitan region. Few major trade hubs were without their goblin quarter. Oh, there were many more goblins settlements and villages hidden away in hidden glens, mountains fastness, and deep forest clearings. Some goblin societies preferred to hide, while others sought to make themselves to valuable to other peoples to be rejected or harmed. To do either, goblins needed advance skills and powers. This made many goblins seekers after new technology and magics. Fergus was one of the later.

On this particular day Fergus found himself in the city of Caerbore, in the nation of Odhegh, on the gateworld of Sacrisca, within the region known as the Fifty Duchies. He had wandered far from his home on the gateworld of Ygm. In his journeys he had learn much from electrical and storm magic, and was quite proficient at it these days. But it was still not enough. He felt that he needed something greater, more versatile, and strategically deadly. Finding such magic would not be easy. He was uncertain what it would be, but he would know it when he experienced it.

The second evening in Caerbore found Fergus wandering in the seedier section of the city. Goblins were not exactly welcome here, but as long as they could pay their way, goblins were tolerated. The streets were merely walking paths between tall store buildings. No large beast of burden every came to this section. They would not fit in the narrow paths.

During the liveliest hours of the evening, the streets were channels for streams of people. Fergus found himself jostled along, trying not to get smothered in the press. His head only came up to the waist of the humans, who were the predominate numbers in the living river of people.

He saw an occasional gnome moving through the crowed, a people of approximately similar stature to goblins. Yet no self respecting goblin would be seen interacting with a gnome. There were a few fae and ellyll among the humans, but they moved through the crowds on enigmatic purposes known only to them.

Fergus tapped his left thumb on the wood tankard that hung from his belt. The drinking establishments in this section of the city were often not places you wanted to trust the hygiene of the local drinking wares. The downside was the slightly, higher rate any barkeep would charge for bringing his on odd size tankard to fill, but it was sometimes worth it for general health.

There was a small outdoor drinking establishment Fergus had visited last night. It was a place of awnings hanging over saw board benches, and rough hewn tables, but the beer was passible and the food seemed trustworthy. Goblins were far more resilient in tolerances for food stuffs than humans, but even goblins preferred their food to test unspoiled. There was survival, and then there was enjoyment.

Fergus diverted himself out of the river of people and down a small side ally toward the outdoor establishment from last night. He had not eaten all day, and his hunger was reminding him that this oversight needed correcting. The wiry goblin dodged the larger bodies moving through the alley till he was soon standing in front of the out door bar.

The large, heavy set human looked down over the plank constructed bar, “What do you want, goblin?”

Fergus ignored the rude and gruff tone of the human. Instead he took a courtesy tone to reply, “Yes, Sir. Could I have one short beer and a bowl of mutton stew? “, he said as he placed his own tankard up on the rough hewn bar. The bartender frowned at the tankard and then down at the goblin, waiting with a scowl. Knowing what the human expected, Fergus drew out a number of copper triangles and one silver half penny and placed it on the bar.

The human nodded and reach out to take the goblins tankard and walked away from the bar and back indoors. Fergus did not have long to wait before the rotund bartender returned, placing the tankard down on the wood, sloshing out beer. And beside it, he placed a wooden bowl with steam coming off the top.

Fergus nodded his tanks and grabbed his meal to go find a seat at one of the outdoor roughly made benches and eat. He felt he should eat fast and get away from the rough crowd of humans that frequented the establishment. It was only midday and some of the less reputable looking humans were already showing signs of drunkenness.

The meal was quickly consumed. Fergus placed the empty bowl back on the bar and fastened his tankard to his belt before scurrying off down the alley, heading back toward the main thoroughfares of the city.

Fergus had just departed the cramped lower class sections of the city and had just step foot upon the main boulevard of the city, when there was a loud explosion. The pressure wave could be felt before the sound was heard. It was an immense pressure, flattening much of the crowd to the ground. When the sound rolled over the huddled street full of people, the volume was so vast it rattled everyone to the bone.

As soon as he recovered from the shock, and regained his feet, Fergus looked around. His ears still rang and his teeth still chattered, but he realized he was one of the first to recover. He began to race up the boulevard toward where the explosion had came from, as fast as he could make his way through the mowed down crowd. He sidestepped, leapt, and rushed to make the best time. An explosion like that could only have been made by technical or magical means; both of which could prove to be very interesting to a seeking goblin.