Greenborne- The Four Finger Fiend
"Enter, my son," the elder spoke, waving in the youth. "There is much we have to discuss."
"Ah, geez, Glukgluk," whined the young one as he stooped into the dimly lit hut. "Dinna we already have that talk?"
"No, my child," corrected the chieften. Pausing, he touched his chin in thought. "And we never did have a 'talk'."
"Really? ... aw, so that's why I got it all messed up," rambled off the youth. The elder stopped him.
"Please, my son. I have grave things to tell you of," implored the wizened one. "I must tell you, first, that I am glad we found you, and made you one of us. You have made a much better goblin than you would have a meal." The younger of the pair smiled devilishly, flashing his sharper than human teeth in a way one of his race never could. "You, truly, are no longer of that foul breed. I am proud of you." When he was found, his eyes shone with the most brilliant shade of blue. Now, they were dull and murky with more of a violet hue. His skin was closer to grey with a sheen of green about it rather than the rosy pink he was born. His bones and limbs were twisted, bulging out from his malnutritioned flesh. The life of a goblin, their ways, their environment, and, mainly, their diet had taken a toll on his body. The toxins from the swamps and other things that normal men fear had been his upbringing. Even other humans treated him like a green skin, from both his scent and presence.
More impressive than his transformation was his commitment. Raised in a village frequented by those loathed by humanity, he was the end to much hate and malice. He countered this, however, by being more monstrous than the monsters themselves: crueler, more viscous, and more heartless. To ultimately prove that he was not a weak "pinkling", however, drastic measures were taken. Most all of the vile folk and fiends had a single trait in common: they did not have five fingers, a characteristic of humanity. This problem was solved with a hatchet and several bandages, but the horrible thing about it was that no one made him do it. No one even suggested such a ludicrous act to him. Needless to say, such a procedure performed in solitary is not precise, leaving his hands hideously scarred. To hide the deformity, from that day on, he always wore a pair of purple gloves, which were taken from a corpse he made on a highway, that he modified for his number of digits.
"Despite your valor among us," continued the goblin chieften, "I am afraid that you have outgrown us."
"What do ya mean, Elder?" implored the once human before understanding. "No, I think I understand. This is but one realm, one, small place fer me to grow and spread hate, but the world is wide. I must go out and seek other lands, bigger lands, with more people to inflict. I must teach 'em all to fear us!" His eyes sparkled, lost in his vision of bane. "I will go, Elder, and I shan't disappoint." Springing to his feet, his head broke through the ceiling of the hut.
"... um, actually," humbly informed the elder, "I meant you had outgrown us literally. Our huts are built too low for you, and we can't keep repairing these holes." As the human child pulled his head out of the hole, he knelt back down, recomposed. "We shall, though, give you something to remember your home by, young one." The youth smiled widely, his mind bounding with glittering images. "We shall give you a name." At that, the images crashed.
"But... I already have a name, dun I?" pondered the man.
"Fredrick?" The old goblin laughed. "That is your man name. It is marred with weakness, just like the ones who passed it to you. You deserve one more fitting." Picking up a ceremonial wand, he waved it about. "I confer upon you the title Bimblesnaff." Fred smiled at his new name. In the ancient goblin tongue, it meant "the disaster". "Additionally, you will need a name of association and family. You will not be able to use your tribe as claims out there, as none would know of our quaint village out in the big world. I will give you a name so that all will recognize your upbringing. You may have humans as parents, but we gave you life. Thus, your surname shall be Greenborne."
"Bimblesnaff Greenborne," the newly named man stated with delight. "'Twill be a name well known, Elder, and ya will be hearin' o' it again, soon." Bowing, he got up to leave and embark on his new life, but not before causing more structural damage with his cranium.
"Dammit, stop standing up in here!" cursed the old goblin.
