Upward Mobility

From the rugged, rocky fields of the Bugretanian lands back to the rolling plains of the Ausmulii.

We had returned to Casbriga, an eight day journey behind us. Chief Hardalgmar was incredibly relieved to see me, exhaling such an amazingly deep sigh, you would think he had forgotten to turn the stove off only to find his house unscathed. Perhaps he expected me to return a decade later like my father had? Poor guy must have been traumatized. Either way, he proceeded to bring me up to date on our tribe’s current state of affairs. In short: our tribe was BOOMIN’!

Surpassing even my wildest dreams, I watched as business flourished under the absence of the predatory felines. Farmers could continue their work in peace, merchants could travel and trade without fear of losing all their wares, and downtrodden people could go out and homestead a piece of land knowing that the chance of being chased off was very slim.

The wildlife of northern Illgrum found themselves thriving after decades of decline. The natural balance of the ecosystem quickly recovered ever since the dread lynxes found a place for themselves in the food chain and environment. This is what happens when an invasive species finally meets their natural predator. In the case of these dire felines, it was the Crawgoblin that kept their numbers in check.

Most surprising of all was the shift in culture regarding ascension. Prior to my destruction of the lynx den, most folks lived like Ragnulf Senior. They saw no purpose in trying for ascension because they could continue their trades, crafts, and daily lives without Kragnin or superior strength. They had no real need for it. The only ones who desired to progress in their ascendency stage were warriors, guards, and the like. Those who provided value by fighting and putting their lives on the line. They were also the only ones who could afford to train for Kragnin in the first place, because most of their jobs consisted of daily drills and staying in tip-top, peak fighting shape anyway. For the rest, ascension was an investment that did not pay off well.

After goblinkind was pressured by the invasive species that wreaked havoc throughout their society, they attained an incentive to become individually stronger, but lacked resolve to do so. My victory at the mineshaft was the final nail in the coffin, cementing the truth that goblins could stand up against the feline menaces if only they were to harness their Kragnin, opening the way for training.

Though the amount of roaming lynxes already dramatically decreased at the hands of the goblins who had ascended prior to the battle at the mineshaft, the general populace still held an incentive to ascend. For example, if they became Crawgoblins, they could venture out of town with little to no fear. The main motivator, however, was an increase in self-confidence, knowing that if the dread lynxes ever rose in number again, ever assaulted their homes and communities again, they could handle it differently. This time, they could ward off those dastardly cats. This time, they wouldn’t cower in terror.

It was both touching and disappointing to see so many people train their strength and harness their internal power in their free times. Touching, because what isn’t poignant about people earnestly trying improve themselves for the better of their families and tribe? Disappointing, because they were failing miserably at doing so. I mean, the Goblins who trained to become Hobgoblins certainly succeeded; any military drill over a few months’ time would do that. But those Hobs who tried to become Craws could not seem to wrap their head around the Kragnin.

Not only did I really want to see my subjects thrive, but I would also find it unfair if I spent months helping the people of the Bugretanii whilst neglecting my own tribesmen. That’s why I decided to help these Hobs with their ascendancy struggles, and devise some sort of curriculum that can be taught with ease and understood with even greater ease.

I consulted three people, and invited them to my Great Hall™ to discuss the matter.

“Captains Gazmul and Rekmun, you two have been educating, teaching, and training warriors in the ways of Kragnin for how long now?” I asked.

“Ever since the previous two captains ascended and became Highgoblins. So, that’d be…uh.” Gazmul was at a loss.

“Six years ago,” Rekmun finished his colleague’s sentence.

“I see. By the way, who were the previous two captains?” I asked him out of curiosity.

“Chiefs Frakaldhelm and Altberulf,” he replied in his usual curt style.

“Alright,” I continued, “So with your guys’ six years of teaching experience, and with Wergnar’s help, I think we can develop a curriculum that will make learning Kragnin a cinch.”

Wergnar shot me a doubtful gaze. “… Why am I here?”

“HA. HA. HA. You silly goober. Don’t you remember when you managed to teach your family the Kragnin when I couldn’t? You must be naturally gifted, kiddo,” I gave him a rough pat on his back.

“Ow! We’re the same age, genius!”

Rekmun reached for his sword. “High chief, should I start off by teaching this fresh meat a lesson?”

“Go wild.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I’m sorry!”

That aside, we dedicated the next week to formulating a concrete and concise educational program that would be straightforward for both the teachers and students. Hobs lacked a bit in the IQ department, which is why it was somewhat difficult for me to explain Kragnin to Ragnulf and the others. Wergnar seemed smarter than the rest, so he caught onto my drift. His current task was thus mainly to delineate mine and the captains’ teachings for the targeted audience; a job neither the captains nor I could do, seeing as their explanations were too simplistic whereas mine were too complex. Thankfully, Wergnar could understand us both. What a chap. Maybe he got that from being his family’s middle child? His sisters were a smart bunch, but his brothers were a bit more simple-minded, so to speak with them both, he would have to understand them first.

As for the captains’ contributions—their “teachings”—were a bit vague, to say the least. Something about “feeling the inner fire” and “beating the nerves out of your heart”. The way they taught this to their men was through repeated drills and sparring, until someone would amass enough experience to “magically” start feeling their body burn with energy. It was similar to how Ekermun did it. He told me himself in our first meeting how he fought and killed dread lynxes until it one day just clicked in his mind, and suddenly he understood how to utilize his Kragnin.

Since I was a “born” a Goblin King, Kragnin came very quickly to me. I just had to “reactivate” mine, while Hobgoblins had to first find and then “activate” it. But still, I explained my way of learning it as pretending you have another heart that paralleled your actual one. This imagined heart pumps energy through your veins, making you surge with energy. Ok, maybe my explanation was just as vague and simplistic, but at least Wergnar got it, and built off of it to explain it to his siblings, who in turn also got it.

In a nutshell, Wergnar’s explanation of our teachings amounted to this: Kragnin was like a second heart inside the chest. When it wakes, it pushes power through the body, making the eyes see farther, the ears hear sharper, the legs jump higher, and the arms strike harder. To start it, one only had to breathe steady, imagine that hidden heart, and give a strong push with a flexing of your muscles. When the chest burns hot, the body tightens, and the muscles swells, that means the power was awake, and you’d soon find yourselves a Crawgoblin.

It was an synthesis of what the power entailed, how to enable it, and how you know if you’re doing it correctly or not. My contribution was how to do it, while the captains explained how it felt to do it right. How Wergnar managed to combine those so seamlessly, while also providing background information on what it entailed, is beyond me. The two captains nodded in affirmation, clearly satisfied by Wergnar’s simple and intuitive explanation.

The next day, the four of us departed to the barracks to test the lesson out on one of Rekmun’s squads. A squad in the Ausmulian army is defined as a band of eleven warriors headed by a champion, a type of low-ranking officer. I ordered the two captains to pay attention as Wergnar taught the band of eleven students simultaneously, something they would have to manage themselves as well.

After a mere half an hour, seven of the squad men collapsed, signifying their successful acquisition of the Kragnin and their subsequent ascension to Crawgoblinhood. The other four needed double the time, but eventually came around as well. Wergnar repeated this process with three other squads before finally collapsing from exhaustion.

Teaching is one the greatest, but also one of the most tiring jobs out there. Not only does it educate other people, but it makes the teachers themselves learn a lot more as well. It is thus no surprise that after another day of teaching forty-four warriors how to awaken their Kragnin, Wergnar ascended and found himself a Highgoblin.