"Wart! Breakfast!" a deep, scratchy voice resounded through the damp caverns.
Groaning, Wart heaved herself up and limped her way along the dank tunnel towards the voice calling her. She lamented the fact that in the past being called for breakfast meant that breakfast was ready for her. Now, it meant it was time for her to fix it for the grotesque lump of goblin flesh that called himself Grog. Not for the first time, Wart longed for what she now considered her glory days.
Life was meant to be lived in style and glamour. That was the motto she had lived by as long as she could remember, and until about twelve years prior, it had been easy enough to follow. Did she ever miss those days.
It was hard to imagine, even now, but once upon time she had been an heiress. The only daughter of the Grand Duke Alexander Ludwig Strallestine of the Gildeon Kingdom within the Wyrmshire Empire, she had grown up in luxury and privilege. She got whatever she wanted and acted without consequence or remorse. After all, it was a well known fact that power, prestige, and money could fix anything and everything. As well established draconic nobles, her family had all of that and more.
Then, one fateful day, she had woken up as a goblin child... a male one at that. Worse, she found herself living in a goblin grotto on the other side of the world in an insignificant country called Andromadus.
"'Bout time yer useless ass got 'ere," Grog growled. Wart shrieked involuntarily as he clubbed her across the face with his knobby fist. "Not get a move on would ye? I ain't got all day now!"
Wart bit back bitter words as she picked herself up off the floor. The jerk had nothing but time on his hands. Grog didn't ever leave the house, not for work, friends, or even food. Evidently, that was what Wart was for.
It wasn't a stretch to say Wart would love nothing more than to wake up one morning and find Grog dead. She despised the abusive bully that claimed to be her father. Sure, she probably could've run away and made a good enough life for herself, but she didn't really see any point in it. It wasn't as though she could be happier anywhere else... not as Wart at least.
"Ye call this slop food?" Grog spat in her face as she hastily placed some cheese and what was left of the bread in front of him.
"Haven't been able to work to get more..." Wart flinched as Grog smacked the crude meal from the sorry excuse for a makeshift table. It disgusted her how much she longed to stuff the mud covered morsels into her mouth.
"What kind o' sorry 'scuse is that?!" Grog demanded. based on the lingering slur and his unfocused gaze, he was likely still drunk from the night before. "What d'ya take me for?"
Instead of responding, Wart lowered her eyes and held out her arm. She didn't even flinch when he smacked it so hard it left the skin red and swollen.
"Get lost an' don' bother showing yer ugly ass mug 'round 'ere 'til ye get some real food!" He growled.
Wart rushed from the grimy hole, knowing Grog would likely try to throw in one last punch or kick if she stuck around too long. Not for the first time, Wart lamented her lack of claws. In her mind, the cracked nails on her thumbed feet didn't count.
Once she was a safe distance from Grog's cave, Wart slowed her pace and contemplated what she would do next. To say the goblin community she resided with was 'impoverished' would be a gross understatement. The squalor these goblins lived in wasn't fit for maggots, and Wart, whose ribs were showing she was so starved, seemed fat compared to most. Finding paying jobs was becoming harder and harder.
Low grumbles issued from her neighbors as she passed. She didn't pay much mind, goblin gossip wasn't nearly as interesting as court gossip had been, but it seemed there had been another Drow raid in the tunnels.
Caught between the humans and orcs residing on the surface and the dwarves and Drow dwelling in the depths beneath, the goblins were subject to all manners of abuse from every side. The Drow in particular loved to raid and enslave the goblins. It was a truly pathetic state of living.
"Did ye hear 'bout the raid Wart?" Some one tugged at her sleeve. With a sigh, Wart stopped to regard the new comer, a young goblin maid who was known as Remy. For reasons Wart couldn't fathom, the girl was completely smitten with her.
"Yeah, what about it?" Wart rolled her eyes. "Not like it's different than any other day."
"I guess," Remy's smile dropped. "But ain't it spooky? It happened so close..."
"We're probably next," Wart replied indifferently. She ignored the younger girl's stricken and terrified look and continued. "I mean, it's only a matter of time. We're basically livestock, you know?"
"Yer... yer pro'bly right," Remy's lips quivered dangerously. "Not like we're special... are we?"
Remy's attempt to fish out some sort of compliment was amusing. Wart had half a mind to comfort the wretched creature, pitiful as she was, but decided against it. There was no point in giving her false hope or an unfounded sense of security. It only would make it worse when the inevitable happened.
"Nope," Wart didn't hesitate to squash the glimmer of hope shining in the girl's tearful eyes. "Now I need to-"
Wart was cut off by a sudden ruckus. All at once, the surly folk around them were screaming and running about frantically, paying no heed to who or what they knocked over in their panicked flight. With a shriek, Remy latched onto Warts arm.
"They're here!" she wailed. "The Drow are coming!"
Speak of the devils... Wart hated it when she was right.