The dusty tavern erupted into raucous celebration as Wurtt and the townspeople reveled in their victory over the marauding goblins. Jack heartily clapped Wurtt on the back and slid a frothy ale across the scarred wooden bar to him.
"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be thanking a goblin for saving our skins, much less buying him a drink!" Jack chuckled, raising his own tin tankard in salute.
"Think nothing of it," Wurtt replied modestly as he grasped the chilled pewter mug. "I only hope this might help folk realize we goblins aren't all black-hearted scoundrels." He took a deep draught of the bittersweet ale, savoring the effervescent nutty flavor.
"Delicious!" he pronounced. "Might I interest you in a taste of goblin pop? It's an alchemical concoction of ours."
Wurtt retrieved a leather satchel of ingredients from his pack and busied himself brewing up a batch of the candy-like elixir, using vials and odd-looking tools. Soon he passed samples around to the intrigued villagers. The tavern filled with satisfied lip-smacking and hearty belches as the townspeople sampled the sickly-sweet bubbly treat.
"Incredible!" Jack exclaimed. "Any chance you could teach me the recipe? I'd love to add it to the menu here."
"I don't see why not," Wurtt agreed amiably. "You'd need to learn some alchemical principles and acquire the right equipment, but I believe you could master it."
Jack refilled Wurtt's mug, this time with a honey-hued mead. "Here, try our house specialty. Let me know what you think."
Wurtt quaffed the drink appreciatively, letting out a resonant belch. "Exquisite! I propose a trade - my pop recipe for yours. A scientist like myself should be able to replicate this, given ample honey."
As the night wore on, Jack remarked "That was mighty fine, what you did out there today. Couldn't have been easy, fighting your own kind."
Wurtt's expansive ears drooped slightly as he stared into his nearly empty mug. "Yes, that was my brother leading the raiders. I pleaded with him to stop, but he left me no choice." Wurtt sighed heavily, swirling the dregs of mead. "He never did approve of my ways. Doubtless he'd have returned for revenge had I not..."
Wurtt trailed off, but Jack grasped his meaning. He clasped the goblin's bony shoulder. "Still, it must pain you so. He was kin, after all."
"More than you know," Wurtt confessed softly, brows knit together. "Inside I'm torn asunder, divided between my goblin blood and the person I strive to be. That savage part of me - I must never set it free, though it lurks still within."
Wurtt fell silent, staring at nothing. After a moment Jack gently prompted "What will you do next, then?"
Wurtt started slightly, broken from his reverie. "Oh, I suppose I'll travel on in search of others needing help. Listen for tales of trouble and see what good I might do."
Jack's face lit up. "I've a better notion! You should join the Trailblazers, a group with outposts across the land. They train folk to aid the needy. Give you provisions and such, and you do jobs helping folk in exchange. Their headquarters are just two days west of here - I can draw you a map."
Wurtt's ears perked up with interest. "That sounds incredible! You really think they'd accept a goblin amongst them?"
The tavern erupted with vigorous chants of "Wurtt! Wurtt!" until the rafters fairly shook. Wurtt bashfully rubbed his long nose. "Well then, I'm convinced! Once I've wrapped up business here, I'll be off to join these Trailblazers."
Over the next few days Wurtt busied himself preparing potions to sell around town. One would temporarily transform a weapon to gleaming silver, ideal for battling lycanthropes. Another gilded weapons with a beautiful lustrous gold patina.
Wurtt also had the inspired notion to tinker at the blacksmith's forge. With assistance he affixed an intricate system of tubes and vials to his vicious serrated sword. The new modification allowed him to load alchemical bombs which would ignite and spray forth as additional damage when he swung the blade.
After hawking his wares and assisting with various odd jobs around town, Wurtt had earned a respectable sum of coins for the road ahead. At last he hoisted his pack and bid the villagers heartfelt farewells, touched by their kindness yet eager for whatever lay ahead. Though it pained him to leave newfound friends, the promise of adventure beckoned irresistibly.
As Wurtt trekked down the dusty road, the tedium of walking soon had him lost in thought. "Blast it, there must be speedier ways to travel than these two aching feet!" He considered acquiring a mount, but quickly dismissed it. "No, too commonplace. If only I could craft some ingenious self-propelled conveyance!"
But Wurtt was an alchemist, not a magician able to summon motive power from thin air. Or was he? As he pondered, inspiration struck. When he accidentally trapped alchemical bombs in excessively sturdy containers, the explosive gases had nowhere to escape. The resulting tremendous pressure would send the vessels rocketing away like corks from champagne bottles.
With clever design, perhaps he could harness this violent force to propel a vehicle! Filled with excitement, Wurtt hurried to purchase a rickety wagon and materials at the next village. In short order he'd cobbled together an ungainly contraption from scrap wood, metal pots, and pipes. For good measure he slopped on liberal coats of red paint - red for speed!
Grinning eagerly, Wurtt lit the fuse and leaped into his ramshackle vehicle. The bombs ignited in sequence, belching jets of hot expanding gases that shot the wagon forward as if yanked by invisible steeds.
Wurtt whooped exhilaratedly as the landscape blurred past in a rush. Each fresh explosion increased the speed until the wagon was barreling down the road like a meteor unmoored.
Suddenly Wurtt spied the road fork fast approaching. With no way to steer his uncontrollable creation, he scarcely had time to bellow a panicked curse before the wagon blasted through the split trails and catapulted off the path into a field!
Wurtt's knuckles whitened on the bucking wagon as it was airborne. For a few terrifying, thrilling seconds he was aloft - before physics reasserted control. With an almighty splintering crash the wagon plowed into the earth, launching the goblin into a muddy ditch.
Wurtt extricated himself gingerly from the wreckage, assessing the damage through swelling eyes. Though battered, he was unbowed - already envisioning improvements for his next attempt at explosive locomotion. Perhaps a steering mechanism for starts! Sore but dreaming of future innovations, Wurtt hobbled toward the road, eager to continue his journey.