"It was Ferrik! That stupid curse-sponge woke up the dragon with his foul luck!" One of the goblins yelled.
"We've been in here for two weeks because of you!" One of the goblins spat at Ferrik as he sat alone at the back corner of their large wooden crate. Also known as a goblin-cell.
"You've been in here for two weeks because of missing your quota— due to criminal negligence! And your elder will be executed for said negligence causing an Ice-Dragon to turn the Elven-Grove into a glacier!" The Orc guard in knights armor snarled from outside the multi-cell. His pink pig-skin was red from irritation, "I mean who goes mining in a mountain called Frost Scale Hill?"
"Someone looking for quality ore."
"Was it ore, or was it dragon scales?" The orc asked rhetorically.
The goblins silently looked between eachother. Suddenly realizing many things.
"Wait— I could've been rich." Ferrik said.
"No. Goblins don't get rich anymore since the Galliuhm War. You guys remember that? Your boy went insane and declared the planet his?" The Orc asked.
"He was not one of ours."
"Oh right. Because he's half dwarf?" The Orc asked. "Amazing that a race of lowly thieves and rogues turned mining folk could be puritans."
Ferrik laughed to himself and nodded. It was silent then, causing his evil cackle to echo through the wooden cage and metal facility beyond.
"The hell are you laughing at, greenie?" The orc prison guard asked.
Ferrik looked up, realizing everyone was looking at him with varying levels of irritation and disdain.
"I agree."
The Orc's fatty face twisted up in confusion causing his blubbery lips to slide over his tusks as he spoke… and spit, "Agree with what?"
"I think it's ironic. That were so…. racist. Especially me….heh, I would know."
"Oh here we go!" One of the goblins threw his hands up.
The Orc seemed interested in the drama at play, "What then? Why would you know?"
"He thinks he's a gods-damned vampire." The voice came from the goblin who called himself ferrik's brother. He looked familiar enough with his face warts and dreaded Mohawk of greying hair.
"I am a vampire." Ferrik said, "I'm one of a kind."
"You're one of many in that cage." The orc said, visibly satisfied with his rebuttal. "And if you were a vampire you wouldn't survive a day as a goblin. Your kind loves silver. Vampires burn from it."
"It's why I have these burns!" Ferrik held up his once wrapped up scarred hands and forearms. "I didn't know at first."
"He doesn't know shit!" One of the goblins spat across from him, "He's no vamp! He's a junky that gets high on mine dust. The fiend can find it anywhere."
"Yea!" Ferrik's brother said to the all too immersed Orc, "Just look at his eyes."
The Orc suddenly stood up, towering over everyone like a pig-faced giant wearing steel plating. He lumbered around the cage until he stood in front of Ferrik. The only goblin standing.
He studied Ferrik in the hatefueled silence. "You are a weird looking one. Too tall….. too clear-skinned…. too pretty. Yuck. But vampires don't have purple eyes."
"See! Like I s—"
"Shut-it wart-face!" The orc guard slammed his fist into the wooden bars of the wooden cage.
"He's just a useless freak!"
"You're all freaks." The Orc said before pointing at Ferrik with a snorting snarl, "But you're no vampire. You don't scare me. You don't move with the shadows and fly among the stars. You're a clutz— part of a braindead clan that can't even mine safely. You're a failure among failures. The ugly duckling among a flock of hideous birds."
Ferrik had no rebuttal. He remained silent. Feeling the painful emotional recoil of the much bigger and powerful individual's words.
The same feeling as when he was in the mines— standing on the dragons eye, filled him.
His blood burned. His skin felt tight on his face. His gums itched. That ringing pulse came again, emanating from the Orc. A heavy lulling beat that pulled him into its rhythmic waves where he wanted nothing more than to drown.
"What did you just say?!"
Ferrik turned away from the enticing Orc and found one of the elders standing up to him. Short and hunchbacked with a massive nose full of piercing holes.
"What?"
"Did you just say you quit the clan?"
Ferrik didn't remember speaking at all, but as he heard the words— words he didn't think possible, notbing ever felt more right.
"…..yea. I quit."
"And where will you go, you fool?!"
"Wherever I want!" Ferrik roared, and relished in the sight of the other goblins backing away at the boom of his voice, "I'll do….. whatever I want— and take… whatever I desire. That's my purpose as a goblin-vampire. Not some stank ass mine full of people who'd be happier without me."
His blood was molten by this point— quite literally as he began to steam in the cell.
"H-hey— what are you doing, greenie!" The orc snorted.
Ferrik spun around, hearing the pulsing beat again as his eyes zeroed in on the orc.
Behind him, he could hear the network of metal halls, prisoners and guards at work. More to take. More to tear.
"That's it. I'm—"
Before the Orc could say anything more, Ferrik lunged at the wooden bars of the cell. Upon hitting them, he realized they were enchanted with the glow of defensive runes. Not that they mattered. He reached through the spaces and grabbed hold of the Orc of superpowered strength, pulling the brute into the wooden bars, so he could come face to face with the monstrous pig-man. Like a humanoid dinner-roast wrapped in foil.
Ferrik opened his mouth, hissing as fangs ripped out of his gums, just in time for him to bite into the Orc's face.
The last thing he heard was screams.
It sounded like celebratory cheers.