My planet is infested with Goblins

The council hall was larger than it had appeared from outside. Thick wooden pillars supported the roof, each one carved with patterns Grik could not understand. Strings of shells hung between the beams, clicking softly whenever the wind entered through the open windows. Animal skulls and polished stones decorated the walls alongside crude images carved directly into dark wooden panels. Grik recognized hunters, boats, fish, trees, and what appeared to be groups of goblins standing beneath enormous circular shapes. He wanted to examine every carving, but the armed goblins surrounding him made it clear that this was not the time to wander around admiring their craftsmanship.

Sarak led Grik, Kobb, Rudd, and the two hunters toward the center of the hall. Their weapons had been taken before entering the settlement and were now carried by local guards near the doorway. Several elders sat around a low wooden platform. Most were old enough that their ears sagged slightly and their faces carried deep wrinkles, but one goblin seated in the center drew Grik’s attention immediately. He was broad despite his age and wore a cloak covered in overlapping pieces of dark hide. A necklace of carved teeth hung around his neck.

Sarak pointed toward the old goblin.

"Varok."

Grik understood immediately that this was the settlement’s chief.

Another elder sat beside Varok holding a long wooden staff decorated with polished white stones. Unlike the others, he wore no weapons. Symbols had been painted across his arms and forehead, including the same large circle Grik had noticed carved into the walls.

Sarak pointed toward him next.

"Miraak."

Grik touched his own chest.

"Grik."

He then pointed toward his companions one after another.

"Kobb. Rudd."

The names of the two hunters followed. Varok listened carefully before repeating Grik’s name. His pronunciation was slightly different, but close enough to be recognizable.

Varok immediately began speaking.

Grik understood nothing of the words being said.

The chief pointed toward Grik, then toward the eastern wall, before making a wide gesture with both arms. His questions came quickly, followed by several more from the elders.

Kobb leaned toward Grik.

"I understood the part where he pointed at you."

"That was the only part I understood too."

Rudd crossed his arms.

"This will be a long conversation."

Grik crouched beside the wooden platform and pointed toward the floor. After receiving no objection, he used a piece of charcoal from a nearby fire basin to draw a curved coastline. Varok and the elders watched closely.

Grik drew a river flowing into the sea and marked a small shape representing their damaged vessel. He pointed toward himself and then toward the drawing of the ship.

"Grik."

He moved the charcoal eastward across the floor, creating a broad empty space representing the ocean. Beyond it, he began drawing land.

Varok interrupted and pointed toward the distant land before saying something that sounded like a question.

Grik shook his head.

He made the land much larger.

Then he added another connected section beside it.

Then another.

Kobb realized what he was attempting and knelt beside him. He used his hands to indicate that the three pieces belonged together.

"Big," Kobb said slowly, spreading his arms. "Very big."

The locals clearly did not understand the word, but the gesture helped.

Grik pointed toward the isolated coastline beneath them and then toward the three connected landmasses he had drawn across the ocean. He moved his finger from one to the other as if following the route of their voyage.

Varok frowned.

He pointed toward the drawing of the ship and then toward Grik.

Grik nodded.

Varok pointed east again.

Grik nodded more vigorously.

The chief stared at him.

Several elders immediately began speaking among themselves.

One of them laughed as though the idea were ridiculous. Another took the charcoal from Grik and drew a much smaller piece of land between the two coastlines, apparently suggesting that Grik had come from a nearby island.

Grik shook his head and rubbed the new island away.

"No. Far."

He extended both arms and then walked several steps across the hall before pointing east again.

"Far."

Sarak watched him carefully before attempting the word.

"Far."

Grik smiled.

"Yes. Far."

The smallest connection between their languages produced an immediate change. Several locals repeated the word to one another, comparing it to something in their own speech.

Grik returned to the map.

He took several small stones from a decorative bowl near the platform and placed them across the three connected continents. One stone represented a settlement. Then another. Then another.

He kept going.

Soon more than thirty stones covered the rough map.

Varok watched with increasing seriousness.

Grik pointed toward the stones.

"Goblin."

He pointed toward himself.

"Goblin."

Then toward the locals.

"Goblin."

Miraak leaned forward.

Grik added more stones.

"Many."

Kobb helped by pointing around the crowded hall before repeating the same word.

"Many."

Varok’s expression changed as the meaning became clear.

He pointed toward the stones covering the connected continents and then toward Grik.

Grik nodded.

"Many goblins."

One elder immediately stood and began speaking angrily. He pointed toward the map, then toward Grik’s group, and finally toward the settlement outside. His hand moved toward his throat in a cutting motion.

Rudd shifted uneasily.

"I think he just asked whether your many goblins are coming here to kill everyone."

Grik had reached the same conclusion.

He quickly shook his head.

"No."

The elder continued angrily.

Grik pointed toward himself and his four companions. He held up five fingers, then pointed toward the sea. After that, he mimed the storm. He rocked from side to side, raised his arms to represent enormous waves, and made a cracking motion above his head.

Kobb enthusiastically joined the explanation by pretending to be struck by an imaginary wave. He stumbled across the floor, grabbed one of the pillars, and shouted a dramatic imitation of the storm.

"Woooaaah! Crack!"

Several local goblins stared at him.

Sarak suddenly laughed.

The sound spread through some of the guards.

Even Varok’s expression softened slightly.

Rudd rubbed his face.

"You crossed an ocean so you could perform like a drunk fisherman."

Kobb straightened.

"They understood me."

Grik pointed toward the coast on his map and then toward the actual beach. He drew the ship with a broken mast.

"Broken."

He snapped a thin piece of charcoal between his fingers.

"Broken."

Sarak repeated the word uncertainly.

"Bro...ken."

Grik nodded.

He pointed toward his companions and then shook his head.

"No fight. Ship broken."

The angry elder remained suspicious, but Varok spoke sharply enough to make him sit down.

Food and water were brought into the hall soon afterward. The visitors received roasted fish, unfamiliar roots, and bowls of cool water. Their weapons were not returned, but the gesture made it clear that the locals no longer considered them immediate enemies.

Grik ate quickly before returning to the map.

Now it was his turn to ask questions.

He pointed toward Varok and the other locals before pointing toward the ground.

"Goblin here?"

Varok nodded, apparently misunderstanding him.

Grik shook his head and tried again.

He drew a small goblin figure.

Then another behind it.

Then another.

He continued adding increasingly smaller figures in a line to represent generations.

Kobb watched.

"You are getting worse at drawing."

Grik ignored him.

He pointed toward the oldest figure, then toward the distant past with an exaggerated motion over his shoulder.

"First."

He pointed toward the ground.

"Here?"

The elders exchanged confused looks.

Grik repeated the gesture.

Miraak suddenly rose.

The religious keeper approached the wall behind the council platform and touched one of the carvings Grik had noticed earlier. It depicted a large circle above several goblin figures.

Miraak pointed upward.

Then toward the circle.

He spoke slowly.

Most of the words remained incomprehensible.

One phrase, however, was repeated several times.

Sarak attempted to reproduce it using words Grik’s group might recognize. He pointed toward the carving and then toward the sky.

"Great... Light."

Grik looked toward the circular symbol.

"Great Light?"

Miraak nodded eagerly.

The old goblin touched the carving again and began telling a story.

Understanding it required patience.

Miraak pointed toward the goblin figures carved beneath the circle. He covered his own eyes with one hand, then opened them suddenly and pointed toward the floor. Afterward, he drew a large lake and several trees.

Grik gradually understood.

The first goblins had appeared near a lake.

He pointed toward the drawing.

"First goblins?"

Miraak nodded.

Grik drew a boat again.

Miraak immediately shook his head.

Grik drew footsteps leading toward the lake.

Again, Miraak shook his head.

The keeper pointed toward the Great Light, then toward the goblin figures, and finally toward the lake.

Kobb’s joking expression disappeared.

"They are saying the light brought them there."

Grik looked at Miraak.

He imitated something descending from above and pointed toward the goblins.

Miraak nodded repeatedly.

Grik felt a chill despite the warmth of the hall.

Miraak continued.

He indicated hunger by rubbing his stomach, then mimed drinking. He pointed toward the Great Light again before tracing a route toward the carved lake and a cluster of trees.

Whatever the exact details, the meaning was increasingly clear. Their oldest tradition claimed that their ancestors had appeared suddenly on this continent. A divine light had brought them there and later guided them toward water and food.

Grik pointed toward the carved boat again.

"No boat?"

Miraak shook his head firmly.

"No."

The word was close enough in both languages that nobody misunderstood.

Kobb leaned toward Grik.

"That sounds like a god."

Grik did not answer.

He remembered stories from his homeland that he had barely considered since childhood. Some central tribes spoke of an unseen Lord Above who had protected their ancestors through wind. Far to the north, traders told stories about goblins who worshiped a Keeper of the First Flame. Southern tribes spoke of a hidden presence that guided hunters and warned them of predators.

Grik had always assumed they were different beliefs created by different tribes.

Now he looked at the isolated goblins’ Great Light and wondered whether they had all been trying to describe the same being.

He wiped part of the map clean.

Then he carefully drew four continents.

Three of the four remained connected.

The fourth stood alone across the sea.

He placed several small stones together in the center.

"Goblin."

He pointed toward the circular Great Light carving.

Then he moved the stones.

Some went north.

Some went south.

Some remained in the central land.

Finally, he carried a few stones across the ocean and placed them upon the isolated continent.

The hall became silent.

Miraak stared at the map.

Grik repeated the motion more slowly.

One people.

Separated.

Placed across the world.

Miraak suddenly began speaking with excitement. He pointed toward the ancient wall carvings, then toward Grik’s map, before addressing Chief Varok rapidly.

Several elders immediately objected.

The council erupted into argument.

One elder struck the floor with his hand and pointed angrily toward Grik. Another shook his head while Miraak defended the map with increasing intensity.

Grik could understand almost none of the words, but he understood what he had done.

He had challenged their understanding of their own origin.

Varok finally slammed one hand against the wooden platform.

The hall fell silent.

The chief looked toward Grik for several moments. Then he pointed toward the damaged ship’s location beyond the settlement.

He mimed cutting wood.

Then repairing something.

Afterward, he pointed toward Grik’s group and gestured toward the settlement.

Kobb frowned.

"I think he is offering to help."

Grik nodded slowly.

Varok then pointed toward the eastern ocean on the map and toward the stones representing the distant goblin populations.

The bargain was clear enough.

They could remain while repairing the ship.

In return, Varok wanted to know more about the world across the sea.

Grik placed one hand against his chest and bowed his head.

"Yes."

Miraak approached before the meeting could end. He touched the carving of the Great Light and then pointed toward Grik.

"Your land... Great Light?"

The old goblin’s broken use of their language surprised everyone.

Grik stared at the circular carving.

He thought about the ancient stories of wind, fire, unseen guidance, and the strange similarities between peoples who had been separated by enormous distances for countless generations.

He could not prove any of it.

"Maybe."

Miraak continued staring at him, but Grik’s attention had already returned to the map on the floor.

He had crossed the western ocean searching for land.

Instead, he had discovered that goblins who believed themselves separated by geography, language, and religion might share an origin none of them remembered.

For the first time, the question troubling Grik was no longer what existed beyond the horizon.

It was who had placed them there in the first place.

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