Round and round I prance, the most popular goblin at the dance. Pick a partner, heed my beck. Find another, stab his neck.

  More! I must educate my precious students more. Charge me please, I’m so weak. Just kidding, trick or tweak!

  Ha, ha! Teaching is so amusing. Watch closely now pupils, this one’s plenty fun. Mudipity goblity, your face is well done!

  Completely losing track of time, bonding with my new friends has become my entire existence. There’s Hurm and Coof and Sneeck. There’s Snarl and Graack and Hurm again. They were all eager at first, but as I win and win and win, the volunteers now flee the circle as soon as I yank them in. However, I’m far too fast for that nonsense now. Too strong. It’s only a different sort of practice when they try to run away.

  Wildly laughing and blindly reaching for another volunteer, my hand tastes only stale air. Angrily searching for the problem, the area around the circle reveals itself to be entirely emptied. Was I too quick? Are they all still baking in the mud? Well, then what am I to do now?

  How long has it been? Staring down at my body, I shudder. Wounds are covering me all over and my protective leathers have been absolutely shredded. Was I not doing as well as I thought? Drunk on the violence, I exposed myself too much. What if they were big ones? One strike from them and I’d be dead! This won’t do, this won’t do.

  Taking a valuable red potion out of my pack and bringing it up to wash away my mistakes, I pause, realizing my situation. Mud! There’s so much proper mud here. Why waste a potion? Really, I should keep packs and pouches full of mud in case I need it in the field. Woe is me that a proper pocket can’t be created here, else I’d be set for so long.

  Scrambling along in a tightly gripped, safe crawl across the gangway, I return to my home pit. A haggard scroll goblin sits by the edge while his usual partner dangles over the surface of the pit searching for something. My curiosity piqued, I sneakily creep up on the one with the scroll, eager to observe. Finally, I can see his work in person!

  At first, the circuitous maneuvers of his hand methodically scratching across the parchment fascinates me. Such strange, complex, esoteric symbols. They’re so chaotic, so unpredictable. Is this the true secret language of the brotherhood? Am I a fool for thinking that I could create anything even roughly approaching our long, rich history? However, the longer that I watch, the more intimately it becomes clear that the scratches contain absolutely no rhyme or reason. Is he just bored and fidgeting? Leaning in too close and groaning at the realization, I startle him.

  “Awk! Min scrul! Non agob. Gew der. Non har.”

  Quickly shuffling back to accommodate his nervousness, our disagreement is interrupted by a loud noise from the center of the pit.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Haaah– KAOGH!”

  What in the mud was that?

  “Bref tak. Fras mud. Nam Ha’koff,” the dangling goblin shouts over in our direction.

  Comprehension of the magic that I’m witnessing settling in, I’m shocked. A new first mud was just born! How often does this wonderful event happen? Is it common? Or was I the last before this little one? How would I find out? Is there a history on that scroll?

  The scroll goblin pauses his pointless scribblings to nod at the dangler. Then he scoops up a small chunk of mud, slamming his messy palm into the center of the scroll. After a brief wait, the scroll glows a dim pink before gradually fading away to nothing.

  Such a thing is possible? Who is this Will that they keep bringing up? The big ones never mentioned this creature. Or no, perhaps that’s not true. Is it that Anatoly detailed in the introductory book? The one also discussed in my dream. Do we simply use different names within our respective cultures?

  It suddenly dawns on me that this new one didn’t show a name on the panel, so I rush to appraise him again.

  There it is. Why wasn’t it there before? Was it only added to the status when my dangling brother over there named him out loud? Hearing that would certainly affect my intuition. Or is it because of the naming scroll? Is the scroll and Will connected to status somehow?

  Hm. So many unanswerable, new questions. Forget it. Should I help my fellow first mud instead?

  Stepping forward slowly, I hold my hands up in a calming manner and speak slowly.

  “Non bel. Agob gud. Gob gud. Bref. Mud gud. Non mal.”

  Remembering my first time digging out, it was absolutely terrifying. Everything was so foreign and strange. There was so much to figure out. If he has a buddy, then that would smooth things out and make it easier, right? If I had one, then I probably wouldn’t have gotten stuck on Kyklos. How different might life have turned out with only a little bit of help and attention when I was young?

  “Wat?!” Ha’koff shrieks in absolute dread at my friendly and helpful approach.

  Not considering a single one of my sweet words, he turns and quickly flees, stumbling frantically along the rough mud. This won’t do. It’s not safe to run in the pit. Especially when you’re new and young.

  “Ind! Non gew! Fier fier!” I yell, fixing myself in place, hoping not to startle him any more than I already have.

  However, my warning is useless as he continues sprinting away. After all, how can a fresh, first mud understand these bizarrely limited words? That’s understandable, given my own experience. Sadly, I can only watch as the fool sends himself sailing off of the edge, flying out into the cold, uncaring void. No one can help him now. He did this to himself.

  Oh well, nothing serious lost. In another three hours or so, he’ll be back. Maybe then he’ll be ready to properly consider my sage advice. In the meantime, let's get myself buried so we can take care of all these inconvenient little injuries.