Burk's Last Meal

[LithiumSedai 4850]

((Goblin Art by Caio Monteiro))

Burk’s Last Meal

 

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If, for any reason, anyone ever inquired among the many scattered friends of the traits of one peculiar goblin, the single fact all of them would agree on is that Burk loved food. If, for any reason, anyone ever called Burk’s appearance to memory, they would deem this fact an understatement. This particular kin of Krug, ever since his mysterious upbringing upon the realm of Atlas, cared and lived only for his next meal: his disposition was made evident by his grotesque, almost comical accumulation of body fat, layer upon layer of flabs wobbling and jiggling with Burk’s every step. This miraculous feat, having in mind the hastened metabolism of the goblin race, enhanced the reputation of Burk’s enormous appetite; truly, the goblin was ardent in his obliteration of anything a Descendant could rightly call a meal, devouring culinary masterpieces and stale bread alike and at every opportunity. On occasion, even objects made of cloth and wood found themselves crushed by Burk’s yellow-stained, orcish teeth, making for a hearty snack; he never shied away from carefully biting at metal bars and blocks of stone, testing their resolve.

 

Any other accounts of Burk’s virtues and vices paled in comparison, and remained irrelevant to most others. Perhaps the goblin was peaceful, known for his carefree demeanor and wandering gaze - though some elder Suticans could recall him winning honor duels against dwarves, and partaking in the defense of Sutica at Hangman’s Keep and in the Whispering Woods despite his odd physique. Perhaps the goblin’s sense of fashion was peculiar, known for a strange affinity towards tropical clothing; perhaps the goblin was, for the greater part of his life, a whitewash trader and wanderer. He appreciated friends and his companion animals, conversed with kings and emperors, peddled goods mystical and mundane. Above all, still, he valued food and each and every fortunate chance to sate his hunger. The Spirits factored into his life nearly as much as any other orc’s - but if the Creator’s gaze still rested upon Terra, Burk would have no doubt been rightfully crowned the embodiment of earthly gluttony. 

 

It was even when the Oyashiman samurai forced him, subdued, to kneel beneath their master’s blade that Burk thought of food. The Haeseni retinue had rudely abandoned him in his slumber, taking with them their delicious rations. The timber lining their ship’s deck, the sturdy planks underneath his maw seemed inviting enough, begging for his stained chompers to brave a bite. His maw unhinged, disturbing his many chins, as the katana rose above his neck, and he dug his teeth into the plank as the blade swept downwards.

 

His final thoughts were of his last meal.

 

 

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[chaotikal 2236]

The clan of Goro stood above the deceased Yokai, an Oni as the men of Oyashima called him, but Burk was just an innocent foreigner, felled by the highly strict ritual code of the men of Aeldin. The body of the Gobbo was rugged into cloth, and thrown down as the overbearing weight propelled it all the way to the bottom of the Swampy lands.

 

That night, amidst a bad storm that struck the boat and made it swing from side to side, the young Samurai lord of Goro looked overboard, and contemplated on their actions, and the land that they had arrived to. He thought of honor, spilling blood, and the many wars that had scarred the men of Oyashima into an unrelenting hate for the Oni. 

 

In the end, he stopped thinking, drank some Sake he had saved under the upper floorboards of the boat, and shared it with some of his companions, and got absolutely shit-faced until his thoughts were like tears in the rain.

 

[WonkManBad 764]

The history and actions previously here have been lost to time; unless another recorded their story.