Born among squalor and shit, within the Rexdom of Krugmar, to Clan Raduk, Snotling has hated his kind for as long as he can remember. Orc's and Ologs, overly viscous Goblins, and whatnot else. However, even his distaste for his kind could not defeat the goblin calling to create. At a young age, he was a prolific writer, a constant potter, and a detailed mapmaker. This lack of "anger", however, only landed Snotling in trouble with those that commanded his tribe. Defective, he was called. Stupid, even. But one day, his life changed, when a halfling boy was captured by the tribe. The halfling was to be killed, his bones used to find an enemy settlement, to of course be raided. Snotling had many problems with is, one, being it made no sense, and two, the thing was clearly a mere child. Risking it all, Snotling helped the boy escape, but in doing so caught a large club to his head, causing a stutter to emerge, and a voice to be heard, in his own, that wasn't his. One that claimed it could help, if Snotling willed. Snotling remembers little from that point, beyond hearing screams, and crackling of divine energy. Snotling would awake after the "Lightning", with a hatred for his kind ever-burning, and a lust for a happy ending.
