Short flavor text: You know those people who would say play with fire and expect to get burned? No one told them that shaman magic can protect from burns. So play away.
Ack Baloxzg, a young aspiring shaman in the goblin camp, was finally called to the Head Shaman. Sheepishly, but attempting to look more confident than he actually was, entered the tent, where the goblin council sat in a wide circle. The Head Shaman, sitting on a pillowed pedestal with his legs crossed and long wispy smoke trails drifting upward from his pipe, waited several moments before speaking. His voice was quiet and raspy, but could be heard clearly as none dared so much as stir in their seat while he spoke.
“Ack of Baloxzg, you have been looking for a chance to prove your skills, have you not?”
Ack gave a sudden bow, fueled by nervous energy. His plain and patch filled garb sharply contrasted with the immaculate robes of the Head Shaman, truly displaying the difference between their stations. “Yes, your greatness. I have studied long and hard in the Shaman arts, and I wish to show what I am capable of.”
The Head gave a low chuckle, devolving into a slight coughing fit before he continued. His eyes, practically shut with wrinkles and bags surrounding them, managed to squint even more at the young goblin before him. “Well, we have your Trial. There are some hunters out beyond the marsh district that require protection. Go with them, and lend them your aid.”
Slightly affronted at such a menial task, Ack knew better than to question the Head Shaman. “It shall be done, Head Shaman. I will not fail.”
As was custom, neither side said goodbye as the young shaman hastily left the tent. The Head would never trouble himself with the minutiae of the request; the underlings were meant to handle such tasks. The goblins that introduced themselves as the group of hunters were waiting at the entrance, and they left without further preparation. If Ack had thought conflict was likely, he would have wanted to go back to his hut and gather some additional magical reagents, but he felt more than capable with his current equipment for basic bodyguard duty.
They walked a ways past swamps where goblin farmers tried to farm the land. Ack shook his head; he could never see himself as a farmer. Spending his entire life toiling away in the muck as others got all the glory in war. He was going to make a name for himself, not tend to roots in obscurity.
The group reached the spot where the hunters began tracking game. It was forested, but still heavily waterlogged with murky pools of unknown depth. Ack had no problem hiding his own scent using one of his special potions, and gave the rest of the hunters a single dose as well. He felt he had already proven his usefulness, but hoped he would have a more glamorous chance at showcasing his skill in a future trial. He was likely going to do little more on the expedition.
The hours ticked by as nothing of note happened. He wasn’t expected to anyways, but Ack had very little interest in the methodical hunting of woodland creatures, despite his Shaman magic making the killing and cooking of animals childs play. Or perhaps that was what made it boring? He daydreamed about grand adventures and epic conflicts, right before he was torn out of his stupor back into reality by the hunters yelling.
“Shaman! Do something! Swamp dragon!” The hunters ran, as singed leaves fell from tress behind the place they had been stalking prey moments before. Ack looked around frantically. He didn’t see or sense anything out of the ordinary, until a massive beast with swamp matter covering it’s back and spikes lunging towards him with snapping jaw from a nearby pool. He narrowly dived out of its path as it crawled into another nearby pool, and vanished silently under the surface. Ack tried in vain to detect it, but Swamp Dragons could hide their life signatures. It popped its head out of another pool, and Ack barely managed to get his magic flame shield up in time. All around him was engulfed in flame, and he winced under the intense heat; his flame shield was just barely strong enough to protect him, and his energy would be quickly depleted if he had to keep using it.
For a split second, he considered running. The shame for his failure would be better than facing death itself. But with a burst of rage, he decided to seal his own fate. Running the first time he faced a superior opponent would only be denying his destiny; he had to fight! Summoning his strength, he pulled his staff from his backpack and retrieved two bottles of special oil from his pouch. He waited with tense patience, for even the slightest disturbance around him. He spotted the beast beginning another run at him from a different pool, and immediately threw the two bottles, while pointing his staff as streams of flame danced around him. “Fireball!”
A burst of flame flew at the dragon as the dragon was about to respond with its own far larger breath of fire. But the fireball collided with the two bottles, exploding with a massive sickly puff of gas. The resulting sticky tar fell burning on the dragon, disorienting it. While far from deeply injuring it, the dragon quickly decided its prey was not worth the effort, and turned to slink away, moving deeper into the forested swamp.
Covered in swamp mud and breathing heavily, Ack still felt the glow of victory. Back at camp, the hunters spoke great words about his astounding victory and courage, and the Head Shaman appointed him an official shaman mentor for his efforts. Ack Baloxzg could not be happier. Now, his quest to become a legend had officially begun.