It was another boring day.. Sure, two new truces had been negotiated and he had received word form the Longtooth clan that they would send someone, not to mention the three fights that had broken out two of which had been between a group of Stumptails with his own Redtips. Two dire wolves had set upon a hapless kobold and there were sightings of a part of humans on the road not far, for which he had to calm everyone down. Ruxatag eyed the sun just rising to its peak and let out a loud, frustrated, heavy sigh. It was another boring day.
He waddled through the halls of his mighty keep, well really hall of his keep as the squat stone building only had the one hall that lead past a few doors to the room where the previous mayor had held his audiences. The elevated dias that had held the thrown now held multiple chairs where a group of orcs played bones with some kobolds. Rux hooked a right and opened the door that once lead into the kitchen. The room was now crammed with bunks and goblins wearing patchwork armors as it now held a makeshift barracks. He opened the door that lead down to the cellar and started down the stairs.
Now he traveled through halls. Shortly after taking the small town, Ruxatags people had begun excavating the old larder. Now many sprawling tunnels led to various rooms of various size. The biggest and farthest of course was his. He had tried living up top in one of the human rooms, but they were just too...human. So, he let those slaves who distinguished themselves in servitude return to their topside rooms. Honestly who wouldn't mind having all the humans up top, then they wouldn't need so many torches down here! But, it wasn't safe and it just wasn't feasible to have all the slaves living above his little kingdom.
Ruxatag stopped in the large chamber before his room and moved to his 'throne'. The original had been destroyed and used for the cooking fires, so now he had settled for just a regular chair with more wood nailed to it to make it larger. It had gold coins nailed to it as well and a few sparkly gems were forced into the wood, though the best part about it as far as he was concerned was the plush down filled pillow that acted as its cushion.
He mounted his throne and immediately slouched down into it, one elbow resting on an arm of is as he rested his cheek in his palm. Rux sighed again and began to drum the fingers of his other hand on the other arm of the chair. Being a king was boring. He hadn't really wanted to be king, but they had insisted on making him one. And, admittedly, he had gotten swept up in the idea. Kings had riches and adventures and all sorts of fun things... None of which he had.
And then an idea struck him, or at least, it started too. He pursed his lips in thought, trying to will the idea to life before some other interruption came to take hold of his day.
Oddmund was a busy little goblin. His quill scratched loudly and quickly across his parchment paper as he rushed through the winding halls and caverns, muttering to himself and never once looking up to see where he was going.
All around him, servants and other goblins alike, pressed themselves tightly against the cold, stone walls in an effort to not be in the three feet tall mudhopper's path. Those that knew him, knew better than to be anywhere near him and quickly informed those that did not.
It was certainly not because Oddmund was a malicious goblin, but a very clumsy and resilient one. The king's vizier had been known to cause more damage in a single incident than a week's worth of revelry from those residing within the king's barracks. It was why whenever Oddmund was within sight, a wide berth was given. No one wanted to be anywhere near little green whirlwind once he started bouncing off priceless artifacts.
Therefore, it was not surprising that no one made an effort to inform Oddmund he was about to run into a wall until he walked straight into it. Papers flew everywhere and the small bottle of ink he had so precariously been clutching shatter on the floor. None of this truly mattered though as the goblin bounced off the wall onto his rear and then back up onto his feet. Thick skin was good for something at least.
The goblin sighed in exasperation and scuttled to recollect his errant articles when his beady eyes rested on something written on one of the lower sheaves. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened to the size of saucers right before he began pedaling himself back out of the wrong room and down the halls as fast as his short little legs could carry him, discarded writing utensils long forgotten.
"Kingy!" he squealed, tearing down the halls in an effort to find his lord and ruler. 'I forgot! Forgot, forgot forgoty-got-got! Kingy's going to kill me! We're LATE! Late, late latey-late-late,' Oddmund ranted repeatedly in his mind, rounding corners as tightly as he could, ignoring when he ran into a slave carrying freshly laundered clothes on his search for the goblin king.
At least, the mudhopper was able to burst his way into the "throne room," wheezing out incoherent phrases in a high-pitched voice while hopping nervously in front of his regent.