The Epic Quest of Krindle the Goblin

By Robin Wickens

Krindle was not your typical goblin. Most of his tribe were gnarly, gruff creatures, happy to wallow in the dank cave they called home. Their days were a cycle of scavenging for scraps, squabbling amongst themselves, and the occasional raid on the nearby squirrel village – a rowdy, predictable existence. But Krindle had a curious mind, forever peering out at the world with squinty, mismatched eyes. He wasn't built for battle, small and scrawny compared to even the lowliest grunt. Instead, Krindle had a knack for finding things – an interesting mushroom, a beetle with peculiar markings, a chipped arrowhead glinting in the mud. His pouch was a jumble of trinkets, dismissed as rubbish by others, but treasures to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob's Books
• Release date: Apr 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224261208

Robin Wickens

Here at Rob's Books, we are committed to spreading the joy of story, colouring and puzzling books, making it an enjoyable and accessible activity for all. We envision a world where creativity is a celebrated and integral part of everyday life.

Book preview

1: The Shimmering Stone

One day, while exploring a long-forgotten crevice, a place where the cave walls seemed to weep with moisture, Krindle stumbled upon something extraordinary. Buried beneath mud and loose rocks was a stone the size of his fist. Its surface swirled with an iridescent blue light, a strange glow that pulsed like a tiny heartbeat. Krindle had never seen anything like it. He gingerly tucked it into his pouch, his own heart thrumming with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The stone throbbed with warmth. He swore he could hear it sing, a strange, ethereal melody only he could perceive. This was more than a shiny trinket; this was something magical. Krindle was suddenly more outcast than ever, hunched over the tribe elders' moldering scrolls when he should have been brawling. He deciphered faded runes and cryptic symbols, learning of ancient enchantments, of magical items infused with forgotten power. Could this be one of them?

The other goblins mocked him even more – Krindle the dreamer, they hissed, but their taunts did little to dim his determination. He started spending less time brawling and scavenging, and more time experimenting. To everyone's surprise, the shimmering stone seemed to respond to his touch. Little tendrils of blue light flickered and danced under his small, stubby fingers. It felt less like control and more like a strange, harmonious conversation between his intentions and the stone's hidden power.

One stormy night, disaster struck. The cave was attacked by a rival goblin clan, Grimtusk's Raiders, notorious for their brutality. They were bigger, uglier, and smelled far worse than Krindle's own kin. A fierce battle roared through the tunnels, full of screeches, snarls, and the sickening thud of crude weapons. Krindle, never meant for the frontlines, was quickly separated, left scrambling and terrified through the dimly lit caverns.

He found himself cornered, the glimmering stone pulsating furiously in his pocket. Grimtusk himself leered down, reeking of old meat, a wickedly chipped axe glinting in his hand. With a desperate shout, Krindle thrust the stone forward. A blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily brighter than the storm raging outside. The attackers were flung backward, their cries of terror mingling with crashes of thunder. In a heartbeat, they turned tail and fled, scrambling over each other to escape.

Krindle stood there, blinking, stunned by the power that surged through him. The other goblins gathered around, their eyes wide. Their usual jeers had turned into whispers of awe. Some even backed away slightly, as if unsure what their clumsy, treasure-hunting oddball had become. Krindle, once an oddity, had become their unlikely saviour.

As for Krindle, he looked at the stone, a newfound respect blossoming in his heart. It was more than a shiny trinket; it was a well of untapped potential, a symbol of change. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to a goblin than grunts and grime – a leader, perhaps, or even...a scholar? Krindle smiled a crooked, slightly hopeful smile. He would be the one to prove it.

2: An Uneasy Truce

Krindle's act of bravery brought about an uneasy truce within the tribe. He wasn't exactly hailed as a hero, but the goblins no longer shoved him around with their usual gusto. Instead, they watched him with a mix of distrust and newfound curiosity as he continued to tinker with the stone.

But it wasn't long before the stone's power began to draw unwanted attention. Rumours of the strange, shimmering light found their way to the ears of Grotus, a hulking old goblin warlord known for his thirst for magical artifacts. Grotus saw the stone as a way to cement his rule, to conquer the surrounding goblin tribes and perhaps even make a play for the riches of the human surface dwellers.

One night, Grotus's forces descended on Krindle's unsuspecting tribe. It wasn't a battle; it was a massacre. Grotus's warriors, hardened by years of conquest, cut a bloody path through the surprised goblins. Krindle, roused from his experiments, could only watch in horror as his kin were slaughtered or captured. In the chaos, he found himself face-to-face with Grotus, the warlord's beady eyes fixated on the pouch at Krindle's hip.

The stone, Grotus snarled, his voice a rusty growl, Give it to me, little one.

Krindle knew a hopeless fight when he saw one. But surrender wasn't in his nature. He bolted, twisting and weaving through the carnage, spurred by desperation. The escape wasn't pretty: there was scrambling, slipping on slick blood, and a poorly executed belly flop into a stagnant pool. Somehow, though, Krindle managed to lose his pursuers in the maze-like depths of the cave.

Gasping and bruised, he collapsed in a hidden grotto, the shimmering stone heavy in his hand. It pulsed erratically now, as if mirroring the frantic beat of his heart. Krindle realized with a sinking feeling that he'd traded one danger for another. He'd only delayed the inevitable; Grotus wouldn't rest until the stone was his.

Then, an idea sparked amidst his despair. Krindle had deciphered enough ancient lore to know that powerful enchantments often came with a price - a balance of energy that had to be maintained. So far, the stone had served him, but perhaps it could be used against his enemies.

Krindle spent the following days in a feverish trance. He slept fitfully, waking with jolts and half-formed plans buzzing in his skull. He used the light of the stone to study, drawing cryptic symbols on the damp cavern walls, muttering to himself until his voice grew hoarse. There were dead