Waves of golden corn sped by as the young grey centaur galloped through the fields. His name was Lintrin, the son of a farmer, studying to be a scholar, and his tutoring for the day was over, leaving him free to play in the farm he called home, trying to forget the lessons forced upon him by his parents, who hoped he would rise above being the simple farmers that they were. The wind blew past, whipping up his long grey mane so that it trailed in the air behind him.
He arrived at a fence which signified the boundary of his fathers land, and glanced over to the next farm, where the local village's horses were bred. He was startled to see a small two legged figure pulling a young horse along by a rope tied around its neck. From his studies, Lintrin recognised the figure as a goblin, but in the remote farmlands he had never seen any of the two-legs. He had heard from his father that they were often seen in Lopath, but Lintrin had not yet visited the fine city of the centaurs. The distant horse brayed nervously, and as the goblin reached forward and slapped it across the nose, the natural empathy of centaurs for horses grew in Lintrin, and he felt a great rage rising in his chest. With a roar, he leapt over the fence in a single bound, and thundered across the pasture towards the goblin. Despite his lack of physical training and his youth, Lintrin believed himself to be stronger than this weak looking two-leg, and felt he could easily scare away the diminutive creature.
As he drew closer, the goblin looked round with a startled expression, and released the rope that held the horse, which bucked up and bolted away. The goblin sneered, and turned to face Lintrin, arm reaching down to his belt. Too late, Lintrin saw a flash of metal, and the goblin slashed a knife across the centaurs chest, diving to the side to avoid the thundering hooves. Lintrin staggered to a halt, staring in horror at the bleeding wound that stretched over his body. He felt his strength sapping as his blood poured away, and his forelegs buckled before him, sending him sprawling to the ground. His eyes closed slowly as he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, eyes blinking to adjust to dim torch light, he found himself in a damp, rough hewn room, that must have been cut out from the very earth itself. He tried to move, but a combination of aching muscles and rusted iron shackles restricted his attempts. His mouth felt swollen and sore. As he grew more accustomed to the light, he looked around once more. The floor was bare earth, as were the walls, and a single torch hung from a bracket to his left. The shackles he was held by were bolted to the centre of the floor, and looked immovable. Directly in front of him there was a rotted wooden door, and as he was looking at this, it swung open. Lintrin panicked as a goblin stepped through and stared at him. The centaur could not tell if it was the same one as had captured him, as they all looked the same to him, but could tell from his surroundings that the goblin was not a friend. The goblin stared at the centaur for a second, blinked, and left the room. A few minutes later, three more goblins entered, two armed with short swords, which they brandished at Lintrin threateningly, and the third in jet black plate armour and wearing a silvery crown. The one garbed in black grinned at Lintrin, sharpened teeth glinting in the torch light.
"This better than horse. Maltok done good. You trained yet?" The goblin turned to the goblin on Lintrin's left, who had moved under the torch and was glowering at the centaur. "Master, no. We start now." The black clad goblin snarled at him. "Me will need to ride!" It snarled.
Lintrin recoiled in horror. No centaur ever allowed itself to be ridden, it was the most degrading thing they could ever do. He opened his mouth to protest, but only succeeded in spitting blood onto the floor before him, as he torn tongue flapped uselessly in his mouth.
"Ah! You make silent, like me ask. This good." The black clad goblin's mood seemed to lighten a little. "Me wise. Me know that train take time. Stars say time not right. Me let you train. You train until me fight. Then me ride." With that the black clad goblin walked out, leaving Lintrin with the two armed goblins.
The one who had not yet spoken sheathed his sword and advanced towards Lintrin, who shied away as far as his chains would allow him. The goblin growled as it grabbed his mane, pulling back his head so that Lintrin gurgled in pain, and pulling himself up onto the centaurs back. For a few seconds Lintrin struggled, but the goblin issued a short series of kicks into Lintrin's side, followed by a hefty punch to the small of his back, and Lintrin ceased his struggle, realising that it was only getting him more pain. The other goblin walked over to the shackles and took a key from his pocket, bending down towards them and fiddling with the lock. Lintrin heard the quiet scrape of metal grinding on metal, and felt a blade pressed into his side. The goblin on his back leaned forward and hissed into his ear, "When they off, you walk round room. You no walk, me kill." And Lintrin begun to walk slowly around the room.
Day after day after day this routine continued, with the two goblins entering and forcing him to walk around the room. After a few days, he didn't struggle at all when mounted. After a few weeks his will was completely broken, and he wouldn't have known what to do if offered the chance to escape. Eventually, the two goblins took him to another room, which had a roaring furnace in it's corner. The heat in this room was oppressive, and Lintrin almost collapsed in it. He was shackled up by the furnace, and the two goblins left. After a few minutes, another goblin entered. This one carried a bunch of metal sticks, each with a shape stuck on its end. The goblin sat down on a stool next to Lintrin, and placed the shape of the first stick into the furnace. Soon the room stank of burnt flesh, and the centaur was covered in swirling patterns, branded onto his body by the goblins. He had passed out halfway through, and if he had been able to, he would have been screaming before he did. Then life seemed to return to normal, with the two goblins riding him daily. His body was sore for a few days, and he often winced when the goblin clambered up, hands roughly pushing his tender skin, but did not have the will to struggle.
The riding went on for at least a year, and Lintrin found he had grown strong, the daily excercise preventing his legs from atrophying, and the weight of the goblin building his strength. One day, the black crowned goblin entered the room during a riding session.
"Good this. It ready? Stars say time is right."
"Master, yes, ready." The standing goblin said, beckoning for the other goblin to dismount, which it did so hurriedly.
The black clad goblin strode over and climbed up onto the centaurs back. By now Lintrin's will had been completely broken, and he followed the goblins every command as he was ridden out of the room and down a corridor to a slight slope. At the top of the slope, wooden shutters formed a crude door, and as the two goblin trainers pulled them open, Lintrin had to close his eyes to shield himself from the blazing sun which beat down on him angrily. After a few minutes he was able to open them again, and the black clad goblin rode him out of the corridor and into a huge camp. Goblins swarmed all about around a network of hide tents, and everywhere swords and armour was being polished. The goblins parted before the centaur as their leader rode past, and Lintrin heard the goblin chuckle behind his head. They drew up to a larger tent, and the black clad goblin stepped down from the centaurs back.
"Come! Armour!" He bellowed into the tent, and three goblins scurried out carrying armfuls of black plate armour. Lintrin stared around at the scurrying forms impassively as they attached the armour to his form, and then scuttled back into the tent. A few minutes later, two of them returned carrying a saddle, which they hoisted onto the centaurs back and tied around his belly. Next, the third goblin returned, holding out a silver crown identical to the one the black clad goblin wore. The black clad goblin took this from him, and turned to Lintrin, grinning his sharp toothed grin.
"Me know you good. But me not think you kill for me. Me make sure." And with that, the goblin placed the crown onto Lintrin's head. Instantly, a sense of terror swept through Lintrin's mind, but was repressed by an alien presence, the black clad goblin's mind entering Lintrin's. "You all mine now." The goblin smirked, and climbed back onto the centaurs back, settling into the saddle. The goblin drew a silvery sword from it's sheath, and held it aloft. As the wind blew through it's delicately curved blade, it emitted an anguished cry, which struck terror into Lintrin's heart. All about, goblins ceased their work, and turned towards the black clad goblin.
"We fight! WE KILL!" the goblin screamed, and a cheer echoed across the massed ranks. Soon Lintrin found himself at the forefront of many battles, driven forth by his master and unable to act for himself. Day after day he led the army of goblins to pillage centaur villages, and crushed his own peoples beneath his hooves. The warband gathered together the meagre riches of the villagers and slayed all of his folk they came across. But after a few months of pillaging, he felt the greed of his master increasing, the master lusting for more power. Lintrin knew that the masters power lay in the crowns and the sword, all of which were made of a strange silvery metal, and he knew that the master wanted more of this metal. One day, the goblins set out on an expedition southwards. From the closeness of his masters mind, Lintrin worked out what he could about the journey - They were heading for a citadel to the south, which was inhabited by an ancient hamakei and his minions. From what Lintrin could gather, the citadel was built on top of the mine which was the only known source of the silvery metal, and the master had worked in these mines until he had stolen the items and fled the hamakei. Now, full of confidence in his goblin army, the master was returning to the citadel to claim more of the metal for himself.
After a few days hike, the citadel came into view, black spires twisting up into the air, a small bundle of towers. But unease lay in the masters mind, and the goblins seemed nervous and jumpy. A day after they first caught sight of the citadel, the air around it grew darker, and Lintrin thought he could see tiny figures swooping around the spires, diving and twisting in the air. He was not wrong, and these figures started to fly towards the warband. For a few minutes, Lintrin thought they might be the hamakei that his master was so worried about, but a vague memory from his studies as a child assured him that hamakei could not fly, despite their bird-like features. As the figures grew closer, he saw that they were twisted and disfigured goblins, with wings awkwardly jutting out from their shoulder bones. They wielded crude wooden spears with stone tips, and as they flew over the goblin party they jabbed down with these, spiking the grounded goblins and cutting them down as they routed and fled. Soon only the master was left, sword swinging wildly about his head, singing its awful song and cutting through bone, flesh and wood alike. Many of the flying creatures fell before he was pierced by one lucky spear thrust, and fell from Lintrin's back, still and lifeless. Immediately, as the masters mind left the centaurs, panic and fear struck him, and he bolted away from the flying goblins. He only travelled a few feet however, before one of his rear legs caught a rock, and he fell heavily, rolling into a patch of dense bush. He tried to scramble to his feet, but looking back at the winged beasts, saw that they were not interested in him, and they began to take off and fly away. Lintrin lay in the bushes, panting, as he tried to recover his strength.
After a few minutes, a lone winged beast returned to the scene, and Lintrin watched as it alighted by the corpse of the master and picked up the sword. This beast was unarmed, and looked older than the others. It drew a small stick, seemingly of the same metal as the sword and the crown, from its belt, and leant over the corpse. With a light tap of the stick, the crown seemed to expand, and rolled off the head of the master. Lintrin saw this with a mixture of hope and fear; hope that the stick could remove his own crown, and fear that the beast would wear the masters crown, and control him as the master did. Lintrin pushed himself off the floor and burst from the bushes as the beast picked up the crown, and the beast turned in astonishment as Lintrin galloped across towards him, before rearing up and pummelling his hooves down on the aged creatures chest. The creature staggered backwards, and fell over a rotten log, falling backwards down a steep slope that edged the path to the citadel. Lintrin leapt over the log and started to skid down the slope, watching in anguish as the three artefacts left the hands of the tumbling beast and slid away on their own. At the bottom of the slope, Lintrin landed heavily on top of the beast, crushing it beneath him. The beast had a chance to call out a sorrowful screech into the air before it expired, and soon screeches could be heard coming from the direction of the citadel. Lintrin glanced around, but could see no sign of the three silvery items. Anxiously looking towards the citadel, he saw that the swarms of beasts were rising out from the spires again, and Lintrin scrambled to his feet in a panic, and rushed away, hopes of finding the items forgotten. The beasts pursued him for a while, but their awkward wings were neither fast nor easy to use, and they soon dropped back as they ran out of energy.
Lintrin kept running for days eventually finding himself back in the lands of the centaurs, but he was driven back south again by those who had seen him leading the goblin hordes. Now he was an outcast from his own people, and was left to wander the rocky plains, until his release from the cloud of the crown, or until he found new purpose, with a new master..

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