The goblins are thieves not only of pomegranates, but of matchsticks as well, loose string, small scraps of metal, and occasionally the smallest portion of pineapple hot sauce. They sow seeds of unsureness in vendors and suppliers, as well as their beneficiaries. Numerous in variety as these thefts are, you might expect the goblins to seek out extravagance and luxury at every turn. While some prominent members of goblin circles are hugely indulgent, this is atypical.
The thieves origin is a contested debate between a scarce group of highly interested individuals who nevertheless manage to hold more conflicting standpoints than there are interested parties to believe in them. They debate with such conviction that they manage to leave echoes of unique melds of viewpoints in their wake that seem to take on a life of their own. It is likely the goblins themselves hold some responsibility. It is easy enough to start a rumor in a crowded room if you are two feet tall. Goblins largely avoid large-scale entanglements with human societies, mostly to ensure that they are left undisturbed.
Consider the mental image you have been forming, or perhaps a pre-existing one you have been referencing. Perhaps you are imagining scrawny, diminutive figures with withered grimy skin of a greyish-green hue, dressed in rags. This fiendish creature in your mind has sharp, pointy ears and a wicked grin or brutish scowl plastered across its face. The pomegranate stealing goblins are not green.
The skin of these goblins’ is predominantly shades of red to bluish-purple. The thieves of the red fruit do not dress themselves in rags. They may be seen with weathered outer garbs, but these protect intricate and thoughtfully designed attire. These goblins are also not predominantly the size of small humans. Goblins are believed to grow up to around four feet in height, but this is, in fact, a misconception. Goblins typically reach a height of around 3 feet by the time they reach adolescence, but they do not maintain this stature long. Quite soon after a goblin reaches physical maturity, they begin shrinking. One to two years later, a goblin will revert to a height typically around seventeen to twenty-three inches, where they will stay steadily for the majority of their life.
Goblins do not wear clothes carelessly, allowing for them to be degraded and dirtied without thought. A goblin’s garb is as personal as their skin. Throughout a goblin’s childhood, components are gifted to them by friends and family—a sturdy strip of leather, embroidered patches of cloth, a time-tested buckle. The frame of a goblin’s suit is often inherited, but onto this foundation a goblin will affix a collage of materials, each that carry memory and history. A goblin will continue to develop their store with more affixed bangles and trinkets, but the reworking of the entire suit happens rarely—often as few as three times throughout a goblin’s life. A drastic change is indicative of significant life developments.
Goblin culture is very detail oriented—good construction and craftsmanship are highly valued. However, this does not come at the expense of creativity. Individual ideals and tastes are expected and expected. Any design true to the creator, that serves its intended purpose, is considered to be equally acceptable. Lazy creation—finished with only the priority of speed and ease—is shunned.
Now, there is a very significant detail about the thieves of the red fruit that I have, as of yet, neglected to mention. Goblins can use magic.
Gross.
How cliche to establish fantastical abilities in passing exposition.
But fear not.
Goblin magic comes not from pixie dust or the wave of wand. And goblin magic does not create colorful illusions or raging fireballs (at least, not directly). Goblin magic functions through thought, will, and language. Yet a goblin cannot nearly will himself a valuable item or will herself monarch of a peasant kingdom. Goblins have an ability to convey and pursue vision. If a goblin has an idea strongly affixed in their mind and they are capable of clearly communicating it, they will be able to convey the true meaning behind it.
Now, it could be postulated that an average human could achieve a similar result with patience, practice, and intention, but humans cannot communicate true meaning in this way. A human can work to convey their thoughts and feelings to another human, goblin, or other entity. Poor communication can be vastly improved upon, and quite a solid level can be reached. But consistent conveyance of true meaning is not achievable. True meaning might be a bit of a misnomer. The best English word for it is likely somewhere between true and pure. Browlshai (brow-ull-shy) is its name. Goblins have the ability to understand their exact meaning as they conceive of it. Their communication surpasses issues of conflicting definitions or lenses of individual interpretation.
The potential for true duplication of ideas allows for far greater potential for goblin cooperation. The conveyance of such ideas creates hugely powerful persuasion, not through appeal to logic or emotion for the purpose of personal gain. A truly well-crafted idea evokes respect, but for humans, some little bit is always lost in translation. Goblins are able to utilize this perfect communication to make a large amount of these visions a reality. Now, you might think this would lead to discord rather than unity: six goblins wish to be king, a horde of others fight to achieve this goal for the one they know best. Yet few goblins would truly wish to be king of a goblin nation. They have too much awareness of the goals and desires of their fellows. Goblins are for the most part not greedy. They have no deep-seated lust for power. Their strongest desires are fulfilled through cooperation. With a host of beautiful concepts at their feet, a king would be the first to suggest they surrender some power or resources to these causes.
Goblin society is arranged to allow for choice. If a goblin wishes to live in the trees rather than mountains, they will be welcomed. If a goblin truly wishes to live with other goblins who wish nothing more than to read quietly and interact once a day at dinner, then they will be helped to find or create such a place for those who wish this.
But why would a society with such potential for harmony need theft?
Goblins do not hold strong belief that property intrinsically belongs to a person who possesses it. This may seem counterintuitive, as they care so much for thought and intention in their belongings. But a goblin has no attachment to a basket they have spent hours creating. They care deeply for its safety. A goblin would absolutely be horrified if one of their creations were to be carelessly destroyed. But the meaning of their work, their vision, their will is apparent in all of their craft. Anything that has been built with intention would not be disregarded by another goblin. Their creations will be safe and cared for in another’s hands. And there is a trust that if it is to be destroyed, it will be for good reason. So belongings not being utilized frequently change hands in goblin circles.
Goblins are not saints. They do not live in utopia. Their society could be considered to be better than humans’, but it is not perfect. Goblins’ frequent use of their magic leaves them without sound powers of interpretation. Literature purposely left even a little vague is seen as sloppy. They are incapable of understanding the value of leaving space for a listener or reader to fill in their own meaning. They are happy enough without it—but it is something of a tragedy that they will likely never understand it. Simply put: no goblin has yet understood it, and as few goblins bother to listen to ideas that are not conveyed through browlshai, they are almost certain to not absorb it through humans.
Goblins’ thievery from humans is not considered reprehensible. They take only what they will use and they believe will go unmissed overall.
However, pomegranate is the exception. Pomegranate is taken from humans indiscriminately. Most goblins don’t believe humans appreciate it enough to be worthy of its consumption or use. A goblin will stealthily enter a home, respectfully place to pomegranates into their carefully-designed harness, then make a swift exit, using a swing on a rope to launch into a stable glide on wings made of discarded canvas they liberated earlier. A pomegranate’s innards will be shared with all members of a village, but the privilege of wearing its skins is reserved for the thief. Goblins are not greedy—but those who wear the red fruit are most certainly prideful of it.
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