Origins: Foundling
I do not own Star Wars or Goblin Slayer
These franchises belong to their respective owners
Original Posting 1/21/2021
Edits: 1/22/2021
LLife in the village was simple.
He would be ten within a matter of days, one year closer to becoming an adventurer.
The only worries he had was to stay within his sister's sight and keep himself out of trouble. He did not worry if he would have to go the day without a filled belly, nor did he have to worry about the dangers that lurked beyond the flimsy fences that surrounded his village.
Occasionally, he would be asked to help his older sister out with her duties, whether it be laundry or cleaning around the house that their parents had left behind. Some of the elderly would ask for his help, perhaps because they had missed their own sons who were conscripted to fight the 'Demon Lord's' armies.
The only worry he had on his mind was when he would apologize to his dear friend, who he had hurt with his own words.
Life in the village was simple.
Like the strike of lightning on the stormiest of days, the vermin came from the shadows, their green horde upon them in a matter of moments, sweeping across the once peaceful village.
Dozens of pained and horrified cries broke through the once tranquil night. Flames roared as they devoured everything within their path. The metallic stench of blood and the charred aroma of burnt flesh quickly followed.
Just as quickly, his sister had spirited him away to a different room. She barred the door and deftly moved the rug to the side. She removed the panel of wood from the ground, to reveal a hole small enough for him.
She told him to go into it, and after that, she handed him a box.
"Whatever you do, do not leave this spot."
She had told him as if the world around them did not exist. His older sister was always great in a crisis.
He wanted to beg her to try and hide with him. He wanted to convince her that they could run, they could escape.
But no words came out.
"I'll be fine." She told him with that smile. Her face, unwavering, and unyielding.
The door was beginning to give out.
He did not fight against his sister's wishes, for she had never been wrong.
Hiding within the space underneath the floorboards, all he could hear was the resistance, the ferocity of his sister before she too was subjected to the fate that had befallen the rest of the village.
That had been three days ago.
His sister ceased to exist, much like his parents eight years ago after the plague.
The boy carefully crawled from the spot his sister had left him in. If she was still here, she would be outraged, perhaps even furious for disobeying her advice for his safety.
But the sister he knew was no longer here to hold his hand.
As he moved, he felt his trousers were soiled from the waste he released the day prior, and his clothes grimed up by the dried blood which had trickled down from the floorboard above.
He was uncertain whether it was his sisters or the vermin's.
The comfort of his clothes now was the least of his concerns, his attention now focused on the sensation of his legs, having become stiff from his days of immobility.
Observing his home… no… the ruins of the building, he noticed an urn, broken open by the chaos of the days gone by. He waited a moment, having heard the sounds of those dreadful creatures. From the noise they made, he could assume they were a distance away.
Finally deciding that it was safe enough to move, he shakily made his way to it. He moved as slowly as possible to prevent them from hearing, but once he made it to it, he dunked his head in like a pig to the trough.
He never knew that water could taste this delicious just as it is.
Once he had his fill of water, he looked down into the pot. His face was dirty and bloodied. Scrubbing some of the filth on his sleeve, he went back to the hole, now sitting beside it. His sister had once told him that the soil around here was edible, so he was fortunate to not have gone hungry in her absence.
Taking another glance around the room while he chewed on the soil, he noticed the desecration of the ruin that was once home.
Their father's oversized bow, the one which his sister could draw with ease and had promised to teach him to use, was no more. It was reduced to nothing more than split twine and broken splinters below the spot where it was once hung.
Their mother's medicine bag had been torn open, which was stored with a variety of herbs and other medicines his sister had purchased in her last venture into town was torn in two. Whatever was deemed useful had been taken and whatever was not taken was simply scattered in the area around it.
He could not remember their faces, and with the remnants of their belongings defiled, they were nothing more than strangers to him in everything but name and memory.
Then his mind focused on the last item brought to him by his sister. Reaching down into the hole, he brought the box to him, he felt tears well up as he hugged the box as if it was his very sister.
Opening the box, he finally saw what was in it. It was his father's dagger.
He had seen it many times over, the handle made of the skinned hide of a once dangerous creature, along with the blade shaped like a hexagon, a rectangle hole within the blade.
Apparently, it would never rust or grow dull, this dagger was probably worth more than the entire village.
His sister had told him that their father had told her to give it to him when he was old enough to use it properly.
They came into his home, made it their own personal treasure trove. He was powerless to do anything and his sister had tried her damnest to protect that sanctity. He had seen what those monsters had done to her.
And what did he do?
Curled up and let this happen.
His sadness slowly turned to rage. He wanted to scream, but what good would that do for him?
Hiding the dagger on his person, he looked for anything that might be of use to him.
After one last sweep, he found his sister's purse, which was filled with coin, how much he did not know. If he escaped, it would suffice.
He peaked out of the shattered door, making sure that none of those beasts were around.
Once sure of his surroundings, he began to sneak out of the ruins of this village. He quickly noticed the sky, its reddish-black hue grimly above.
Is it dawn or dusk? He questioned, not knowing the time of day.
Deciding it would be revealed to him if he kept on moving, he decided to continue doing just that.
Hugging the wall closely, he eventually made it to the end of his friend's house next door. He peeked around the corner and saw what should have made him sick to the stomach.
Hung up where the swing he and his friend once played on, he saw friends' mother and father, bodies desecrated and defiled just like everything else in this God's forsaken town.
What about her, I wonder?
He wanted to look around the ruins for her, but he was not sure he wanted to know the answer if she was here. He then remembered that she had gone to her uncle's farm the day this had happened, and by carriage too. If she had come back, the carriage wreckage would be nearby. If there was no wreckage, it meant that no one had come by.
Which meant that everyone knew that the village had been attacked by goblins. Everyone knew and no one came.
In the distance, he could hear the cackling of those fiends, next to a roaring campfire. They were enjoying themselves with the supplies they had stolen from his neighbors.
He wanted to charge them with the dagger he had recently acquired, to kill them, to make them pay for what they did. The only thing that stopped him was the weariness he felt in his body.
He was weak, and they would only laugh before killing him with the very dagger his sister gifted to him.
The road. He thought as he looked towards it. It will lead me to town… right?
Slowly, he made his way to the gate. He knew the village path would lead him to the town road, and from there he could get to the town. He had never been to town before, but his sister had told them that they would go one day.
The sky above just kept on turning darker as his slow movements got even more sluggish.
I can't stop… not now…
He collapsed, soon reduced to a crawl. It was the only thing he could do now, not caring to take a last glance at the places he had happily chased his friend around once.
After what felt like, and most likely was, hours of crawling, he could see the main fence that marked the edge of the village.
One time, he had convinced his pink-haired friend to follow him to the edge of the village, to get a glimpse of the outside world. He did reach it with her, but he did not know his sister had been trailing them and was wholly reprimanded for his action.
Now he would leave the village without his older sister by his side, because of these abominations which have ravaged and despoiled the village which he once called home.
"GROOOB?"
"GROBGROB! GRO!"
He could see a pair of goblins at the gate, crude spears made of salvaged metals and knives from the kitchens of these homes.
They appeared to be just as tall as he was, but they were more vile and terrible than he.
He knew this as fact for he had seen their atrocities first hand.
They were standing guard, just like the adults that did so days before.
He quickly tried to think of any way around them.
No there isn't. He thought to himself.
The only way was through them.
Think… what would my sister do?
Distract them with something was what came to mind. Looking around, he saw a rock which he could throw.
He snuck closer to the exit, laying low to the foliage, keeping his breathing steady.
Before their eyes could land on him, he tossed the rock in an area opposite of him.
They became alert almost immediately after the rock hit the ground.
"GROBBGRO?" One pointed its spear towards the sound.
"GROBGROBGRO!" The other began to walk towards it.
Sneaking around the one, advancing, he exhaled once he was close enough.
Unsheathing the dagger, he could tell the one by the gate had noticed the glisten in the moon.
With a burst of energy, he lunged at it.
"GRO—" The goblin shout was cut off by the diamond-shaped dagger piercing straight through its makeshift armor, like a hot knife through butter.
Pulling the knife out of the goblin's chest, he could hear the other one rushing towards him.
It's now or never! He dodged to the right and pushed his dagger forward towards the goblin's unarmored head.
"OB—" This goblin too felt the retributive justice in the form of his sister's gift.
The goblin collapsed in front of him, and he took the dagger out of its face. Seeing it filled him with more rage. So much so that he could not help but stab it over and over again, until his hands and the dagger were greased up with blood.
He tried to stand up, but soon felt the pain in his side. Looking down, it seemed that the makeshift spear grazing his side, blood beginning to dirty his clothes further.
To make matters worse, he was not exactly silent with his dealing here, and could hear the sounds of more goblins rushing over towards him.
Looking up at the dual moons, he tried to run now, but completely out of steam now, he only made it a few more steps before collapsing again.
He looked down at the dagger, his vision slowly becoming blurrier.
This is the end, big sis… He accepted his fate as the shouting of the goblins became more recognizable. He closed his eyes as the sounds of bows stringing could be heard. I'm sorry…
The arrows flew into the air, and for a moment, he swore he could see his sister reaching out for him, perhaps to greet him.
The arrows never reached him, for he was not their target.
As swift as the wind, something ran past him.
The pinging of an arrow on armor could be heard as the goblins frantically cried. The sounds of flesh being pulverized as he opened his eyes, forcing himself to consciousness for only seconds longer.
Shuffling his body to his savior, he could see a helmet with a visor in the shape of a 'T', one that shone like brass in the light of the moon, along with a brown breastplate made of metal, a bloodied hammer at this person's side.
The stranger put their hand out as if they were trying to help him up, and he put his hand in theirs, only for him to fade out of consciousness.
…
Opening his eyes, he could feel the warmth of a fire nearby. He could clearly smell the bitter aroma of herbs and poultices. He could not tell what time of day it was, for it seemed that he was somewhere roofed. Even felt the chill of a wet rag upon his forehead.
If he had not known better, he would have believed that the events that had occurred were nothing more than a fever dream, and that his sister would warmly greet him with that stew he loved so much.
But he knew what the world was like now.
It was cruel. It was unforgiving. It would chew you up and spit you right back out without another glance.
If it could do that to his older sister, who did no wrong, than it would certainly do that to him.
He did not think too much of events prior, figuring that dwelling on it would only hinder him, so he focused on what he could remember, the goal he set out to do before his untimely unconsciousness. I need to get to town.
Moving his arms, he tried to push himself up. To his misfortune however was met with a surge of agony.
His arms felt like they were on fire and his legs refused to obey his desire to move. His body felt exhausted, as if he had not slept for a whole moon.
The boy felt his side burn up with discomfort as well, soon realizing the wrappings on him.
Now that he had a slightly better view of himself, he noticed that he was not wearing his clothing anymore, but covered in a series of wrappings and other bandages.
He quickly noticed by a nearby stump, his belongings sat in a nice pile, as if they had been washed and laundered recently.
"You're finally awake." Footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the room. As the armored individual got closer, the figure knelt to his level, a bowl in hand. "Drink."
"Who are you?" He asked the stranger, not taking the bowl just yet.
"Your savior." The individual replied, no changes in their voice. "It will make you feel better."
"What is it?" He managed to sit up, proper now, trying to ignore the pain.
"It is a healing drink." The helmeted individual sat on a stump next to him. "It will help with your wounds."
Looking down at it, it looked quite like the tea his sister had once given him when he had fallen out of the tree in the village.
He brought the bowl up to his mouth, and began to drink. In the first sip, he could feel the bitterness rush into his mouth, almost causing him to flinch away from the bowl. He continued to drink it, and stomached the taste until it was done.
Looking into the now empty bowl, he was reminded how his sister would sugar his medicine to keep him from turning his nose.
"You put up an impressive fight a week ago." The rounded holes of the helmet turned to him. Despite how the light of the fire seemed to make their figure wholly visible, the inside of their helmet remained as dark as the night sky. "Your form however needs work."
He remained silent, putting the bowl to the side. It has been a week.
"I looked around the ruins while you rested." The stranger stated. "I killed any stragglers, and looked for survivors."
The fact that he was the only one in this area proved that the was the only one alive.
"Why did you save me?" He asked, his eyes focused on the open flame.
"By creed I could not leave a child to whatever fate befell them." The figure picked up his father's dagger.
"Hey!" He quickly reached out towards her, the throbbing pain in his side preventing him from retrieving his last memento of his family. With anger he spoke. "Give that back!"
The stranger lightly tapped the dagger on the chest plate of their armor, and the cling echoed throughout the entirety of the shelter. "Where did you acquire this?"
"Its mine!" He growled, as he reached towards her. His continued his attempts to take back what was his were futile.. "My sister told me it was my fathers."
"Is your father still alive?" The individual turned to him, with some interest in her voice. "Or anyone of your family I can deliver you to?"
His anger faded as it was replaced with sadness. His father and mother had been dead for years, and his sister died for his safety.
There was no one to take him in.
He had no one.
"No." Lowering his arm, he clenched his fists. "Those goblins saw to that."
"I see." The individual sounded as if they understood. Sheathing the dagger, the individual twirled its handle to him. "Then by creed, I am charged with your care until you are of age, just as my founder did for me."
Slowly taking the dagger back, he hugged it close to his chest.
"Why?" He looked up to her, his scarlet eyes focused onto her.
"This is the way."
Heyo!
I wanted to thank DeviantArt user 'kaiju1999' for the inspiration of this story!
After a bit of Star Wars research, I figure I would post it in the main Goblin Slayer category rather than crossovers because the only thing being taken from Star Wars lore is the aspects of Mandalorian culture.
Also, The Armorer here is also directly inspired by the one from the show!
If you didn't already know, I also have another story called 'Of Katarns and Goblins', which you should check out!
Other than that, favorite, follow, and review!
Criticism and praises alike are welcomed!
Til next posting!
-Moonlight Talon of the Night