Grin Rustfang's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Grin Rustfang crouched in the rubble of what used to be a storage shed. His yellow eyes gleamed as he studied the blast pattern in the dirt. Too much powder on the left corner, not enough on the right. The ancient goblin art of controlled demolition chaos demanded perfect balance. Every explosion needed to dance between destruction and precision. His orange hair stood on end as he scratched notes into his worn leather journal. One day he would master this art completely. One day every boom would sing exactly as he intended. He stood and dusted off his pants, grinning at the crooked walls still standing. Better. Much better than last time. Grin walked through Greenhaven's twisted streets, scanning the buildings around him. He needed something bigger for his next test. Something that would challenge his growing skills. Then he saw it at the edge of town—a strange tower covered in vines and carved wood. The Forest Wobbling Blast Tower swayed slightly in the breeze, already unstable. Perfect. He circled it twice, counting support beams and weak points. The structure leaned left, decorated with old carvings that wound up its sides like roots. This would be his greatest test yet. He pulled out his journal and began sketching. If he could drop this tower without damaging the trees around it, he would prove he was ready for bigger jobs. His clawed fingers traced the tower's outline on paper. Soon this wobbling giant would fall exactly where he wanted it to. Back in his workshop, Grin cleared space on his workbench. He grabbed a twisted metal sculpture he had built months ago for practice. The sculpture captured a building mid-collapse, frozen in metal with every beam bent at exact angles. He set small charges at its base, the same pattern he planned for the real tower. The first test blast sent pieces flying everywhere. Wrong. He rebuilt it and tried again with less powder. This time the sculpture folded inward cleanly. Grin's grin widened. He knew the pattern now. Tomorrow the tower would fall, and Greenhaven would see what controlled chaos really meant. The next morning, Grin loaded his cart with powder kegs and fuses. He pushed it toward the edge of town where a plot of land sat empty and scarred. The Goblin Demolition Testing and Training Ground was his own creation—a space where debris and char marked every lesson learned. He rolled the cart to a stop and looked back toward where the tower waited. This ground would be his classroom until he perfected every technique. Every blast would teach him something new. Every careful collapse would bring him closer to true mastery. He unloaded his supplies and arranged them in neat rows. The ancient goblin art demanded patience, practice, and the perfect amount of boom. He was ready to give it all three.