Grin Rustfang's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Grin opened his worn leather journal to the first blank page. His clawed finger traced down the empty lines, waiting to be filled with knowledge. The ancient goblin art needed more than gut feelings and lucky guesses. It demanded study, measurement, and careful notes. He pulled a stick of charcoal from his pocket and wrote his first heading: "Blast Radius and Powder Weight." Every master started somewhere, and this was his beginning. He needed proper gear before the real training could start. Explosions didn't care about intentions, only results. Grin spent the afternoon building a rack from scrap wood and metal pipes he found at the training ground. He bolted on hooks and shelves, then stepped back to look at his work. The blast shield rack stood crooked but sturdy, ready to hold helmets, goggles, and thick leather gloves. He hung each piece of safety gear in its place. The gear looked worn and patched, but it would keep him alive long enough to learn. Protection first, then practice. That was the first real lesson, and he wrote it down in his journal before heading back to study his notes on powder weight. The powder itself needed a home far from sparks and flames. Grin walked into the forest beyond the training ground, dragging timber and metal sheets behind him. He worked through the evening, building walls thick enough to contain an accident. The bunker took shape between two old trees, its door reinforced with three layers of iron. He painted it green and brown, then stuck branches across the roof until it looked like part of the forest floor. Inside, he built shelves for the powder kegs, each one spaced apart and labeled by strength. He locked the heavy door and tested the latch twice. His supplies were safe now, and so was everything around them. Grin walked back to his training ground as the sun set, journal tucked under his arm. The foundation was built. Tomorrow the real learning would begin. Morning light filtered through the trees as Grin stood before a building he had discovered deeper in the forest. The structure looked ancient, built from stone and timber that had weathered decades of rain and wind. Makeshift repairs covered gaps in the walls where goblins had patched it with whatever they could find. He pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. Dust covered everything, but shelves lined every wall, packed with books and rolled blueprints. The library smelled like old paper and wood smoke. He ran his fingers along the spines, reading faded titles about blast patterns, powder formulas, and structural weak points. Here was everything the elders had learned, written down and waiting. Grin pulled the first book from the shelf and sat at a rickety table. He opened his journal beside it and began to read. The ancient goblin art had rules, and now he would learn them all.