Overview
Venom Goblins are the packs that moved into the marsh and learned to drink the poison. They are fanged, they judge by scent, and they consider the bitter a gift.
Habitat
Venom goblins live in Bittermire Warrens, a poison marsh with fungal gardens and toxin alchemy. They need three things: a water bitter enough to keep the weak out, a fungus old enough to distill, and a stranger who smells of something worth a diagnosis. They are settled in mire-clans around the fungal gardens, with distilling-lines across the fen; a venom goblin who has not judged a scent in a season is called "the one who forgot the nose."
Appearance
The venom goblin silhouette is the small, lean, fanged shape — narrow at the shoulder, quick at the waist, with the head sitting a little too far forward on the body, like a word that is waiting for a smell. Males stand 1.04 m, lean and fanged, with a double row of fangs and pale gums; they are the fighters, the ones who taste first, and the most likely to be wrong and the least likely to apologize. Females stand 91 cm, sharp-nosed and quick, the distillers — they bottle the venom of the marsh and judge everything by scent, including you; they are the ones who say "you smell of debt," and the pack listens. The base skin is a green-grey, wet and gill-rimmed, the color of old marsh-water left in a shaded hollow, with a faint sheen of pale yellow-green venom along the jaw and a pattern of darker, moss-black gill-ribs along the side. The fangs are the mark — long, pale, and always slightly wet, the venom goblin line's most persistent claim. The eyes are a flat, hard amber-green, set low in the skull, built for seeing the scent-line from the dark. The head is the mark: a sharp, narrow skull with a pair of long, pointed ears in the same green-grey as the skin, a short crest of coarse dark-brown hair, and the double row of fangs, which are always clean, because the cleaning is the point. Males carry the line in the fang and the shoulder; females in the nose and the bottle. Elders are marked by skin gone a deep, dull marsh-slate and fangs worn long and smooth — an old venom goblin tastes slower and judges harder. Everyday wear: a loincloth of stitched marsh-hide, a single glass bottle of distilled venom at the hip, and no boots, because the mud is the ground and the ground is the fen.
Behavior
Disposition: clannish, cunning, territorial, shy. In peace, venom goblins are quiet, watchful, and absolutely certain of the fen — they have the poison, and they let the clean water know it. In war they fight as the distiller fights: the bottle first, the fang second, the patient, precise holding of the scent third. Strangers are either a diagnosis or a meal, and the meal is usually the one that smells of clean water. The social unit is the mire-clan, 20–60 strong, around the fungal gardens — no clan follows a fighter, it follows the distiller whose venom is the truest. Two signature quirks: a venom goblin who is being lied to will not call it out — they will simply smell the lie and wait, because the smelling is the point. And they keep the bottle for a lifetime: a venom the clan has distilled is a debt, and the debt is paid in scent.
Warfare & Markings
Tactics: the ambush of the bottle — the venom goblin line does not fight in the open; it fights as the fen fights, with the distilled venom, the fang-strike, and the long, deliberate patience of the one who has already made the diagnosis. Armor: none, by choice — the venom-sheen skin is the armor, and a venom goblin who wears metal has already decided the fen is not enough. Weapons: the short fang-blade, the bottled venom that is not a weapon but is used like one, and the silence that is not a weapon but is used like one. War markings: the Fang-Notch, a deliberate chip in the left fang for every ambush survived, worn as a record of the long taste; the Bottle-Knot, a single knot in the tail-braid for every clan oath kept, in moss-black; and the Scent-Brand, a small, deliberate mark on the inner wrist — the first scent the wearer ever judged, worn as a mark of the beginning. Post-battle: the dead are carried to the fungal gardens, their names spoken over the distillery, and their blades laid across the threshold — a venom goblin buried without their bottle is buried as a clean water.
Magic Alignment
Primary domain: chaos — venom goblin magic is the becoming, the distillation, the patient, precise turning of the bitter into the gift. Secondaries: wild and death. Named inborns: Scent-Sense (a venom goblin can read a stranger's history in their smell, and the reading is not a choice), Toxin-Secret (a venom goblin's fang drips a fine, pale venom, and the dripping is not a choice), Fen-Carry (a venom goblin's silence carries across the fen, and the carrying is not a choice). Signature power: the Distiller's Word — a venom goblin can speak a word in the fen tongue and let it land on a bottle, and the bottle will keep the word until the scent is judged. Limitation: venom goblin magic is spent on the fen; a venom goblin who has spent their distiller's word must sit in the clean air for one day, and the day is the worst one of the warrens.
Religion
Venom goblins keep Mordra, the Unraveler as their primary god — the chaos, the becoming, the decay that is the fen's own law. The marsh is Mordra's, and the venom goblin is the marsh's distiller. Priestly class: the Bottle-Mother, who keeps the fen-temple and judges the scent at every rite. Heresy is not blasphemy — it is a word broken in the clan, and there is no rite for that one; the clan simply stops smelling the breaker.
Society
Mire-clans of 20–60, rank decided by the bottle — whose venom is the truest.
Home
They live in Bittermire Warrens, a poison marsh with fungal gardens and toxin alchemy.
Relations
The "the poison is the price, and the price is fair" faction — traders whose goods are all slightly lethal, and neighbors whose silence is a warning. The Goblins of the warrens are the noisy kin the bottle keeps at a distance — the goblin keeps the burrow and the venom-goblin keeps the trade, and the two have learned that a burrow that is not poisoned is a burrow that is not a price, and the not-poisoning is the whole of the peace. The Kobolds of the deep warrens are the small neighbors the bottle tests most often — the kobold keeps the warren and the venom-goblin keeps the bottle, and the kobold who has been sold is the kobold the trade has already decided is a diagnosis, and the deciding is the whole of the law. The Rat Men of the underwarrens are the kin the bottle keeps a distance from — the rat-man keeps the secret and the venom-goblin keeps the poison, and the two have learned that a secret that is not sold is a secret that is not a price, and the not-selling is the whole of the distance. The Serpent Folk of the marsh are the neighbors the trade does not fight — the serpent keeps the court and the venom-goblin keeps the bottle, and the two have learned that a court that is not poisoned is a court that is not a warning, and the not-poisoning is the whole of the law. Above, the ground-folk of The Forgotten are the ones the trade tests most often, and the testing is the whole of the bond, because the forgotten are the ones the bottle keeps the diagnosis for, and the keeping is the whole of the promise. Uaellaen keeps a page of the trade in the wiki — the poison, the price, the silence that is the warning — and the keeping is the whole of the record, because the camp has learned that a venom-goblin who has been written about is a venom-goblin who has been sold with, and the selling-with is the whole of the welcome.
In the Story
In the current story, the venom-goblins are the bottle in the trade — the poison Uaellaen writes about when the price is the law. The Forgotten keep their distance at the trade line, and the distance has held for two seasons. This season a price came up from the trade that is not in the bottle — a price the Bottle-Mother does not remember, and the not-remembering is the whole of the warning, because the trade keeps its poison, and the poison has started to sell itself. The selling is the hand the camp has not been shown.
You smell of clean water and clean air. That is not a compliment. That is a diagnosis. — Bottle-Mother Gessa