>>6114562‘New Goblintown’ is a bit of a misnomer, in many ways.
<span class="mu-g">You</span> can remember, in your fragmented recollections, the home where you (or ZZ, with you laying latent within her) were born and brought up. THAT was a proper Goblintown: a semi-subterranean network of interconnected basements and communal rooms, with human-facing businesses sprouting up like mushrooms from the mycelium of the REAL goblin community: a community of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, cousins and kin.
But this place?
Nobody knows exactly how old this settlement is. Well, maybe SOMEONE does, but they aren’t a gob. By the damage to some of the buildings—clearly intended for human habitation, by the style and size—you assume they’re dead and gone. Even the built-up walkways between balconies, and the roughshod bulwarks against invasion and assault, predate the current denizens. It wasn’t the goblins that did the destruction or the reconstruction; they were granted this place to stay long after the action was over.
With its separate dwelling-places, all above-ground with the earth too hard-packed for easy interconnection? Filled with goblins of disparate and discrete origins, without work and wary of one another? No, this is no Goblintown at all.
(But then again who are you to judge what is or is not proper goblin?)
Your pink-skinned sister marches with proud swagger, shouting out to this gob or that gob, while you turn your gaze from architecture down to Earth, observing the dirt and avoiding eyes. Your stomach and what passes for your soul both rumble in response to the iridescent yellow-green gaze of your goblinoid kin. As the spawn of a succubus, a part of your <WANTS> to be seen, to be feared and muttered-about; most of all to be desired, yes, but where desire fails, disgusted fascination might suffice to sate this need. Yet when the attention your sister summons shifts to you, you pull your hood forward and shrink inside your vestments; what you <WANT> instinctively and what you actually WANT-want, those are very different things.
(What do I want, then…?)
Your thighs squirm a little at the thought. Your succubus side very much <WANTS> to relive some of those memories from The Dream, or to make new ones… Though, of course, you cannot. It’s not ALLOWED. The hedonistic urge to be satisfied—physically, emotionally—is at the very centre of your being, though: a hollowness, a hungry void that NEEDS to be filled.
In lieu of lust, which is <span class="mu-b">LOCKED</span>, what has become the focus of your <WANT>?
>Greed—you will buy or steal something small>Gluttony—you’re still hungry, and bland porridge is not enough>Wrath—you’re eager for the adventure, so eager you’re spoiling for a spar>Envy—you'd rather not be perceived, but perceiving OTHERS and their juiciest gossip? Mmm.<span class="mu-b">LOCKED—you cannot choose Pride, as it conflicts with CZ’s reclusiveness</span>
>Write-in>>6114540[Welcome aboard, anon!]
