Discover Praetoria through the eyes of Fizgig Fangtooth, an adventurous goblin from the city of Gobson in Anumun who is looking for a fresh start in a frontier that promises riches beyond your wildest dreams.

Follow him on his travels into the new world and experience what it's like to be a stranger in a foreign land through the eyes of an unlikely pioneer, recorded in both the postcards to his betrothed, Fiert Slopsnot, and his journal entries along the way.

ur trek to Lake Minora was fairly eventful. We followed the main route, a dusty road that wound its way south in a pointless, meandering series of twists and turns around fallen trees and colourful meadows. You’d be forgiven thinking that there must be vast sink holes jotted across the landscape, or encroaching barriers of briar creeping from the forest and forcing us away from the most direct path, but in truth it was nothing more than a road full of unnecessary diversions. I think what frustrated me more though, was the fact that we actually followed it. If we had left the road as it wandered away, forging a straight path south, aside from having to avoid the odd natural obstacle or two, we would have made considerably better time. It prompted me to make mention of this on the second day to Merric, which only succeeded in sending the old coyotian into a fit of laughter, interspersed with the odd howl and bark here and there. When the others came over to see what all the noise was about, he shared my little snippet of advice and soon enough the whole caravan was in stitches, staring and pointing at me. Needless to say, I’ll try and keep my comments to myself in future.

Later that night, after we had pitched camp alongside the trunk of an enormous fallen tree on the side of the road, I carried my bowl of beans over to where Wiz was sitting, counting a pile of ornate shells. He gave me a quick smile and I let him continue in silence, watching as he carefully slipped the pearlescent oval shapes into a bag. They were some of the most remarkable things I had ever seen, and I can only imagine how valuable they must be. Once he had finished, I brought up the incident that had happened earlier that day and he gave a small chuckle, explaining that if we didn’t stay on the road then we could potentially sustain a considerable road tax if caught by an enforcement officer, costing the caravan a fortune. The ridiculous notion of being taxed for leaving the road completely baffled me and it wasn’t until Wiz broke down into his own fit of laughter that I felt my temper fray. It was then he pointed out that since leaving the trading post my long nose had turned a bright shade of pink and had increased in colour as the day had progressed. It turns out that I’m highly allergic to the fish that had been prepared for our breakfast, a useful piece of information that might also explain my numerous dashes into the bushes to relieve myself and the incessant itch that had taken up residence in my armpits. Wiz could obviously see my discomfort and passed me a small bag of black powder, explaining that I’ll be fully fit by the morning if I pour that in my water and drink it all. The mixture tasted like coal and left a black coating on my teeth, but sure enough, I felt considerably better as we set off the following morning.

Over the next few days, we encountered a wide variety of other caravans. There was one led by the peculiar Ulund creatures that I had first seen at the fountain in New Dawn. They didn’t speak to us, just glaring as we passed, and I noticed that Merric’s guards were on edge with hands on the hilts of their swords. Another was a group of pixie owlkin, their caravans pulled by the strangest of creatures, great golems born of stone and earth. Wiz explained that they were not only very strong but also great fighters and that the owlkin often employ them to pull and guard their wares. The owlkin were much more friendly than the Ulund and we all broke for lunch, sharing food and friendly conversation. I must admit, I’ve become rather fond of the pixie owlkin, they are so friendly and always seem to be happy. The final caravan was led by serpentine and drawn by odd horses with humps on their backs. One of the snake-like people tried to speak with me as they passed but all I could make out was a series of sibilant murmurs. I smiled and nodded my head but was rewarded with vicious hiss for my troubles, and I hurried to catch up with our guards. I’m not sure I want to meet those snake people again, they seem most surly.

When we finally arrived at Lake Minora it was a blessed relief, if only to be rid of the grime from travelling and to bathe in the cool waters. Tonight, we eat a local delicacy, the Minoran catfish. I can’t say I’m overly enthralled after the experience with my last fish dish, but I already have a bag of Wiz’s powder on standby just in case things go a little awry, so I’ll give it a go and let you know.