Ralph Silverfang was a deviation from every goblin stereotype, yet he embodied the very worst of them. To the magical world, goblins were often seen as mere nuisances—vermin skittering in the shadows of larger, more ancient powers. But Ralph was different.
He possessed the typical greed, cunning, and treachery of his kin, but he paired them with a terrifying level of influence. Through means whispered about in the darkest corners of the underworld, he had amassed a fortune that would make a dragon blush, using it to forge a goblin crime syndicate that stretched its oily fingers into every illicit pie imaginable.
From high-stakes gambling and smuggling to the trafficking of rare magical artifacts, Ralph was the undisputed ringleader of the goblin underworld. The Dragon Council, usually quick to stamp out such corruption, remained curiously stagnant where Ralph was concerned. He maintained order within the volatile goblin community with an iron fist, providing a stability that the Council found more convenient to ignore than to dismantle.
Beyond the crime, he was the world's premiere information dealer; rumors even suggested he was the last descendant of the royal lineage of the once-prosperous Goblin Kingdom. Ralph claimed it was his birthright, though proof remained as elusive as the goblin himself.
Currently, that "royalty" was on full display in a meeting room so lavish it bordered on the grotesque. Golden filigree lined the walls, and the air smelled of expensive incense and roasted meats. Jake Long sat stiffly at a massive mahogany table across from his grandfather, Luang Lao Shi. Between them lay a spread of mouth-watering delicacies—trays of succulent meats, exotic fruits, and shimmering pastries.
Ralph, however, was not behaving like royalty. He had traded his usual finery for a simple, yet undeniably elegant set of black robes, but his manners hadn't followed suit. He was feasting like a pig, grease staining his chin as he tore into a roasted bird with reckless abandon.
"You should eat," Ralph grunted, his mouth full of gristle. He gestured vaguely toward the duo with a half-chewed wing. "It's not every day you get to dine on the Silverfang tab".
Lao Shi didn't even look at the food. His eyes were narrowed, his posture like a coiled spring. "Get to the point, Ralph," the old dragon said, his voice a low rumble. "Where is Fu Dog?".
Ralph didn't miss a beat. He chewed slowly, swallowed with a loud, wet gulp, and then let out a sharp barf that echoed against the high ceilings. He leaned back, picking a piece of bone from his teeth, acting as if he were contemplating a profound philosophical query.
"Ah, yes. That disgusting, ugly Shar Pei of yours," Ralph finally exclaimed, a cruel glint in his yellow eyes. "He was quite the handful. But Herbert—you remember Herbert, don't you?—he was more than happy to parcel the mutt over to me. For the right price, of course. And as you can see, I have plenty of 'right prices' lying around".
Jake's knuckles turned white. "What did you do to him?"
"Oh, he's fine, kid. Well, mostly," Ralph said dismissively. "When I realized who that dog belonged to, I realized my dreams and my biggest opportunities were just miles away. Literally. His current location is... undisclosable. But only if you do a little job for the good old me".
Jake had reached his breaking point. The air in the room seemed to vibrate as his dragon fire surged just beneath his skin. With a roar of frustration, he grabbed the edge of the massive mahogany table. With a display of raw, unfiltered strength, he flipped the entire thing, sending the gourmet feast and the heavy wood sailing into the air like a discarded toy.
Plates shattered against the ceiling, and gravy rained down like brown snow. Ralph barely flinched, though he let out a long, theatrical sigh as he watched the carnage. "I really liked that table," he muttered, shaking his head.
Jake was already mid-leap, his hands shifting into claws, ready to tear the goblin limb from limb. But a firm, weathered hand caught his shoulder. Lao Shi looked at his grandson with pleading, weary eyes. The silent message was clear.
A few agonizing minutes passed. Jake stood in the corner, his chest heaving, while Ralph rolled his eyes at the "drama". Once the tension had settled into a simmering boil, Lao Shi spoke again. "What is this job, Ralph?".
The goblin's smile returned, wider and sharper than before. He snapped his fingers.
A goblin maid, looking terrified and small, scurried into the room. She carried an ancient, leather-bound book, placing it delicately on a side table that hadn't been destroyed. She flipped to a specific page, her hands trembling, before Ralph waved her away.
Ralph walked over to the book, his fingers caressing the yellowed parchment with a strange, reverent greed. He gestured for Lao Shi to look. As the old dragon leaned in and read the inscriptions, the color drained from his face. His scalp went numb, and his eyes narrowed until they were mere slits.
"The Orb of Malphorus," Lao Shi whispered, the name tasting like ash. Without warning, he breathed a concentrated burst of dragon fire, incinerating the book instantly. "Are you out of your mind, Ralph?!" he roared, the heat of his anger singeing the air.
Ralph shrugged, unfazed by the display of power. "Mind, no mind—it doesn't matter. I need that orb. You need your dog. It's a simple exchange of goods and services". He stood up, walking toward the two dragons until he was uncomfortably close. "So, what shall it be?".
The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of history and betrayal. After several agonizing seconds, Lao Shi bowed his head. "We will help you get the orb".
Ralph let out a cackle of joy and extended a greasy hand for a handshake to seal the deal. Neither Jake nor Lao Shi moved a muscle, causing Ralph to click his tongue in disappointment.
"Why can't you just steal it yourself?" Jake spat. "And what the heck is this orb anyway? Why is my Gramps so freaked out?".
Ralph looked at Jake with a patronizing smirk. "Because, kid, I'm not the only one after it. Rumor has it the Huntsclan are sniffing around the trail too. And as much influence as I have, I have no desire to tango with those fanatics. In a way, I'm doing the magical world a favor by keeping it out of their hands". He looked back at Lao Shi. "Why don't you tell the boy what he's signed up for, old timer?".
Lao Shi let out a heavy sigh. "The Orb was a powerful artifact of immense dark magic, Jake," he explained, his voice solemn. "It was created by Malphorus, the first Goblin King and the founder of their ancient kingdom. He didn't just build it; he birthed it through a dark sacrificial ritual, offering up his own tribe to fuel its power. He used it to spread terror across the world for centuries".
"After he died," Lao Shi continued, "a succession crisis tore the kingdom apart. The dragons of that era intervened, wiping out the warring goblin factions and driving the survivors into the shadows. The Orb was thought to be lost to history. And now, you're telling me it has resurfaced?" He shot Ralph an accusatory glare.
Ralph chuckled, reaching into the folds of his robe and pulling out a folded newspaper. He tossed it to Jake.
Jake caught it, his eyes scanning the front page. A headache was already beginning to throb behind his eyes. The headline screamed about a massive high-society auction taking place in Gotham City, where a collection of "unidentified ancient relics" was set to be the main attraction.
"Gotham," Jake groaned, looking at the newspaper. "It just had to be Gotham." And to make matters worse, the auction was tonight. Yes, TONIGHT!!! They were really short on time.
Ralph's grin was the last thing they saw as he turned to leave. "Better pack your bags, dragons. The bidding starts soon".