[center]Temetalmat, son of Temet[/center]

By Hermes and her lover, that is where the people of the Silver Lands live. The land is known as such for its silver mists that often befall its lowlands, threading a glimmer through the endless meadows of daffotales and punctuating the creeks and brooks that veined the land and gave it life. In the distance, the great falls of Hermes and Xiaoli provided a constant thrumming of noise, their loving embrace casually creating smaller falls as they collided. But it was not in these lowlands that Temetalmat, son of Temet, found himself, but a land unlike these.
	Temetalmat stood facing north. He stood tall, or as tall as a goblin could. His body was tight with muscle and fingers cut with the lacerations of fish spines. His eyes were tired, yet still young, and his lips were curled into an ever frown. Under his sandalled feet was a plush green grass, draped in a golden sunlight uncommon in the lower lands where he was born and up ahead the slope of whatever hill he found himself on simply droned upward and upward until it stopped as a thin green line against the blue sky. It was ethereal, as if he stood a mile from the edge of the world, or perhaps the gateway to another paradise. His fingers clenched and he turned away, turned to face the lowlands. What good was a wish, what good was a man who couldn’t turn it into reality. 

[hr]

The village of the silver people was as bustling as it always was, with nary a passerby bothering to look up from their work as Temetalmat made his way through the cloister of hide tents. People were tending to fires, smoking fish on various sticks and prodders, and weaving clothes of reeds and stone smashed fibers. Tememat himself was known as the best fisherman in the village, a fact that was clear as day when one walked into his tent. Inside, he was surrounded by nets of various sizes and bone hooks lined the fabric. His bed was nothing more than a pile of furs and just as he was leaning over them to find his misplaced filet knife, a short man wafted through the flaps of the tent.
	“Te-me-tal-mat,” the man chided as he found himself front and center. He was a rotund man, with a crown of bone and a smile that split from ear to ear. Temetalmat stood up to turn to him and grunted.
	“Pogatolgit.”
	“Leader Pogatolgit,” Pogatolgit recalled.
	Temetalmat was facing the man shoulder to shoulder now. “What do you want?”
	“Alma is being rather shy, you know?” 
	A breeze ruffled through the tent, and Temetalmat narrowed his eyes. “I don’t wish to hear of this.”
	“Well, perhaps we can talk about Yumi, instead?”
	“What of her?”
	“Alma is getting old,” Pogatolgit replied, “I was thinking maybe I…” 
	Temetalmat took a step forward, grabbing Pogatolgit by the throat and lifting him ever so much off his feet. The smaller man squirmed, grunting and ripping his hands against Temetalmat’s, but his soft fingers couldn’t budge the rock that were the fishermans. Pogatolgit spit up his breath. “What… what are you doing!?”
	“What is a man who can’t make a wish a reality?” Temetalmat said between clenched teeth. Pogatolgit’s eyes widened, but not out of understanding, but out of pure instinctual fear. His chest was trying to heave, but all it could was compress and compress until Temetalmat’s fingers felt a pop and a crack, and then he shook the dead leader like a doll. Temetalmat felt little, his tired eyes staring at the dead man in his hands. He didn’t feel like he killed a man, but rather stepped on a bug that bit him. It felt fine, but it didn’t feel done.
	Temetalmat let out a roar and threw the body through the flaps of the tent, the body landing with a great thud. The sounds of the village stopped as he exited, all eyes suddenly on him and his kill. Eyes were wide, but no one cried. Everyone felt Temetalmat’s presence, and everyone felt the same as him, he knew that to be true, he also knew they just weren’t brave enough to be the ones who did it. The fisherman had become the fisher of men.
	“No longer will there be a single leader,” Temetalmat roared at his crowd. “From this day forward, you all will seize reality as I have.” He looked towards the largest tent, where his mother’s eyes peered out from the flaps of Pogatolgit’s tent, along with the eyes of others. Temetalmat curled a fang. “And I know our first decision as a village, to declare freedom for all.”

[hider=Summary (read for deets)]
A goblin fisherman by the name of Temetalmat has murdered the corrupt leader of his village and declared his fellows free. Together they set forward to create the world's first direct democracy, a tale the daffotales will tell along the banks.

Together they will hold free assemblies of all adults, and together they will elect a mediator for each assembly and together they will grasp the reality they desire. Together they will manifest destiny.
[/hider]