Of the many huts in the village, one that appeared much the same as the others served as the home of the tribe's gods. Idols and crude shrines dedicated towards nature spirits, revered ancestors, and spirits of war alike filled these simple walls. The most prominent of all, and not dedicated to any one god, was the ever burning Sacred Fireplace. As always, the softly crackling flames were under the watchful eye of the current Shaman. Had anyone else currently been present, they might question why the Shaman was staring so intently into the fire. They might wonder, did the shaman see some vision or omen? Or perhaps the Shaman was communing with the gods at this very moment? Perhaps if such a viewer was one of the more perceptive, they might pick up on the truth: The Shaman was simply nervous and wrapped up in self-doubt. Short and scrawny even by goblin standards, the young female goblin was staring so intently at the fire trying to determine if it looked even the teeniest, tiniest bit smaller. Was it, or was it the same as it always was? If she had been training for longer, would she be able to tell for sure? Maybe she wasn't ready, maybe she should find someone else to- Minty green hands came up to smack lightly into minty green cheeks, interrupting that thought. Smacking herself a few more times before shaking her head and pulling her hands away, the female goblin steeled her expression and turned away from the fire to sweep her gaze across the different idols instead. It was the revered ancestors her gaze settled on in particular. She was certain they, too, felt ill prepared and anxious in their youth. They must have, and they also must have gotten over themselves and not let it stop them from doing what needed to be done. If all of them had managed that, then she would just have to do that too. Not to mention, the former Shaman had held confidence and faith in her - and if the far wiser old goblin had thought she was the best pick, then wasn't it disrespectful to doubt herself so much? Giving a nod of thanks towards the idols, even if she hadn't really communed with them at all, the Shaman turned to leave her hut. There was breakfast to be had, and a goblin village to help and do her best to guide. She was Jig, and she wasn't going to let anyone down.