Vendric's eyes flitted across the room like a fly. His gaze would settle on something, a face, a platter, some curious dish he'd never seen before, and then it would zip away to the next sight to be seen. And there were so many. He'd do his best to recall the details thereof later; he didn't dare risk bringing his notes with him in person, after all. Finding a spot to chronicle the records of his journey into foreign lands was difficult enough without having to worry about some lusty goblin spilling her drink onto them.
It was, despite its many inconveniences, however, an indisputably noble goal, and one upon which Vendric prided himself. So many of his fellow classmates saw fit to resort to navel-gazing. How many of them, he mused with a self-satisfied smile, had deigned to conduct their myopic "studies" from within the capital's walls? A dissertation on the mechanics of the Imperial aqueducts would be nothing compared to his hard-won tales of how beast-men lived.
Though he was, of course, careful to never call them "beast-men" to their faces.
No, they had myriad names for themselves, a different tongue for each alien hue, each inhuman addition to their anatomy, each uncanny difference. Djinni, Uruk, Fae, Fostish, Mer-maid, and Wight. The list spiraled into infinity, entries yet unwritten for lack of even the barest proof of a species' existence. And while some were so dangerous as to be revered as gods, some were mundane enough -- and similar enough -- as to consort with humans.
Goblins could be counted among the latter.
Vendric was, first and foremost, a scholar, and thus his mind saw things as a scholar's did. Possessing of but one sex, the goblins were so similar to man as to be capable of both speech and...copulation. They resembled human women, albeit with green skin and greatly diminished heights. The average goblin, for example, often only reached the waist of the average human.
Despite this difference in vertical means, however, the secondary sexual characteristics of a goblin were no less diminished. The hips, buttocks, and breasts of a goblin often matched those of their human counterpart's, and it was more common for those of a goblin to, in fact, exceed a human woman's.
It was for that reason that goblin-run taverns such as this were more often frequented by human men than human women.
But these were mostly anatomical differences. Vendric was far from content to catalogue the physical comparisons between the two species. No, there was so much to learn of their culture, their customs, their language, et cetera, et cetera. Goblins often adopted the habits of the humans around which they settled. The inverse was unheard of, perhaps literally. Not a single account existed of a human immersing his or herself into a goblin tribe's culture, to the point where even the notion of goblin "tribes" was pure speculation.
An elbow shook Vendric's focus, and the voice that followed scattered it further. "Ah! Sorry, dear! You alright?" He looked to the side, his interruption apparently short enough to match his seated height, and...well, he couldn't very well have been surprised.
Carrying no less than three mugs in one hand and a flagon in the other, a goblin barmaid looked him over with a touch of concern in her eyes. Full lips pursed in concern, painted black, and waspish hips cocked to the side, she was attractive enough that Vendric was inclined to forgive her on principle. Add to that the pleasant mint green tint to her skin and the calculatingly generous display of cleavage she bared as part of her uniform, and there was no contrition required.
"Ah, no, no, it gets busy! Not a problem, honest." He managed a laugh, his analytical eye turning merely human once more. Hard to stay detached when one had the focus of one's academic pursuits right in front of them. Harder still when she was undeniably...womanly. She leaned in, inspecting a now-spreading stain on his vest -- and giving him a more intimate view of her cleavage in the process -- before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
"Ah, pity's sake, I've gone and stained it. Here, hold just a moment, I'll be back to get that washed for you, love. Along with a drink," she called over her shoulder, "on the house! Hel-lo, gents!" She faced forward again, her hips taking on a flirtatious sway as she made her way to a table of rowdily appreciative men. Vendric couldn't do much more than await her return and appreciate the view in the meantime.
He'd more or less split his attention before that. Certainly, he wasn't too distracted to focus on one goblin in particular. Even so, the first step to a conclusive report, in his mind, was to examine the traits held in common among a species. Once the baseline was established, nuance finally held meaning, whether one studied animal, vegetable, mineral, or...women.
He'd spent the better part of an hour noting the shared qualities. Long, pointed ears, skin that was universally tinted green, though the individual shade seemed to vary from goblin to goblin. Their eyes seemed to draw from a pool of amber, green, or red, as far as he could tell, and their tongues. Their hair was subject to less variance, seeming to be unilaterally black. Of course, that could simply be a failure of the sample size. He took a sip of his water -- no alcohol to muddy his senses, of course -- and refocused. Their tongues, as modeled by several flirtatious barmaids to their charges, seemed to be at least thrice as long as a human's with a similarly impressive dexterity.
For the most part, the only other traits he could glean from casual observation were analogous to humans'. Five fingers on each of their two hands, five toes on each of their two feet. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth. Hair atop their heads, though none on their body, as far as he could see, and-
And, oh, she was back, breasts pressing up against his shoulder. "Sorry 'bout that!" She laughed, though it was tinted with a rasp of stress, cocking her head to the side. "Got me some fans over there, I think." The table she rolled her eyes -- amber, he noted -- towards seemed to perk up at her apparent attention, several of the men waving and several more making decidedly obscene gestures. She repaid the enthusiasm with a wink, a blown kiss, and a scowl when she turned back to Vendric. "Charming, ain't they? An-y-way!"
Vendric had been so focused on the buoyant warmth of her chest against his arm that he hadn't thought of much to say. Just as well, given that she seemed more than happy to speak on his behalf -- and undress him, too. Diminutive hands reached for the buttons of his vest, undoing them one by one as she spoke. "So, you just wait upstairs while we get this washed up, and I'll meet you up in one of the rooms with a skin of wine for your trouble. Copacetic, love?"
"Oh-" He finally found his words, along with a furrow of his brow. "I don't think it's necessary for me to go upstairs. I mean, I'm perfectly fine-"
"Ah, no, no! I'll not have you stripping down to your skivvies in case some drunken lout empties his pint on you and we need to get your shirt here washed, too!" She shook her head, ponytail swaying behind her with her vigorous denial. "Not having it. Be-sides." She smiled at him. "Something tells me you're not here for the atmosphere. G'wan." She gave the small of his back a playful swat and giggled when he jolted at it. "I'll be but a moment; then we can get you sorted, all right?"
