In the most recent version of my setting, I've been moving towards a model where the different fantasy peoples of the world are more like separate species from one another, that is, they probably can't make babies due to divergent or entirely separate evolutionary history and genetics. The gods are only dubiously real, and everything you can play as either evolved biologically or was created via magic by someone a bit later down the line (ie beastfolk). The three big groups in my mind are humans (we're basically the same), elves (they're weird and mostly extinct space aliens), and orcs/goblins, who oscillate between being a very bespoke sort of beastfolk, some sort of alternate branch of primate evolution that also yielded intelligence, or creatures from an alternate dimension who've been stranded on Coris for a few thousand years. I can't decide which one I like better, though I think the first and third options are probably more believable, since they make more sense as to why they haven't outcompeted humans or vice versa. Whatever the case, I want them to feel a bit weird biologically speaking, so here's an idea I'm tossing out to see how it feels in my mouth.
Goblins have a larval tadpole stage like frogs. They are born in clutches of a few dozen, deposited into a local pond where they will eat and be eaten, until few are left, perhaps 5 or 6. Once they're nice and docile, around when their sharp teeth fall out and their "social" teeth grow in, they'll be taken back into the house and reared as standard citizens. The normal ailments that affect human children still weigh on these baby goblins, so it's very possible only one will live to see adulthood. Hobgoblins, which humans erroneously think of as a separate subspecies of goblins, are merely the goblin aristocracy, who have learned to take advantage of this process.
To make a hobgoblin, you need three things: food, warmth, and high humidity. For most, the mundane realities of life make this difficult; goblins live in the Northern reaches of Lakarta where the weather is cold, and for most food is a bit scarce. Those who can make hobgoblins are the aristocracy of the goblin world, able to afford these things with ease. Here's what they do. First, they construct a large subterranean chamber, dig out a pool, and fill the room with heated water. When the clutch of baby goblins are welcomed into the world, a select few are hand picked by parents, typically the largest or healthiest looking. The other tadpoles will be fed to these heirs, who will also be fed on a rich diet, mostly meat, while spending their time lounging around in their warm, muggy basement chambers. They will grow exceptionally plump when fed with a steady supply of food. Fat little amphibians, cooing happily as they soak in their muggy ponds, exceptionally cute, but for the chicken blood staining their lips. After a few months, their time in the pond will end, and they will begin to grow prodigiously. A hobgoblin child is quite large compared to a goblin child, and that difference will continue into adulthood. Hobgoblins are typically around 6 feet tall, whereas goblins sit more in the 3-4 foot range. Nearly every old money aristocrat you meet will be a hobgoblin, to usher one's progeny into the world in such a way is seen as a beautiful, honorable thing.
This process happens because young goblins have a genetic switch that fires off when they're in a resource rich environment. Their body detects the glut of food, the luxurious temperature, and the rich atmosphere, and begins increasing their hunger signals and pumping out growth hormones. The original home of the goblins was a tempestuous place, where the environment could theoretically change on a dime, so they evolved to take advantage of good times with they could, growing at a rapid pace. This happens to older goblins too, but the effects are lessened, typically they'll only gain an inch or two. Ogre-making takes advantage of this process. A baby goblin is selected, much as one is in a hobgoblin clutch, and fed consistently for months, while their growth hormones are augmented with transmutation magic, turning them into veritable behemoths.
Yeah, I think that's too weird for my tastes. I'll file it away for some other project.
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