by Tim Moon
The goblin grunted in surprise as the hardened wood tip punched through the edge of his neck, through the muscle to the right of its spine. Blood spurted out of his mouth and the goblin collapsed, gravity pulling him free of the spear. It began to gurgle and writhe on the ground as it clutched at the wound.
Jaron’s aim had been off, but the results were better than he could have expected. He felt only the tiniest twinge of guilt. There was no time for that, so he quickly moved on.
The other goblins looked up at him with a mix of shock, fear and hatred in their eyes. One of the big uglies, Wocs maybe, took a swipe at him with its rusty sword. Jaron jumped back, barely getting out of the way. Displaced air from the swing brushed over his bare feet.
Little Bert wasn’t faring as well as the others. He was almost neck deep in the mud with only one arm free. He squealed in fright and called for help. His companions didn’t seem to take notice.
Jaron stole a glance at Kuvat and saw that his earth spike had indeed pierced the goblins leg. However, the first level spell could only reach one foot from where it jutted out of the ground, so it had punched through at an angle, entering just above its ankle and exiting from the meatiest part of Kuvat’s calf muscle. The goblin turned hate-filled red eyes at Jaron and began to chant.
Knowing he didn’t want to find out what spell it was, Jaron darted back into the forest like the white rabbit he chased earlier. If only he could call on animals to aid his defense of the temple. That would be badass. All thoughts of an animal army fled his mind when hot flame exploded against a tree beside him, searing the back of his shoulder and singing some of his hair.
“Shit,” he cried.
The force of the blast made him stagger and fall to the side. Jaron caught his balance against another tree and turned back to the meadow, taking deep breaths.
All of Jaron’s senses were on high alert, which let him detect that the tide might be turning against him. His blood flowed in an invigorating rush. Wocs began to help Kriz out of the mud pit. If he didn’t do something, he would soon be overwhelmed. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jaron began to cast putrid mud again.
“Damn cooldowns,” Jaron hissed. The cast failed because the 1 minute cooldown had not expired.
Jaron switched his strategy and decided to cast stone spike again since the cooldown was only 5 seconds. Targeting Wocs, Jaron aimed a spike to hit him in the back of the calf. Stone shot from the ground in a sudden burst that pierced the goblin’s unarmored skin. Even better, the momentum of the strike knocked the big goblin off balance. Jaron watched with bated breath as Wocs teetered on the edge and then fell face first back into the mud pit. Poor Bert was in the way and Wocs’ flailing arm hammered the smaller goblin’s head into the mud like a stubborn nail.
Shag and Kriz scrambled out of the mud and began to form up into a ragged line to charge Jaron. Using terraform, he willed the dirt to rise sharply. A mound of roughly 100 cubic feet of dirt and debris, shot out of the ground like a volcanic eruption right at the goblins, striking them like a battering ram. The spell moved more than Jaron realized. It was enough to knock them back and partially bury both of them, including the two still mired in the mud pit.
Grinning at his success, Jaron sprinted towards Kuvat. He cast stone spike again, but the goblin mage must have sensed it because he flung himself to the ground in a clumsy combat roll. The spike jutted out of the ground mere inches behind him.
“Damn,” Jaron growled at his missed spell as he closed the distance to finish off the mage. Time to get in close and disrupt his casting.
Raising the spear to attack, Jaron’s advance was promptly halted by a crackling burst of sparks that struck his chest. Every muscle fiber contracted and released in rapid, uncontrollable fits. Pain flooded his body, radiating up and down his limbs. His mind short circuited, robbing him of the ability to think. The spasms forced Jaron to a knee. Wildfire burned under his skin as his body tried to cope with an overload of electrical impulses.
Sparks sizzled and popped in the air for a second after the blast, leaving spots in his vision. When he regained enough control of his body to look down, Jaron saw a wild pattern of pink burns on his skin. Every movement ached. It took focused effort to coordinate his movements even as he still twitched awkwardly.
Jaron forced himself to push through the pain. He lurched to his feet and staggered forward. The goblin stood heavily on his one good leg with a wide, manic grin on his face. Kuvat reveled in Jaron’s pain and suffering for a long moment, then he began to cast.
A ball of dark energy began to form in the goblin’s open palm. Jaron had to hurry. His neck twitched painfully, tilting his head to the side. One eye blinked rapidly, and then it came to him.
Jaron thrust his hand forward, uttering a word of power and sent another spike into the goblin’s good leg. In a blink, Kuvat’s concentration broke, triggering spell feedback that made the dark energy explode. The blast wave sent them both windmilling backwards.
When Jaron regained his senses and sat up, he saw smoke rising from a small crater in the ground where the blast had gone off. Kuvat stared dumbfounded at the bare stump of his arm where his hand had been moments before. Ragged strips of blackened flesh peeled back from the stump like the skin of a banana.
Jaron stood with a groan and approached the goblin cautiously. He held the spear out, ready to end the fight. Blood spurted from the stump, nearly hitting Jaron’s foot.
“Filthy elf,” Kuvat snarled as he looked up, blinking with one good eye. The other eye bulged like an apple, red with swelling that forced it closed. Burns marred Kuvat’s face and jagged lines of blackened skin extended across his cheeks and chest, the parts closest to the epicenter of the explosion. “You not survive long. We are one of many. They come for you. For everyone.”
Jaron realized Kuvat was talking in goblinspeak. The whole time he’d been watching and listening, the goblins had been speaking in their native tongue. Which should have been obvious, but his omniglot ability translated the guttural language so naturally that he hadn’t even noticed. He decided to try responding in kind.
“Who come? You clan?”
“Clan no mine. Clan belong mighty big boss.”
“Who big boss?” Jaron asked.
Kuvat’s raspy chuckle led to a coughing fit. The goblin spat out a gob of blood that hit the ground with a dull splat. He looked up at Jaron with a strand of spittle dangling from his sharp chin.
“You soon see.” Kuvat gestured weakly with his stump at the area. “Kingdom fall. Nasty forest burn. Gobs revenge and mighty big boss rule all.”
“Ha!” Jaron barked out a laugh. “You insect I squash. No revenge. No desecration,” Jaron said. The translation was halting and brutish but it had the desired effect.
Kuvat sneered and spat on the ground again. His eyes fluttered and he slumped back to the ground. The goblin looked near expiration.
“Filthy… elf…” He hacked up more blood. “Die. You… die.”
Jaron stepped closer and poked the goblin with the spear tip, still wet with his comrade’s blood.
“Me no elf. I be Outlander,” Jaron continued with a growl. He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt the need to point that out or if it would mean anything to the mage.
Apparently, it did because Kuvat’s one good eye widened in shock and Jaron saw fear play across his enemy’s face. The goblin opened his mouth to say something, but Jaron cut him off when he buried the spear in his throat. Blood filled Kuvat’s mouth and dribbled out.
Jaron didn’t revel in the kill. It was a necessary evil to finish him off. Still, he had to be sure Kuvat was dead and wouldn’t pull a gotcha move like every terrible movie ever made. Jaron cast stone spike again. The foot long javelin pierced the goblin’s skull, punching through his forehead like a horn and ended Kuvat’s suffering for good.
Jaron turned around to make sure none of the others were sneaking up on him. All was calm and still. Gone were the birds and the bees, and t
he butterflies.
Since he wasn’t in immediate danger, he did a quick check of the combat log in the lower left of his vision which showed 6 kills and the associated experience. Four of the goblins awarded him 50 XP each, one was only 30 XP and Kuvat earned him 75 XP. Not bad considering they weren’t too difficult to kill. When he checked their levels, it made a lot more sense. Kuvat had been the most powerful goblin at level 3, and the others were level 2 like him.
Congratulations! You have successfully defended the statue of Ahja, Goddess of Nature to complete the quest Defend Nature’s Temple I. Your deeds will be whispered among the trees and forest creatures. Enjoy the bounty of your labor! Reward: 1 random Earth spell, 500 XP, 2 gold coins. The gold coins will be automatically awarded when you have a place to store them.
Congratulations! You have reached level 2 in Earth Magic. Doing so has unlocked a random new spell.
You have learned the spell Buckler of Stone. This spell will create a buckler made of dense stone that floats near your off-hand forearm and blocks strikes. If damaged, the buckler will self-heal once to full durability. The spell dissipates upon destruction after self-healing charges run out or when duration expires. Mana Cost: 15 Range: Self Duration: 5 minutes Cast Time: Instant Defense: +4 Self-Heal Charges: 1 Cooldown: 10 minutes
Jaron let out a pleased sigh, thrilled to have a new spell. He took a deep breath as he surveyed the scene. The realism of the battle surprised as much as it had when he fought Myra.
The fear in Kuvat’s eyes as he choked on his own blood would be forever burned into Jaron’s mind. Drezkarn didn’t feel like a game, it felt just like real combat. He didn’t feel guilt over killing the goblins. Not really. They were generally bad or evil beings and there was a quest to be fulfilled. What surprised him was how it dredged up memories from his service time, specifically the operations when they went after muties.
Rather than dwell on the memories, Jaron knelt beside Kuvat’s body. Rubbing his hands together greedily, Jaron prepared to engage in the time-honored ritual of looting corpses. Based on what he found in Myra’s isolated house, he expected cool stuff from a spell caster who wasn’t isolated in a swamp.
The goblin wore a leather kilt with an open shirt secured by a makeshift belt made of rope. He had no intention of wearing his victim’s clothes and even if he was, they were far too small for him. A quick pat-down revealed a pouch on his rope belt. Jaron removed the pouch and heard the familiar clink of coins. A smile spread as he quickly poured the coins into his palm. The smile turned sour when it turned out to only be a few dozen copper.
All Kuvat carried on his body was the coin pouch. Jaron eyed the headdress that lay crumpled a few feet from the goblin. He had no real interest in it, but the item might be enchanted. He picked it up and tucked it into his satchel.
The last item the goblin had carried was a gnarled root that appeared to be a cane. He didn’t even remember seeing the goblin carrying it during their brief fight. Jaron picked it up, triggering a prompt.
You have found a magic weapon. You lack the skill or requisite knowledge to identify this item. Find a mage or scholar for assistance or learn either the spell or skill identify.
Well isn’t that interesting, he thought.
Just for kicks, he tried to analyze the cane. It failed and only gave him a notification reminding him that the skill was for learning about sentient beings, animals and magical beasts.
Jaron wondered if carrying around a magical weapon of unspecified power and ability would be wise. Then he remembered to add the cane to his inventory. Checking the page on his character sheet proved somewhat useful.
Item: Gnarled Cane Damage: 2-5 Condition: 79/100 Item Class: Common Quality: Unknown Weight: 1.5kg
The low damage could explain why Kuvat hadn’t wielded it in their fight. His spells clearly dealt far more damage. He absently touched his cheek and winced at the tender flesh.
Hoping he wasn’t scarred for life, Jaron started to turn away from the goblin’s body when a glint of silver caught his eye. His eyes widened with greedy surprise at another item he almost missed.
I have got to improve my perception stat, he thought.
On the middle finger of Kuvat’s left hand was a wide silver metal band with intricate etching. Undoubtedly, a magic ring. Jaron cautiously removed the ring and received a notification.
You have found a magic ring. You lack the skill or requisite knowledge to identify this item. Find a mage or scholar for assistance or learn either the spell or skill identify.
Another interesting prompt. Jaron’s imagination raced with possibilities. He held the ring up to examine the etching and hoped it wouldn’t lure him into putting it on or bind him to a dark lord bent on destroying the world.
Beyond his boyish fantasies, Jaron’s frustration continued to build over the amount of information being held back. He hated not knowing. As soon as he could, Jaron would take the time to learn the proper skill for identifying magic items. How shitty would it be to accidentally equip a ring that, say, turned you into a horrible spider monster hiding in the basement of a tavern? Ugh!
As he had with the cane, Jaron added it to his growing stash and checked the inventory page for basic information.
Item: Silver Ring Condition: 32/35 Item Class: Unknown Quality: Unknown Weight: 0.012kg
Nothing could be done to learn more about it now, so he moved on. Looting the other goblins required him to cast terraform to remove all the dirt. The bodies were twisted and crumpled like garbage.
Jaron approached the bodies to begin looting them when he saw a small arm reaching out of the ground. The limb was exposed from the middle of the forearm up to twisted, half-clenched fingers, like a zombie angry that it failed to dig free of its grave. Based on the size of the limb, Jaron guessed it had been Bert. Another goblin was partially buried near the creepy hand with its legs and part of one arm exposed. He figured they had been encased in earth when the putrid mud spell expired, trapping them as the ground hardened into its natural state.
Kneeling beside one of the largest goblins, Jaron began to remove the backpack it wore. He rolled the body onto its side to free the arm and slip the backpack off. The damage his mound of dirt had caused shocked him.
The goblin had caught the blow fully on his chest which caved in its rib cage. His face had frozen in a look of utter dismay. Jaron had intended to kill him, but he would need to exercise caution with the spell in other circumstances. The power of magic was truly astonishing.
Shaking his head, Jaron continued looting. Underneath the body, lay the goblin’s sword which looked like a pirate cutlass. Jaron lifted it up and looked it over.
You have found an item: Goblin’s Cutlass, Damage: 3-10 Condition: 28/50 Item Class: Common Quality: Average Weight: 1.58kg
Jaron stood to give the weapon a few test swings for fun. The blade was rusted and had the chips and scratches of a battle tested weapon. Its low durability spoke to heavy usage, but its damage range still surpassed his spear by quite a bit. Jaron would keep the sword as a backup melee weapon.
Returning to the backpack, Jaron opened the worn leather bag to find truly wretched looking provisions. Individually wrapped in leaves were food bars made of grain and other mysterious ingredients that looked and smelled like bricks made from cow pies. His nose scrunched up at the smell as nose hairs burned away. Gagging, he quickly set them aside and continued rifling through the bag.
The contents included none of the stuff a reasonable person would pack, and Jaron wasn’t sure what to expect from a goblin. The first thing he pulled out was a small broken rock with purple crystal inside. Then it was a jar of random teeth labeled “Nibblers” in sloppy writing, and another jar with holes poked in the metal lid that held a fat, hairy spider and a few dried leaves. The dead looking arachnid suddenly hopped up and skittered around the jar which made Jaron drop the jar.
“Disgusting.”
For a split-second, fear clutched Jaron’s heart at the thought that
the jar might shatter and unleash its unholy occupant. Mother Earth came to the rescue again when the jar landed on lush grass and rolled to a stop. Was the spider glaring at him?
“Disgusting,” Jaron said again as chills ran down his spine. He moved the “food” bars to block the spider’s gaze and continued the search.
Next, he removed a small pouch from the backpack which was too light for coins. The contents of the pouch could hardly be more disappointing. It was filled with dried fish scales and other odd scales. A few of them had interesting colors but the stench was overpowering. There was no telling what else was in the backpack and he had been growing increasingly nervous about reaching inside. Jaron took the easy way out and overturned it on the ground, with a good shake to free the remaining contents.
The breeze caught a big clump of lint that dropped out and blew it across the grass. Jaron grabbed it and stuffed it under the goblin’s body. Three items remained; a pouch filled with shiny buttons, 10 feet of grungy rope, and a small box with dead insects — food for the spider?
Jaron shook his head at the absurd collection of items.
As it turned out, goblins were as dumb as their reputation proclaimed. The others carried equally worthless items, like a small tin filled with nail clippings, and what appeared to be a jar with a pink toad pickled in yellowish fluid that may or may not have been urine.
He only found 5 more copper coins among the group. One of them had been carrying a spear with a metal tip but it was bent, so he kept his own wood spear. The haul was terrible. On the plus side, Jaron was happy to have the backpack, even though it smelled awful, and the cutlass would come in handy too.
The corpses were inappropriate for the sacred garden, even one whose religion Jaron didn’t necessarily subscribe to. He found a place outside of the meadow to terraform a pit for the bodies. When he made the pit, he concentrated on moving the dirt slowly. It complied and when he tried to make the dirt move quicker, it did. The amount of control he had was good enough for bulk movement. He found that he couldn’t do fine adjustments or things like pack it down or shape it.