COI C227

“Back when, there is always a battle among the goblin tribes. The dead spirits were never ceased to enjoy such goblins escaped from this world. More and more of them dying like they are just killing themselves to escape their captors. So long, they tried it. So far, the sprits endlessly playing the world’s cycle. So pointless, when the elder spirits are not here. They know why they are not here. It was a tragedy to lost such a valuable landmark for shamanism. The Canyon Tribe Cliffs is gone. Never to believe to be eaten from the sky. The sky turned into a fake moon. That’s when they are free”

“Lost spirits have seen their return and see no shaman to call them. It was obvious for other spirits will never see a living. They were brought here by a machine, but easily taken down to the bottom of the Canyon Tribe Cliffs for their extermination legends. They are older though, older than most spirits ventured this world. If their great de headz tek returned, it will reveal the one of many goblin secrets in this world. Separating the views both from the elves and the demons. They still don’t know”

“We see the spirits around the Horde chief. Gathered by goblin spirits as their only strength to keep their sane up. Mostly animals, nature, and ancestral goblins together. But where are the great ones? The spirits bringing in harms to all the gods and the world. Where are they? Or did that man successfully seal the freedom of the goblins. If it is true, then the goblin spirits will never leave and forever ready for their vengeful ploys. We, the forgotten, have returned. Bringing the message of the divided tribes. Return the great tribal wars”

Ogit wakes up from his nap. The message of the spirits is arising without him to join their return. Spirits are different and forever obtain their hostile differences to each other. Shared the same world, but destined to be the Alpha of a certain land mass. The Horde chief checks his ritual. The second tribe is calling out. The tribes from Circoston region. Their spirits are cheering of their new enemies. He wasn’t too happy to hear of the returning legend. The spirits echoed to him. The source of his enemy is what he expects to go since the beginning.

The spirits blocked the goblins hearing the upcoming of the third tribe. A betrayal, for the first time in a long time. Ogit Hay’Droppah and his ancestors who able to maintain their power for such a long time. They thought they would lose their tribes when the other tribes from Circoston arrived to this region. The spirits give their prosperity as the opposing Horde chief kept changing because of the endless back stabbing and reoccurring rebellion. For many cycles, Kinteinnou region keeps their goblin in a control of the Hay’Droppah. The warnings though about the legends of the underground ship freed a spirit. A forgotten spirit.

“Stab’Bor, your name after from the dead tribe stabbas” He ironically laughs

“There are others are breaking free from the peaceful rule. The Gobins have returning their old ways. Was it a curse to be savage? Our spirits are always into wild nature. I guess the Circoston tribes have showing the true flaws of our race. The Kinteinnou tribes won’t be having the same fate of these needless tribes. Our tribes are bigger”

Ogit signals the ritual totems ready to get inside the vessel. Different forms of ritual creatures ready to get in and ready to recreate a tribal war.

A spiritual vortex opened beneath their feet. Waiting for the linking rituals to connect him and the world they will enter soon. The roars of the spirits are channeling for the coming of the old goblin lore. He readies his boyz, protecting against the threat inside. As he is about to take a stick poking on the ritual circle. Their room opened and the advisor sees them idling into the dark. Ogit sees the ritual disappeared when the door opened. The spirits gathered flee like cowards.

He dissatisfiedly grins. “I have no I idea you were involved . . .”

“Shut that shit. We both know well what that vessel supposed to do. That’s where the people who came to aid us from the start”

The goblins roll their eyes. For someone who is a citizen is surely revealing his motives. They pretend to ignore him, but the advisor had spoken true. The city had many attacks, from wild creatures to the entire plague from the moon cycles attacking directly nonstop. All that is feared because of the city’s signs of technological civilization. That same civilization will rebuild the old eras from before. Ogit surely knows ‘why miss know it all’, Lady Hivites wanted them to leave. Hope will return to the lost factions and build it again while living in the scars of the apocalypse.

To leave, was a little understatement. It was because they shouldn’t get involved in this world. The advisor is acting too ‘know it all’ as well. These make the spirits far too obvious from the start. Sork has found their reasons to stay. Yet, Ogit wants to ignore it. It went too far now when one of the goblins found power inside the vessel. It was impossible he thought. How it was possible to broke free the banished spirits? It was easy enough. They have it. The technology to work together with the vessel’s tech. It makes him go mad because of it. Maybe Lady Hivites is angry about it too. Or just glad she finally to get rid of him, the Horde chief.

Losing his temper to know about it. The advisor says to him “Then how about we should work together?”

The goblins step aside as the Horde chief raises the floor up to the advisor’s level view. The annoyance of his face shows the inevitable event.

“So, it is true, the goblin tribal wars are coming soon”

“Whatever you just said to me and my boyz. You are still a sog with wee noggins”

“I’m not a dumb fuck. But I wanted you take it inside where our common enemy hides”

He gives him a ritual dagger. An ice pick with hard to read rituals drawn into the small cylindrical metal, and its handle clean any ritual magic.

The Horde chief mixes with relief and disgusted. The advisor wields a weapon that no different race will wield it. Furthermore, it is ancient and disturbingly strong. For how many eras that thing supposed to fight against between the living and the dead. The pick possessed undeniable nightmares during the war. A war between Heroes and Demons brought to the presence intact. It is true, this region continues to keep secrets to the rest of the people reside this region. The advisor shows his incompetency not understanding what he gives to the goblin.

The Horde chief says to him “It’s better to hold on the handle. It is dangerous to touch the metal thing”

The advisor smiles uncontrollably. He would’ve never thought this so-called weapon to be powerful. A goblin to react for his well-being mentioned to only touch the handle. His ignorance faded and finally took the turn for the better.

He whispers his thoughts “That robot told me to be careful. This is what that robot meant”

Then his head stiffs and remembers what happened to it. The secret lab was destroyed. The lost is truly a regret for him not to realize. Although, there is still more of them from below or better yet. One more of them somewhere under the dungeons.

The advisor walks away in excitement and the goblins were not fooled from his childish reactions. They are worried

“Boss, he gives you the ancient metal stick”

“Yeah boss, the heroes are still alive”

The Horde chief shouts at them “Of course they are alive! This is the same weapon that broke most of the tribes in the central region”

He calmed down after all that is happened. The return, the rediscovery, and the realization are put together in Rs. Those silly stories about Rs made them remember those heroes’ catch phrases.

The door close and the vortex returned. Once again, the link returns and this time by going in. The Horde chief stabs it with the metal ice pick on the ritual circle. It pierced through and the ritual is absorbed into it. The ice pick drops its metal rod showing the sign of the ritual is full inside of it. Then he replaces it with a different pick. The handle forced into the same quality as the other one. The other rod dropped broke down into pieces. Identical to the ones in the vessel.

He shows to his boyz “You see that? That’s what happened to the spirits. They turned into archscience”

The boyz hear their spirits in fear. Their spirits though are just nature and animalistic. While the Horde chief’s spirit is amused by it. The blessing of the Horde chief, possessing the strong, the wise, and the legend. Although, they can’t sense it. All goblins with shamanism supposed to see all of the goblin’s ancestry as one spirit. Their boss didn’t show it, as if it hides from them. They thought it is greater and impossible to sense its greatness. They can’t, even their own senses are locked under his control. The vortex reopens again, this time, they left.

Stab’Bor said his name the wrong way. His mind felt so free from the maddening laughter and hears the channels of tribal voices going into his head. The laughter faded and returns a chant. The forgotten spirits break his curse and steadily the goblin stands up, in reality he is already standing. His senses deluded with everything he feels are all random. He walks, but backwards. He moves his eyes, but didn’t. He thinks, but speaks out

“What voodoos am I doing again? My old spirits, are they attacking me?”

In nonsense

His spirits are indeed attacking him, all shrouded him clinging him to the point of their rituals formed trying to take him down. The robots, possessed by the spirits, watch him getting rowdy. The sighs of those robots as they flicked their optics into reality. The spirits broke free from the chains of many years of restraint. The wild nature returns, wilder than their mad laughter. The spirits finally recognized them

“Ah yes, mahn. Night hunters, it’s hard to believe being ghost wind fit your nature”

The goblin assassin’s spirits respond “For now. We recognize you isle-ers. The rituals now are segregated by those fools. We speak brokenly as those who are from the beginning ones”

“Beginning ones? Those spirits never lived into the end of eras”

“Yes, yes. Just like the metul spirits. They never see the surface or see the living. Except you. Now we have a sole keeper. Please help him restore the rest or fated again back to this world’s reality”

The spirits clear their view to see the assassin goblin. Still struggling as years of restraint and control from the spirits’ way of life. They cast their ritual, where the usual beastlike imagery turned to ancient ancestral drawings. In a form of small insects sucking off the bad juju inside of him.

Every bite gives him pain but when drain inside, his old ritual taken away, and his actual condition of his body is forming. Starved, malnourish, and mentally traumatized. He pulls out the stash he had from Heist and the Rogue. To restore every bit of himself with their food once more. His head keeps hurting until he makes a new ritual item from the junk food bags. He made it into a hat and helps him control the pain from stinging deeply. The bag melted the colors and into its tint foil color. The crumpled mark as ritual is casts its magic.

He feels relief “Wow, and I thought ghost stories meant for the wee ones, and here I am”

Stab’Bor doesn’t know how his body positioned. His posture gone out from his feet. Not closely to the ground and that’s for sure. His spirits are looking at him, without those freaky smiles and other familiar faces he always sees. It looks like actual masks. The expression shows of its tribal origin. Then he sees the forgotten spirits’ faces. It wasn’t tribal at all. It is more modern than he hardly believed. Vision of the old world, where goblins were. The spirits back then, materials didn’t look wood nor stone.

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Portraying as made of plastics or other forms of minerals, it is not par with the culture and the ancestry they brought from. So different, yet lost, of its powers it could have. It is surely turned into the imbalance between worlds. Then he goes deeper, even before the modern civilization. Actual spirits lived together with the goblins. The underground city. This is the legend he barely knows among tribes. The time of secrecy and looting to the highest. There he envisioned a sacred stone, the tribe managed to take what the race had and placed it as their own citadel. Or from what the story said.

Everything goes clearer after that. The spirits are comparable to the past. Then there were the blurs. A magic that he himself is too new to understand. Stab’Bor stops it. His head couldn’t understand what he is looking at. A past he can’t believe and the spirits at that time exist. Now looking at the forgotten spirit. Their robotic body is the same ritual as the Kes’thar bringing themselves into this world. He can’t say, he is fresh in his mind from their visions. Yet, he dared to move on his own.

The feeling of betrayal kicks to his head. The same feeling among the stories of other tribes trying to become Horde chief. This feeling. There is no reason nor ambition to it. The spirits are also not part of the cause his act to rebel. He knew it is true. The current Horde chief is hunting him. That’s what he expected. His body starts to feel relief and nourishing his body after he ate. The feeling of being alive is greater than before. So much time wasted as he tries to put himself together. The robots were just waiting for him to act.

Stab’Bor’s one last recovery as he said his new name. “That’s right, I am now Stilpok. Wait, what is that mean?”

“I’m glad you ask, you wee mahn. Or better yet, we have to go away from here from the bad voodoos. Your fresh rebellion had forgotten the new enemy you’ve created”

Stilpok looks at the screens. The Forgotten spirits were right. The Horde chief is already ganging up and ready to find him. The robots guide him.

“Take this path. Seek for the people who are already here”

Stilpok remembers the Fuku City adventurers, but his mind block by the vision. The people who entered the room he couldn’t enter.

“You mean there?”

“Yes, take the chance to go there and release the others before all of the chance of your new tribe is lost”

“But it means I have to fight those biggunz”

“No, they are doomed anyway. It’s better they say their last words before the evitable”

They robots left the room. Stilpok walks out and see them already gone. With only his tinfoil chip bag on his head. The spirits spoke to him

“You’re getting to follow their orders. New boss”

His spirits are excited for his powers “I thought you guys will be jealous”

“Jealousy is not what we are. We are hunters, killing that we can’t eat is an insult to the nocturnal predators”

Rare words for the spirits to say. This is not the time for him to oddly weird the new changes around his spirits. The fact of the matter for him is very simple. Back from the basic and naked inside the center of all life killing machines. The equipment he had before are truly being tracked by the tribes. The rituals are had some mix of special powers and enchantment if they are smart enough to remember. His head is straight without any distraction. All of those spirits’ enforcement are lost, leaving his own spirit cleverly dig into his numbskull to mimic the great night creatures.

It wasn’t that long where the security robots found him without realizing them. The robots shine a light on him. Quickly silencing him, he tried to run. But they are too quick to use its weapon to neutralize the area. He stops where the ray of light hits him by creating a barrier. He turns around and dared to face it with nothing on him. The robotic spirits had come to save him electrifying the securities. They quickly ended it, gutted and pierced the remains as they won’t leave themselves to repair. Then they swing it around hitting Stilpok in the process. The barrier broke and him hitting against the wall. He pulls himself from there

“Metul spirits, why are they so blind?”

His spirits said to him “We can’t seem to remember them. It is still a mystery of how they can’t see”

“Although, they see us”

“Of course, because of us”

“Sure, when we are all dumb and controlled”

“Then run and not be their prey. The predator will hunt another day”

Stilpok remained confused “Geez, I won’t be getting used your wisdom”

“Then learn. Or maybe we could get a chance to speak with them”

“Who?”

“The Kes’thars. We remember the goblin spirits. They must have link for us to remember. Let’s see where they are willing to help”

Stilpok is being challenged by wits and instinct. This goblin assassin is always focus on senses. Now with a head that thinks on his own. It makes him wonder with other goblins’ set of minds. Did they mimic with the spirits? Or did he see it himself because of the Horde chief’s power? These questions really make a goblin’s head hurt, but for him, it grew his wonder shared with the spirits around him. The ritual on him shows a pact between them. It was long forgotten and never been used such a long time. He curiously trying to reawaken its ceremonial powers. It failed, and it was because shamanism shouldn’t be used that way.

Haw wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he was out. The memory from the back of his head. It vibrates so uncontrollably. This feeling he never felt since his tragedy in Mountaiwall. It returns, but who is the keeper. While he examined himself, the other two sees him alright.

Maser explains to Altair “. . . Like you see there. I beat him with my mace and there is nothing wrong on him”

“Is that how most healers do to heal them in this world?”

“Either I hit or miss. Sometimes I mistook others and I can swiftly change it whenever I can”

“Sure . . .”

“That’s no different from your people’s multi-tasking their magic”

They are still in the containment unit. Away from the bad air inside the vessel, and somewhere deeper as the room shifted into the protection of archscience barriers. What luck for them to have the botic thief to return to them and bypass many of the securities. It still able to runs away from other robots as it behaves like a fly to annoy them in order to get its energy. The botic returns to Haw as he sealed it with a different vile. The three continues on with their quest.

Altair says to them “So, what now? The sneaking part to know about this vessel is out of the picture”

Haw shakes his head “On the contrary, it is start to have secrets we barely knew. If this vessel truly just repair itself right here, then what artifacts did it sealed that no demon nor elves dared to get into”

Maser agrees “And there’s more we wanted to know before it is going to return back underground. It probably connects to where the sources from many city states questioned about”

Haw knew exactly what he is saying. He himself want to know how he got his mark back and about this vessel’s unique design. Compared from the other ships, this one is keeping living creatures like the sea serpent.

For these two have found an agenda being here beside scouting the entirety of the vessel. This is could be a great idea to get the data. They waited for Altair to figure it out. Both know why, and Altair shouldn’t be involved. The demon would easily get the info according what rumors about the citizen. There is no laughing matter where they already seen many citizens being controlled by the demons inside the island. They better not figuring who the culprit is, and only sees as demons controlling the weaker race.

Altair is a bit curious as them, but he is more bewildered as any of the three wanting to find out. He gets his mind really hard and the dangers this vessel has. Those two knows something he wanted to ask, but feels not wanting to know as well. There is a reason for it. He remembers what Gemina is trying to ask such a long time. It’s better off for him to willing to risk it. “Alright, we should better get going. This is going to be dangerous, and let’s hope you guys won’t give me the wrong ‘direction’” Altair said it in the most obvious tone from the word direction.

After what they heard, both of them are very impressed how he ‘speculates’ such things. This is also quite foolhardy if only it was that easy to figure it out by seeing it. In reality, there is so much more than just about this vessel. Altair has one lacking, and it is archscience. They hid as their eyes straight where the enemies should be. A few numbers of robots come passing by. There is nothing for them to fight here. They move aside as the robots heard a noise from the other side. A mace floats by, as it was the one that causes the noise. It returns to Maser’s hand and a few spells to distract them longer.

Altair lays down his magic “Then where we should be going?”

Maser answers “The same we got here. The vents”

He points up at the ceiling. Haw climbs up to the wall then to the ceiling and gets his own tools to unscrew it. They thought Haw would use his botic again. Their eyes daggering at him about the obvious. Haw knows it too, but he chose the manual way. As the vents open up, he climbs in then the others follow. Into again through the strong fresh air with a draft of dust hanging with it. Altair fears the worst.

The crystallized dust had entered the vents, the harm of their mana, and the dangers will be there as they go. They found the problem of the dusts entering. A dead body already consumed by the light, and the remains show that they are from the enemy tribe. The enemies form the east coast have travelled far. Altair’s worried was true

“There is someone is entering the vessel. Stay alert . . . Hey! Where are you going?”

Haw quickly waves his hand in a hurry to come here. Altair rushes forward. As far as they cannot be seen. The small robots came and clean the mess.

The security of this vessel is still strong. The chaos happened inside is surely everywhere as they move on. Still continue to fight between robots and spirits. It clouded the vision of far as it fogs everywhere they see. The fumes and the toxic air are in another line of the vents. As they were supposed to go there, it is time to face it. Haw carefully not letting the bad air in. If it detects anything bad, the robots will immediately come and fix it. The air vent shifted where the flow goes blocking the entry and only exits to go out. Haw dives in, Maser follows, and Altair reluctantly goes in.

The toxic air is filthy and there is dirt around their bodies. There are also oils and other dust metals from the battles. It is hard to understand the logic of how the vents able to gathered these much dirt and solid bits of dust that is no longer describe as light particles. Now debris are coming where magnetic pulses coming through. Their runes were able to resist it and now they realized what’s going on. Haw and Maser need to act fast before the debris throw much heavier than they have now. Too late, the vent dents beneath them starts falling.

Collapse from the vents as they are rolling about. The robots already fell and no signs of them reactivating yet. They see chunks of flesh in dried carcasses. Altair’s UI opened the detail as he quickly brings his team out.

“Let’s leave, this is no place we should be lying around. Cough* The air here is painful”

Haw and Maser pull him as they are rushing to go down. The bad air here is overwhelming. The chunk here is going beyond their heads. Altair has more resistance than them. It would be easier to take some risks.

From levels going down as they found robots are being repaired there. Maser uses his spell to jump them over the pile. Deep down as they reach the room hidden away from any living being to see. Haw suspects it and pulls the botic out from the vile. Immediately smashing it as their lungs are fully engulfed from the sufferable air. The botic acts fast as all the memory it had taken from the previous robots it hacked. It easily opens a secret room. A flash of light phases them out of existence. The vessel detects their intrusion into one of the secret rooms forcing an alert for the first time.

The vessel is powering the security. The exterior is ready, the robots outside are phasing into the Jigeram’s light, the internal structure of the vessel is surging in, and the rest goes on. By this time, something strange had happened outside. The spirits are gathering. A fight broke out from the distance. The tribes are falling back because of the presence of the Horde chief. Many flee into the crystal forest and many left their loots. The citizens who are outside watch them go, and continue to watch whereas the vessel’s reaction made them hesitated a bit..

Altair can’t see from the strong lights coming from everywhere. He tries to use his spell but it was enhanced to brighten his spell for no reason.

“What in the world are we?”

Haw walks and tries to find a way to shuts off the light. Then something small hits his chin. “Augh! You got yourself lucky that I can’t see”

“Who’s there?”

“That voice. Were you from the Stranding Island?”

The moment he says that, his spirits darken the room and reveal each other. Altair sees his UI and easily identifies him. A goblin from Stranding Island, the goblin assassin, and the companion of Heist and the Rogue according to the report.

“I can’t believe it. You manage to survive inside the vessel”

“Well, that means those two got out alive. And I thought the stuff they left behind will be my memento about them” The goblin shows him the foods they left.

“Those are snacks and a lot of cup noodles”

“It’s good, and you barely have no idea where I get the water though”

Haw answers him “You found it encrypted into the runes”

“What? No, I don’t know what you mean. I found this magic flat board. You know what this is, right?”

He shows to Altair, and quickly recognizes it “The mini-inventory”

They thought Haw is embarrassed after what he said. On the contrary, it does exist. He is referring about the containment units’ system. Surviving inside the vessels or ships are near impossible and relying knowledge to recycle the archscience tech to release what mana it had. Food is impossible except for water. The goblin assassin and with the citizens’ stocks of food supplies are truly a luck for getting him out famine. If he didn’t have it, his spirits will kick him out from the vessel. Haw knows how to survive, but it will be grim as he will be starved than dehydrated.

“See what . . .?” Stab’Bor hears the voice. A goblin spirit is near and the tone is what the forgotten spirits speak to him. The accent is gone, and leaving only the presence of the same vision he remembered. He climbs on Haw’s back and see what it is.

“. . . You hear that? The spirits have interest of you. Ancient spirits” Haw feels on his head, the spirits are trying to reach into his memories and the vision they want to show. It can’t, the accursed mark inside made his memory broken. They see it though, an illusion about the past. Also, a recognizable figure with her white hair. Her name calls out, but they can’t hear it. “It’s Quill . . .” Blocked, and made Haw staggered.

“Hey, watch it there!” Stilpok drops to the ground and the spirits catch him. Haw is holding is head “Ugh! Sorry, but what did your spirit do to me?” “They’re new, I don’t think I can understand them just under a day” The ground flows with rituals as the room is linking with wires and lines all over. All merged together on the floor. The patterns are technologically advanced. There where its light shines on it and traces where starts to happen. The lights shine and directed to one specific direction. All focusing its light to where no darkness ever to hide from it. So bright that it’s hard to see.

A figure coming from the light, materializing itself as a size of a goblin. Wore a different kind of attire, nearly he sees the details of the goblin face, and eyeing on the goblin assassin.

It spoke “Stab’Bor . . . I mean Stilpok. The spirits speak as it used to be”

“Used to be?” Altair looks down as the light already consumed the goblin.

He grabs the others as they no longer see each other at their sides. They can only hear

“Ah sog! I am not even where I should be. The boss will definitely find me”

“Just like the rest of them, it’s a natural thing for us goblins. This is the fates of our true nature”

The three listens as more voice coming out. Altair is the only one has his UI being translated. But he is not the one who is controlling his UI. Some ‘thing’ is using him.