Dusting off his hands, Dakota wandered to the barn. It was a mess. It had already been junky but the fight with the goblins had kicked stuff all over the place. Old hay covered most of the floor along with destroyed crates, broken tools, rotten boards and all sorts of other stuff. That being said, Dakota could see the original workshop the space used to be. Two long benches, still in decent condition, formed an L shape along the walls to the right of the door while a large shelving unit took up the third wall against the staircase. The shelving unit had spilled most of its contents onto the floor but, like the benches, didn’t look too rotten.
Bending down, Dakota began sorting the junk from the actual junk. Rotten wood, hay, and other decomposables went outside. Anything made of metal or that might still be useful went underneath a bench.
A few hours later, Dakota had mostly cleaned out the workspace. His only gripe was not having a broom. Otherwise, the space had spiffed up nicely. He had resurrected the most intact-looking crate with [Minor Mundane Repair] and filled it with spare gears and other small bits of metal. He also had a stack of short lumber, cutoffs by the look of them, which he stored beside the crate. Most interestingly, he had found a number of old tools. These he laid on the bench for better inspection.
The hammer he had seen earlier was here, along with a large set of metal tongs which he thought might be used for blacksmithing. There was also three different sizes of chisel, a file, a rusted axe head, and, the crowning jewel, a huge saw. The saw had handles on both sides and was five feet long. It was rusted but sturdy and Dakota was already imagining the things he could do with it.
He could saw his own timbers, cut logs to exact lengths or repair the house. Ideas kept flooding Dakota’s head as he walked to the farmhouse. The future looked bright. The garden was coming along nicely, the goblins weren’t bothering him, and the barn was in prime shape to become a house of industry. The troubles of the prior weeks faded as Dakota drifted into a restful sleep.
“SCREEEeeeEEEeee.”
Dakota’s eyes flew open as the cry wailed through the air. It was joined by a chorus of other cries, echoing all around the farmhouse.
“Not again you little idiots.”
Wrenching open the door, Dakota ran around the deck. This was the last time the little buggers were going to bother him. A crowd of goblins stood a dozen yards from the house, similar to last time, screeching and waving various weapons at him. The moonlight was strong tonight, giving Dakota a clear view of the creatures. They were kind of pathetic, barely reaching three feet tall, and wearing literal rags for clothes.
“BUGGER OFF.”
His bellow was met by more screeches, although none of the crowd looked too keen to come within striking range of his hoe. He didn’t want to fight the goblins again. Didn’t they realize if they left him alone no one had to get hurt?
A small scuffle was Dakota’s only warning before pain lanced up his side. Gasping, he managed to lunge away, avoiding follow-up stabs. A small goblin with a glass shiv hurried after him. Dakota’s hoe smashed it flat. No more mister nice guy. If the goblins wanted to dance, he would freaking dance.
He could feel hot liquid pouring down his back as he advanced on the creatures which, thankfully, was dulled by the adrenaline pumping through him. He bellowed again, before charging into the crowd.
The creatures fled before he could land a single solid blow.
“Oh no you don’t.”
Dakota sprinted after them, easily closing the distance. He swung his hoe low, leaning into it as it slammed through the creatures legs sending them crashing to the ground.
His hoe came down on a fallen creature’s head, crunching it into the earth.
“Just like gardening.”
He managed to finish off another two goblins before the rest were up and running. Unlike last time, when they split in different directions, the crowd stayed together. Dakota began closing the distance again but as he prepared another leg-sweeping strike, he felt his feet catch in something.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
That something suddenly cinched together, sending him sprawling. Dakota spat out a mouthful of dirt.
“Wha tha.”
His legs were snared together with a rope. Dakota began thrashing, trying to free his legs. The goblin crowd who had, moments before been fleeing, were now rushing back to Dakota’s prone form. He thrashed harder, panic overwhelming his mind. Just as one of his legs pulled free, a heavy net descended on him.
Dakota scrambled, trying to throw the net off of him as he clambered to his feet. The snare, still around one leg, pulled tight again, throwing him into a tangled heap on the ground. He flailed for a few more seconds before realizing the goblins weren’t attacking.
They formed a circle around him, red eyes boring into him. None of them screeched or rustled and once Dakota stilled, an eerie silence fell.
“Whwhwhat do you want with me?”
Dakota didn’t know whether they could understand him or not but something in those red eyes belied a keen intelligence.
“This is our feast, flesh creature… which you are now part of.”
The voice was low and raspy, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.
Two goblins parted as a much larger form rose from the high grass. It was a goblin, sort of. It had the same grey, crusty skin as the smaller variety but this creature stood at least six and a half feet tall with a huge gut and rounded shoulders.
It opened its mouth to reveal yellowed teeth with large incisors.
“Stupid flesh bag thought it could steal from us.”
It roared with laughter, sending the other creatures into a frenzy as Dakota stumbled to his feet.
He noticed the rope leading from his snared leg trailed into the grass where the big goblin had come from.
“I didn’t mean to steal anything. I don’t even kn…kn…know where I am.”
The big goblin stepped over Dakota’s hoe, looming above him.
“Flesh bag says it didn’t mean to steal, then why’s it on MY ISLAND.”
This last part it bellowed into Dakota’s face, spittle flying. Turning its back on Dakota, the big goblin jabbered something in the strange screeching language. The other creatures, already riled up, went crazy, jumping over themselves.
The big goblin turned its head back, leering.
“The children must eat… but don’t worry, you’ll stay alive for a long while yet.”
Dakota figured now would be the time to escape. He stomped on the end of his hoe, slamming the handle up, in between the big goblin's legs. It dropped to its knees, letting out a whimpering moan before Dakota’s right hook took it across the cheek. Something cracked, Dakota wasn’t sure what but judging by the pain shooting up his arm, Dakota was leaning towards his hand.
Using the momentum of the punch, Dakota swung past the big goblin, flinging the net off of himself and onto it. Snagging his hoe, Dakota turned towards the crowd.
The goblins had frozen, some still mid-dance, mouths agape.
“I’ll see myself out then.”
Dakota rushed towards the barn. Just as he thought he might get away, a familiar tug on his leg pulled him off balance. Glancing behind him, Dakota saw the big goblin, apparently semi-recovered, hauling on the end of the rope attached to his leg.
“Flesh bag will pay, flesh bag will BURN.”
The big goblin looked as if it were entering a berserker rage, eyes wide open and wild. Another pull sent Dakota to the ground. Reaching for his knife, Dakota frantically sawed the cord. The smaller goblins had gotten over their shock and were now dashing toward him, savage cries ripping from their mouths.
The creatures were nearly on him when the rope finally snapped. Dakota surged to his feet, swinging his hoe in a warding move. He needed to get to the barn.
Feinting forward, Dakota pretended to charge them like in the previous fights. The crowd flinched back, giving Dakota enough time to turn tail and sprint.
He made it to the barn, slamming the door on the first goblin through after him. He bashed a couple more before retreating to the top of the stairs. The goblins gathered at the bottom, none wanting to be the first.
A roar from outside sent the creatures scurrying back through the door. Were they going to leave like last time? Dakota prayed it was so, his right hand wasn’t working properly and the wound in his back was starting to seriously throb. Minutes passed without a sound.