“Drop your weapon,” Rick said. His hands twitched.

“Drop your weapon,” Rick repeated. “We can talk with these gobs.”

“What—? But this Thunder Sword is important to me!”

“I’m sure,” said Rick. “But how would you feel if someone talked peace with a blade at your throat? Don’t think you’d believe them, would you?”

Each goblin stood about four feet tall in a swarm hundreds of feet deep. Some had wood spears, some oak-carved clubs, and a sparse few battered drums as signals to the rest. Rick eyed the wheeled cages a few gobs in the back had brought with them.

“I’ll be straight with you Pern—the North Tribe’s a group we can negotiate with. That’s all this is about.”

“Fine.” Pern gave over her sword, and then Rick carried on.

“Goblin citizens! We come in peace. We wish to negotiate a compromise between you and the Kitsune Clan.”

There were mostly “raas”, “gras”, and “rakshikshikshikshiks” as replies, but there was some basic Andrestian thrown in as well. Words like “human”, “danger”, “kill”, and the drumbeat grew louder. A sole gob giant lurked in the back, towering above the others.

Then Rick sensed a strong magic, like a crackling in the air. The goblin wave parted, and a second “tall” goblin approached. This “tall goblin” was about the size of a short human; and he hobbled around with a gnarled birch staff.

He wore a necklace of teeth, a raven feather diadem and a wolf-fur cloak. The teeth that lined his jewelry were better maintained than the crooked ones in the goblin’s mouth.

“Meaty girl,” said the Goblin Sage. “Supersize man. Sweet and docile like little lost lambs?”

“Yes. Like… doves. Or… baby slimes. We come in peace.”

“Oh! Is miracle from Goddess! Do not puncture. Do not ruin. Gratefulness is a must.”

The goblins began wailing in rounds. They were like a chorus of toddlers who had not yet learned to sing; they shrieked and quivered and shook. Just when Rick thought they were finished, a lone gob would raise his voice and the process would start again.

“Human and human most welcome. Must join feast,” The Sage nodded, and seemed very pleased. The goblins rolled away their cages, and gestured at Rick and Pern to follow them.

“They wish to get to know us before having talks,” Rick said. “North Goblins are known for having a deep, rich, society.”

“What could we possibly talk about?” Pern murmured back. “Weather good. Work okay. Leave land please or stab?”

“Sh! Not so loud; be like a sheep.”

“Bah!” Pern replied.

The goblins guided them through the underground. Normally the Crystal Caves had many dangerous inhabitants, but Rick and Pern had conveniently rendered most of them extinct.

They soon reached an enormous hollowed-out chamber with varying levels of rock, with buildings and trees that dotted each slope. The chamber’s ceiling rose so high that it seemed a sky —and in fact, it was the sky, a gaping hole ringed by blue-gray rock.

A modest road served as the point of entry, and it was lined with kitsune huts thatched with bamboo from the mountainside. The foxgirls arranged the stalks in patterned panels that were pretty in their simplicity.

“At least these gobs have an eye for aesthetics when it comes to the places they conquer,” Pern murmured. “But I find their clothing strange: their minions get speckled leather, their Sage gets wolf fur, and that’s about all. You’d think that they’d plunder some kitsune silk.”

“Andrestia’s goblins and the kitsune are both monogender, so there were no clothes for them to take. But sometimes goblins make garments and trade them to human women at outposts. At least, so I’ve heard…”

(((thrum)))

Rick had a splitting headache. Ever since he had touched Pern’s warm mythril plate, a wave of déjà vu had washed over him, and remembering details about the goblins made it worse. It was as if a tall gatekeeper guarded his memories and parried his recollections away.

“Gob clothing isn't very fashionable, but when it comes to freedom of movement and agility, it’s unparalleled.” Pern blabbed on. “I’d try some if I had the chance.”

Pern’s figure replaced the Gatekeeper’s silhouette, and his headache cleared.

“How about this Rick? We’ll loot some clothes after negotiations fail.”

“They won’t fail though?”

“If you have some secret plan to make this work, you should change its step one to “Share it with Pern”.”

The buildings in this area were clustered wall to wall, and squat stone lamps sprouted around the wider road. These sculpted foxes held glowing crystals in their jaws, and their colors changed from street to street — a makeshift navigation system that this sprawling town desperately needed. The ‘Kitsune Village’ was really more of a city, just one built out of rustic homes.

The goblins led them inside one. It had two rooms: one with a bed, one with a table, and both with shelves, a window and a few artful screens. The door slammed and clicked shut.

“Isn’t this a little suspicious? Rick?”

Some gob rags popped through a slot for Rick; then a speckled leather cloth and band.

(((thrum)))

“Like I said, the North Goblins are well-known for their hospitality,” Rick said. “They’ve provided us with ceremonial clothes.”

“I wasn’t expecting a skirt.” Pern clutched her lower half. “And are you sure this isn’t just a way for them to take our armor away?”

The goblins kindly escorted them up a winding cavern staircase. Pern ascended first, and Rick followed behind her. They could hear drums and music long before they reached the top, and a constant stream of Goblin pidgin too.

“That’s the festival!” Rick said, excited. If a King Slime’s spawning happened once every hundred years, a Gob Festival where outsiders were invited took place once every millenia. No travelers had experienced one and committed it to ink.

A final goblin examined their inventory.

“Grak.”

He took away their wolfmeat and there was time to kill while it stewed. Greedy cauldrons simmered at the plateau's far end; obsidian black and large enough to swallow a man. A goblin riffed his flute, and the music became large enough to get lost in too:

“Come on Pern!” Rick took her by the hand and dragged her near the band.

“I know ballroom dancing… but… dancing right now is a little…”

“Don’t worry. There’s just goblins here.” Rick took her hands. Rather than aching, his head was now in the clouds. “See? You’re a better dancer than I am!”

“I’m the one with Quick Step B, after all. It’s just that… I’m kind of freer than usual… and these clothes are a little free even for me… ah!”

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Rick spun her around, and Pern managed to hold down her skirt. She laughed.

“Where’d you learn that, Rick…? You still haven’t told me that much about you.”

He spun her around again, and they danced for a while together.

“Why’d you learn so much about monsters?”

“Why are you so sure these goblins aren’t going to hurt us?”

“Why’d you try so hard to push me away from the rocks?”

“Why worry so much!” Rick said, and Pern spun him in revenge. “I used to worry a lot, but life is so much better when you forget about what pains you.”

Pern quick-stepped him to the plateaus’ edge. They could see the little boxes of the Kitsune Village below and the height made their hearts beat quick.

“Goals, ambitions, responsibilities, I can’t forget what’s important to me. But try to show me that Rick—that calm world that I’ve always missed out.”

Time flowed as fast and slow as the music. They danced dance and danced. They danced and danced and danced some more; they took a break to eat fresh-cooked wolfmeat “appetizers”; they attempted to talk with a befuddled gob chef by the large vacant pots. Then they danced once more, and they danced right into the open cages, which the goblins promptly slammed shut.

“My missing world... where we’re missing people!” Pern said. “I was right! I was right! Attacking the goblins was the better option.”

“No, no, no. They’re just giving us a view.” Rick said.

“If anything, I’m the one giving them a view. ” The goblins cranked the cages into the air and Pern let her skirt hang: “But since they’re goblins, who cares?”

Thun! Thun! Thun! (((thrum)))! A warrior beat a drum in time. Two other gobs shoved giant cauldrons underneath them and poured in boiling water; a heavy steam rose up and coated Rick and Pern.

“Relax,” Rick said. “It’s the goblin’s secret ceremony.”

“Then what, may I ask, is this ceremony about?”

“Wouldn’t be a secret if I knew.”

Another goblin distributed mysterious terracotta discs to the clan. A second gave them stout three-pronged tools, and a third short blades to pair them with.

“Those are plates, forks, and knives!” Pern shouted. “Rick!”

“The North Goblins are a peaceful clan. Let them cook.”

The drumming reached a crescendo. With every beat, a squat goblin lowered the rope, and their cages soon approached the frothing water.

“Ah. Perhaps I got the North and South Goblins mixed up. Yes, that would make sense.”

“Rick!!!”

Pern flung herself against the wood, shaking her cage. She sweated and strained to pull apart the bars, but the cages were made of strong oak. Their struts converged upwards in arcs into a single point and hewed downwards to the round platform.

Rick observed all this, and made his move.

Compared to an S-Rank Warrior, he probably had the strength of wet noodles. Noodles that would soon be dampened, boiled, chopped up and served on a plate. But…

“These cages are weak. Too weak.”

Rick stomped hard, and the cage failed at its joints. The floor fell out.

The North Goblin’s history was as lengthy as the Kitsune Clan’s, though it was not nearly as storied. The kitsune passed down complex myths and legends while the goblins simply passed down Instructions for various Jobs.

Warrior to Warrior, Carpenter to Carpenter, Sage to Sage, they taught one another Jobs for over 1,000 years. A Warrior’s Instruction might be to “rasp while bashing in a sufficiently repulsive manner”’ A Sage’s Instruction might be “ra-ka-sha-ka-ra,” a special spell to summon Gardalria. A Carpenter’s Instruction could be as long as a kitsune epic but it wouldn’t be about false heroes—it’d tell a narrative about how to craft something real.

One might then wonder why the “dinner cage’s” engineering was so shoddy; especially where the cage’s bars attached to the flat ellipse flooring.

This was because the Goblin Carpenters had never thought that someone would willingly plunge themselves into the boiling cauldron underneath.

“Rick, no!”

Pern stomped on the flooring, broke it — clung onto the loose bars — dropped down and touched the cauldron’s lip with her feet, kicking it — and landed on the plateau. Just in time to save Rick; or in time to hear him speak:

“Did you already forget?” Rick splashed out.

FIRE RESISTANCE S [ACTIVE]

WATER RESISTANCE S [ACTIVE]

“Fire and Water Resistance are nice… but what will you do about pierce damage?” The feasting goblins swapped their forks and knives for pitchforks and daggers.

“I’ll just “use” my Fire and Water Resistance again,” Rick said. He projected a gravelly voice about two tones deeper than another ((((thrum)))) he tried to ignore.

“Hear me goblins. Witness how your cauldron scalds me but I am as yet unscathed. I am strong, I am powerful, I am one of your pantheon come to life. Give me the respect I deserve.”

The goblins’ ears twitched; they murmured and rasped. They stared at Pern as much as they did Rick.

“Whiteness?” “Unbathed?” “Panty of Eons?”

Rick sighed.

“I. Am. God,” Rick said, slowly, as. Pern suffered from a muffled laughter

“God!” “God!” “God?” “God?”

The goblins kept their weapons steady, but they flipped their gaze to the Sage. They were incredibly confused.

They were familiar with adventurers who used cheat-like skills to slaughter their Clansman. They were also experienced with wimps who wept and cried as the Goblins roasted them to death. Rick’s nonchalant reactions combined with his powerful defensive skills created a terrible paradox their reptilian brains could not resolve.

If he were weak, then why was he unafraid? If he were strong, why didn’t he attack? Did this mean that he was a merciful Goblin God after all?

The old Sage came to Rick.

“You are God,” the old goblin said.

“I am God,” Rick agreed.

“You are not God!” the old goblin hissed. Rick shrugged, and Pern could no longer stifle her hysterics as it all came rolling out. “Hahahaha!”

“God woman,” The old gob said, and the other gobs nodded. “Gardalria woman.”

“Wait,” Rick said. He pointed to Pern. “I disciple. She Goddess.”

“HAHAHAH huh?”

The goblins muttered and examined her. Pern drank in one-thousand pairs of eyes —and found herself enjoying it.

“I would definitely make a better God than Rick.” Pern muttered. “And I suppose… I kind of look like a Goddess too.” The furs gave her a primal, powerful, look, and Pern began to preen. The goblins seemed convinced; all gobs except the Sage.

“If you God woman disciple. Why God woman scoff?

((((thrum))))

This question—

((((((thrum)))))

—should have been trivial. And since Pern was ridiculous, this whole situation—

((((((thrum))))))

—should have been a laugh. The warhammer striking his head, the headache that had plagued him as some special disease —

(((((((thrum)))))))

—should have been something he could ignore. But he just couldn’t. He struggled to answer, tried conjuring an image of a north goblin temple in his mind, with marble statues inside to help.

His headache grew even stronger. The “noise” just grew louder! A Gatekeeper pounding a polearm on a marble steps! Solid, in dark red armor, with a menacing aurora and a voice that crackled like magma!

THRUM.

“‘The person called ‘Rick’ is not allowed,” said the Gatekeeper, and there were more voices:

“Why’d you learn so much about monsters?” / “Why’d you try so hard to push me away from the rocks?”

“‘The person called ‘Rick’ is not allowed.”

“Life is so much better when you forget about what stresses you.”

“The person called ‘Rick’ is not allowed.”

“Remember,” Rick’s voice said to Rick. “what’ll happen if you mess this up. Or you could just forget—”

Rick ran, and ran fast —and he was faster than the Gatekeeper’s swing. He was experienced enough in combat to know that as soon as he felt his foot press against the stone. But as he neared her, he was slowed, and the hammer bore down on him as if she were cheating. It would break open his skull, but what would come out from that rupture Rick couldn’t guess.

THRUM.

Pern’s voice broke through:

“I laugh because my partner acts a fool. But tis better to fail as a loquacious fool than as a partner who keeps secrets, so I forgive him… so long as he properly worships me later.”

It was a performance full of charisma and dignity; especially for a warrior who had been in a shifty skirt for the better part of the day. The goblin mobs were wide-eyed; and Rick almost was in tears. Almost. Though those tears were just as much from laughter as any other feeling.

“She God maybe,” the old goblin decided, and then gestured to his other creatures.“Put the Goddess in her temple.”

They gave them back their armor, and trussed them up again. They would be marched to the sacred grounds and find refuge there, and Rick left his Gatekeeper behind. But he was still stressed, for two reasons.

First, all ninety-nine percent of this disaster was purely intentional. He really hadn’t known whether these goblins were friendly, but he’d made detailed plans for both cases.

He’d understood from the start that the cages could be easily escaped; and that since the goblin tribe was led by a Sage, that invoking a God or Goddess would make a good bluff. He felt a pang of guilt for misleading the lady knight.

The second reason was the one percent Rick hadn’t planned for:

“Put woman God in her temple. God fight other God there,” said the Sage. “Have good battle!”

He pushed the pair into the overgrown chamber, and rolled the stone door shut. They sensed another presence.