Chapter 9 – Death Descending

SHIT!

Why me?

Every single time… Can’t catch a freaking break.

Despair fills me as the worst case scenario just happened. That damn harpy! I didn’t expect them to arrive this quickly. Shit. I shouldn’t have chosen to start my camp near the center of the map. The travel distances are far shorter than they would be deeper into the forest.

Damnit! Anger fills me as I grit my teeth. I’m angry at myself. How could I make such an idiotic mistake? I start pacing around while cursing furiously. I fucked up. I should have foreseen this possibility. I should have done more research… I should have---

“Snap out of it will you?” Gut shouts at me.

*Thump*

“Oww! FUCK! You fucking asshole!” I yell as my vision once again blurs. “I’ll fucking beat your fucking green ass to hell! Come here you little-”

*Thump*

I topple over backwards as the pain increases. My head is throbbing while my body slumps into the thick grass. With my hands clutching the top of my head, I mutter another select few curses under my breath.

My visions clears and I look up at the robed little creature hovering his makeshift club menacingly over my head. His eyes pierce mine as he stares me down. I silently stare back, controlling my breathing and calm my mind.

Fuck. What am I doing?

I have been on an emotional rollercoaster for a week already, and I can’t seem to stop myself from losing it.

…

I let out a long mental sigh as I close my eyes.

My mind is all chaos. There are far too many emotions swirling around in my head. I don’t think I’m angry. Not really. There is another feeling trumping it by far. Lingering in my chest. I feel sad. Hopeless. Worthless.

I got a lot of words for it, but none of them offer a sufficient explanation.

I don’t understand this.Why am I making so many basic mistakes? I have never done this before before. I’m the freaking Solo-Butcher! I am known for making complex tactics that can overcome any obstacle. Why then… Why is this so hard for me? I have made several mistakes already. And a bunch of near-fuckups. Why can’t my mind work normally?

I close my eyes as tons of possible reasons rush through my mind.

My failure at properly analyzing all the possible race options... My neglect in not prioritizing information above making quick decisions... Underestimating my opponents...

It feels as if I have twenty different voices screaming at me inside my head. Every single one of them trying to shout above the others. Each one yelling about a different mistake.

My mind starts drifting around, thinking about both everything and nothing. It’s oddly calming. A few images flash across my mind. They’re memories, both distant and recent. The images slowly turn into faces.

I see my teachers, old friends, neighbours, my bullies and a lot more. The faces of every person I see every day of every week stare back at me. Their patronizing gazes looking down on me. Reminding me of my failures. My failure at every single aspect of life. Failing at school. Failing at sports. Failing at making friends. Failing at making ends meet… Failing at gaming…

The tightness in my chest starts sinking into my stomach. Leaving nothing but hollowness. My depression threatens to overwhelm me.

...

I don’t want to fail.

I don’t want to lose at the one thing I do well in my life.

Gaming is all I have…

The hollowness in my stomach starts to shrink, slowly being replaced by resolve. It doesn’t disappear completely. No five minute epiphany is going to heal those wounds. The condescending faces in my mind dissipates one after the other. All but five of them. The faces of my bullies are all that’s left. Their faces smirking down at me. I don’t feel sad anymore… No. Quite the opposite in fact.

They are the reason I ended up here. I won’t forget. I will never forget. I’m going to have my revenge. They won’t beat me. Not here. Not in a game.

Just you wait Richard…

My eyes open and my face stiffens. I have wasted enough time. Harvalon will be here soon.

“Thank you Gut. I needed that.”

A single growl is all I’m getting in response. No words are needed.

Still lying on my back, I start asking Gut questions. I need to figure out what he is capable off. Without delay, Gut explains what he can do.

Gut tells me of the spells he can use in detail. And when I say detail, I mean REALLY detailed. Listing all his spells, he tells me what each one does individually. Mana cost, cast range, cast time, area of effect, speed of projectiles and lots and lots of other specifics. I just sit quietly and soak it all in.

My mental state isn’t all there, so most of the details go straight into one ear and out the other. I do however, manage to pick up the essentials.

Fireball

Fire Magic. Tier 1.

A ball of fire causing moderate fire damage.

Flamethrower

Fire Magic. Tier 2.

A cone of fire erupts from the caster, causing massive damage.

Fire Blast

Fire Magic. Tier 3.

Blasts an area in fire, causing moderate area of effect damage.

Coagulate

Blood Magic. Tier 1

Reduces stats of target by half.

Bloodrush

Blood Magic. Tier 2.

Increases speed of nearby friendlies by 20%.

This is some collection! Gut seems to have five different spells which do various things. There are two types of magic, fire and blood. I vaguely remember from the racial traits that goblins can only learn these two types of magic. Gut is especially proficient at fire magic, which must be why the only third tiered magic he has is a fire spell.

Neat.

I can work with this. These spells… got potential.

I dust off my brain and kickstart the rusted cogs. The resemblance of a plan starts to form in my mind.

Gut is hovering above me. He still has a firm double grip on his staff. His ever vigilant stare burning a hole in my head. I look up at him and start grinning. His scowl turns uncertain. He knows something is up.

“So Gut…” My teeth start showing. “How would you like to save the day?”

Not waiting for Gut to lose his dumbfounded expression, I spring to my feet and start running towards the sparring area. My fighters are all still smacking each other around, cuts and bruises littering their bodies. They’re not looking very healthy, and they’re clearly not affected by the alarm that went off a few minutes ago at all.

...

I should probably do something about that at some point?

Tssk. Later.

“All of you! Line up!” I yell excitedly, expecting my loyal subjects to stand at a neat attention with their chests puffed out and their eyes brimming with resolve.

...

Too bad this bunch of morons just stand around and look at me as if I’m the idiot.

I squint my eyes and my brows furrow. Why won’t this stupid game give me just one thing that works as intended? I’m not asking for much here. Just a tiny bit of intelligence. Hell, I would settle for an attention span that surpass a goldfish. But no… I’m stuck with being the lead idiot of a bunch of kindergarteners who only care about eating, pooping and hitting each other with sticks.

Sigh. I let my face slide into the palm of my hand.

“...Chief?” One of my fighters asks me carefully. Right. I wasn’t supposed to sulk anymore. This ain’t gonna be easy. They are really testing my patience.

“Nevermind” I mumble, straightening my back. I have a plan to put in motion. These sorry saps of life don’t need to be smart to play their part.

“You!” I point at the goblin wielding the rusty cutlass. His green ears twitch at the notion of suddenly being singled out.

“And you!” I point to the goblin wielding the shield and a club. The poor goblin looks terrified for some reason. I motion for them to approach.

The two approach me at a slow pace. Their arms are slouched at their sides and their ears are drooping. The base aggression they were radiating just moments ago has all but vanished. They act submissive towards me. It feels as if their behaviour is designed to imitate pack-based predators. A bit like wolves. Feral creatures that work together with a simple hierarchy. And guess who’s the alpha? Hell yeah you know who!

“Give me that.” I grab the shield without really waiting for the goblin to react. I feel a little resistance as the goblin releases his grip. I suppose he already grew attached to his new toy. No matter. I don’t have time for this.

I proceed to hand over the shield to the goblin wielding the rusty cutlass. The goblin’s eyes widen in surprise. This is soon replaced by a satisfied grin as he attaches the shield to his free hand and starts waving it around. A few of the other fighters are giving him envious stares. The goblin who lost the shield looks downright depressed. I almost feel like patting him on the back out of sympathy.

I might give him a present later. If we survive.

“Thank you chief!” The cutlass goblin says while bowing respectfully. Right. “No need to thank me. I’m not done.”

I start unequipping my chest and leg armor, as well as my boots. I hand them all over to the cutlass goblin. The look on his face is undescribable. His large eyes are pot-lid round and I can see tears starting to form. His mouth hangs open, revealing his entire set of jagged teeth.

“What are you doing!?” Gut shouts behind me. He takes a few steps forward, further increasing his volume. “Have you lost your mind? Take those back! The disgrace...” I cut him off by raising my hand.

“Quiet! It’s part of the plan. I’ll explain after.” My command doesn’t entirely silence Gut, but he does reduce his outbreak to a low growling.

The cutlass goblin wastes no time putting my armor on. The chainmail jingles softly as it slaps against the hardened leather armor. The goblin is half a head smaller than me, but the armor appears to fit like a glove. Soon after finishing, he starts to strike poses in front of the other goblins, showing off his newfound might. He seems to relish at the fact that he is favored by the chieftain by receiving all these magnificent gifts.

...

Aww… the sucker doesn’t realise he is the bait.

----------

The Blair Witch flock is resting at a small hill in the middle of a forest. The female harpies are all loitering around, resting to replenish their stamina. They have to rest for about fifteen minutes after every hour of flight, else they lose strength and will be unable to bear their own weight. This is one of the detrimental effects of having the powerful ability of flight.

The flock has been flying throughout the night already, unwilling to allow their enemies a moment of respite before their onslaught. They may suffer a penalty due to an exhausted debuff, but it shouldn’t matter too much. Scouts have been sent ahead to to try and locate the enemy’s base. Although the harpies are efficient, they don’t worry about much. They are strong. Real strong. They know almost as a certainty that they will have the numerical advantage. Anything else is beyond ludicrous. Even though they are evenly matched, they would still have the edge. Now it’s only a matter of time.

Their leader, Harvalon, rests atop the tallest tree, leaning against the trunk. She is bursting with confidence, and why shouldn’t she? Things are going well for her so far. She gained two whole levels after her rush tactic against the orc last night. Her face is twisting into a smile. Her tactic was a good one.

Harvalon is what one would call a veteran gamer. Her forty years as a gamer has let her experience the best moments of gaming history. Her fondest memories are from the golden age of strategy games in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. Most people don’t remember this era. This was a long time ago, way before the gaming industry buried the strategy genre in favor of arcade shooters, MMORPGs and arena games. The industry focused way too much on expanding its market to include everyone, and the simplicity of the games they made didn’t quite mesh well with the strategy genre which required a certain level of complexity.

Being a neglected genre, the main body of gamers these days don’t know the beauty of the strategies created by their predecessors. This is what allows her to use the time proven strategy of a Zerg Rush to completely take her opponent unawares.

Certainly, there are many other complex strategies she could have used, but the Zerg Rush is just so simple and efficient, it would have been a shame not to exploit it to its full potential.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The smile on her face is not just about how well the tactic is working, but also about her luck in realising the opportunity of using it.

During the pregame selections, she spent a fair amount of time browsing through the list of playable races. She was internally debating about which race could give her the edge she would need to win. After all, this is her chance to honor the classic strategy games. She won’t fail.

It wasn’t until the end of the list she noticed the harpy race. Harpies are considered a common but weak fantasy race, often featured in fantasy role playing games. It is also a race that are only known to have one defining feature. Among the sentient species, they have the rare ability of flight!

Being able to have a race capable of flight didn’t even register in her mind as possible until she saw them. It didn’t take more than a split second from the moment she saw the harpies before she thought of combining it with the Zerg Rush tactic. The main strength of the Zerg Rush is speed. Flying most certainly qualify for this.

Yeah. She feels pretty darn lucky!

It’s a pity she spent so much time selecting a race however. It caused her to make a few mistakes later on. She set her character up to be an assassin. This felt smart at first, but she should have realised she shouldn’t rush into danger. This is her minions’ job after all. If she had spent some more time at it, she would have chosen to be a mage. That would at least have made her capable of attacking or supporting from a safe distance.

Rookie mistake...

The other mistake she made was not taking into consideration her racial weakness. Harpies don’t really have proper hands, so this makes them terrible at tasks which require craftsmanship. The negative attributes she received were so high, she really just wanted to start crying.

Foolish mistake yet again.

Regardless. Her choice of race made an aggressive playstyle a necessity. She does have a plan on how to remedy the situation though. She only needs to –

*SWOSH*

The flapping sound of a harpy’s wings descending drags her out of her deep thoughts. It signals the arrival of her trusty advisor, bringing news from her scouts. Her advisor lands on a nearby branch and turns her head towards Harvalon.

“Mistress. The scouts have found our enemy!” She shrieks in a high pitch tone. Harvalon raises her tired eyes and meets her advisor’s stare.

“Report.”

“We have found a small settlement by the mountain to our immediate west, only half an hour away. The enemy appears to be goblins, about thirty strong. Their fighting capacity is roughly one third of the population. Poor quality equipment. Their leader appears to be a goblin with leather armor. Weapons unknown. The advisor is some sort of spellcaster. Type unknown. Our scout was spotted, so the enemy is aware of our presence.” The advisor finishes her report.

Harvalon nods slowly and lets out a deep breath. Thanks Cerille.” She finally mutters. A grin forms on her lips.

These are splendid news!.

This is the best case scenario. A first tier race with only light armor. This should be easy, but she has to move fast. She can’t allow him to prepare any further, or god forbid, run off and hide. Hunting him down would waste too much of her time.

She unfolds her wings and quickly takes flight. Hovering above her troops, she lets out a shrilling cry. Her war cry is echoed by nearly thirty lesser voices. Her chest swells with satisfaction.

The hunt is on.

The flock takes wing and soars into the sky in unison. Thirty lightly dressed harpies are flying in a disorderly fashion. A big clump of feathers, talons and sharp teeth is all that is visible from a distance.

Above them all, Harvalon and Cerissa are floating along, discussing the layout of the land and possible threats the goblins might procure.

The occasional shriek from a harpy can be heard once in awhile, but most of the half hour trip progresses in silence. A knot ties in Harvalon’s stomach as she mentally prepares herself for the coming battle.

Even though she holds the clear advantage, her plan isn’t foolproof. There are ways to counter her rushing tactic, but she just can’t see a way for her to lose this early. The enemy seems to be just as poorly equipped as her own fighters, and she knows poor equipment also limits the possibility for strategies. There is just no feasible way at this stage of the game for the enemy to fight her off. The only deciding factor is the numerical advantage. And Harvalon has her enemy beat on that note almost three to one.

She just can’t lose.

Still, she gets this gnawing feeling in her gut. What if…

No. She can’t allow herself to be distracted. She just has to push through and follow the plan. Over thinking things can ruin the best laid plans, and decisive actions are just as important as good strategic planning.

She is brought out of her deep thoughts at the sight of an approaching harpy. This is one of her vanguard units, arriving to report that the enemy is within sight.

Harvalon would have preferred to do another night blitz attack, but her forward scout has already been spotted. A pity… It goes to show her enemy has some resemblance of a strategic mind. But just how dangerous can he be with the odds stacked against him?

She halts her approach and waits for her fighters to form a loose circle around her. Since her element of surprise has all but vanished, she needs to do a proper analysis of the situation before she acts. There is no need to do anything unnecessary, is there?

She beckons for two of her fighters to follow as she flies high above to get a good look at the hostile encampment.

There isn’t much to look at. A half built shed is being erected next to a small body of water which is hard to spot through the gaps between the large trees in the area. She can spot their pile of resources shortly behind with three goblins spread around it.

There is no trace of most of the goblins, but she suspect the enemy is hiding all his crafter units out of sight, as to not have any unnecessary losses. Not bad thinking. Her enemy is keeping a cool head and thinks ahead. Not going to help him much though.

Her eyes move over towards the main cluster of the enemy’s units. About twenty meters beside the pile of resources, she can spot the enemy chieftain. He is surrounded by the rest of his goblin fighters in a loose, almost perfect circle. His advisor mage lingers on the outside of the circle, on the opposite side of where her forces are gathered.

She takes a moment to analyze the situation.

There seems to be a lot of thought put into this tactic. Her enemy has a few units covering his strategic objective, which is his pile of resources. A smart move, although it spreads his forces thin. It’s not too bad though, since his main force is close by and able to react quickly depending on the situation. His main forces are spread out in a protective circle around the leader. Not bad thinking at all. This way they are in a position to help their leader, while also spreading out in case of concentrated ranged fire like spells.

There are some peculiarities to his choice of strategy though. Why has he placed his forces in the open like that? It would be safer to fight an aerial force among dense vegetation where mobility would become an issue. Standing in the open like this is just… dumb. What is he thinking about? Does he need visibility perhaps? Maybe he is hoping for his spellcaster to be able to pick the enemy leader off before she can get to him?

…

She doesn’t like this. Not one bit.

On the side of caution, she throws out an inspect on the enemy commander.

Goblin ???

Equipment Quality: Good, Leather

???

Hmm no doubt about it. That must be the leader. A pity she is too far away to do a proper inspect. The information on the mage didn’t reveal anything shocking either. Perhaps the player is really the mage?

…

No. Not possible. Her scout did observe the other goblins taking orders from a goblin in leather armor. She doesn’t see anyone else down there who match that description.

She curses softly.

There is nothing more to do. She has too little information to make a good decision. She still has an advantage, so she should just stick to her strengths. The enemy certainly has a plan in all this, but little do they know; Harvalon got a trick of her own up her feathery sleeve.

She takes a deep breath before she releases another high pitched shriek. A call to attack. From the distance, the massive clump of her army rises from the treeline and heads towards the enemy forces.

Her units picks up the pace and moves as one. The only way she can describe the sight would be to call it a blob of death. The massive group of harpies close the distance to the enemy and soon dives as a unit. Heading straight for the enemy commander.

Harvalon holds her breath. A trickle of sweat rolls down her forehead.

Something feels off.

Her eyes lock onto the goblins below. They don’t look frightened. She can see how their muscles tense, their weapons are being raised and their eyes lock onto the oncoming horde. She can see how the enemy leader raises his shield above his head, preparing to face the enemy charge head on.

Her flock descends rapidly. It’s almost a free dive. They only have one job to do, and that is to tear the enemy commander to shreds. They only need a few seconds to close the distance. only thirty meters to go… twenty… fifteen… ten…

With only five meters to go, the enemy spellcaster releases a spell. There is hardly enough time for her to register that something even happened before she sees a massive explosion occur at the center of her units. The blazing fire rapidly expands outwards, encircling her harpies. The sea of fire is bright. It’s everywhere! It’s too late for the rest of the harpies to avoid it. They just dove too fast. The battlefield is filled by the panicked screams of her fighters. Her vision obscured by all the smoke.

“What… what happened!?”

----------

“Holy shit!” I yell. “It actually worked!”

My eyes water from the bright explosion. The screams of my foes are ringing in my ears, and a smell of burnt flesh drifts towards me.

Gut timed his attack perfectly! Using his third tier [Fire Blast] at the correct moment when all his enemies were grouped up showed far better results than he dared hope. Everything is on fire damnit!

The battlefield turned into utter chaos. Harpies are littering the ground, most suffering from severe burns while some just died.

The few harpies who managed to avoid the fire are hovering above the rest. Paralyzed by the screams of their comrades. My cutlass wielding goblin at the center of the circle got knocked over by the weight of about a dozen harpies ramming into him. He got a few burn marks on his arms and legs, as well as some bruises from the kinetic force of the enemy’s charge. His shield managed to save him from the worst of the impact however.

“ATTACK!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

The command is an unnecessary one, but I just can’t help myself as I’m filled by a rush of adrenaline.

My goblin fighters are already on their feet, hacking, stabbing and bashing every single of the wounded harpies littering the ground. I can see how my cutlass wielding goblin pushes a dead harpy off himself and starts hacking away at the exposed throats of any harpy within reach.

It’s a bloodbath!

Gut is standing safely in the back, shooting several [Fireball]s at the harpies still airborne. The harpies are still shell shocked by the earlier explosion and they don’t seem to know what to do. Without having the advantage of speed or flight, the harpies are at a clear disadvantage.

Some try to claw at my goblins, while some try to bite. They are all badly hurt and in a scuffle like this, my weapon wielding goblins fight like giants! This isn’t a battle really. It’s a brawl! And brawling is a goblin’s way of life!

Trying not to revel too much at the sight of the massacre going on, I decide it’s time for me to enter the fray.

I lift the basket of grass concealing me amidst the pile of resources and leap out.

Crossbow in hand, I drop to my knee and start firing as fast as I can. I aim for the harpies still in the air and my heart skips a beat every time my bolts connect with those feathery bastards. I grin as I watch them fall from the sky, only to be hacked to death by a goblin waiting below.

I don’t know how many have fallen, but it’s a lot. The bloodlust overwhelms me as I keep releasing bolt after bolt. I think I shot half a dozen times before something slams into my back.

The world turns upside down as I tumble to the ground. A sharp pain stings my right shoulder. I start flailing my arms around wildly, trying to defend myself from whatever the hell that was. A weight presses me down. It hurts.

I slowly regain my bearings and notice a dirty green creature lodged on top of me.

A goblin?

What the fuck?

“Get the fuck off me!” I start punching the little bastard. “Oww! Chief, please don’t!” He cries in agony.

A wild flapping sounds from above me. I tilt my head and look up at a couple of metal spikes, racing for my face. I release a small yelp and instinctively pull the goblin laying on top of me up to cover my face. A nasty squishy sound fills my ears as the metal spikes pierce the goblin. The poor goblin whimpers before his body goes limp.

I lie on the ground, helpless as the harpy with steel spike talons do her utmost to pierce through the goblin. My two other goblin bodyguards spring to action and try to stab her with their spears. This buys me a moment of respite as the deadly harpy turns to fend them off.

Gut’s screams can be heard from the distance and I turn my head. From the corner of my eye I can see him sprint towards me, a blue light shining brightly from his hand as he uses his mana stone. I push the dead goblin off me and start crawling back over to the pile of resources. I look around for my crossbow but it’s nowhere to be seen.

The sound of metal hitting metal is all I register from the battle between my goblin bodyguards and the metal spiked harpy. I feel helpless. My arms are paralyzed and my legs are shaking. A small trickle of blood runs down my shoulder from where the harpy’s surprise attack hit me. The gash is deep. The game’s pain filter is all that keeps me from crying my eyes out.

My peaceful moment soon ends as the metal spiked harpy manages to get a good hit on one of the spear wielding goblins. He falls over screaming, a large gash across his chest. The other goblin charges in but is knocked aside by the harpy’s wing. The harpy turns to face me. Spit dripping from her razor sharp teeth. Murder in her eyes.

Fear strikes my very soul as I try to push myself further into safety. My hands fumble at my waist and I manage to get a hold of my bronze dagger. I start swinging it wildly in front of me as the harpy approaches.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU ASSHOLE!” I scream from the top of my lungs.

I don’t want to die here.

No way I’m fucking dying here.

My grip on the dagger tightens and I stop squirming between the two baskets of grass I’m hiding amongst. I extend my arm and point it towards the harpy.

“You want a piece of this fuckface!?” I yell. Her eyes are wild with anger. My taunt is working.

The harpy lunges. I clench my teeth and steady my arm.

The harpy’s talons and my dagger are inches apart before a bright flame fills my vision. The harpy screams in horror as the feathers on her back are lit ablaze. The impact throws her off balance, and the talons miss my face. I swing my dagger in an arc, trying to graze her. My heart skips a beat as I feel the dagger finding purchase. I cut deep into her left wing.

Screaming, the harpy starts rolling out of reach. I try to get to my feet before a green and brown blur speeds past me.

The harpy’s screams stop abruptly as a rusty iron cutlass pierces her throat. I can see my battered goblin champion sitting on top of the harpy, pressing the tip of his cutlass deeper into the harpy’s throat with both hands. The last embers of her life is slowly ebbing away.

“CERILLE! NOOOO!” A shriek fills the air from high above us. I lift my head and lock onto another harpy with steel enhanced talons.

The harpy looks furious. Her eyes wild with rage and a thick stream of saliva pours down her chin. She stares daggers at me, and I can see how she struggles to keep herself from diving in after me, ripping my throat out.

I don’t dare taking my eyes off her. The memory of the last assassination attempt still fresh in my mind. A familiar thumping sound appears behind me.

“Are you alright?” My advisor asks me, worry in his voice.

“Yeah…” I mutter. My breath is heavy. My fists clench and my muscles tense, causing the blood from my shoulder to drain faster. “Can you do anything about that bitch?” I point towards the harpy with a jerk of my head.

Gut eyes the harpy with contempt. His brows furrow and his eyes slit as he seems to be making up his mind.

Without responding, he raises his hand towards the harpy, singling her out. I watch as a thin red mist gathers around his hand.

His gaze intensifies while the mist thickens. The whole sequence doesn’t take more than a second and a half, but it feels longer. i am mesmerized by the sight. Gut opens his mouth and utters a single word.

[Coagulate].

The thick red mist instantaneously shoots up towards the harpy. Her eyes widen in shock at the sudden incoming projectile. Her wings flap harder, but it’s already far too late for her to dodge.

The red mist quickly envelops her and sticks to her body. Some of the mist makes it into her mouth as panic strikes her. She starts flapping her wings harder but to no avail. She loses strength too fast.

She tries to fight it, but she is slowly losing altitude. Her previous anger soon turns into fear as she sense the ground approaching rapidly.

“NO! STOP!... *hnng*... RELEASE ME!” Her voice is strained by the effects of the blood magic.

There is movement all around me.

I manage to pull my eyes away from the slowly descending harpy to look at the fighters of my tribe gathering around me. There is no more sound of battle behind me, and a good number of my tribesmen are still standing, weapon in hand.

Looking over their small green bodies, I notice they didn’t come unscathed through the battle. Most of them have various cuts and bruises all over. One of my goblin bodyguards still has a nasty gash across his torso, but he is still standing. Albeit a little unsteadily.

The worst of the lot is the cutlass wielding goblin. His armor… my armor… is in tatters. The chainmail is all but ripped apart, and bits of leather are scraped off. It’s soaked in blood and littered with scorch marks. The goblin underneath it fares no better. His arms and legs got several first and second degree burns. His face is bloodied and swollen, his nose appears to be broken. He is panting heavily, indicating he must have broken a few ribs.

I wonder how he is still standing?

Damn. What a beast!

Counting my goblins, it seems like the battle went better than I dared hope. Ten fighters are left standing. Damn… How did that happen?

The goblins all raise their arms and shout taunts at the harpy still struggling above us. She only has a few meters left until she touches ground.

My goblins all move out, encircling the spot where she lands.

The moment she is within reach, my goblins lunge. Her screams fade as the bloodthirsty jeers and the sound of metal piercing flesh shuts her out.

I can’t see her body as a horde of green limbs block my view. A few feathers and drops of blood flies in the air as weapons move with deadly efficiency.

I can see an iron cutlass being raised high before it chops down.

Her screams are no more.