Opening the door, Frey walked inside with a mighty leap, carelessly stomping his foot down on a deviously slippery floor. The first thing he noticed was the sudden light that flooded his vision the second he entered the room when just a second before it was completely dark. The second thing he noticed was that he was sliding, sliding atop a slippery, shining stone floor. Hunched over, he reached for anything to stabilize himself with, finding nothing but more slippery floor, and promptly fell down on his butt. The force of the fall shooting needles of pain up his spine whilst slowly gliding along the floor into an awkward slide that made him spin in a poor-mans attempt at a pirouette.
When the pirouette ended, cheeks slightly hot and hands on a stinging ass, Frey spotted something rather unusual, magical even. A beam of holy white light that streamed down like a curtain of see-through drapes, shining down on what appeared to be an altar. Atop this altar, there was a big bag floating mid-air, trapped within the confines of the holy white light.
Frey traced the light up, up and stopped when he realized that the light just, appeared from thin air, not coming from any hole in the ceiling or any object producing the light. Suddenly, there was light, then above it, there was nothing.
It didn’t take a genius to understand that this was obviously an offering of some kind. A beginner’s kit, a bag of holding, a piece of holy equipment meant solely for Frey. Not even for a millisecond did Frey consider it to be a trap, for why should he?
Up onto slightly wobbling legs, Frey walked up to it with confident steps and reached within the holy light, feeling nothing while he grabbed the bag. It fell into his hands as if it had never floated in the first place, and Frey felt a heft to it, like it contained something, or some-things.
Glee welled up within, staring at the bag as if looking at a Christmas present, wondering what wonderful weapons or trinkets contained within. Imagining armours of gold and diamonds, of scrolls with the very secrets of the world, magical chants and runes of powers. Even if he did not know what those could be. Frey practically salivated at the mystery as he struggled with unwrapping the leather rope that held the bag tight.
A bright face fell into a flat stare as he pulled out food, clothing, torches, crackers, a sleeping bag and lastly, an oddly formed bottle of water. A very normal find that gave a sour taste in the back of Frey’s throat, staring down disgustedly at the disappointing stuff. Then, feeling his heart light up a bit upon realizing how much stuff the bag contained, and that the bag looked too small for that amount of stuff.
But even that realization petered out into disappointment, finding that the bag was just a little wrinkled, and with a little push, could be made big enough to fit everything normally. On the bright side, though, Frey spotted something red within the bottom of the bag after having unwrinkled it. Grabbing the small bottle, very small bottle, Frey’s earlier excitement flared up. For staring at the small glass bottle with an “unknown” red substance, Frey could do not but think back on his gaming days, finding the similarities between a health potion and this thing in his hands far too similar to be a coincidence.
With the excitement of a child and the curiosity of a scholar, Frey quickly grabbed his spear and made a shallow cut at the top of his hand. And by shallow, he actually cut almost halfway through his hand before he realized he wasn’t meeting any resistance. The ease with which Frey could slice through his hand shocked him enough to not notice the bubbling, unfathomable pain coming to surface. Even his body seemed shocked as the blood took a second before slowly pulsating out. The pain coming to light as his hand lolled dangerously downwards, looking ready too fall off.
In a panic, Frey fumbled with the red glass bottles cork, struggling with one hand to open it as the other dangled uselessly. Blood and pain started flowing dangerously, muddling his thoughts. But managing even throughout the pain and confusion too awkwardly open the bottle and drink its very sweet content.
A sense of coldness showered his hand, feeling as if dunking it in zero-degree water. Stiffening at the sensation, blinking weirdly, then sighing deeply as the pain immediately subsided in what felt like a wash of heavenly goodness. Carefully, Frey raised his hand, sighing even deeper in wondrous relief upon seeing it fully healed and, after some flexing, working like normal.
Turning down to his spear, Frey glared angrily at it, cursing it for being too good. But quickly realized how stupid he was. And instead, grabbed it in a tender hug, whispering sweet sorries into its non-existent ear. It was Frey’s fault after all, not the spears.
After a minute of craziness, Frey shook the phantom pain away, telling himself to not worry about it, and looked around. Quickly spotting, behind the pillar of light and his own pool of blood, a door. A door opposite the door he had come from, which now that he looked at, led out to impossible darkness like it had done before he entered the room. Impossible for it had been day when he entered.
Magic, Frey told himself, ignoring the impossibility in front of him. Standing up, he walked confidently towards the new door, not to be confused by the door he had entered from. Being just slightly shaken from the earlier shock. Frey wouldn’t let pain stop him though. He was a man after all.
As the room wasn’t big, Frey came upon the door with his spear in hand, and with little fanfare, opened it with a burst of speed and power. Feeling it crash against something solid, something that groaned painfully and, adding to that, what sounded like metal clanking against metal.
Holding the knob with a step inside the foreign room, Frey blinked at the sudden light and the sight of what appeared to be a gloomy and dark cave corridor, and at the two sudden noises. The weird metal noise was an unknown, but he quickly realized that the crash must have been against someone. As the embarrassment of having opened the door into someone’s face was far more pressing than the impossibility of a cave inside a tower, Frey turned the corner of the door to look down on whomever he’d accidentally crashed into.
“Shit man, I’m-“ He started, but stopped himself mid-sentence upon seeing who, or rather what, he had crashed into. Seeing a small humanoid figure fully green, with ears pointing up, probably a hand’s length while looking extremely pointy. His mouth contained bloody canines and his face, even with its cracked and bloody nose, could not be confused with anything but a monster’s face.
Frey stared with wide eyes at the monster, for he immediately recognized it as a goblin. The most stereotypical version of a goblin he’d ever seen. And the goblin, after having shaken its head from the sudden door slamming into its face, opened its teary eyes to look up, freezing upon seeing Frey.
The two staring with wide eyes at each other. The two simultaneously noticing the other’s weapon. Goblin noticing his metal spear, Frey noticing the goblin’s stone spear.
The two then turned to look up again, blinking once, before both raced to use their respective weapons. Frey being but a second slower, getting a face full of something hard, hurting like a bitch and having to take an unsteady step to the side to balance himself.
“Haha! Pay’ack is-a bitx!” A nosely voice shouted out victoriously, sounding like someone trying to speak with a mouth full of water. Frey blinking the dots away from his vision in time to spot the goblin standing up and pulling back a shield that Frey hadn’t seen.
“Tha’s sheetn” Frey slurred out, feeling goblets of blood clogging up his own nose.
“Nah, yu invaderrs r’ chtrs” The nasely goblin slurred out with spittle of blood flying out while pulling his spear-hand backwards, a pose ready to strike. Frey quickly back-peddling at the sight with a hand still pressed against his bloody nose, bumping into something hard behind. Not enough time to check what, the goblin shot its spear forward.
If it was luck, skill, or something else, Frey would say it was pure skill, for he dodged the incoming spear. Pushing his body strenuously to the left and just barely dodging it. Feeling the stone spear’s head just barely scraping against the side of his stomach before hitting the caves wall with a clang.
The force of the goblin’s own thrust seemed to surprise even it, and upon missing, made it drop the spear in a shout of pain and a clatter of wood against stone.
The goblin looked down in surprise, then up at Frey. Frey doing the same. The goblin first to move, slowly raising both of its hands in a gesture of peace, smiling weirdly. Frey not smiling back, but staring with the eyes of a predator, quickly striking with his own spear. The goblin noticing it in time, putting its shield up in front to block the spear’s path. The shield doing nothing against the “spear that can pierce anything”, instead, simply moving past the shield as if being a hot knife through water. It went through the shield, through the goblin’s arm and into its chest, two yellow eyes blinking in surprise at the sudden appearance of a spear in its body.
Frey pulled it out just as easily as he’d stuck it in, and the goblin fell face first into the stony ground. Arm split in two down its length, and blood quickly flowing out from the hole in its chest. Looking down on the monster, Frey breathed heavily, eyes blinking incomprehensively, slightly painfully.
Eyes drew in, in towards his spear as it dribbled blood down onto the back of the dead monster.
Closing his eyes, Frey thought. He started to, ever so slightly, shake. Clenching his eyes, he thought more. Fist tightening hard around his spear, he could not help but think.
Time slowly ebbing as teeth clenched, and body shivered ever so slightly more.
But the body would calm itself, teeth would unclench and a fist would ease its grip. Eyes slowly opening as he stared down on the dead monster, on the, thing.
It wasn't human, it wasn't human.
It wasn't his fault.
Frey shook his head, giving himself a light slap on the cheek as he breathed out a slow breath.
Staring back down on the corpse of the monster, Frey waited for something to happen. Expecting something gamey, like the corpse poofing into a million sparkles and gifting him with a price for his victory. A scowl forming instead when a price wasn’t forthcoming, glaring down on the slightly disfigured monster-corpse, then shaking a fist upwards at the stony ceiling, cursing the gods for his misfortune.
Calming down, he squatted down awkwardly and started, even more awkwardly and with slight annoyance, rummage through the goblin corpse. Searching for anything useful on its strangely well-dressed body. Finding nothing that stuck out as directly useful, except for the small shield that the goblin had tried to use to little effect, which Frey took, frowning slightly at the death-grip the goblin corpse was holding around it.
Eventually, after a brief struggle, Frey pulled it off and inspected it. Finding it with a hole in it but otherwise, perfectly fine. He assumed at least; he hadn’t ever needed to use a shield to protect himself before. So, who knew what a good shield felt like, or looked like.
Still squatting, Frey looked above his shoulder and behind, back towards the door. Spotting it opened to darkness, with pans and pottery tied with a rope dangling above it. A weird sight, a sight Frey just shrugged his shoulders too, standing up with a grunt then stretching out his back.
Trying to breathe in, he felt his nose clogged, clogged with blood. Pain being numb and recognizable. Frey realized his nose might be broken. Touching it, he breathed out in relief, as it wasn’t blindingly painful, simply sore. So instead, he simply blew out the snotty blood, wiped his hands and turned away from the dark, magical door.
He looked down the darkened stone corridor, leading to god knows what, more goblins Frey assumed, and took his first steps forward. Spear in right hand and his newly acquired shield strapped to his left, looking tiny on his body, but would be alright, probably, he assumed.
Steps echoing quietly in the small stone corridor, bouncing around almost musically, giving Frey a bounce in his step. Each bounce feeling rather nice, each step feeling lighter than the last, a whistle of a tune being sing-songed out while he moved forward. Whistling totally out of tune.
Walking until he spotted a bend in the stony corridor, not too far from the dead monster, leading to the right and left. Bouncing up to it, Frey took a leap and turned mid-air to face the left, pointing his spear down it with a shout of “aha!” before he landed in a crouch. Spotting a blank wall a few meters in front, leading to nothing but a barricaded dead end. Pouting, Frey looked over his shoulder towards the right leading corridor, spotting a whole bunch of goblins staring back at him with wide eyes. All of them in what looked like a state of shock, holding a wide variety of items that went from wood to weapons to bundles of arrows.
Frey stood there, squatted with his bum facing them and the many goblins staring back at him and his bum, deathly silent and frozen in time.
A peaceful scene broken by Frey when he turned around to shout his warcry, a hint of embarrassment being pushed aside by it.
“AAAAAAAA”
He shouted, dashing down the short corridor towards the goblins, who now quickly seemed to react, throwing away their things in a wild and chaotic manner, scrambling over one another to get away and towards, who knows what. With Frey’s quick, charging glance, he noticed that once he passed a sort of threshold, the small stone corridor opened up to reveal a gigantic cave, or cavern, which led far to the left and right. And within this cave, or cavern, there were even more goblins. The new goblins, Frey saw, seemed just as shocked at seeing him as the first group. And like the first group, they stood frozen in time, staring big eyed at Frey while he charged madly at the first group in front.
Frey’s warcry grew silent as his eyes focused. The group Frey had rushed towards came within striking distance, one goblin looking back on Frey with fear in its eyes. Frey struck forward, easily slicing into its head before jerking left, pulling it out with ease, cleaving its head in two. Following the jerking motion, Frey sliced through one- two more goblins before his arm couldn’t move no more. Surprise quickly turned back into focus. Stopping mid charge to stand atop the first goblin’s corpse in a pose of triumph, using the small pause to get a better view over the cavern.
He saw what looked like weapons on the far wall, goblins upon goblins strewn all around, in groups or alone, simply, minding their business, staring at him in slack-jawed surprise. And as his eyes scanned from left to right, one goblin after another seemed pulled out of their trance-like surprise, turning tail and running towards the wall of weapons.
At the very far end of the cavern, something stood out. A big gate, an enormous gate that looked eerily similar to the gate he’d entered to get into the tower. On it, he spotted an image, one he couldn’t tell from this distance.
Frey blinked, turned his vision back down to the now smaller first group he was hunting, and saw that they had disappeared. Or no, disappeared was the wrong word. They had hidden behind a wooden wall Frey hadn’t spotted before, nor realized was a wall. Small spears peaked out from over the top of it, being about up to Frey’s navel in height.
Turning away from the group, Frey glanced from the goblins, running towards their weapons to the defending goblins, back and forth very quickly. Turning his posing into a jump forward, Frey quickly closed the small distance between him and the wooden barricade. Luckily for Frey, his spear was very much longer than the goblins spears, so if he wanted to, he could easily strike them down with his length, and using his spears overpowered ability, making their barricade even worse than useless. A hindrance to themselves even.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Frey did not do that though. Instead, he jumped with a quickness and stupidity that seemed to surprise even the goblins. Though, instincts, or training helped them as they managed shallow cuts on the flying form of Frey. Flying above the wooden barricade as he swung his spear wildly at the goblins now being below him. Managing, not through skill, but from the effectiveness of his spear to easily cleave the goblins in twain. Or totally from skill.
Crashing down, Frey managed an unflattering parkour landing that he quickly jumped up on his feet from. There were only three left of the first big group. But further beyond, the goblins had reached their weapons, turned towards him and staring in, horror.
With a spring in his step, Frey flew forwards with his spear stretched to its limit, easily outreaching one of the three goblins own spears and cutting deeply into its body, killing it instantly. The second goblin, in a fit of panic, cut forward without aiming. Luckily for Frey, it aimed at his shield side. Un-athletically, Frey used sheer strength to push the spear aside with his shield. The push pushing himself off balance as the goblin was far weaker than him, falling sideways but managing to, awkwardly, swing the spear and cleave the second gobbling in two. His attempt at balancing himself only led him going more unbalanced, tripping on the pebbled ground.
Two seconds it took for Frey to reorientate himself back into a proper fighting stance. Two seconds where he looked up in alarm, waiting for a spear to gut him in his stomach. But instead, Frey spotted the last goblin down on its rump, staring up at Frey without a spear in its hand. A face of a monster in shock. In utter terror. A reaction Frey’s brain noted quickly before stabbing down, trying not to think about it before quickly pulling his spear out and ending the monster’s life with a flash.
Hurriedly, he looked up for the goblins that had rushed towards the wall of weapons. Quickly realising that he was surrounded by many, many goblins. Too many.
But something was amiss. Noticing that they were all standing still, gawking at him as he uneasily pivoted his head around to keep them all in sight. The sight took Frey by surprise, surprised that made the cogs in his head spin, turn, and crank. A vicious smile slowly spread on his lips. With a jerk, he stared towards his left, staring down a goblin whose eyes widened in horror.
“Come on then you fucking monsters! I’ll kill you all!”
He screamed with vigor, swinging around with his spear pointed in all directions, goblins at its end flinching back at the suddenness of his scream. Frey turned and turned until he spotted a smaller patch of goblins and stopped spinning. Instead, bending down with his shield in front and spear resting atop it, gallantly looking like one of those three-hundred spartans. Though, his shield being too small for something that epic, and instead looking more like a spartan-imitation, or like a child a little too into roleplay. But it did the trick, the goblins being pointed at uneasily backing, pushing at each other to not be the one aimed at.
“If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you! ENG-GARDAaaaaaa-!”
Frey shouted in a poor attempt at French, rushing forward with the rage of a bull. Screaming at the top of his lungs, running in an awkward gait in an attempt to keep up his awesome spartan posture.
The goblins scrambled backwards in their own screaming contest, fighting each other to not be the first in line of Frey’s spear. A sight that seemed to delight the screaming Frey, though his eyes spoke a different story as they stayed focused, scheming.
Quickly coming upon the goblins ranks, Frey pushed his spear forward and then sideways, slashing easily through the tightened mob of goblins. Shields, clothes and flesh being nothing in the spear's path that could pierce anything, cutting down goblin atop goblin before coming full circle back towards Frey. Only to come crashing down again in the opposite direction, slicing easily through stone and flesh, cutting everything it passed like a scythe through wheat.
Blood sprayed like fountains from the newly decapitated corpses, dousing Frey in their smelly, irony content. Chunks of flesh pebbling the ground as if in a disgusting hail. Yet, the disturbing scene made Frey laugh manically, one eye closed from clotted blood while the other drunk in the scene of the slaughter, the butcher, narrowed eyes looking around, focused, searching the goblins faces.
As the goblins were already by their weapons against the wall, they had little places to run. Giving Frey easy prey as he swung his spear from side to side, like a reaper on the field of death. Seeing horror and panic.
Eventually, eventually being but a minute, Frey noticed he wasn’t swinging against living monsters anymore, and pivoted his head from side to side, spotting a few stragglers running around and away from him in sheer panic. Turning around, Frey spotted the rightmost, and last, goblin group. By now the biggest of the three groups with the addition of the running stragglers.
Frey stood at the ready, waiting for any moves from the goblins, but found the goblins also waiting, standing in shock as they stared with fear on their monstrous faces. Using the lull in battle, Frey wiped away the blood on his face with his clothes. Finding that he couldn’t, instead merely smudging more blood onto his face, blinding both of his eyes instead of only one.
“Goddamn blood! Fucking stupid shit, why give me enemies that’s so fleshy? Next monster has to be a golem, or like, undead or something. Or else I’ll write a bad yelp review.”
Frey muttered underneath his breath, too low for the goblins to hear, wiping frantically as he was partially blinded. Worry blossoming, talking to keep it from blooming fully. And after a frantic few seconds of wiping, he cleared his clogged eyes, blinking the last droplets of blood as he stared forward.
Spotting a singular gobbling walking towards him with shaky legs.
“How could you do this to us?!”
The goblin suddenly screamed, a gurgling scream that seemed to come from its belly up to its nose, eyes veiny red with its hand turning a sheen of lighter green from the strain of holding its spear so tightly. A scream that shook Frey a little, not from fear, but surprise. He faced the brave goblin and talked back.
“What do you mean?”
The goblin seemed to not expect the response, weirdly enough. Frey wondered what it had expected.
“You-you- you come to our home! And-and kill us like-like, like we are nothing! How can you be so, so evil!“
Frey paused at those words, looking at the goblin for an uncomfortably long second. A second turning to two, turning to three. He hesitantly looked down on his body, bloody from head too toe, bloodied from killed monsters. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in, then out. And spoke, slowly.
"You aren't even real, none of this is. I just need to kill you, face the challenge, and get too the top."
Frey said with a dark expression, barely showing through the lightly dripping blood. His words echoing through the big stone cavern, his steps echoing faintly as he walked forward with his spear glimmering in the faint torchlight. The only goblin that did not scream being the brave one. Instead, it took a faltering step forward as it pushed its shield in front of itself, a pathetic excuse for a block, one that Frey easily cut through. Through it and past into the chest of the brave goblin, who stared at him in deathly shock.
Then something stung Frey, and he twitched to the side. Looking down at the sting, he spotted the brave goblin’s own spear partially imbedded into the side of his stomach, blood trickling out hurtfully.
“Motherfucker,” Frey mouthed painfully, looking up to spot the goblin falling limply atop Frey’s spear, cleaving itself in two. Behind, the mass of goblins seemed to freeze, stopped in time. Some still screaming, running, and flailing in panic. But it was only those who hadn’t seen that still panicked, those that hadn’t seen Frey get hit, get pierced, seen him bleed, seen his pained face as he pulled the spear out. Frey noticed and cursed quietly before jumping forward with a wide swing, cutting two goblins into four, his twisted smile long gone. Eyes deathly focused. Spurring the frozen goblins into action, screaming with a blend of fear and anger.
A spear impacted Frey’s left arm, luckily on his shield, pushing him lightly to the side. Swinging his own spear wildly, Frey caught the offending goblin on its arm, cutting it off cleanly with a bloody scream following. Another spear cut forward, scraping against Frey’s exposed right arm, shallowly cutting into his bicep. With a shout, Frey swung his spear back, easily cutting past the goblin’s outstretched spear and arm, into its small body.
Two spears cut into Frey’s leg, penetrating hurtfully into his thigh, pushing out a not unsubstantial amount of Frey’s own blood. The pain bringing a sort of clarity into Frey’s mind, turning with speed to face the two offending goblins, he stared them down with wide eyes. The two goblins cowering back, staring up with fear, trembling fingers still holding their spears tight.
Frey swung, and the two goblins lost their heads along with their torsos diagonally, spears falling to the ground, and then Frey felt yet another stab, this time into his back, bouncing shallowly of off his rib. The pain like getting hit with a soccer ball to the nose, trembling legs searching for purchase on the slick bloody ground as Frey took an unbalanced step forward.
Quickly, before anything else could happen, Frey swung in a wide circle, letting the momentum swing the spear around and turn him for him, cleaving anything in its path. Cutting the goblin who’d dared to attack Frey on his exposed back, and hopefully others.
Frey continued swinging around, not sure if he hit anything as the spear didn’t give any feedback while it spun. The world was a blur of colour and light, red blended with brown, blurred together with the pain in his leg, back and stomach. A strange blend that blurred thoughts and flooded his body with the adrenaline needed to continue fighting. An animalistic scream burst out of Frey’s mouth, screaming gutturally.
He stopped spinning, but his head still spun and forced Frey to take several unbalanced steps to the side and bump into something to his left. Pushing out quickly, he hit an offending goblin straight in the nose with his shield, hearing a crack followed by a gurgling scream. Then Frey swung, not seeing or feeling what, instead hearing the slice and burst of blood.
His head stopped spinning, and he saw but only a few goblins left, standing warily with their spears held pointing towards him. Frey quickly jumped forward, crazed eyes staring down on the goblins who took a step back at his approach.
An approach stopped by something slamming into Frey’s left shoulder, making him tumble awkwardly, falling down on the ground with his spear cleaving a line into it. Pain bubbled after, numbed by the adrenaline and a quick realization that he was exposed. Spinning around with the tumble, Frey attempted a breakdance spin, looking more like a deathly bay-blade as he cleaved exposed legs un-eerily close to him.
Another burst of pain pushed into his already wounded thigh, a spear from one goblin who now lacked their legs, screaming as they stared with horror down on their stumps. It had dropped its spear, but the spear still bit greedily into Frey’s leg, forcing him to pull it out with a swift, teeth gnashing, blood gushing, pull.
He then attempted to stand, but fell down from the pain and the slick ground. Attempting again, he was suddenly pushed back down to the ground with a heavy, sharp thud to his left shoulder. Looking at his shoulder, he spotted a broken arrow imbedded into it, making his arm feel numb from the shoulder down.
With his third attempt, Frey stood, spotting most of the goblins cut down and killed, but by the far wall, three goblins with bows in hand still stood, aiming at him. Although, when they noticed him noticing them, they shrugged back in ill-hidden fear.
“Tha’s chetn!”
Frey screamed out, slurred and painful, teeth quickly closing together to fight off the worst of the pain and nausea, pointing an accusatory finger at the three goblins. Or rather, tried. His left arm wasn’t responding to his command. So instead, he just stood there, staring angrily and a little awkwardly, blood flowing from mouth, his and not his. Still, the three goblins were spooked and two seemed frozen in place, shaking in their boots. One, though, raised its bow and aimed, quiver at the ready, only shivering slightly.
The arrow was released. Frey shrugged back instinctively, but did not dodge, could not dodge, and felt the arrow hit him on the same shoulder. Luckily, Frey’s shrug made the blow lose some of its momentum, only pushing in slightly before bouncing off and clattering onto the stone floor. Still, that didn’t stop Frey from cursing at the injustice of those cheating monsters, and quickly started walking forward.
Walking instead of running for his thigh wasn’t obeying commands properly, feeling sluggish and painful. But to the single goblin left, it had seemed that Frey simply shrugged off the arrow and started to walk confidently towards it.
Still, it quivered another arrow, shaking wildly as it aimed. Frey noticed, and hurried his limping pace, not fast enough. The goblin hurried, quickly aiming. Frey noticed, narrowed his eyes and waited just before the goblin released, then screamed before it did.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
And the goblin flinched, letting loose the arrow, flying free and far above Frey’s head. The goblin fell back on its rump, staring up with mad eyes at the approaching Frey.
“Ha, ya missed, fucker.” Then came within striking distance, whispering.
“But I wont.” And stabbed down, gutting the proned goblin, killing it swiftly. Quickly after, Frey sliced the two frozen goblins and pivoted his head around, searching for more goblins, finding the big, big cavern desolate and soundless. He felt that there must be more goblins, but they seemed to have, disappeared.
“Coome out, come out and plaaay” Frey whispered with what he thought to be a scary voice, looking around with a creepy smile. And finding, to his surprise, goblins shouting somewhere behind him. Turning around awkwardly, he spotted three running towards him, screaming their lungs out as they charged him.
With a big swing, Frey reached two goblins before they could pierce him, cleaving them and silencing their screaming. The third and last, Frey missed with a soundless curse, coming just a step behind its two fellow monsters, saving it from being cleaved in two. And with the momentum of a running toddler, it plunged its spear into Frey’s exposed right arm, going straight through with a bang of pain. Frey was harshly pushed down, dropping his spear as the goblin fell over at the sudden stop, the two falling down to the ground together.
First to rise being the goblin, sitting up on its rump and shaking its head. Quickly, it remembered where it was and stared forwards, spotting Frey’s prone body. It moved to stand, but stopped as it saw him move, Frey stirring, wriggling.
“Ffffuuuck. Why dos it haf to be sooo god-damn painful. Havn’t I been thrugh enugh of disss.” Frey spoke tiredly, slurring, pushing to get up, failing as both of his arms were out of service. Instead, he used his head, pushing against the ground with effort, managing, through some finagling, and sheer will, to push himself up onto his knees.
The goblin sat frozen in time, staring unbelievingly at Frey, looking like a walking dead. Painted from head to toe in the colour of his own, and his enemy’s blood, with gashes and wounds that would make any normal goblin become a screaming wreck. It stared in horror and disbelief as Frey awkwardly pushed himself up on two feet, very awkwardly as his right arm had a hard time pushing, a very hard time. Many grunts of pain and effort being elicited.
Eventually, he got up, and stared down at the goblin. A tired smile forming on his face.
“I really hope you are the last.” Kicking forward and then stamping down with his only good leg, ending the goblin’s life with the force to crack a toddler’s skull.
Frey looked around, ignoring the piles and piles of dead goblins, trying to see if anything still breathed. He even pondered yelling again, but didn’t. Instead, he talked normally, not to any goblin, but the ceiling.
“Sooooo, hello? Holy light? God? Anyone? Where’s my reward? I got them all?” Frey spoke tiredly, a little excitedly, but only up to the point that seconds turned to a minute, and he realized that there was to be no reward handed down to him.
“Stupid, god. Climb this tower for rewards? Pff, more like, a bunch of holes… like swiss cheese.” Frey spoke somberly, tiredly yet jokingly. And instead of continuing to wait, Frey turned to look at the gate, seeing it undisturbed and left deserted from goblins. Assuming it to be the exit, he started walking there. Moving through dead bodies and a slick floor wetted by blood, kicking his spear alongside him, adrenaline slowly fading to be replaced by a constant pounding of pain. Frey knew he was hurt, very hurt. He knew he’d probably die of blood loss soon.
It wasn't a nice thought to have. He did what he could to not think, to ignore it.
He came upon the gate, ignoring the image on it as he felt too tired to really care, and took a step past its slightly ajar opening, being greeted by torchlight he hadn’t spotted from further away. Torchlight that revealed a stairway leading up, presumably further up the tower. And sitting in-front of the stairway, Frey spotted two very stereotypical chests. Looking like two pirate chests filled to the brim with gold. Though one was big, the other was very small, not large enough to contain anything but a few handfuls of gold.
Frey quickly shuffled to the chests, eyes glimmering with greed, mouth slightly parted as he breathed not only from exertion. Coming up to the chests, he fell down on his knees, painfully, but ignored it, obviously aiming for the bigger chest and trying to pry it open.
Finding it impossible as his arm, his right arm, lacked the strength to pull it open. His left hanging lamely.
“Nooooo my gooold!”
Frey lamented sadly, shouting his frustrations up into the dimly illuminated stone ceiling. A trickle of a tear wiping away a small streak of blood down his face. A sniffle. Then he turned to his right, staring down on the far smaller chest, staring daggers at it as he spoke.
“You should be glad I even choose to consider picking you as a first. If I was in better shape, I might have not even considered opening you. So, you lowly chest, make sure that you giveth to me your finest offering. I shalleth haveth not-eth but the mosteth pristinest of offering.”
He spoke in a high-hoarse voice, head held up as he stared down with only his eyes. If his arms worked properly, he’d have crossed them to make his point clearer. But as he spoke to a finish, he paused for dramatic effect, then slowly reached his right arm forward, shaking from the strain, then pulled meakly up, opening the small lid with some great effort and loud grunting.
Opened to reveal a health potion which Frey smiled brightly at. “Ha ha! You little devious little chesty, oh how you’ve brought a smile to my face! I knew it wasn’t the size of the sea that made the difference, but the motion of the ocean!”
Frey reached down shakily and awkwardly picked the potion. “Oh look, the sweet nectar of gods, clasped in my hands, soon to be drunk. It is truly divine!”
Frey talked sweetly, bringing the potion up towards his face, a face brightly lit up.
“I can smell it, the wonderful life-giving elixir.”
The potion came within licking distance, and Frey bent his head back a little, pushing the bottle towards his lips. Then dropped it.
A crash of glass against the stone floor, and Frey stared up at the ceiling in disbelief.
“nnnnNNOOOOOO” He shouted with a mix of panic and horror. Looking down on his shaky right arm and the red liquid splashed out on the floor. Without a hint of hesitation, Frey smacked his head down on the floor, more from the lack of strength to cushion his fall, then wanting to smash his head, and then started licking.
The taste was divine, and the sensation of cold numbness almost overwhelmed his body, but he continued licking, wanting to drink in every little drop. Licking until his mouth also got the cold numbness, then licked more for good measure. Probably, presumably, maybe accidentally swallowing glass, hopefully not ruining his insides.
Little while later, he felt power return to his limbs and foreign objects being numbly pushed out. He flexed his right arm, right leg, then his left shoulder, all feeling normal. Maybe even stronger. Who could tell.
With renewed strength, Frey turned to the bigger chest and heaved it open, staring down with sparkling eyes. Sparkling eyes turning dim, picking up what looked to be a helmet. A helmet that Frey could only describe as ugly, really ugly, and slightly glowing.
“All that for this? Are you kidding me?”
Without thinking, Frey threw it over his shoulder with a low grumble, back slouched forward in a posture of defeat while he headed towards the staircase, picking up his spear in the process and continuing his journey up through the stupid tower.