James House knew he wasn’t a good man, but that was fine. He didn’t believe in good men in the first place. Growing up as he did, where he did, he wasn’t fortunate enough to ever believe the delusional hogwash he heard regarding fairness or decency in his common man. He’d met his common man, and they were less inclined to help you off the ground than they were to ensure you stayed there.
The golden rule was just like the other gold he saw as a child: fake plating covering the ugly truth. People didn’t treat you how they’d like to be treated, they treated you however badly they could get away with. So, James did what he had to do to survive. When he got older, he did what he had to do to thrive.
Eventually his life caught up to him in the form of a small gang he’d offended with his occasional petty theft and at most two instances of murdering their members. They were as disinclined to participate in fair play as all the rest, humans once again proving to be the dregs of the world. They ganged up on James, killed several of his friends and associates in the process, and dragged him to a warehouse to finish him off executioner style. Apparently, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Dark times were sometimes indistinguishable from the Dark Ages.
A bullet was too expensive and too fast for James though, at least that’s what they said. “You’re worth less than the bullet it would take to kill you quickly, and you’re even less deserving.” So instead, they tied him down, got in their big truck, and drove over his head, slowly.
In his final moments, James was the same as he had been his entire life: aggressively unhappy, ferociously dissatisfied, and hungry for better. He’d tried everything in his life to push those feelings aside, but the drugs, alcohol, and crime never did more than provide a temporary reprieve from his eternal torment. If nothing else, the huge tires before him spoke to an end to his suffering.
But they weren’t the end. James found himself lying on the ground before a woman with blue hair and a regal air about her. Before he could get up, before he could even speak, she spoke up herself.
“You were garbage before. You will be garbage now.”
In a sneer she waved him off, and he disappeared from wherever he was as quickly as he had appeared.
Coming to, again, he found himself in a writhing green mass, surrounded by noises too loud for him to differentiate. The dark flesh around him undulated as he was once again assailed by the feelings and emotions that drove him his entire life. Aggressively, ferociously, hungrily, he bit into the flesh around him as it tore with his teeth, blood rushing into his mouth more delicious than anything he’d ever tasted before.
James was determined to make it to the top, to do whatever it took to survive and thrive regardless of what it took. Or, as it turned out, he’d die trying.
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Chef looked at his masterpiece and couldn’t quite muster the pride he anticipated. He had done everything according to plan, used his tools to assemble a makeshift oven, and stripped Chief’s bones clean in preparation of the main event, planning to use his heart and major organs for the meal. Fortunately for Chef, he had Poison Resistance and cooking which would save him from a very ironic death. Probably.
He looked around for any goblins or other predators in the vicinity. No, not any Chief like deaths for old Chef.
Unfortunately for Chef, his high cooking skill couldn’t do the impossible. Which for him was apparently making any dish look visually appealing. He’d yet to be pleased with how his meals looked, but presumably it would taste just fine. The misshapen pie-like entity before him pulsed in time with a heartbeat as it continued to ooze blood, endlessly.
Chef was not prepared for his baking to produce something of this, uh, level, especially since he didn’t have it as a standalone skill; but life was just a series of surprises, wasn’t it? Sometimes your plans don’t go how you expect. Sometimes people die violently and unexpectedly. Sometimes you accidentally bake life from death.
In certain parts of the world, such a thing would be called evil or heretical. Some of those would only consider it to be a disgusting disgrace to life itself. Others would hunt him down to the ends of the earth in order to ensure no other abominations like this one would ever be called into horrible being. But some people weren’t really people. Some people were goblins. And goblins, even those with a higher standard for food flavor and presentation than their peers, were rather immune to disgust.
Chef took a bite out of the pie. His eyes went wide and tears began to stream down his face as for the first time in his life he experienced true bliss. For once in his life, his exacting expectations for food quality had been met. He could handle the goblin caves and the goblins and the woods and whatever else he had to, but poor food was one thing Chef couldn’t suffer. And sitting there, waiting for his Chief jerky to finish smoking, Chef felt utterly content for the first time in his entire life.
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This was what life was all about. Different people had their own pursuits, but Chef was mostly used to goblins. And, in his experience, goblins were at their happiest when they were being belligerent little shits and making life worse for someone else. And while Chef had dabbled in being a shit, he only ever found momentary enjoyment from it, not true happiness. But finally, Chef understood that he could be one of those happy people too! Previously, he’d assumed only idiots could truly be happy. But no, he just had to bake more people!
I need more flour.
He was looking through his bag before he noticed it, vaguely aware of the queue of notifications building up but much too preoccupied to care. He had used all the flour.
I need a disguise. Humans and goblins are enemies, but what if I made them think I was just a small human? Then I can acquire flour and bake more. That was more or less my plan anyway, this is just a slight change to the list of the fundamental needs for life. Water, shelter, and baking products.
With his master plan prepared, there was only one thing left to do.
There’s a lot more Chief to eat.
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By the time Chef stopped gorging himself, the sun had long since set. He patted his protruding belly with satisfaction, both with himself and with his meal. He started of course with the Chief pie, but his second course of Chief stew was quite good. He had tried his hand at Chief stroganoff but found himself to be missing too many key ingredients, so he settled for a few nice Chiefsteaks.
All the while he had been smoking up over a dozen strips of Chief jerky. With his stomach beyond full and his bag of ingredients completely empty, Chef had to give up there. So, he gathered up his cooking gear, used some of his drinking water to wash out the poison vials, and stored the Chief grease.
He really did intend to use as much of his dead brother as he could. The man was delicious after all, but that might just be his nostalgia tainting reality.
So many memories.
With everything gathered up, he decided to catch up on his notifications and nearly fell down from the sheer volume of them.
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
Congratulations! You have become Goblin/Chef[20]!
Congratulations! You have gained access to Class Evolution!
Congratulations! Your Poisoncraft has increased!
Congratulations! You have killed someone!
You must select your next class for experience to be calculated.
Congratulations! Your Goblin Choking has evolved into Goblin Spreading!
Congratulations! Your Butchering has increased!
Congratulations! Your Cooking has increased!
Congratulations! You have learned Baking!
Congratulations! Your Poison Resistance has increased!
Congratulations! You have successfully digested a Goblin[47]. You have gained some of its stats and abilities!
Congratulations! You have gained Health, Stamina, Gusto, Alacrity, Ability, Inexplicability, Sense, Intestine, and Hutzpah!
Congratulations! You have assimilated a Boon and/or Bane!
Congratulations! You have assimilated a trait!
Congratulations! You have acquired the Cannibal title!
Congratulations! You have killed and eaten your own family in cold blood! The stain of blood on your hands will never leave you!
Congratulations! You have gained access to additional Class Evolutions!
Huh.
Confused, Chef called up his status.
Name: Goblin Chef
Species[Level]: Goblin[40]
Class[Level]: Goblin/Peon[10], Goblin/Cook[10], Goblin/Chef[20]
Health: 30/34
Mana: 12/12
Stamina: 23/23
Titles:
Cannibal
Skills:
Brawling III Convincing
Conniving II Running
Climbing Intuit
Cooking IV Butchering II
Poisoncraft II Poison Resistance II
Baking Goblin Spreading
Spellcasting:
Traits:
Gluttonous Loathsome
Garbageman
Boons & Banes:
Exquisite Taste (F)
Goblin Confidence (C)
Attributes:
Power 9 Hutzpah 42
Alacrity 17 Waagh 0
Gusto 22 Intestine 40
Sense 24 Ability 19
Inexplicability: 20
…
Something told him not all of these changes were good. But for some reason, Chef was confident that it would all work out.