A dozen goblins ripped through the cloth walls of the hall, armed to the teeth. They formed a large circle, keeping the fire, Moka, and Carwen contained. More goblins poured in behind them, laughing and snarling. A handful walked up to the grenade’s point of impact, where a purple bonfire was pumping thick clouds of smoke into the layered vine ceiling, arcing over them. They clutched armfuls of stolen cloth in their arms, hugging a village’s worth of shirts, pants, skirts, and dresses to their chests. Dumping the clothing into a large pile, they began spreading it over the fire, attempting to smother it.
The shadows in the room shifted, moving away from the fire, as if the purple hued light chased them away. They pooled around the feet of the encircling goblins, tendrils crawling up their legs like tattoos. A shirtless goblin wearing three button-down shirts with their arms tied around his waist as a makeshift kilt stepped forward. The tattoos crawling across his body reached his face, creating dense patterns until ending their journey by connecting to his eyes. His form rippled, his eyes rolling back to show glowing, blank whites. With a lurch, his teeth grew twice their length, his body unnaturally stretching. The tattoos were so dense across his flesh, his skin looked pitch black. The shirts tied around his waist looked vibrant and wrinkle-free, as if freshly laundered.
Moka tucked her staff under her arm, grabbing her fourth grenade. She had made six. Without an ounce of hesitation, she snapped her fingers, lighting the fuse. She tossed the clay orb between her hands, releasing her staff and catching it with her now free hand. Moving as quick and smooth as her Excellent Knack allowed, she loaded the grenade into her staff’s sling. In one fluid motion, she pulled it back and released, launching it straight at the transformed goblin.
Danara stepped out of the shadows to her side, her blade already in motion as the orb shot from Moka’s fingertips. The [Raid Warleader’s] hair trailed behind her, a beautiful violet in the purple firelight. Moka twitched to the side, her Moderate Perception helping her sense Danara’s presence. The blade kissed her throat as it sailed past, pressing into firm skin to draw a thin line of blood. Using both hands, pivoted her staff, lashing out with the ball end.
An explosion rocked the space. Bright light, followed by a wall of hot air, buffeted the two goblins, locked in combat. Neither blinked, their entire focus on their opponent. Danara back stepped, letting Moka’s blow pass her by.
Lunging dagger first, the warlord dashed forward, her woven-hair cloak covering one hand. Moka twirled her staff. She caught Danara’s lead hand with the thorn claw end of her staff, forcing her arm down and away. Danara twisted with the motion, bringing her second [Troll Tusk Dagger] up from beneath her cloak. Moka met the slice with the butt of her staff, locking Danara up. The hob grinned at Moka, licking her lips as her eyes roved her face. She strained to press her dagger forward. Her voice was sickly sweet.
“Do you have some elf blood in you, darling?”
Moka’s eyes darted behind Danara as Carwen’s true form shimmered into visibility. She had her grenade held in her offhand. With her dominant hand, she raised Moka’s utility knife, clenched in a reverse grip. Her cherry red lips twisted in fury, pearly white teeth on display. Desperate determination gleamed in her sunset eyes. Azarus felt his domain surge, ethereal gold flames kindling to light in his chest. Danara noticed Moka’s gaze, twisting away to disengage without a second thought. Carwen brought her hand down in an arc.
Danara just avoided taking the knife to the spine. She squirmed out of the way, hissing in pain as the blade punched a quarter inch into her shoulder blade. Shouts and screams split the air, distracting Moka long enough for the warlord to wrench free and slip into shadows once more.
From where the goblins had been trying to smother the fire with clothing, figures were rising out of the fire. A tall elf matriarch in a silk slip stepped out of the flames, brushing embers off her clothing. She had long, flowing hair that reached down to the middle of her back. Each strand of hair was a tongue of purple flame, curling on an unseen breeze. The elf looked around, her eyes narrowing on the goblins in front of her. She touched her scalp, feeling the flames. Running her hand down the length of her hair, she brought the ends up to inspect. Something akin to a memory passed across her face. With a snarl, she dropped her hair and raised both hands, summoning an orb of purple fire that floated between them.
Behind the matriarch, more figures clawed their way out of the flames, each wearing at least one article of clothing. The fire around the figures faded, revealing two distinct types. Beautiful women in skirts and dresses, with flaming hair. And handsome men, their skin held together by smoldering scars, except for their faces, which were untouched. They gathered, their eyes smoldering purple embers. One by one, those embers fell onto the goblins. Their beautiful features burned with righteous fury. With a roar like a wildfire, the vengeful apparitions charged, screaming, into the raiders. The orb above the matriarch’s hand spat bolts of fire, spreading the purple fire to those out of immediate reach.
Up above, in the vine layer above, a goblin peering down at the skirmish shuddered. He pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a sudden heat and chill come over him. With a wrench, his stomach rebelled, forcing him to vomit. A tendril of smoke reached through the vines he kneeled on, caressing his face. When he looked up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the maze was spinning. All around him outlined hands reached through the cloth, creeping toward him. With a yell, he stumbled to his feet to run. He did not make it far before he leaned against a wall for support. Hands erupted from where he touched the cloth. They pulled him, kicking and screaming, into the wall.
Down below, half the circle of goblins transformed. Tattoo-like shadows covered their skin, their limbs lengthening and large teeth gleaming. Each speck of clothing they wore was immaculate. [Divine Insight] offered Azarus a clearer picture.
[Silk Shadow Goblin]: A goblin enhanced by [Greedy Shadows] and [Form Unit: Silk Raiders]. Their minds are altered, putting them under the influence of the shadow’s summoner.
Two fires burned merrily in the circle, scattering their embers to find more fuel. From one fire, burning shades of the raider’s violent past attacked without care for life or limb. The other, consuming the corpse of a transformed goblin, raged as high as it could, stretching out tendrils to reach a nearby goblin. The goblins in the vicinity scampered away, rightfully fearful. A shadow stained goblin hissed as an ember landed on it. With speed born of pain, it brushed the ember off, leaving a smoldering wound where it had rested. The injury looked painful, but did not spread.
The fluttering thrum of spinning chains covered in cloth filled the air as goblins spun up their weapons. Untransformed goblins shouted and screamed at each other, trying to form order. The shadow goblins moved with cold certainty.
Azarus tapped the wooden end of a paintbrush against his lips, watching the [Faefire] detach from the [Silk Shadow Goblin]. It seemed the fire’s mind-burning effect was diminished by Danara’s skillset. In their initial clash, Moka and Danara seemed well matched, and Moka’s grenades and Danara’s raiders offset each other to a degree. He glanced over at Zag, who returned his questioning gaze with a huff and a roll of his eyes. Azarus nodded in agreement. Moka would win. It was only a matter of how. Worrying about it was a waste.
A tendril of purple flame reached out from the blazing fire, darting for a goblin who had tripped while dodging an ember. Ten feet away, the fleeing goblins were reforming the circle now that they had a new fire to contend with. More raiders were trickling in through the cut walls, their forces slowly growing. A shadow goblin, whirling a chain with spotless pieces of cloth and silk wedged through links down the length, snapped his hands forward, lashing out toward the tendril. The chain met the flame in a cloud of sparks, knocking it away from the fallen goblin long enough for it to recover and dart away. The cloth attached to the chain smoldered but did not catch alight.
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As if possessing a mind of its own, the fire withdrew from the threat, sinking in on itself. Then it continued, condensing down until it resembled a molten puddle. The untransformed goblins hesitated as the fire retreated, unsure what to do. They glanced at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. The shadow goblins just moved. Three with chains took running steps forward and lashed out toward Moka and Carwen. The others marched in step, weapons raised.
On the other side of the room, flaming shades warred with shadow goblins, new goblins transforming to replace those that fell. A thin line held off the shade’s onslaught. The shadow goblins fought well, guarding each other’s flanks and holding the shades back. The shades threw themselves forward, supported by the matriarch, using their blood to burn their hated foes.
Two groups of three shadow goblins worked together to gather burning bodies behind the battle line. They used their clothing to bundle up the corpses and avoid what burns they could. Even with the cloth, handling the fire came at a cost, the injuries building on themselves. Working in tandem, they heaved the bodies over the line and back toward the shades, keeping the fire from spreading.
As Azarus watched, a group hauling bodies succumbed to their burn wounds. The shadows fled from their skin, leaving behind charred corpses. They darted across the ground toward the gathering reinforcements, seeking new hosts. Several attentive raiders darted out of the way, unwilling to do the task the shadows desired. Three untransformed goblins, either brave or slow, stiffened as black tattoos crawled up their ankles. Soon, three new shadow goblins were at work hauling burning bodies, starting with their predecessors.
Azarus’s attention flicked back to the other side of the room. The chains were still in motion, flying across the room toward Moka. A nearby shadow shifted, betraying Danara’s presence to the god. He considered letting it play out, confident in his champion’s ability to deflect the chains and react to the ambush. Her Excellent Luck would shine here.
As the chains crossed over the molten pool that was once a raging fire, an armored fist surged from its depths, lunging out to snatch two chains from the air. Moka’s eyes widened as she saw a second hand emerge. With the chains in both hands, the figure pulled itself out while pulling the two goblins on the other end toward it.
The third chain soared true, lancing toward Moka’s face. Danara stepped out from a shadow ten feet away, already running. Azarus still felt the situation would play to his champion’s benefit. However, what good was an advantage if not used? He resonated his essence and spoke, Moka’s ear twitching in tandem.
“Behind you.”
Moka flung herself to the side, landing in an awkward roll with her rucksack and staff. The chain passed where she had stood, on a direct course with Danara. The hob parried it with ease, turning on the ball of her foot to readjust her charge. With a mighty push, Moka heaved herself off the ground, going from prone to standing in an instant. She had no time to be surprised at her own strength. Her staff in both hands, she used both ends and the middle to fend off Danara’s flurry of dagger strikes.
A large, armored figure had dragged itself out of the molten pool of fire. Azarus recognized it as the same goblin hunter as before, clad head to toe in dark armor with strings of dried goblin ears hanging from its neck. It had the two chains in one hand, rotating its arm to wrap them around its forearm, drawing the goblins on the other side closer despite their struggles. With its other hand, it reached back down toward the pool. A halberd, forged from dark metal, emerged, rising until the figure snagged it and pulled it the rest of the way out.
As the halberd passed through the fire, another pair of armored arms, followed by a helm, emerged from the pool. The second figure was a replica of the first goblin-ear necklaces and all. It used the ground to claw itself out of the pool, reaching back into the fire for a weapon.
The first goblin hunter yanked the two chains, pulling the shadow goblins on the other side forward as it burst into a charge. The goblins stopped their efforts to detach themselves from their weapons, lunging forward to meet the figure. Planting its lead leg, the figure wrapped up the slack in the chains and yanked them to the side, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. With one hand, the Faefire apparition swung its halberd in a mighty arc, cutting through the first goblin and halfway through the second.
Shouldering a dark metal crossbow, the second goblin hunter took sight at the largest threat, Danara. It fired, sending a lance of purple flame past Moka’s face. Danara disengaged from Moka, crossing her daggers over her face. The fiery bolt glanced off a blade, shooting into the distance. An ember deflected from the impact, falling, sizzling, on the hobgoblin’s forearm. She muffled a curse, hissing through her teeth. Shadows swarmed up from beneath her skin, smothering the ember and pushing it away. She grabbed the hem of her cloak, rubbing it between her fingers. The burn mark disappearing as if erased. With her dagger still in hand, Danara twirled, wielding her cloak like a flail.
As Danara spun, Azarus noticed she had a length of chain sewn into the end of her cloak, making the flail comparison more true than he had thought. It was a clever design. However, more pressing, he saw Carwen’s true image cough. She was cowering near Moka’s fight, staying low and unnoticed. Her illusion was a few feet to her side, doing the same. She coughed into her fist, the tips of her ears burning red. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she watched Danara, looking for an opening with her grenade in one hand and a knife in the other. She did not notice the three shadow goblins creeping up on her.
Azarus’s primary concern was the cough. Carwen was not immune to the [Faefire] like Moka was. The toxic smoke, or a single spark, could prove fatal. He spoke, conveying his concerns to Moka as she ducked beneath Danara’s weighted cloak.
“The smoke will kill Carwen, if the goblins don’t.”
In the heat of the moment, Moka could not hide her displeasure as Azarus’s voice reached her ears. She snarled, kicking a forward kick at Danara with her heavy boots. The hobgoblin danced back, allowing Moka to change the grip on her staff to use it like a spear. Danara sprung into the air, a tornado of cloak and daggers. Moka took a deep breath, drawing her staff back, then thrusting with all her might. [Triple Strike] activated.
The claw end of Moka’s staff had three prominent thorns. Two longer ones, with a shorter one opposite to form the shape of a claw. There was a flurry of motion as Moka struck, several clangs ringing out. Danara fell to the ground, rolling up to her feet in a single motion. Her cloak fell over her body, the trail of blood on the ground the only evidence she had been wounded. She feinted toward Moka, causing Azarus’s champion to take a defensive stance. With a wild cackle, Danara blew Moka a kiss.
“The sweetest berries have thorns.”
Moka lunged toward her, stabbing with her staff. The warlord turned and vanished into a pool of shadows. With a curse, Moka whirled on her heel, racing toward Carwen’s illusion. The three shadow goblins were closing in on the elf, licking their lips like they had found a forest hen.
The two armored apparitions had created a new battle line, as they faced off against a group of shadow goblins. Wielding its halberd in one hand, and its claimed chains in the other, the first figure lashed about, creating mayhem as the goblins tried to form ranks. Behind it, the second apparition sent off a constant stream of fiery bolts, aiming to spread the flames more than land a killing blow.
On the other side of the room, the burning shades waged a never ending war against the goblins, rising up wearing torn clothes each time they were cut down. The matriarch began aiming for the goblin collecting bodies, aiming to win a war of attrition.
Between the two sides, the battlefield had reached an equilibrium, other than Carwen’s plight. Moka ran head first toward Carwen’s illusion, holding her staff by the butt like a club. She chittered a war cry, causing the three shadow goblins to look up as she bore down on them. Off to the side, a shadow flickered, betraying Danara’s presence. Carwen cowered a few feet to the side of her illusion, staring at the encroaching shadow goblins with a white knuckled grip on her knife.
If Moka was quick, she would be able to save the [Village Beauty] in time to intercept Danara’s next attack. Azarus had a feeling she would be lucky. He could only wait and see if that luck extended to Carwen.