The heart of the goblin warlord’s lair burned. Purple firelight flooded the center of the room, banishing the deep shadows to the edges of the cavernous room, where the light played on the cloth and chain walls. A dark cloud of smoke settled overhead, casting a haze through the room. Moka ran in the firelight, the nearest shadow ten paces away. She planted her lead foot and swung her staff by the end with all her might. Letting out a chittering war cry, she crashed into the three shadow goblins, hemming in Carwen’s illusion.
Off to the side of the goblins, Carwen’s true image saw Moka take a wild swing. She hit the ground belly-first, narrowly missing being brained.
The claw end of Moka’s staff smashed through the goblin on her right, breaking his skull. It continued, backed by the force of Moka’s Moderate Might, bursting through his head. She followed muscled into the swing, raking the long thorns of her staff raking across the chest of the next goblin over. The third goblin had enough forewarning to step back, dodging the swing.
Danara sprang from the shadows the moment Moka spun, rushing at her back with both blades drawn. Blood stained her leathers. However, beneath the torn holes was smooth, unmarked skin. Azarus noted that her colorful, mottled cloak was a fraction less vibrant than before. She ducked beneath Moka’s [Ironthorn Staff] as she completed her spin, coming up from a crouch with both daggers aiming for the smaller goblin’s neck.
Moka’s eyes landed on Danara, locking onto the motion of her ducking. With her current momentum, she could not untwist her feet fast enough to dodge. Her heavy staff was pulling her to continue the spin. With a grunt, she bent her knees a fraction and pushed down with all her might. Using her ankles like springs, she leapt straight up, her awkward rucksack pulling her off balance as she left the ground.
Danara’s strike missed its intended target. Her [Troll Tusk Daggers] skated across the lacquered wood of Moka’s [Elven Heartwood Breastplate], carving lines over her collarbone. The blow pushed Moka further, faster, sending her twirling through the air and crashing to the ground. The uninjured shadow goblin pounced on her before she could get up, wielding a cavalry sword in both hands. Its compatriot, with the open chest wounds, lay bleeding where he fell, his throat cut.
Carwen shimmered into existence, using her superior size to barrel into the lanky shadow goblin trying to finish Moka. They fell in a tangle of skirts and a flashing knife.
Moka rolled to her stomach, pushing off the ground in time to intercept Danara. The hobgoblin leapt at her with both blades. With a roar, Moka braced her staff horizontally, catching the daggers. She accepted the force of Danara’s full body strike, holding the [Warleader] in the air for a tense nanosecond. With a snarl, Moka heaved her staff, pulling with one hand and pushing her body weight into the other. She took a step to the side, whipping her staff to fling the hobgoblin away. The [Explosives Expert] ripped one of her last two grenades out of her bandolier, as her opponent tumbled through the air. She squinted at where she thought Danara would land, subtly weighing the clay orb in her hand. Before she could light it, Danara vanished into the shadows.
Carwen stood up from the corpse of the shadow goblin, her skirt stained with blood. She held one arm close to her chest, nursing four deep cuts. Claw marks. Taking a deep breath, she took in the two battlefronts and the nearby shadows Danara was likely lurking in. The clothing clad shades fought with a wildfire’s undying fury, wearing down a rotating line of defenders. On the other side of the room, two armored figures were trying to corner a group of illusive shadow goblins. A line of charred corpses marked their progress.
Exhaling, the [Village Beauty] turned to Moka. Her goblin companion was sizing up which portion of the room needed a grenade. The exhale turned into a rattling cough, stealing away her words. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees, as a coughing fit caused her to convulse.
With a curse, Moka hustled over, stowing the grenade away. She propped her staff up against her body and waved both, slightly glowing, hands all around Carwen’s head and shoulders. Black liquid, like thick tar, gathered on Moka’s wooden gauntlets, beading on the woven vines. Carwen took a gasping breath, her coughing fit slowing.
Moka nudged her with her hip, careful to keep her hands away. She spoke in quick, urgent tones, her eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the warlord.
“Eat a petal berry! And make yourself a face covering.”
Carwen stammered out a reply, bent over and heaving for air.
“Too precious. I can’t- Tired. I-”
Moka kicked her, not taking her eyes off the shadows. Her sturdy boots thunked against the taller elf’s shin. Carwen cursed, clutching her leg. Moka’s tone held no guilt or pity.
“Do it before I do it for you.”
That silenced Carwen and urged her to action. She dug a hand into her skirts, retrieving the unusual flower. With a look of pained reverence, she plucked off a single petal with her teeth. She covered her mouth as she ate the berry. Crunching through the petal’s thin shell, Carwen visibly brightened as the juice within coated her mouth. Within seconds, she was refreshed and energetic. She stood up straight, wiping the blood on her knife off onto her thigh. Using the mostly clean implement, she cut a length of her hem off. As she went to tie it around the lower half of her face, Moka glanced over, ready to pass judgment on her creation.
Danara lunged at Azarus’s champion from behind, taking the momentary distraction as an opportunity. Her blades reflected purple firelight off their ivory length. Azarus watched her move in slow motion, his mind ticking along as she attempted to use her [Backstab] Skill. She was fast, able to cross the distance from the shadows to Moka in a heartbeat. This was an opportunity for him to decide. To act, or to let it play out. He had faith in Moka’s Luck. It reflected his own. However, he found inaction was not his calling. After due consideration, he concluded he had already intervened. In for a copper, in for a gold. He vibrated his essence, whispering a warning to his champion.
“Behind you.”
Moka spun on her heel, sliding her hands up her staff and changing her grip. The tar-like substance on her gauntlets smeared along the haft. When she turned, she held her staff behind her back by the claw end, her bent elbows sticking over her head. Arching her back, then flinging her body forward in one motion, Moka brought the full length of her staff overhead and down. She caught Danara flat footed. The hob broke off her charge, dropping to one knee and crossing both blades over her head to catch the strike.
The daggers slid up the staff, bouncing off the chewed nubs of the former mid-sized thorns to catch on the polished wooden ball at the end. Danara’s arms buckled as she bent backwards, guiding the deadly end of the staff away from her. The haft of the staff bounced off the crown of her head, leaving a wet stain. Moka shuffled her feet, adjusting the grip on her staff. Danara did not wait for her to reset. She spun on her knees, lashing out at Moka’s thighs with her daggers.
Moka deflected one [Troll Tusk Dagger]. The other gouged a bloody line into her inner thigh, not deep enough to hit an artery, but painful enough to impede a normal goblin. Moka was not normal. She bounded forward, unhindered by her leg, swiping at Danara as the hob retreated into the shadows. With [Dead on My Feet], it was as if the wound had never happened. The tip of her staff caught the trailing hem of Danara’s cloak, the sharp thorns ripping a tear in it.
The goblin warlord vanished into the shadows, screaming as if physically wounded. Moka took several steps back, retreating to where Carwen stood, utility knife drawn and hands trembling. She had a scrap of cloth tied around her face, acting as a bandana. Despite her darting eyes and fearful demeanor, she looked hale and hearty.
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Moka stood by the elf, retrieving her second to last grenade. She scanned the room, switching between the nearest shadows and the further battlefronts. Her eyes lingered on the stream of goblin reinforcements coming through a wall. Juggling her grenade and her staff, she turned to Carwen.
“Get ready to run. Keep a petal in your mouth and avoid the fire.”
Carwen’s eyebrows shot up, then furrowed. She took a halting step.
“Run where? Do you see an exit?”
Moka lit the grenade and loaded it into her [Titan Twine] sling. She wedged the butt of her staff to the ground with her foot. Straightening her lead arm, she pushed the staff forward as she pulled the twine back. Hesitating would give Danara an opportunity to attack. She let go of the grenade as soon as it became too much of a struggle to pull back, sending it streaking across the room. It flew like a comet, leaving a trail of sparks as it lanced toward the goblin reinforcements, pushing their way into the cavernous room. A fraction of a second before it reached them, it exploded, sending a wave of purple fire over the group. The wave splashed across the group, flowing through the entrance and up the walls.
As soon as the grenade left her hand, Moka was running after it. She broke into a sprint, her rucksack bouncing on her shoulders. With a mumbled curse, Carwen grabbed her flower out of her pocket. She tore off a single petal and tucked it in her cheek. Not allowing herself time to think, she broke into a run after Moka, keeping a wary eye on the shadows. Her long strides allowed her to gain ground until she was practically running on Moka’s heels.
The purple flames consumed the wall before they made it halfway, collapsing it into a pile of flaming cloth and chain. The reinforcements were gone, buried in ash and embers. Moka did not stop her headlong sprint, heading straight for the chest-high heap of burning debris. The curtain had fallen straight down, its ruins stretching the length of the former wall, mimicking its original duty despite being destroyed.
The pair drew closer to the wall of flames that had replaced the cloth. Moka slowed to a jog, looking for a gap to slip through. Carwen drew up to her shoulder, eyeing the growing flames. Beneath her bandana, her cherry lips twisted into a frown. Azarus thought it highlighted the slight bulge in her cheek. Rolling the petal in her mouth, she spoke around it, enunciating to compensate for the foreign object.
“Do you really think a petal will let me survive that?”
Carwen gestured at the fire as a section collapsed in on itself, sending up a shower of sparks. Moka peered at the section, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She glanced behind them, checking the shadows every few seconds. After completing a quick scan, her eyes darted to Carwen’s. Her ruby eyes met the elf’s sunset ones and held them. Her gaze was intense, causing Carwen’s to waver. Moka shrugged, looking away.
“I hope so. We don’t have many choices.”
The fire groaned, a ripple running along its length. Moka whirled as she glimpsed a shifting shadow. She faced it, the wall of fire exploding into sparks behind her, adding to the smoky haze. Azarus could hear shouts on the other side of the wall, of not just terror, but fury.
Behind his claimed pair, the [Silk Shadow Goblins] had brought down one of the armored figures, and was hemming in on the other. The line against the burning shades was holding. The goblins were cutting down the shades, buying themselves time while they knit back together, purple flames burning away their injuries. However, despite the reprieve, the number of regular goblins to replace their fallen transformed brethren was rapidly dwindling. Throughout the room, pockets of goblins were coughing and clawing at their throats, some foaming at the mouth.
Azarus watched as one goblin coughed so hard her eyes rolled into the back of her head. After they did, her coughing slowed, then stopped. She stood up from where she was kneeling, looking around with blank eyes like she was seeing the world for the first time. Bringing her hands up to her face, she studied her smoldering claws. The tips of her fingers were like purple embers. Next to her, another goblin coughed. She turned her blank eyes toward the noise. With a soft smile, she wrapped her burning fingers around her neighbor’s throat.
Shifting his focus away from the [Faefire’s] duplicitous effects and back to Moka, Azarus saw a patchwork hand reach out of the wall of burning debris. He brought [Divine Insight] to the forefront of his mind as a massive, muscular man with quilted cloth for skin pulled himself out of the fire. He roared as he emerged, revealing that from the waist down, he had a snake-like tail. The scales of his tail were a dull gray, and an odd shape, like interlocking chains. [Divine Insight] showed the same information for the newcomer as it had when Azarus inspected the burning shades and armored figures.
[Faefire Apparition]: A being born of magic and fear. Will proliferate [Faefire] until stopped.
It was vague, explaining the idea behind the method, without explaining why there was a giant cloth and chain naga hurling flaming punches at the ceiling. Azarus shrugged, supposing it did not matter in the grand scheme of things. He would experience many flavors of magic. The quirks of the Fae were just the first.
When the patchwork naga revealed himself in all his glory, it was clear he was the wall of the debris, transformed. His tail shifted, revealing the network of vines beyond the wall. Through layers of cloth and vines was a gap between two massive trees, soft yellow light shining through. A small group of goblins gathered near the gap, led by a hooded figure. They murmured to each other, casting glances toward where the other raiders battled.
In the naga’s immediate vicinity, just beyond the former wall, three chanting goblins were painting patterns onto the torso of a large hobgoblin. He was sitting cross-legged in front of a pile of burning bodies, his eyes level with the other goblins. His muscles radiated raw power despite his stillness as he sat, staring at the bodies. Burn marks covered his hands. He had chains, far too large for him despite his stature, wrapped around his forearms. The heavy links looked strong enough to hold a ship.
The naga ceased throwing fire, coiling on its tail as it scanned the room. Its eyes breezed past Moka, continuing until it found the shirtless goblin behind it. The hobgoblin looked up from the pile of bodies, making eye contact with the naga. Lips curling into a lazy smile, the naga snagged a body off the ground. He held it over his head by the ankle. Tilting his head back, he unhinged his jaw. Making sure the hobgoblin was watching him, he swallowed the body in a single gulp.
The moment the naga formed and started moving, Moka sprinted for the exit, Carwen and her illusion hot on her heels. They skirted the naga’s coils, the heat visibly reddening the sides of their faces as they passed.
The shirtless hob stood up, shrugging the chanting goblins off him. The painted lines on his skin glowed, shining green-yellow through the smoke. He took a step forward, his figure swelling. Power rolled off him in waves. The naga roared, two additional pairs of arms sprouting from its back. It spread all six arms wide, preparing to meet the growing threat.
Carwen and Moka veered to the side as a foot with toes like small boulders slammed down in front of them. The hob matched the naga for size now. He lunged forward, skin glowing as the naga’s hands burst into purple flames. They matched each other blow for blow. Moka and Carwen skittering toward the exit beneath their notice. A dark shadow stalked them from nearby, waiting for an opportune moment.
Moka threw her hand behind her back as she ran. Carwen grabbed it, her illusion shimmering slightly. Together, the girls ran, using each other for balance as the woven vine ground beneath them buckled and bounced like the ocean in a storm. The naga was a beacon of purple light as it wove fire with all six hands. The goblin [Champion] stood against him, wielding now truly massive chains to rock the naga back.
Azarus saw a losing fight for what it was. Each drop of the naga’s spilled blood was an ember to start another fire. Every breath the hobgoblin took was another lungful of toxic, magical smoke. It seemed to him, the game had changed. Moka and Carwen had won. They destroyed the goblin raider’s base, many of their number dead or dying. The village was most likely safe, or at least had earned a fighting chance. Now, it was a matter of survival, a gauntlet to the finish. The screens had not acknowledged the victory. He suspected they would wait for an inconvenient time.
The god watched his champion weave through the giant’s battle, dragging along a potential [Follower]. His eyes burned with ethereal gold flames as they faced the shadowy passageway between them and the exit. The group lingering at the entrance, led by the hooded figure, dispersed, slinking into the shadows.
Moka swallowed, squeezing Carwen’s hand tight. She glanced down, scanning the shadows. When nothing jumped out to gut her, she bounced on her feet, shaking her shoulders. With a soft voice, she whispered words of encouragement, more to herself than Carwen.
“We still have a grenade. It's not that far. Into the woods and away while the problem burns. We have this.”
Carwen squeezed Moka’s hand back, her illusion laying a comforting hand on the restless goblin’s shoulder. Her eyes never left the shadowy hallway. Shouts, screams, and the roar of a raging fire echoed from the room behind them. She pressed a knuckle to her forehead and whispered. To Azarus, it sounded like a prayer.
“Oh, we brave heroes tread. Into the fire, with the dead.”
Moka’s mouth hardened into a line. She took a firm step forward, dragging Carwen with her as she echoed her words.
“Into the fire.”