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Chapter 10 - No Pun

A blaze of blue light enveloped Goreblaster as the thunderous footsteps of a dozen orgre-gnomes stampeded towards him.

“Protect Henry-prime,” they bellowed as their large swords were brought to bear.

Goreblaster became a streak of blue light, slicing a path and zig-zagging between the slow gnomes, their weapons clattering noisily against the solid ground as they whiffed their strikes. Spurts of crimson ejected from a handful of the assailants, almost comically delayed from when the blow must have been struck.

The barbarian whipped around and made a second pass - in his elevated state he was just too small and fast for them to react to; the irony amusing him when thinking about how the pointy shoes were on the other foot not that long ago. A further trail of injuries was levied as several gnomes dropped to the floor, the ones still standing glaring around with panicked eyes at the annoying blur of Goreblaster.

Henry-prime stood from his large wooden throne, now towering above even the giant gnomes. From beside this carved seat, he withdrew a hammer. At almost twenty feet in length the head of it was as large as one of the now (comparatively) smaller ogre-gnomes.

“I suggest you move,” the alleged demi-god boomed down to his worshippers, his extremely long grey beard buffeted by the air dispelled by the command.

“I suggest you tell me why there are so many paintings of me in the hall!” Goreblaster shouted back, not feeling intimidated or insecure about his height against two taller foes - after all he did beat up many a monster many times his size and hardly ever for reasons relating to his alleged inadequacies.

The god-gnome crouched down and narrowed his eyes at the muscular form of the heroic interloper. “It’s you,” he boomed in response, “It’s always been you.”

“I have always been me, but that doesn’t really answer the-” Goreblaster rolled to avoid the hammerhead, the impact reverberating around the chamber as dust and fragments of split stone were sent flying from the strike.

“We admire you, yet you must be destroyed.” A second swing, this time arced more horizontally and crushed a too-slow gnome into the wall as the barbarian dived out of the way. Debris clattered down from the ceiling, dotting the battlefield with dried earth and dark brickwork, like a hastily constructed cake.

“Avoiding my question is kind of annoying - oh.” Goreblaster slashed his way through two gnomes, felling the creatures as he circled the outskirts of the chamber, trying to get closer to the big-one.

“They are still trying to physically kill you, not by annoyance,” Percy called from some hiding place he had managed to find, rolling his right eye.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Whatever Percy might have said could be right, the barbarian assumed, although he wasn’t really listening on account of he was busy trying to not be physically killed. Percy could really be annoying sometimes - oh, what if Percy was really the gnome all along? He would have to ask him one day.

The hammer slammed into the side wall just below him as he jumped into the air, Goreblaster landing with a slightly unstable footing on the wide rectangular head. A smirk slid across his face, had the gnome perhaps underestimated his true power? He burst into blue flame - but not the burning kind, just like some manner of really cool energy to visibly show that he was pumped and powered up - sometimes we all wish we could do that, right?

As big Henry raised the hammer away from the wall, Goreblaster sped down the handle, Pureheart outstretched as if he were a jousting knight who had forgotten his horse and how to joust. The blade struck the arm, and a beam of light radiated out of the wound, the barbarian flying off the other side of the gnome leaving a long trail of crimson regrets.

What he didn’t expect was the back elbow from the other arm, striking the barbarian flatly and sending him careening off into the wall, the hard surface knocking any bravado out of him. Goreblaster stood shakily, after the day he had endured even the waning adrenaline was beginning to cause him to falter.

True Henry turned to scowl at the pint-sized (but like, a really big pint) fighter, clasping at his bleeding arm. “Only know how to hurt; only victory matters to the little man.”

Goreblaster clenched his teeth and the blue waves of energy whipped around his with increased fervour. He had about had it with these gnomes and their mean little mouths; why use words to cause so much hurt? They weren’t even written down, they were free to find meaning and purpose in the ears upon which they landed. Well, Goreblaster had one word to say to people like that.

“Die!” As the Henry lunged forward, both fists attempting to grab or crush the little bug, Goreblaster was just that little bit faster. Spinning like a tornado, he sped under the outstretched hands, slicing at fingers before twirling up the long beard of the monster. Shredded hair flew in all directions as Goreblaster leapt high into the air, Henry looking up at him with a last look of panic and acceptance.

The barbarian flew down from his apex, Pureheart ablaze and struck the mysterious yellow gemstone, splitting it and sending the sword straight into the skull of the large gnome.

Henry looked up, the light fading from his eyes, as he gasped his last words. “Just how… free are you… really?”

As the demi-god-no-more slumped to the floor, the yellow stone burst out with energy, encircling the barbarian and lighting the chamber up in a bright low. The light intensified until everything was pure blinding white, and Goreblaster felt a gravity pull at him, stretching his very matter in an unromantic manner.

Like the unwanted pit from a fruit, the pair of exhausted adventurers were spat from the Gnomish Plane, arriving just where they had entered it - in the woodland clearing.

With a groan, Goreblaster righted himself, stumbling into a warm Fernando who helped maintain his balance. Blinking a few times to get used to reality, or at least what was assumed to be reality (maybe this Plane is something spookier and the Gnome one was the right one?), he was thankful to see that the mass of tiny gnomes was gone. The stones of the waygate were inert, and a cool breeze was refreshing.

He leant a hand down to lift his bulb of a companion, the man panting and resting hands on his supposed knees.

“Looks like I am cured,” Goreblaster announced, raising his arms in the air.

“Just in time,” Percy huffed, digging through a satchel on Fernando and bringing out a stack of (frankly disturbing) paperwork. “We have two jobs nearby that need your attention.”

“Take me in whichever direction has the closest food and furthest mages,” Goreblaster baulked, “Gnome more curses please.”

Percy would have rolled his eyes, if he had any.