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Chapter 2 - Only Words

The gnome’s head pulped beneath the levied fist of Goreblaster, blasting gore up the unholstered couch.

“Hells! What was he made of, eggs?” The barbarian recoiled, usually smug at overpowering his opponents, but now somewhat disturbed - and dare he say it; regretful.

“That was overkill, even for you,” Percy squirmed spherically, turning a paler shade of whatever hue he usually was.

“Now I feel bad. Like the time those child-eating cultists transferred their souls inadvertently into a litter of puppies.” Goreblaster shuddered, it was not their worst PR battle, but it was one that had stuck with him. Much like the-

“Wow, you are annoying too! And so weak.” The squeak of the gnome haunted the barbarian even in death - although, it actually sounded like the voice was coming from behind him.

Goreblaster turned, to find Henry sitting on the shelf next to a pile of books, the gnome with a wide grin on his face and the brain matter still in his head. The original mashed version still sat soaking into the now depreciated value of the couch, brain gravy atop the upholstered root vegetables of choice. He was pretty hungry.

“I’m going to annoy you!” the antagonising miniature man hissed from his precipice of stable storage.

“What are the chances he just comes back any time I kill him?” Goreblaster eyed up the circumference of his companion, hoping for a more conclusive answer than his mind was already able to assume. You should never assume; his mentor would tell him. It makes me want to stab u ass.

“Based on the sample size of one, I will estimate a fifty-fifty chance,” Percy mathed in the air, symbolically.

“Nearly guaranteed then,” the barbarian scratched at his stubbled chin, warily eyeing up the taunting creature like a frugal shopper at the discount area of a store that only sold ugly little creatures with pointy hats.

“And I will annoy you each time!” the impish creature gurgled, his eyes ablaze with glee.

“Is it even possible to be annoyed to death?” Goreblaster hummed to himself, starting to slowly pace about the room of what looked like to be a rented villa. “Aside from my impressive physique, I also have iron willpower and an immutable spirit.”

“Naa naa naa” the gnome replied, unhelpfully.

Percy shuffled awkwardly in his seat, edging slightly away from the mushed corpse of the previous small figure. “Well, you did already punch one to death.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“It was one punch!” Goreblaster shrugged in exasperation, turning to his ball-esque manager. “When’s the last time I couldn’t hit something at least once?”

“Last week - Hoo’a the Ram-train died in one hit.”

“He ran into my fist; that hardly counts.”

“You can hardly count!” the gnome needled from across the room, like the world’s longest-armed seamstress.

The right eye of Goreblaster twitched, as he stopped and glared at the creature. Despite his insistence on having an iron will, it had been a long time since anyone had dared prickle him with such insistence. Usually, his detractors would sooner be detracted from their heads - only due to them being bad guys; he wasn’t in the habit of murdering his critics. A habit was something you did regularly.

“Listen, friend,” the word grating as it exited his mouth, like stale cheese, “What could I possibly do to get you to leave?”

“Die!” the gnome squealed, like a piggy eating freshly grated cheese.

“There must be something else you could want for your existence?”

“Annoy you until you die!”

Percy coughed, not because he was ill (despite definitely looky sickly as the lumpy pre-gnome slurped down the seat), but because he wanted the attention of the bickering pair. “Perhaps there is a more reasonable, grounded way we could solve this?”

Goreblaster baulked. “Unless you are hinting that it would be reasonable to mulch the fiend on the ground, I am not entirely sure as to what you are implying.”

“Dumb dumb!”

“If this is indeed a Gnomish Curse, then we will have to find some way of removing the actual curse.”

“Oh.” Goreblaster nodded with a blank expression on his face. “But not with my sword?”

Percy returned the blank glare, tiny pupils behind his thick spectacles staring back at the muscle-bound lug. Perhaps he had a Goreblaster-Curse, he reasoned to himself before the insidious gnome started up again.

“Annoyed yet? Dead yet?” Henry wriggled and writhed with glee like a dancing snake.

Goreblaster rubbed his temples in prayer, in hoping it might deliver him from having to hear the constant chittering of the foul monster. Unfortunately, his silent pleas were left unheard by the Divine. The three Gods that watched over this world whistling and looking the other way lest they invoke the ire of the Curse too.

“If I may, Gore,” Percy started, watching the tension visibly build up in the stacked muscles of the barbarian, “The local library may have some information on how to remove specific curses.”

“Nah, just get annoyed more!”

While the barbarian begrudgingly accepted that there was a need for the written word, libraries disgusted him. Gross pits of hoarded information, where literacy junkies sat slovenly, eyes glazed over as the mass of arranged letters seeped into their skulls. You know who loved reading? Wizards. You know who gave him this Curse? Also a Wizard. The connection was there.

“I can see what you are thinking, and I won’t make you touch any of the books.” Percy had often seen the resigned glares of discomfort when they had to go through the mission reports or local news - it had once surprised him early on to learn that the barbarian wasn’t illiterate; he just despised it.

“Yaay, a trip to the books, very annoyinggg” Henry elongated the vowels, stretching the sound and wearing the elasticity of Goreblaster’s patience thin.

With a crunch, the shelf split in half as a slash of Pureheart rendered a gash in the undeserving wall. The sword just so happened to lop the gaudy gnome in half.

“Time to annoy you!” a pitched voice screeched from behind the barbarian.

“Annoy you until you die!” a second voice, equally as unnerving came from beside the first.