Chapter 21 - Tank some Damage
They dropped from the trees and popped out of the mud, one and all covered in mottled gray camouflage with twigs and clumps of moss glued to their skin. One of them even materialized from the trunk of a dead tree, like he’s been painted there to blend in perfectly.
Goblins. Again. Just how many flavors of goblin are there on this stupid planet?
These, for sure, weren’t my goblins. Stone Hearts favored spears and arrows, and, from what I could tell, chose not to risk themselves with direct confrontation. These goblins all held axes in one hand and feathered shivs in the other, and they sounded different, like the accent of a person from a different town or social caste. It was a subtle thing, but noticeable, though most of their shouts were some variation of “Kill!” or “Go! Go!”
As I attempted to rise, the pain in my leg screamed at me, flooding my senses until it was all I could think about. It hurt even worse than being dipped in acid, funnily enough. Steadily, I was becoming well versed in the different kinds of pain and trauma one could endure. I’d need to make a chart or something when I got the chance, for posterity’s sake.
The goblins charged me, each of them holding their hatchets over their heads in preparation to throw while their knife hands were held out straight.
I was able to sit up before they got to me. My leg didn’t seem to want to straighten out, not with the serrated blade still inside of it, so I used the other one to stabilize myself.
“Hey! Stop! Wait!” I shouted at them. It wasn’t my most persuasive choice of words, I admit. My mind was working in overdrive to figure a way out of this situation, but when you’ve got a half pound of cold metal jammed into your hamstring, there’s only so much processing power you can afford the speech center of your brain.
The first goblin to reach me went for a stab with his leading hand. I twisted to the side and used my palm to slap the blow out of line, and I barely got my metal prosthetic up in time to catch the followup strike with the hatchet. The ax head slammed down on my forearm with a *CLANK* that reverberated up the metal intensely enough to be felt in the rest of my body. My arm, as always, took the blow like a champ.
The ax, on the other hand, didn’t survive. The head shattered, showering me in bits of pale metal while the haft exploded into a cloud of splinters in the goblin’s face.
He hissed in pain as the wood found his eyes, leaving him blindly slashing at me as he tried to back away.
I used that brief window of vulnerability to reach out and grab his ankle
Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec]
Goblin takes 15 crushing damage.
His leg didn’t outright come off. Instead, my steely grip crushed his bones to powder and mangled his flesh. Now his screams no longer held coherent words as he frantically clawed at the unyielding fingers to try and stop the pain.
*CLANG*
My vision flashed, and my head was batted to the side until it landed on my shoulder. Blinking, I turned to look behind me to find another hatchet blow coming down on my head, even as my helmet was still ringing from the first blow. The world wobbled and warped as my eyes relearned how to focus properly.
Roaring, I threw myself backwards and twisted at the waist, yanking my new living, screaming goblin club off his feet and along for the ride. It was surprisingly easy, like swinging a particularly cumbersome pillow.
The goblin that tried to brain me danced back to avoid the blow, but he didn’t account for my reach now that I was holding his friend. The two goblins collided together, my club’s skull slamming into the other’s collarbone with a wet snap. The two went down together, only one of them still moving. The goblin I still held by the ankle flopped bonelessly on the hard stones, while his friend clutched at his shoulder and gurgled something I couldn’t make out.
Definitely not complaining about more points in Body again.
Goblin takes 20 blunt damage.
Critical hit!
Goblins takes 27 blunt damage [13 base + 14 bonus]
You have been awarded 9 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, -20 non-combat class)]
Unknown attacks you for 8 piercing damage.
Stabbing pain shot through my abdomen as another of the ambushers buried his blade in my side. My chainmail blunted some of the force, but at least a couple inches of the knife made it through to perforate me. I reflexively tried to curl inward to protect the injured area, unfortunately using the same muscles that had just been stabbed to perform the motion. A low, growling moan squirmed around in the back of my throat.
The goblin didn’t try to follow up like his friend did. Instead, he danced back once I was within range to grab him, and he got low, circling in a ready stance.
“Guys,” I ground out through clenched teeth as I frantically twisted to keep an eye on the position of every goblin at once. The constant motion did wonderful things for my aching head, forcing me to swallow frequently so as not to vomit. “I don’t want to fight, and I don’t have anything you want.” I thought about name dropping the Stone Hearts, but the way Hunty told the story, Kuul might have burned a few bridges when it came time to stand against the black ones. The name might just make them want to desecrate my corpse after they killed me.
I counted three goblins doing it now, prowling around me and feinting little lunges with their knives. They didn’t seem interested in talking, choosing, instead, to growl and hiss to distract me as the others took shots at my back.
Again, I whipped my goblinclub in a wide arc, hoping to get lucky again or get a little space, but the little bandits were wise to the trick now. They stayed out of range until it was time to strike. They scored several little wounds over the next handful of seconds, shallow but quickly adding up to something debilitating.
As I blocked a third hatchet chop from the attacker in front of me, another goblin entered the fray, seeming to lurch out from behind one of the trees closest to the road and into the open. He wore dirty robes adorned with thick white fur that lined the collar, sleeves, and hem, while metal chains dangled from manacles on his wrists. On his head he wore the skull of some kind of bird like a helm, decorated with blue painted sigils and metal hoops pierced through the eye sockets.
I wasn’t about to wait to see what his deal was. Bracing myself, I decided “screw it” and flung my now deceased goblin weapon at the fighter in front of me. It wasn’t a great throw, more like a toss. My Body was higher than it used to be, but I was still throwing a little floppy person. People aren’t meant for throwing. Still, I hucked the thing, sending the legs and arms windmilling toward my target. As he’d been doing for every one of my attacks, he dove to the side to dodge, but this gave me the space I needed to summon my pistol.
With a pulse of light, my weapon was in my hand, and I snapped a quick shot at Bird Skull Guy.
*POP*
Goblin takes 18 piercing damage.
Goblin is bleeding.
The robed goblin had already opened his mouth to take in a big breath just as I shot him. With a wet “Gack!* he spun in place until his back was to me and went down clutching his chest. He didn’t die, at least not yet. My aim had been rushed, and the System didn’t give me any experience yet. Hopefully, that would keep the guy out of the fight until-
The blade of a hatchet slammed into my back. I felt something, a rib maybe, give way with a pop, and then there was a hot sensation of blood rushing into places it should not be. The ax didn’t make it all the way through my chainmail though, clattering down to the cold surface of the road.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
I grunted, reflexively reaching around to my back to assess the damage, but I was holding my gun now. I couldn’t do something like that. What I could do, however, was rack another round into the chamber.
As I *clacked* the slide back to the ready position, the goblin in front of me danced in and slashed at my eyes, which I blocked with my metal hand before jamming the muzzle of my gun under the monster’s ribs.
*FOMP*
The round entered the soft parts of his abdomen, angled up to get his vitals. Whatever the bullet did in there, it was quick. The goblin went instantly limp, collapsing in a heap onto my good leg.
I turned around just in time to intercept another knife to the back. Only two goblins left now, and only one had his hatchet.
I spat on the cobblestones and bared my teeth. “Next one to stab me, I swear-”
Then a low, moaning, howl split the air and set my teeth on edge.
Bird Skull Guy was back, or at least he was conscious. He laid there on the road, one gnarled hand holding his side where his blood was leaving him in spurts, the other reaching for the sky, crackling with blue sparks.
The air literally electrified. Goose pimples appeared on my flesh, my hair stood on end, and my muscles twitched of their own volition under my mail.
I wasn’t being hurt though. Not actively. Hesitantly, I took my eyes off the Bird Skull to bring the others into focus.
Oh. That’s bad.
The metal blades of their weapons glowed, humming and popping with static as they made contact with larger particles in the air. Arcs of blue light spat from the sharpened edges and left behind floating tracers.
Behind me, the song ceased, but the goblins’ weapons continued to glow.
That’s very bad. Don’t want to get hit by th- AUGHTERFAFEFMIMPH!
Quick as a snake, the goblin that still held his hatchet threw the thing at my chest. I was on the ground and wounded. There was no chance to dodge.
Again, I took a hatchet to the chainmail, this time right in the sternum. Not only did the bones inside my chest cavity crack, but the lightning inside the blade now traveled through my mail and into my body, sending me spasming to the ground.
And it kept doing it too. The ax hung there in my chest, maybe on the mail, maybe in the flesh. I couldn’t tell. It did tase the hell out of me, though. Every muscle in my body cramped, my fingers curled inward mid-reload, making me drop my weapon. My diaphragm forced all the air from my lungs, and blood filled my mouth as I bit my tongue.
I tasted cinnamon. Why did I taste cinnamon?
Then the two goblins were upon me. Stabbing with little knives. Going for the vitals. Everything not lightning related felt muted as the electricity overloaded my nervous system, but I could distinctly feel one of the knives enter my thigh, probably looking for an artery. The other worked on my upper half.
Most of the stabs were shallow things. They were little knives, and their wielders were reluctant to touch me, probably not wanting to get a shock themselves.
I couldn’t move. I could barely think. Magical lightning coursed through my body without end.
I could think of only one more card to play, a card I’d recently acquired and really didn’t play well with mana. If I could trigger the feedback, maybe I could flip this chess board.
From my spatial storage, I summoned the brightsteel blade into my palm.
*FWOOM*
The world went white.
My eyes came back into focus momentarily. I was lying on my side, the cold stones of the road numbing the skin on my face. My metal arm was wedged underneath me uncomfortably, and, at some point, I’d straightened out my injured leg. In front of my face, I clutched the brightsteel, its edges digging deep into blistered and blackened skin.
You have been awarded 11 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, +2 chain, -20 non-combat class)]
HP [12/115]
My body was a roadmap of pain. Nothing felt right except for maybe my prosthetic, and that was a whole nother can of weird I didn’t want to open just now. I gasped, filling my lungs with oxygen. It burned.
Then I propped myself up on an elbow, my heart thudding loudly in my ears, the blood flow slowly bringing my limbs back to life.
Then adrenaline was back with me now, and my mind slowly cleared. I was in a fight. That’s right. And I couldn’t stop until it was over.
I willed the brightsteel back into my spatial storage. I didn’t feel any burning sensation this time, but that wasn’t a very comforting thought. It meant the nerves in my hand were probably dead.
Grunting with effort, I cast about for my gun, finding it a few feet away. It, too, was looking rough, black smudges of soot streaking its otherwise uniformly gray exterior.
Weapon in hand, the metal one, I shook the hopper to make sure a round was in the chamber and pushed the slide forward.
The two ambusher goblins lay next to me, burned and battered from the explosion. One of them was more charred than the other, his face mostly missing. The other was trying to drag himself away, succeeding but only slowly, one blood smeared inch at a time.
I extended my arm and aimed carefully.
*POP*
You have been awarded 13 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, +4 chain, -20 non-combat class)]
I ended his life as quickly as I could. Humanely, whatever that meant anymore. Even though he would never have done the same for me.
The shaman, if that was the right word for Bird Skull Guy, was still breathing, but he was either passed out or pretending to be. Another carefully placed shot, and he lay still too.
Skill unlocked: Pistols
Your current skill level is 1.
You have been awarded 34 experience points. [44 base (+4 group, +6 chain, -20 non-combat class)]
I was looking rough. I was charred, bleeding, and concussed. I was alive though.
Sometimes it just came down to being able to tank a few hits.
Hurray for high Body stat.
Groaning, I flopped down on my back and lay there, amidst the bodies of my enemies and their previous victims, letting the numbing cold of the… quelllstone was it?... sooth my aches. My hands trembled as I rested them on my stomach.
After a while, I checked my HP, hoping I’d seen the worst of it.
HP [9/105]
Damnit. What’s this? Should have ticked up by now.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the quellstone road was hurting me or at least keeping me from healing. That was the only mystery factor here.
It took herculean effort to drag myself all the way from the middle of the road to the comforting squishiness of the mud where I flopped down on my face to let the System do its thing. Only then did my regeneration start to repair my body.
The process took a long while, made even longer by the fact that I had to extract a serrated goblin hatchet from my leg once I got a good buffer of HP between me and the great beyond. I was right to wait. When I ripped the thing out, it brought pieces of me with it. I nearly lost consciousness with how intense the pain was, and the bleeding debuff I got afterward would have killed me if I’d done it right away.
Status Gained: Bleeding. [5 HP/sec]
Luckily, I was out of combat, and the debuff was gone after a handful of delirious seconds.
When I’d reached about the three quarters mark on my HP, my ammunition had all found its way back to me, and, after a quick look around for watching eyes, I went back to loot the bodies.
The old bodies… the ones the goblins apparently were using as bait to draw others in, I simply searched with a quick pat down, finding nothing except a few ripped coin pouches lying in the road. The monsters must have stripped everything except for the flashy bits to make the lure nice and shiny.
The goblins, however… I let the System have its way with them.
In the end I received six sets of hatchets and knives the System tagged as “Baptized Bronze,” a pouch of herbs, three coin purses conspicuously strewn about among the original corpses, a painting kit with brushes, a pair of manacles, and a copper amulet. That last one was what really interested me.
Copper Amulet of the Storm: Copper amulet forged by Shaman Zeck’tar. Cast in the Swift Talon clan’s holy crucible and tempered in the blood of a hatchling Roc, this focus of will assists in the coalescing of storm mana.
Damage: N/A
Quality: Excellent
Style: Primitive
Magic: Draws in and condenses storm mana until the amulet is charged. Mana can be unleashed and directed as the user chooses.
That was interesting. Just how many types of mana were there? So far, the System had mentioned Hunger and Storm, two concepts that were as far apart from one another as you could get.
When I touched the amulet, I felt a slight tingle on my skin, and the hair on my arm stood at attention. How I would make the thing work, I didn’t know. Should I feed mana into it? The only way I knew how to do that was my abilities, and I didn’t want to re-shape the thing or program it to dance on little spider legs.
The goblins themselves, once the System stripped them of their belongings, looked thin and frail. Their ribs showed through their pale, green skin, and their arms and legs seemed emaciated. That was interesting too. They’d used the corpses of these people to lure others in, leaving the gold in the middle of the road to sweeten the pot. All of their victims wore good shoes as well with well worn treads on the bottom. If these people were traveling along the road before the goblins ambushed them, where was their food? Where were their canteens or water skins? I could certainly use those.
The goblins looked like they could use the supplies too. Perhaps they had a cache somewhere nearby where they kept that kind of stuff. Considering how well they’d hidden themselves, I could probably spend a lot of time searching for their stash and not find a thing.
I wasn’t sure I had that kind of time.
Of course, this universe confirmed that suspicion for me. I, the only living being atop a pile of dead people, was kneeling down next to the crumpled form of the goblin magician when I heard the rhythmic click clack of metal on stone somewhere on the road behind me.