“Gem doesn’t take orders from Bartleboth! Bartleboth takes orders from Gem now!” In this time before a sudden uproar within the city of Tartarus, there is a rambunctious goblin making a ruckus in an alley. They weren’t that far from the streets, but this place is known for such noises. Fighting occurs daily. Just as with humans, these various creatures find joy in suffering and laughter through brutality.

This fight; however, was not one of drunken jest or lighthearted duels. This was one of boiled tempers and a loss of patience. Gem, the goblin was heard speaking terrible lies of his king, surrounded himself with friends that shared ideals yet not the path toward exacting such fortunes. It was his plan to lead… well, leadership has its own price to be paid.

“Silence your-blurp-self, Gem!’ Bartleboth, a slime of a soft blue color one might compare to the sky, extended his neck to stare the goblin in his face. Bartleboth was a homunculus slime. There are very few in these lands, only two in The Spire, and he was the only one that had joined this rebellion.

It had only taken a few days to rally their impressive numbers across all nine levels of Tartarus. From farmers to wizards, from insects to lizardmen, they’d caught the attention of many. With individuals such as Bartleboth agreeing to the exodus, it was difficult for many of the others to say no.

Bartleboth’s race is an oddity even among other slimes. They can become incredibly intelligent. Their mass is considerable, but they are quite adept at morphing their gel-like structure into something more humanoid. Utilizing specific qualities of his gel, he was able to mimic colors and details. He could easily shift from a cube or puddle into a man with fine clothes. His body will only absorb or burn what he desires, and his gooey flesh can mimic the sensations of his transformations.

The most interesting part of these slimes is not the impressive nature of their flesh or the sickly orb that neither burns nor decays within the gel (as some believe it to be their brain), but it is the intelligence that sets them apart from the rest. Bartleboth is skilled in certain natural magics. A slime capable of using his body for close combat and magic at range creates a particularly lethal situation to any that might hold him in contempt.

The other homunculus slime, Senticlous, is another matter. Her magic is something specific as is her path of study. She had not agreed to join this band of ingrates; as she’d not even been invited. They’d known her answer before asking. Her false eyes would skim books instead of dream of the world beyond these solid walls.

Bartleboth; however, did dream of leaving. He’d become strong over his life within The Spire. He was ready to go out. He was ready to feed as the slime were meant to and terrorize as the homunculus was. It called to him; the chance to be his own master.

Yet, he now faced an even more pitiful king than his own. Gem, the goblin that had ignorantly set into motion his own demise, stared up at the slime with disgust. Had Bartleboth eyes in his present form, the two would have had their sights locked on one another.

Instead, the slime’s body extended out with the purple orb floating within it. “Should we plup need a leader,” there was a hollow chuckle like boiling liquid, “it wouldn’t be you!”

“Gem’s heard enough. Silly slime!” The goblin’s right hand had risen to put something between the slime’s deadly body and his own. It’ll give Gem just enough time if Gem needs. The other hand slowly retreated behind his back.

“I ask you all,” another sickly pop of some part within the slime filled the alley, “who will you follow?”

There were several individuals. These creatures represented the different factions within the factions. Groups of racial stability or common goals had been created in haste. One may join for the chance to roam and pillage freely. Another had banded together simply for numbers to travel beyond these lands.

Gem had sparked this treacherous coalition. It was his simple-minded hopes at leading, a shiny future for him to steal away, that led each of the involved to this moment.

There was debate and doubts cast between all in attendance—continuing down streets and layers of the city. Who would they follow? Which of the paths would these various creatures take? What banner would they stand beneath as the new order was constructed?

Then the bells sounded.

There are several bells used throughout the expansive city of Tartarus. Lovely relics abandoned by dwarven masters. Metal molded into magnificent chimes for all manner of purposes and signals.

But one set of bells in particular are rarely heard. They do not signify the end of a shift, the request for attention, or even the warning that outsiders are within the region. Even the last of this list is heard infrequently; however, it is often sounded to silence the powerful roar of the largest workforces and forges should the outside forces sense the disturbance in the area.

No, this series of rings told the members of The Spire that their king had returned.

Returned from the outside world all others were forbidden to roam.

Through one of the many gates, their ruling lich had come home. He’d gone out with a small force to handle some affairs, yet he’d come back just as the rebellion heads met in their darkened alleys and plotted. The bells didn’t mean anything more than his return… yet it was enough to ignite the fear.

“He’s back!” Bartleboth bubbled violently at the echo of the bells. This didn’t mean the king would grace his subjects with his presence, but still the heads of these joined factions began to squirm. “We must blurp leave! Who joins me?!”

“Bartleboth will not lead!” As the slime had begun to look over the crowd, the goblin had sneakily closed the gap. Even to the rather brainless creature, the single orb within the gel seemed important. “Gem is the leader!”

“Should we not wait until Gohdin has left once more?” A sickly man that looked more vermin with mange than human spoke with a deep voice.

“Now is the time to leave! Before he can gather his Captains!” One snake-like creature slithered around with a dreadful expression. Its green scales shimmered in the dampened crimson light cast by distant lava pits.

“Shut all of your plub mouths!” Bartleboth continued to spin as he tried to calm the situation. He hadn’t noticed the smaller creature creeping up to his side. “Listen to—”

“Ah!”

SLLLUP

A blade had dragged against its scabbard, flew a few centimeters, and sunk into the thick liquid that made the slime’s body. Any of the more fleshy monstrosities in the vicinity would have succumb to the dishonorable half-pint’s attack. Gem, along with many other goblins, were known for using basic poisons or even other… rather sickening substances, as methods to increase their damage.

Gem’s blade immediately began to sizzle within the form of his intended victim. A brownish coating on the blade slipped away as if finding equilibrium within water, but soon the foreign substance disappeared within the bluish tint. Gem placed one padded knee into the length that made the neck of Bartleboth. He could hear the leather around his leg beginning to dissolve.

Bartleboth’s body reacted as if a human’s knee has been struck. It was pure reflex; outside his own control. Something had tried to pierce his orb as another blunter object landed against a thinner part of his body. The liquid that made up his race solidified slightly—sacrificing more fluid movement for protection or might. The blue shimmered with a more purplish hue.

“Gem!” The orb within the goop spun as if by some unseen hand. As one strand of sentient liquid swung around like a whip, the green goblin had already let go. Gem smiled at what he saw. “Gragh!” Small pops of goo pushed the blade out of the slime’s fashioned head.

“Hurt?” Gem saw a small line, silvery in color, along the purple sphere that attempted to hide itself within a camouflaging substance. “AHA!” The goblin began to chuckle loudly as if the battle were already decided.

With this outburst of confidence, the watching eyes of faction leaders spread wide in surprise. The agility of Gem had left only one kneepad slightly eaten away and one disposable blade corroding on the ground. It’d fallen to the stone with several clangs and the continuous bubbling hiss.

“Gem is leader!” The goblin puffed out his chest and poked himself with his thumb. “Gem! Only Gem!”

Some were impressed. Some were disgusted. Some were on the fence about any decisions until they saw just who submitted or perished.

“Gem!” The plasma creature scrunched and released the tension to spring forward. It wasn’t an incredibly fast attack, but it was quick enough to force Gem’s silence and push the goblin back into the rear wall of some unknown establishment. Gem’s quick hands tossed two smaller knives forward as he leapt.

He had a keen eye, Gem. Waiting for the attacker to extend himself, the orb in thinned gel was an easier target. The farther Bartleboth attacked meant exposing himself. Gem had already planned for this. Both daggers sunk into the purple liquid and made gentle contact with the orb.

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Bartleboth had kept it nearer the base of his form while he stretched out toward the goblin. With Gem’s impressive leap, a surprising height for the little creature, he’d had the perfect vantage for the shots. Solidifying himself, Bartleboth was able to slow down the throwing knives just enough they wouldn’t cause extreme damage to the orb.

“Gah!” The liquid bubbled again as he retreated back. Flinging his form over the orb, he created a standing circle of purple goo. The dagger moved toward the front that faced Gem; the orb now safely behind a wall of liquid that extended outward and up. Then, with a sudden pop, both daggers spun in the liquid and flew out.

Gem easily dodged these. One was knocked away with another blade he’d drawn. The second hit the wall above his left shoulder without needing to duck.

“Gem. Is. Leader.” The goblin smiled a wide, toothy grin.

Bartleboth’s body quivered with rage as he bubbled and shook.

This drew the target in. Gem continued to smile. He didn’t think he’d get close enough to end his opponent without getting injured. It is an odd thing to see a creature so willing to disregard its own safety to complete an objective. He wasn’t preparing himself to die. To plan for failure is to fail. Gem planned for victory even if it costed him a limb or an eye.

“Gah!”

“Blah!”

Both started off as the creatures of Tartarus watched.

Gem sped forward; careful to keep his body as close to the ground as he could.

Bartleboth flung his risen extension forward and split it down the center. Two arms spread apart and fell to either side of the goblin. It forced the goblin into one of three directions: back, up, or straight toward the orb and the main mass of the slime.

Gem saw the lure. Extending himself just enough, Bartleboth’s orb rested nearest the ground in a heavy puddle of liquid. It was an invitation to charge straight ahead and attempt to stab, but if he pulled back enough of himself it would mean Gem’s arm or entire body could be sucked in. It’d be an all or nothing shot.

Up would leave him exposed and vulnerable at this range. Back was the safest. The two arms of Bartleboth couldn’t apply a great quantity of strength at that distance from the orb. Gem could easily separate any joined section of the slime with a knife and dive back out of range.

Gem smirked and pushed on.

Bartleboth, could your eyes perceive the slime’s expressions, flinched back with the lack of hesitation. Gem closed the gap between them. Bartleboth had bet on the miniature enemy taking even a split second to make his decision. This was not the case.

Two daggers were aimed toward the target while the liquid tried to collect around the sphere. Which travels faster when life is on the line? Can the slime disregard viscosity for speed or should he condense himself in hopes it is enough?

Gem gambled his limbs and life on this. He charged forward without second-guess. The slime; however, took that single moment in the heat of battle to decide.

Then there was a sharp inhale from the crowd. Some of the passing creatures on the streets about the alley had heard commotion. Some had begun to file into the thinned openings between the buildings to watch the fight. It wasn’t very uncommon for fights to break out, but many hadn’t heard the cause of this feud.

Two daggers had stuck straight down into the gel. Steam and bubbles sounded out as the goo attempted to resist the blades. Though the simple metal corroded away at a decent pace, the tips were still far enough down that Gem loosed a mad cackle.

Both blades had stuck into the top sides of the purple sphere within Bartleboth. He let out several sounds like an animal choking or gurgling. Gem continued to push down on the two steaming daggers while the slime struggled to force them back.

Gem had done what all present had believed him incapable of.

Metal sizzled with an audible hiss as both blades carved a centimeter or so into the sphere. It seemed as though the slime had been beat—an agonizingly lethargic end.

Gem giggled until another source of sizzling was heard.

He let out a sudden yelp as the two thinned arms of the slime grabbed at his back. The two extensions were retreating and lost most of their mass, but they were about the thickness of two fingers or so. These two strands slapped against Gem’s back. A small area was revealed between a fur and leather armor on the torso and the leather pants. This bare skin was exploited.

“Die!” The goblin used the fury building in him to force the blades down another centimeter. More stressed gurgles came from the slime as he began to pull the goblin toward him.

This was it. The end game. Either the daggers would split the sphere or the acid would dissolve the goblin. Either way, the factions looked on expecting one less candidate for leadership among them.

Both combatants in the alley embraced. Gem gave in to the pull of the slime so he could put his whole weight into the daggers. He screamed through the blistering of his skin to drive the tips further down.

Bartleboth did his best to push the daggers up while covering the goblin. If he could just cause enough pain, the muscles of his attacker would need to relax. His instincts would force him to try to escape; or so he thought.

As the two continued to come together, both let out cries of pain. The slime tried to swallow the tricky rogue with gradually melting blades.

I have to try! Bartleboth continued to pull while he attempted to focus. A glow of green began forming around the side of Gem. One spell could save me!

Then the flash of brilliant white light momentarily blinded all in attendance.

A careful pair of eyes would have noticed the shimmer first dazzle its way into existence from behind Gem. Most did not notice this. They only watched the battle with eyes blinded by bloodlust.

Then the flash occurred.

Both participants had a thin steam rising from their forms—each strand of the white smoke connected over them like an arch of lazy electricity. After a second or two, the steam split and dissipated. The group formed a large half circle around the two that were trapped against a small fence of stone and wood.

Bartleboth bubbled occasionally and withdrew into himsef on the left. Gem shook violently on the right. There was silence as the onlookers waited. Though, some considered finishing both off themselves.

Then a sudden gasp of air rose the goblin’s head. His chest, arms, back, and legs were all covered with boils and trenches in the flesh. One bone was even visible in his right hand. Just the touch of the air was enough to send torturous jolts through his nerves.

“Ah!” Gem pushed against the ground and flailed to steady himself. The pain, as many thought, must have been far too much for him to handle. He’d been in the heat of the moment, but that moment had passed. “Dah-mm yo Gum!”

No one present paid much mind to his jumbled words. That was simply Gem.

But it wasn’t Gem. Not really.

“Dah-mm! Wath gung on?! Wath happen-d?!” The goblin tried to speak, but suddenly experiencing a fleshy tongue and not a liquid counterfeit created a sense of dreadful ignorance. “Wha haf uh dum!”

Now the crowd began to look at Gem in a different light. It seemed he’d tried to say “you.” A number among the factions had picked up on the newest shrieks of the goblin.

Then the bubbling mess of Bartleboth responded. There was a voice like someone speaking down a tube to another enclosed level of a building. It came as an echo in metal, and the slime’s body reacted to each syllable.

“Whhhhhhaaaaaat?” It rang out far longer than the word was intended to. “Geeeeeemmmm diiiiid noooooothhhhinnnggggg.” Quite drawn out, the crowd listened to the distant screeches and whispers of Bartleboth claiming the goblin was innocent.

“Ah!” The goblin pushed off the ground to rise to his knees. Flesh had begun to peel back further down his body. “Wha haf uh dum Gem?! Wha haf uh dum ta me?!” The goblin tried to shuffle forward on his knees with his boiled hands lifted in front of him. He shuffled on as a pathetic creature one would assume to be riddled with diseases. His flesh hung from his limbs. His tongue flailed wildly in his mouth. His eyes flashed all around as if he’d lost the ability to focus them together.

He shuffled a bit until he lost his balance and crashed, once again, to the ground.

“Geeeeeemmmm diiiiiid nooooothhhhhinnnngggg.” The bubbling continued. The purple orb floated motionlessly in the now blue slime.

This sudden disturbance, this sudden anomaly, was like a flint sparking as the metal scrapes across the surface. Both leaders, the two options no one had truly asked for, were down. Incapacitated, the role was open for any that might take it.

So often, as it is with humans, those that had never considered the role of king or tyrant feel the creeping desire usurp their reason when opportunity comes knocking. A dark smile may spread over their face as they imagine the possibilities. This greed is present in most intelligent beings. They see the glorious light of promises they make to themselves. Hands move without thought. Daggers, swords, arrows, poisons, magics… whatever the tool, they will use them all if it means they gain the crown.

Many within the dulled light of this alley began to think the same things.

I could rule.

Such a simple thought when compared to what it means to rule. Yet, these beasts and creatures grinned in unison for conflicting reasons. What a wonderful world it could be if each man and monster were his own king.

It was everything Christoph, the simple farm boy from Rothmire, had feared.

Bartleboth and Gem both fought for their lives in an alien body. They both struggled to survive as the battle truly began.

So started the rebellion of a thousand rulers. So started the conflict that would ignite all of Tartarus with its first civil war.

Though the battle may be short, it shall be bloody.