Gem’s body pushed off the ground as he coughed through the pain. “Dahmut!” He released the tension in his eyes to examine the crowd. They had begun to turn on one another like rabid animals.

Bartleboth, now in the goblin’s injured body of flesh and bone, considered that he had only survived by lucky happenstance. Any claiming an easy kill would leave themselves open from behind. This isn’t good! The newly reborn goblin thought to himself as he tried to command his limbs to move. Whereas his liquid form was moved through will and concentration, these limbs seemed to move on their own or not at all.

“Gem!”

Everyone in the alley, though weapons were drawn and blood had begun to be spilled among them, stilled. Quaking each body and the very ground, the treacherous band of monsters began to lose faith.

“Dahmut! Lithin to muh!” Many of the eyes turned toward the goblin that shook violently as he stood. Nerves were new to Bartleboth. He hadn’t really become a fan. “Gohdin hath come! We muth… work together!” He struggled to breathe. In. Out. Lungs are such a nuisance.

“Gohdin is too strong.” A rather chubby creature, something like a puffed up salamander with tendrils off the side of his face, bellowed out. “We were supposed to run!”

“It’s no use. We have to get out of here!” One elfish looking man spoke and tried to push his way back through the crowd.

The gathered leaders and their closest members numbered roughly thirty persons. They were not far from the rest of their companions. Their voices carried and spread the panic like a fire across a dry field.

Little did they know, the uproar was audible down the streets of the city.

“Cowards!” Some began to settle down. Others took exception to this and growled at the speaker. Each saw Gem standing with his chest out and blood trickling down several opened wounds. Bartleboth had found his tongue. “Cowards! Each of you!”

This sudden change in the goblin interested many. Had he damaged his brain? Could he really have found his voice after an acid-bath?

“What would you do, little one?” The large salamander man’s double chin, or perhaps some manner of sac, jostled with emotion.

Bartleboth the goblin looked over the crowd that was preparing to flee or kill each other. What happened?! This was a question he asked for a variety of reasons. How did he switch bodies? How did this become a battle with the king? What happened while he fought the goblin?

“Gem!” Another roar tore through the streets of Tartarus.

Bartleboth took in the moment. He could see his body pooled together around the purple sphere. What did he do? Though he asked, he figured there was no way the tricky goblin rogue could have knowingly pulled off a spell of this caliber. Bartleboth wanted his body back, but the situation called for another course of action. I need time, but he’s not going to give it to me.

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He moved to the goopy form and thrust a hand into the thin layer over the orb. It wasn’t the worst burn the slime could produce, yet it wasn’t as slipping one’s hand through water. He pressed hard against the orb in hopes of correcting whatever had happened—only releasing when the pain confirmed no change occurred.

He withdrew his bubbling hand.

What can I say? Normally, he’d talk his way out of a situation. However, the simple fact he wore the goblin’s meat-suit lost him that ability. He could hear the dragonkin bellow out his name. If I step out and try to explain we swapped bodies, he’ll kill me for sure.

Clicking his tongue, the goblin gave up hope for a quick return to his body. I only have time for one. The cold mind of the homunculus slime decided.

“Someone heal me.” He grabbed one of the many daggers that Gem had fastened to his body. “We fight our way out.” When no one stepped forward immediately, the goblin shouted in a high-pitched screech. “I SAID HEAL ME!”

One female that seemed to be a mixture of elf and orc, or some other more robust race, stepped forward and offered a spell. “Minor Regrowth”. A green energy formed around her arms and then shattered into tiny butterflies. They fluttered about the goblin and settled across his wounds.

It wasn’t immediate, but the injuries began to repair themselves with the assistance of magic. Gradual folds of flesh rejuvenated over the goblin’s limbs. It took him a few seconds to take his first shaky step forward.

“Enough! Gohdin has come down from on high to walk among us! To die among us!”

Now this was a magical moment for so many.

Bartleboth had to put all of his will into moving his limbs. He wasn’t quite sure how the body moved properly, but the muscle memory and practice was making it easier. He tried his best to not lose the confidence of the crowd. If they all leave, that goblin bastard will have killed me for no victory. He looked over to the puddle of his previous body with anger.

Damn you Gem.

“I will lead us beyond these walls! I will end the King of the Undead!”

To the crowd, it seemed that Gem had claimed victory over the great Bartleboth. They roared with the violence of natural instinct. An alpha had been decided. The rogue had killed a considerable opponent by himself and then stood through the immense pain to proclaim his next victory. War against the king.

What a savior! What miracles could this goblin produce? What glory awaits those that follow him?

Bartleboth had always prided himself on his composure and his strength. Now, as the final hour approached, he was left with an alien body and no time to squirm his way out of the situation.

The King of the Undead had come for him.

Damn you, Gem. Gods damn you forever.