As I climb down the stairs of the tower, I look around myself at my surroundings. The goblin outpost is a pretty interesting place, once you get over the fact that almost everything is made out of rats, rocks, or mushrooms. But hey, that’s just the way of the dungeon. Resources are fairly limited down here, as you can imagine. But all in all, I think we’ve done pretty well for ourselves, us goblins. I’m including myself in that ‘we’ here. I don’t know if I helped build this place up or not, it’s hard to say. I honestly don’t know how long this dungeon has even existed, if I’m going to be honest, since I don’t really remember that far back. But I assume we built it? At least this part of it.
Anyways, yeah. The goblin outpost.
See, the goblin outpost is a weird place. There’s some strange dungeon magic at work here that I can’t really explain. You remember how the goblin outpost was on the second to last floor? I think I mentioned that before. Well apparently, there’s a huge gap between this floor and the lowest floor, the one with the labyrinth. I look down off of the ledge before me, having just exited the tower that I spawned near the top of. All I see is a black abyss gaping down below. If you fall from here, you’ll fall for a long time, tell you what. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen before but… I pick up a rock and toss it off. It falls into the darkness below, I wait to hear the impact, but it never comes. Though I’m not surprised, the ambiance here is loud. Goblin shouts and rat squeaks ring out through the chasm, echoing from wall to distant wall.
Looking around, I find myself standing on a ledge, the large tower is just behind myself about eight goblin steps back, four skeleton steps. Several other towers stick out in strange angles from the rock-side or on little ledges like this one. Each connected with multiple rope bridges to the other, all of them interweaving like a great spider’s web. See, the goblin outpost floor is basically just that. It’s bridges connecting one cliff to the other, all dangling over the abyss. How can there be an abyss if there’s still another floor below? Dungeon-magic, that’s how. The dungeon-master is a crafty guy, he obviously figured something out.
Though maybe this is just how large the gaps are between floors? Honestly it might not have anything to do with magic at all. Like I said, I’m unsure; I have never gone up any of the main stairs before. Looking ahead of myself, I cross the rope bridge and remember the last time I was here. It was chaos, the adventurers had gotten here and were working their way from one tower to the next. The goblin-king and the stairs down are on the far end of this whole rickety construction, you see. So to get to him you need to cross through the whole outpost and over a dozen bridges like this one. Most are wide enough for only one human, but easily two or three goblins to stand side by side. I don’t have much confidence in the bridges though, despite the fact that I am crossing one literally right now.
It wobbles and swings over the air.
Rat is a sturdier material than you would think though and goblin craftsmen are nothing if not well practiced in making the most out of the abundant resource.
To be fair, the bridge isn’t only made of rats though. A lot of it is also mushroom fibers from ground up fungi, old goblin hair and other fun stuff like that. I couldn’t really get into the details of the process though, I’m just a simple goblin patrolman. I look at my arms. A patrolman with swole arms. Several goblins pass me on the way, all of us going this way and that way in all directions over the bridges. It’s actually fairly busy out here, I can’t really say how many goblins there are in total in the outpost. But it’s a lot. Goblins are easily the most numerous monsters left in the dungeon these days. Something scurries between my feet, heading down the way I just came. A rat. I hear laughter, several children run past me in hot pursuit of the little critter. I lean to the side and grab hold of the rope-railing of the bridge, which is swinging back and forth just a little too much for my comfort.
Looking back behind myself, I see my two friends exiting the tower, one of them waves to me. I look away pretending that I didn’t see and hurry down the bridge, mixing into the crowd. I am on a time limit, sorry if I have to be rude. Hurrying with this pace, I cross one bridge after the other, until I reach the largest cliff. The goblin palace is before me, but I don’t really care about that now. If you do though, it’s a large, wide building made out of stone with a patched, rat-leather dome roof, no tower. The goblin-king is afraid of heights, you see. I suppose it’s rather awkward for him, seeing as this is where he lives. But I guess that’s why he never leaves his palace anyways. I bet he lives a good life, well until he gets got by the hero. But you know how it is.
There, I see the well up ahead. It’s not far now. A simple, but large stone ring sits out before the palace. The wall of the well goes up to my little goblin waist and it is made up out of stacked, crude stones. There is a simple rope hanging down with a bucket at the bottom for fetching water. Nasty, disgusting, goblin-rat, cave water. But water nonetheless. There are a few springs and rivers and things like that on the higher levels, I remember because I used to be a water monster once in a while like…
Uh…
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I don’t remember actually, what they were? But they were trash-mobs that lived in the water, okay? That’s all you need to know for now. Those days are long gone. Looking over the edge of the well, I peer down inside, it is dark down there. As if the hole were leading to the same abyss that lays just behind myself, but I know that isn’t the case.
Something tickles my foot, instinctively I jump and kick my leg out, crushing the rat against the wall. It lets out a final squeak, before it leaves its mortal shell. Sorry rat, you scared me. For a moment I feel bad about killing something, but that feeling quickly leaves me, as I pick up the limp body of the creature. Its legs and back have been broken by the impact. Goodbye rat.
As I look at the little corpse in my hand I remember something that I need to do. I decide to take the rat with me. Having no bag to carry things with, I opt to tie the rat’s tail around the waist of my loincloth. Not only is it a practical solution, but it’s the style of the time anyways, you see. Goblin society changes very rapidly, since goblins are so short lived. Generations come and go in the span of a decade or less. About three years is the maximum lifetime for a goblin, if you aren’t the king or a caster who gets to use magic to stay alive longer. The rest of us just kind of exist, breed, and then fade out. I suppose we and the rats aren’t so different, in all honesty.
I look around, it was dark down there. I need a torch… As my head turns, I see my friends still following me. They haven’t seen me standing here yet. I don’t have time for friends in this life, sorry guys. My patience is running thin, my curiosity is too strong. With a quick hop, I jump into the well and grab hold of the rope. Slowly I climb down deeper and deeper, it is good I have such strong arms. Ah, I see. My dream in this life, in this body, was to become a royal guard for the king, apparently, which is basically just an add-on trash-mob for his sub-boss fight. Talk about high aspirations. I sigh, for real this time though! I trained a lot, apparently. Push ups, pull ups, rat tosses. What a real go-getter I am. I realize that dream will never happen now. I likely won’t return from the bottom of this well. My friends will never see me again. Mother will never see me again. Father, well, no. He’s a jerk, forget him.
I feel everything growing colder now as I approach the bottom, the water. The air smells dank and mildewy, very stale and old. Holding my breath, I let go of the rope and jump into the wet below. It is icy. Absolutely freezing cold. My brain screams and my body lurches, as I instinctively reach to climb back out of the deathtrap. But I stop myself and I breathe. I can swim. I don’t know if this body knows how to swim, but I do. A goblin body is more than capable of doing it, not like last time when I was… uh… what was I then?
Never mind. Controlling my urges, I allow myself to submerge beneath the freezing water and fumble around by the rocks, until I find what I am looking for. Moving the large rock, which I remember, to the side; I grasp the simple lever hidden behind it and pull.
A loud, grinding sound vibrates through the water, the intensity dampened by the liquid. It is only vague, but I see a chunk of the wall move and I enter into it. Swimming through the opening I then rise up and come out on the other side, breaking the surface of the water with my head. I gasp for air with some relief.
The smell here is different. It’s not as musty as on the well-side of the secret passage. The smell is more toned down, earthy and just a little acidic. I suppose from all the slimes. I can’t see much of anything though, it is dark here. But I hear them plopping and hopping around. It’s hard to determine, but there are a few of them I would wager, if I was a betting man, woman or child. All of the squishy slaps mix together and echo around the chamber giving the room a very strange acoustic vibe.
As the water leaves my eyes and my vision adjusts a little to the darkness, I see something in the distance, on the far side of the room. A faint glow, ever so slight and barely visible. But it’s there. Something is making light. I think that’s the direction I need to go too? I rack my brain, trying to remember the route I took as a slime, but I suppose if I stick along the wall, I’ll find it no matter what anyways, right? Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense to me. Rising out of the water, I slowly listen for any plops, glops or slops coming my way. But none do. They haven’t noticed me yet. Good. I don’t want to have to fight my fellow trash-mobs. Not that I would win. Maybe one slime, but if you fought one the others would feel the vibrations and would come and swarm you. One slime is okay, but two? Two is not okay. Where there are two slimes there are twenty.
I scream and cover my mouth in the same instant, as something touches my leg which is still in the water. Looking down, expecting to see some giant snake or slime wrapped around my leg in the darkness, I instead see two little goblin eyes peering up out of the water. Then I see two more. It is my friends.
“Zig’urk!” calls the brother. I shush him immediately. But it might be too late.
“Why are you here?” I ask. They thought I fell into the well and came to rescue me. I am touched. You need to understand that goblins are, for the most part, disposable. If a goblin falls off the ledge, most won’t go out of their way to help them. There are a hundred more to take his or her place after all.
Even among wave members like us, this is unusual behavior. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that goblins are selfish, it's just that we don’t really value life. It’s just not a goblin trait. I am touched. These two must have really liked me, to go against their nature like this. No. I correct myself. They liked Zig’urk, whoever that was. He’s gone now. Dead. I just have his memories, his body. I don’t have the heart to tell them, not that I have time to explain it all.
I warn them to go back. That there are slimes here. They refuse to go without me. I tell them they will die. The sister says that since we are from the same wave, then we will die together anyways.
“You idiot!” I yell at her. “You don’t know what it’s like, dying. You won’t be saying that when your body is dissolving and you hear your brother screaming.” She cries. I apologize. I realize that I was screaming now. We can’t stay here, the slimes are coming.
One after the other, I hear the slap of wet gooey bodies strike against the stone floor heading our way. Jumping out of the water, I hold my hand against the left wall and run straight towards the glowing light. As I do so, I hear four little goblin feet hot on my trail, ignoring my final shout to go back.
In that instant, I am happy. I have never had such loyal friends before. No. No. They aren’t my friends. They are his. I suppress the happiness, it isn’t right to have. I know how this will end for me and for them. I could turn around, turn around and lead them back up the rope to the safety of the outpost. If I keep running, none of us will get out of here alive. Am I ready to have my only friends die, just so I can find this staircase? My loyal, loving friends?
As I think about it, I notice that my pace hasn’t slowed a bit. In fact, I am running faster than before. I feel the rat bouncing against my leg. They don’t matter to me, do they? They mattered to Zig’urk. They don’t matter to me. Right?
Right?