“So ye really did it, son?” Godfrey said as if surprised.

I met the fisherman on his pier, his eyes still tired and his face puffy from sleep. The sun was shedding its first beams of heat over the sand and for the first time since I arrived in this fever-dream of a world, I wasn’t disappointed by its powers. I had heard so much about that fiery globe and only now did I learn to appreciate it.

Still, I shuddered before I spoke.

“Did you not think I would succeed, friend Godfrey?”

I rubbed my hands together and watched the fisherman, sincerely hoping he wasn’t about to insult me.

“No, no, I knew ye would,” the fisherman replied, yawning and rolling his bony shoulders.

Godfrey smacked his lips and smiled.

“Ye know, Shieldfather, I’ve seen adventurers come and go all me life on this beach here,” he said and opened his pouch. With practiced movements, he began stuffing his pipe again as I stood there, bleeding and shaking gloriously.

“That is…good?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but ye Varians, I’ve never seen anyone like ye.”

“I don’t doubt your words. We are not meant for this world,” I said and felt a deep sorrow. That iron shadow always loomed at the precipice of my existence and slowly caressed my soul, beckoning me through roads of fond memories.

It was a souring emotion, heavy and vast.

“Yer a strange one, Shieldfather,” Godfrey said, snapping my mind back to the freezing beach and the jungle beyond.

“Stranger yet is your world in my eyes, fisherman, but I must not ruminate. The other is not to be feared, it’s to be studied. Now let’s trade so I can make my way to the goblins and mount their heads on stakes.”

“Aye,” Godfrey, said coughing out a cloud of white smoke, “Give it here.”

I sold Godfrey enough crab parts to earn forty-five more silver pieces but left the spare crab shields and meat in my inventory along with other items I hadn’t yet acknowledged.

“I hunger, Godfrey,” I said as we finished.

“For war, I wager, aye?”

“Yes, at all times. But also for food, my friend.”

“Oh, you eat?” he said, seemingly surprised for some reason.

“Can you make a meal of this crab meat I have hunted?”

“Me? Cook crabs? If ye want to spare yerself a day at the shitter, yer better not ask me to cook.”

Godfrey must have seen my heart sink because he quickly continued.

“Take the crab meat to Underock and find me hut at the north. It’s got kippers dryin’ out front, ye can’t miss it. Tell me wife I sent ye with the meat. She’ll say nay and curse ye, so promise to leave some of it for ‘er as well. She’ll cook ye the best crab stew ye ever had, me good man. I promise.”

“I will do so, Godfrey,” I said, feeling the sting of my previous uncourteous behavior. How could I have wronged this fine man so?

“You’ve been an honorable host, Godfrey. A Shieldfather does not forget. I will cherish you in my memory and tell favorable stories of your deeds. Know that once I return to the Steel Bastion, the folk of my land will know the name Godfrey the sickly fisherman.”

“That so?” Godfrey said with a glimmer in his eyes that brought warmth to my heart.

“Yes, Godfrey, you will be remembered.”

I took a moment before I would wreak havoc upon the dishonorable goblins to learn of the other two items I had gathered during my battle with the demon crabs.

WOODEN CUDGEL

TYPE: ONE-HANDED WEAPON

ATTACK: 1

DESCRIPTION: Good for beatin’ meat and not much else.

I grabbed the cudgel from my inventory. An unsightly, crooked weapon riddled with splinters that felt awkward in my hand and sad in my soul. I pushed air through my nose, trying to steady my memories and give hope to my future. At least now I had a weapon.

“Looks good, Shieldfather. Yer first weapon is one to be remembered, ye know?”

“To remember this?” I asked, shaking my head. “Look at it, Godfrey. This is a child’s plaything and not a weapon.”

I inwardly pinched myself again for my petty words.

“Maybe, but tis better than ye fists, no?” he replied.

“You speak the truth, Godfrey. It will serve me well.”

I checked the second item in my inventory, which wasn’t even up to the standard of my wooden cudgel.

WOODEN SANDAL

TYPE: ARMOR

DEFENSE: 1

DESCRIPTION: A sandal made of wicker and wood. The ideal footwear for the wretched peasantry.

I slipped my bronze foot into the sandal and saw my defense stat increase. I stood crookedly with one leg shorter than the other. Whether I would find another sandal any time soon was questionable, but I couldn’t deny the increase in defense.

“Just the one?” Godfrey asked.

“Just the one,” I replied.

“Well…it looks, uhmm—”

“I know how it looks, Godfrey,” I said, raising my voice a little. I looked like a fool, there was no doubt about it, but a Shieldfather did not bother himself with appearance, at least not before a battle.

“It is time,” I finally said, clenching the wooden cudgel and my crab shield.

“I wish yer Helva’s blessings, Shieldfather,” Godfrey said, straightening as he sensed the hour of blood had come.

“Kold’s wrath upon yer enemies, Godfrey.”

The fisherman puffed out another big cloud of smoke and then looked to the sea, nodding as if the great waters harbored his most hated foe. I nodded too so as not to offend him, then left the man without another word.

When a Shieldfather marched to battle, the chasms of hell wept for their abominable children. It would be no different for the goblins.

The trees themselves with their rough horned skin, their sickled green leaves, and their ever-brooding presence would bear witness to my revenge.

I pushed on through the thicket and foliage, stomped over thorned berry bushes suffering minor cuts, squashed demonic little critters of colorful wings on my shield, and barked insults and curses at this crawly, thorn-ridden, cold world.

“Guza!” I roared, finding myself close to the goblin camp. “Sandra Hoo’man!” I hissed and spat.

A flock of birds, startled by the sonorous thunder of my voice, took to the skies, cawing.

“George Treeground!” I barked, “Show yourself so I may feed you your own teeth!”

Nothing.

Far be it for the goblins to display honor and meet me head-on in righteous battle. I knew not whether the green tattooed wretches would ambush me or whether their cowardice took hold of their rotten hearts and brought wind to their feet, but I would not stoop to their level. A Shieldfather didn’t sneak, ambush, or trick their foes.

With my crab shield firmly gripped, I marched into their empty camp, thumping my shield in the rhythm of war.

“Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha!” I bellowed.

At the center of the camp, surrounded by small rocks and tree stumps, a small fire still crackled. Skewered on a branch, mostly charred and stinking, hung pieces of meat from the goblin’s latest supper. My mouth watered, but I decided against indulging my hunger.

“Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha!” I roared the taunt of the Oomerian Cohort. “Come, wretches. Come, witches. Come, demon, for the Cohort hungers! Hoo-ha!”

My eyes landed on one of the wooden cages on the other side of the camp as a soft sob filled the silence between my taunts. I could not tell what pitiful creature was confined there from where I stood.

A pebble struck me in the forehead but did little damage. Yet, shortly after, George Treeground came lunging at me, his cudgel held high above his head and his mouth wide open in a snarl.

I raised my shield and met his swing, then stepped forward and used a [Shield Slam], stunning the treacherous beast. With a diagonal swing, I brought the head of the cudgel against the creature’s forehead.

I could hear the beautiful sound of a breaking skull. It was a melody I had sorely missed.

The impact sent George Treeground spinning like a wheel two times before his limp body crashed to the moss-covered rocks with a meaty thump.

I glanced at my weapon and found my snarl turning into a grin. I had so much more power with the cudgel in hand.

“Holy war, glorious battle, righteous murder!” I yelled and shivers ran up my spine.

Prime Protector Ra’een! How I missed swinging a weapon!

I turned quickly, raising my shield and expecting more enemies to come at me, and I was right. Guza and Sandra Hoo’man charged at me, slinging insults and waving their weapons. I pushed my sandaled foot into a soft spot in the ground and braced for the charge, but at the last moment noticed two more of their kin hefting slings in the bushes.

I paid them no heed for now, instead I invited Guza and Sandra to battle where I stood.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“You will pay, bronze man!” Guza yelled as he leaped at me with an otherworldly agility.

I smiled.

I pivoted to the side and let him drop headfirst on a jagged rock just next to where George Treeground had met his demise. The tip of the rock lodged itself in the goblin’s jaw and Guza died in a most shameful manner.

I laughed out loud for it filled my heart with unfathomable joy.

Sandra, enraged by what transpired, called upon the two goblins in the bushes and all three came at me.

I returned to my previous stance, shield up, weapon held high, and met the three-pronged attack with a well-timed [Triple Block]. First, I stopped Sandra’s bone dagger, then a sideway swing by the second goblin’s spiked mace, and finally a deviously low upward swing from the third goblin’s rusty sword.

Three attacks, three blocks, and my heart thumped with battle lust. The crab shield, however, splintered after the last attack so I leaped backward over George and Guza, opened my inventory to fetch another shield, and then beckoned the last three goblins, tapping it with my cudgel.

I could feel the heat of the fire on my behind and it did much to warm my blood. How wonderful that moment was. At the center of battle, caught between fire and enemies both living and dead, it almost made me feel at home.

“Come, wretches. Come, witches. Come, demon, for the Cohort hungers! Hoo-ha!”

“He’s a madman! Gigur, Shitfoot, gets him!” Sandra Hoo’man cried but there was more fear than anything in her voice.

The other two goblins shared a worried look, but there was too much fury in their hearts after I killed their brothers and sisters to let fear save their lives.

Gigur and Shitfoot came at me, yelling profanities and promises they could never fulfill. As their tiny feeble legs brought them before me and swinging like headless idiots, I blocked one of their attacks but suffered a cut to my leg by the other.

I quickly used [Shield Slam] on Shitfoot, then drove my cudgel down onto Gigur’s head with such force that the goblin’s face buried itself in the mud beneath my feet. Before Shitfoot could come to his dumb senses, I swung the cudgel sideways, it broke against his arm, then tore in two but did not kill the goblin. The head of my weapon was lost and I now only held on to a broken piece of wood.

The goblin and I shared a look before I buried the splinters in his throat, skin breaking with ease and so did the meat. How soft and weak these creatures were...

The goblin keeled over and died, gurgling and choking on his own blood. The moment had cost me some caution, and I found Sandra Hoo’man suddenly on my back, her bone dagger tearing into my flesh. I almost cried out in pain but guarded against portrayals of weakness. I couldn’t reach the cursed goblin while she ferociously dug her clumsy weapon into my flesh.

Three quick stabs found me, and I saw my health drop to just 22 out of 150. With that, I saw my Rage Against Death activate.

Before Sandra Hoo’man could finish her ill attempt at murder, I threw myself on my back, squashing her beneath my heavy weight. It pained my whole body, especially after suffering such wounds, but it brought me just as much joy.

I gathered my wits quickly, rolling to the side and seeing a stunned Sandra Hoo’man moaning on the ground. I grabbed her feet each in one hand and used my strength to rip her in two but with quite some effort.

Blood and entrails fell to the ground as I roared in triumph, my revenge completed in the bloodiest of manners.

“You see this, world?” I yelled to the silent jungle and its mischievous trees. “This is a Shieldfather’s revenge!”

I tossed Sandra’s feet away and then took a long satisfied look across the field of blood. It was an image to behold and remember.

Just before I sat down, I grabbed the charred remains of the skewered meat from the fire and bit into it. The meat was chewy, burned, and dry but it still tasted better than a hundred soft-boiled rumper eggs.

As soon as I gathered my breath and finished the meat, I looted the goblins for their wealth but soon found my excitement curbed by this fickle reality. Aside from four silver and some loose bones and trinkets, the goblins offered me nothing else. Even their crude weapons were broken and tarnished beyond repair, and I found myself unarmed once again.

“A cursed existence these goblins had,” I muttered before I brought my shield up again, hearing a soft, but close shuffle behind me.

“If it’s more of your kind, goblins, be wary. I have killed and dismembered your brothers and sisters in righteous battle and I will surely do the same to you!”

No answer came, but I was reminded of the cages and the whimpering apparition within and was right to ascribe the sounds to it. I made my way over, still tense and prepared to wage war, but soon found my precautions unnecessary.

Two of the three cages were empty, but the third sported a small hunched creature covered in a stained blue robe, trembling and sobbing.

I picked up a branch from the ground and prodded it carefully. The creature sobbed even louder so I stopped.

“Why are you crying, creature?” I asked.

“I’m…I’m not crying,” it said pitifully. I thought on this for a moment because many things in this world were strange so perhaps the sound of crying truly was something else to its kind.

“Are you certain, creature? You sound like you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying. You’re crying,” it shot back, and then somehow curled up even more, trembling and whimpering.

“I certainly am not crying, creature. A Shieldfather reserves his tears for the death of his brothers.”

“Wha…what are you on about?”

“Look up at me,” I ordered.

As the creature raised its head and the robe slid down to its shoulders, I took a step back, realizing it was yet another goblin, though lighter in its green skin and with a short, orange bust of hair. It lacked the tattoos and the ferocious fire I found in its kin’s eyes. Instead, its eyes were blue like the sea but milky and red from incessant weeping.

“Truly, in all my cycles I have never laid eyes on such a wretched creature,” I muttered.

“Wha…Why did you say that!” it cried out and then dropped its sad head and sobbed louder than before. A second later, however, it looked up again, an unspoken query in its gaze.

“What are you?” it asked.

“Do you not see me, creature? Do you not see how your brethren’s blood glistens on my bronze chest? Do you not behold the muscle in my…”

My words died away. Of course it didn’t know. In this world, a Shieldfather was nothing. No matter, by the time I would reach the gates of hell again, this world would learn to utter the word Shieldfather in both fear and awe.

“You’re…yeah, you’re pretty awesome,” the creature said and I sensed no cynicism in its words. Then again, my instincts proved challenged at best in this world.

Though I enjoyed its praise, I shook the words clear from my mind.

“How do you wish to die, creature?”

His kin was treacherous, but I was still ready to offer the sniveling rat a warrior’s death in case he ached for it.

“Hold on! Wait!” it yelped, uncurling. The creature wiped the tears and snot from its face and grabbed onto the bars.

“I don’t want to die at all. Please! I’ve done nothing wrong!” it begged. “How could I? Look at me! I’m a fucking goblin! And a Hierophant at that! Why even kill me?”

“Why are you in this cage? Are you food?”

The words must have amused the creature, for it cackled between sobs. I guessed it was a male by the look of its outer appearance.

“Food or a sacrifice…I don’t know. I wasn’t going to see the light of day any time soon. I was supposed to be next,” he said, motioning toward the fire.

“You ate the other one. Fred was his name. He was also reborn a goblin, but at least he put up a fight before they killed him.”

My stomach churned at those words. Was that the truth? Had I eaten goblin flesh? I spat on the ground, feeling the meat crawling back up my throat but after swallowing hard, pushed it down. Food was food, after all, and I needed to stay alive.

“Reborn a goblin?” I asked.

“Yeah, just like you’ve been reborn…whatever you are.”

“A Shieldfather.”

“Never heard of it. You’re like some sort of giant…bronze barbarian…something?”

“That is a misconception,” I explained, feeling the sting of that insult but decided not to lend it a voice. “I’m a Varian Lord, creature. Shieldfather to a hundred Shieldsons, Protector of the Bulwark, the Steel Bastion, the Gates of Hell. I’m the nightmare of the Angel Arbiter and the blood of Ra’een the Prime Protector.”

I was proud of every word I uttered and I saw a certain admiration in the creature’s eyes that I hadn’t seen in Godfrey’s so for the sake of my sanity, I continued.

“I’m a philosopher-warrior, humble pupil to the Steelspeakers whose words carry the wisdom of the First Father Oomer, blessed be he. I’m the shield that guards against the Demon Tide, the sickle of the Angel Arbiter’s corrupted fields, I’m the dusk of depravity and the dawn of righteous fire. Behold me, goblin, and be humbled by what your mortal eyes see.”

For a moment, the goblin just gazed stupidly at me and then his lips moved and I heard words not yet spoken in this cruel world.

“I love you,” he muttered barely audibly.

“You what?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“Did you express love for me, goblin?”

“No, I didn’t,” he wept and wiped more tears off his snotty face.

“Do not be afraid or ashamed. A Shieldfather inspires and awes the common creature. It is only natural.”

Though his admiration felt honest and enjoyable, I was wary of goblins and their trickery so I remained alert.

“How are you…no, wait. You were this Varian in your previous life too?”

“Previous life,” I muttered. “It’s still the same life. I haven’t died yet. I have only been…weakened.”

I slammed my hand against the crab shield and it shattered again so I brought out another one, then repeated the gesture.

“I’m weakened, but only temporary. My powers will return, I swear to Kold may he lead me unscathed to the Frost Lands.”

“That can’t be,” the goblin said.

“And yet it is.”

“But…you’ve started here a level 1, right? So how…no.”

The goblin seemed lost in thought. Something I hadn’t yet seen his peers indulge in.

“Have you been something else in your previous life, goblin?”

“Just for future reference, my name is Bleff, and yes, I was a human.”

His fists tightened around the bars of his cage.

“I was reborn an elf hunter then, but that was a short-lived—no, never mind that. On my second rebirth, I became Bleff the Butcher, a half-orc. You should have seen me, Shieldfather. I warred, I conquered, I…died on the stakes when the Giftar nations united to stop me, and now…I’m this.”

“A wretched goblin,” I said, and Bleff almost fell into another fit of miserable sobbing before he pulled himself together.

“Not only am I a goblin, I’m a Hierophant. A damned buffer class. I can’t do a single thing on my own.”

“Your gods are strange to punish you so. After all, war is the truest path to ascension.”

“They are your gods, too,” Bleff said, looking away half-absently.

“Hmm, are they?”

We both stood there in silence as I pondered his fate and words.

“Do you wish me to strike you down? Perhaps the gods will see it fit to offer you something better after you die to a Shieldfather?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Please don’t. This is my third rebirth and there won’t be any more. If I die again, it’s over for me.”

“Hmm.”

“And what did I get? This!” he hissed. I could feel his anger in the very air about him.

“How strange,” I muttered to myself.

Bleff was certainly a different kind of goblin. He spoke clearly and with an open heart. His admiration of me seemed sincere and yet he was a goblin and a foul-smelling one at that.

“Maybe I could tag along?” he said, the words high-pitched and full of hope.

“What use have I of someone as weak as you?”

His eyes teared up again and I regretted my words instantly.

“But…please! Let me show you!”

He took a step back from the bars and raised his arms. My shield came up instinctively as I took a step back. There it was again, the goblin trickery.

White light appeared in both his little green hands as he raised them above his head. A moment later, I felt a burst of power course through me. The light disappeared and Bleff gazed at me with a stupidly hopeful face.

“Look at your health,” he said and as I did I realized it had climbed from 150 to 200. I read the Soulforge’s description,

BUFF: WORD OF VITALITY

DESCRIPTION: Increase your target’s health by 50 for one hour.

“Hmm,” I muttered.

“You see? I have my uses and I can also heal! Not that great though…but with all the buffs I can send your way, maybe, you know? You could do the killing and I can…join you for the ride. Keep you buffed and healthy.

“I am already strong,” I said, though my heart wasn’t in it.

“I know, I know, Shieldfather. You’re one beautifully dangerous creature, but just imagine what we could do together!”

The idea was curious, enticing even. And though my mind was wary, my soul felt for that pathetic wretch. I cast away thoughts of doubt. After all, if Bleff turned out to be yet another dark-hearted beast, I could slay him any time I willed it. Why would I, a Shieldfather, fear such a weakling? It was below me.

“I will release you, Bleff the goblin. But know that I will take your head at the smallest of misconducts. Do not fool me, creature. You have seen what happens to my enemies.”

Bleff looked over to the death I had wrought upon the forest goblins and swallowed.

“I am aware,” he said.

“But before I do, tell me something, Bleff. What is your goal in this world?”

The tiny light-green goblin scratched his fiery red bust of hair before his expression changed, eyes narrowing, brow furrowed.

“I want the power to ravage this virgin land!” He quickly cleared his throat and held up a hand. “Old habits, I don’t know…This is weird.”

“I agree.”

“It’s as if my old orc life is seeping into this one and I…Am I losing my mind?”

“A question the both of us need answers to. Now, is that your goal, little goblin? To ravage these virgin lands in your quest for power?” Bleff thought on this testing my patience.

“I just need to stay alive, Shieldfather. For now that’ll do.” I hadn’t expected more of the stinking greenskin and yet the words ground on my soul.

“Your ambition is that of a plant.” Bleff bowed his head embarrassed by his own words and the deserved scolding he received for them.

“I guess,” he began sounding unsure. “I guess I’d like power to survive. So, in a way my goal is…Power? I know how it sounds, I’m just so confused and afraid and—.”

“Power is good,” I said and he stopped. “A Shieldfather yearns for power. It is his mission to attain ever greater heights in both his physical and mental abilities, for the legions of hell are ever-growing too. You have spoken well, Bleff.”

“You’re so cool,” the goblin said awe-struck.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes, yes, it is,” he said, nodding furiously.

“Very well. Compliments are appreciated. Know this, then. My task is to return to hell through righteous means. I will accomplish this whether I need to kill a thousand goblins, tread a hundred jungles, and burn as many towns. Whether I need to sunder this world and its seas or not, I will accomplish this. Are you willing to walk this path of possible ruin but certain glory?”

“Fuck yes!” Bleff said in hushed words that brought a smile to my face.

“Another thing, then, Bleff. Be scarce with your profanities. It doesn’t become a Shieldfather to be surrounded by foul mouths.”

“Sure, sure. Cross my heart and all that.”

I nodded then grabbed onto the lock to his cage and studied it for a moment. It was rusty and frail so I used my mighty sandaled foot to break it open.

“There, Bleff the Hierophant. You are free to traverse this world as you see fit.”

Bleff walked out, his every limb trembling.

“I…I survived. I really did.”

He touched his arms and head as if amazed they were still attached to his trunk. It brought warmth to my heart to see a miserable creature elated by the will of the Steel Bastion. If only others could see what joy we brought to the hearts of all people. Bleff seemingly did and though I promised myself caution, I was admittedly grateful to the gods for this creature.

“Where to now, Shieldfather?”

“To Underock, Bleff. To see a priest and then, then we make our way to hell.”