Slib slipped through the winding corridors of the dungeon, heading back toward the camp. He whistled cheerily, slapping his hands against the cold stone walls, skipping and singing, counting off a list of dead goblins with unsettling glee.
Their deaths didn’t bother Slib in the slightest; those goblins had never really meant anything to him in the first place.
It was almost disappointing that the plan had to change—there were still a few more he’d hoped to see gone. But no matter; Slib was confident the skeleton would take care of the rest soon enough. He could hardly wait for the day when all the others were gone. Then he would be Chief Goblin!
He could have wept with joy just thinking of his benevolent master, his savior! Sure, his master was strange, and frighteningly hungry, but he didn’t kick or abuse Slib.
Reaching the goblin chamber without trouble, Slib noticed the entrance was unguarded. Shortly after entering, a voice called his name, and Slib turned to see Gronk—another goblin he despised. Gronk was fat, ugly, and bald—though, to be fair, most goblins were. Slib considered himself a rare exception.
Gronk was particularly hideous, though. A nasty scar ran from his chin to his right temple, and his skin was rough and greasy. Slib hated him, but he quickly plastered on his friendliest face, feigning humility.
“Yes?” Slib asked, scratching his head in a show of sheepishness, lowering himself slightly. He played to Gronk’s sense of superiority, giving him exactly what he liked to see.
Gronk’s eyes shifted to the entrance behind Slib. He frowned. “Where others? Why not with Slib?”
“Ah!” Slib nodded, bowing even lower, his gaze dropping to the floor. He had anticipated this and already rehearsed his response. “T-They kick Slib! Say, ‘Slib, go away!’ A-And they hit Slib!”
Gronk chuckled, a dark sound that made Slib’s skin crawl. “Hmph! Good!” he sneered, lips curling into a malevolent grin. He gave Slib a rough clap on the shoulder, more sadistic than friendly, and walked away.
When Gronk was gone, Slib allowed himself a small, triumphant chuckle. If only his skeleton master could have seen him! He kept telling it that Slib was smart! But for some reason, it never seemed to believe him.
Maybe it was because Slib didn’t word good? Yes, that had to be it. But one day, Slib would word the best! He was certain of it.
Refocusing on the plan, his eyes scanned the chamber until he found a small, hidden spot near the entrance. Tucked behind one of the many half-ruined buildings, it was perfectly concealed. From there, he could keep watch on all the goblins coming and going while staying completely out of sight. It was a great spot.
“Hihi, Slib smart!” he muttered to himself, casting a suspicious glance around to ensure no one was watching before quietly moving over. He crawled over a ledge and settled against a wall, tucking himself into the shadows and peering through a crack in a piece of wood.
The spot was inconspicuous enough that nobody would think to look there. He watched attentively, but no goblins were approaching the exit. Resting against the wall, he felt himself getting a bit tired, his eyes drooping. Almost falling asleep, he slapped his cheeks and shook his head. “No Slib! No sleep! Master waiting!”
Slib shifted his position, trying to stay awake, his ears pricking up at every sound. The goblin chamber was never quiet; there was always faint scuffling, murmuring, and snoring.
He had to stay alert, had to prove himself useful. Master was counting on him! He hugged his knees to his chest, rocking slightly, muttering under his breath, “Slib smart. Slib good goblin. Master see. Master know.”
Minutes dragged into hours. Slib’s eyes darted to the exit at every noise, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the cold stone. His mind wandered, imagining all sorts of grand things he could do once he became Chief Goblin. Maybe he’d get a shiny hat. Yes! A big, shiny hat that all the other goblins would envy. Too bad they wouldn’t be alive to see it.
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His daydreams were interrupted by the sight of a group of intimidating goblins heading toward the exit. Slib stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out who they were. He ducked lower, staying out of sight.
This wasn’t a group Slib knew well, but they looked serious. Clad in scraps of leather armor and wielding sharp weapons, they were the kind of goblins Slib made sure to avoid. There were only a few of those groups, and Grulak kept them close.
Slib wasn’t sure his skeleton master could handle them, but no other groups seemed to be leaving. Judging by the amount of snoring, the others had gone to sleep.
But if that was the case, why was this group leaving now? Something didn’t feel right. The dangerous groups never left for no reason. In fact, Slib had only seen it happen twice before. Both times, nobody told Slib why. He needed to figure out what was happening, and following them was the only way.
Slib hesitated for only a moment before crawling out of his hiding spot, moving carefully to avoid being seen. He kept to the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest, eyes fixed on the group as they disappeared through the chamber’s exit. He had to be quiet and quick, like a rat. He couldn’t let anyone see him leave.
He managed to get out through the exit without anyone stopping him. Following behind, his steps were light, his breaths barely a whisper. He needed to stay close enough to keep them in sight, but far enough to remain unseen. If they spotted him, it could ruin everything.
The tunnel twisted and turned, the light from the goblin cave dimming the further they went. Slib nearly lost them once or twice around the bends, but he pushed himself to move faster, his thin frame pressing against the jagged stones to make himself smaller.
The path they were taking was a familiar one, and an unsettling feeling began to grow in his stomach. He wracked his brain trying to figure out why, and when they stepped around another bend, it dawned on him. His master!
They were heading right towards the cave with the plants, right where his skeleton master was waiting for his return.
Slib’s breath quickened, his eyes darting wildly around as he considered his options. He couldn’t let the group get too far ahead; he needed to warn his master before they reached the cave. But how? His thoughts raced, and for a moment, panic gripped him, cold and sharp.
Overwhelmed with anxiety, he bit his lip until he tasted blood. The pressure was mounting, and he knew his master would be furious if Slib failed—if Slib didn’t prove his worth. He forced himself to focus, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. His master was clever, stronger than any goblin, but even a skeleton couldn’t fight off so many of those strong goblins at once. Not without a warning, not without Slib.
Somehow, he had to get there first. But if he just ran after them, they’d hear him, or worse, see him. He needed something better. His master was depending on him.
He glanced around and spotted a narrow side tunnel to his left, a horrible shortcut he didn’t remember fondly. It was tight, winding, and overgrown with thorny plants. But it could cut through to the cave a little faster. Slib had used it once before, escaping from a larger goblin who had chased him after a small… misunderstanding over some stolen food.
He didn’t want to go back in, but he had no choice. Without wasting another second, he darted into the side tunnel, his small frame moving swiftly through the narrow passage. He could only hope it would be enough.
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Kaden was in the middle of practicing his sword skills when he heard rushed footsteps. Glancing toward the cave opening, he saw a little green goblin burst through, disheveled and covered in tiny cuts. Tiny drops of blood dripped onto the stone floor.
“Master! Danger!” Slib gasped, barely able to catch his breath. His thin chest heaved, and his eyes were wide with panic. “Big goblins, tough ones! Coming here, now!”
Kaden lowered his sword, his eye sockets fixed on the cave opening. “Slow down, Slib. What’s going on?”
Slib’s hands were trembling, but he forced himself to speak clearly. “Big goblins—strong ones. Leather armor, sharp weapons! They come here to hurt Master!” He pointed frantically toward the cave entrance, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Slib saw them, follow them! They close, Master!”
Kaden tensed, hand clenching the sword a little tighter. He’d been expecting some kind of retaliation, but not so soon. Compared to the last time, their response was far faster. He didn’t want to admit it, but a group of well-armed goblins could be a serious problem.
“How many, Slib?” he asked, stepping closer to the goblin, who was now sweating profusely, his fear evident.
Slib hesitated, counting on his fingers, his eyes darting back and forth as if trying to remember. “Seven… no, eight! Eight goblins, all strong! Slib swears it, Master!” His voice cracked with desperation, and his eyes pleaded for Kaden to believe him.
Eight? That wasn’t good at all. Kaden quickly swept his gaze around the cave. It was a terrible place to fight eight goblins, far too open. He’d get hacked to pieces in no time. Leading them somewhere more favorable for him was the better option.
Seeing Slib leaving a trail of blood, he made a quick decision. He checked his stamina to ensure he had enough for his new plan. After the last encounter, he knew he could never have too much, so he’d been conserving his energy, draining only two points at most. It came in handy now.
Grabbing Slib, he threw the protesting goblin over his shoulder and sprinted deeper into the cave, the random collection of weapons in his makeshift belt clanging with every step. He didn’t know what he would find ahead, but it had to be better than staying here. He didn’t spare a single look back.