There was silence in the barn as everyone stared at the doors. Even the gnome workers stopped their work for a moment – but only a moment – before the bang and thud of their tools resumed again at double speed. The workers bent even lower over the clocks they were assembling, trembling. They flinched as the doors slammed open. In walked a plump gnome in a top hat and black jacket. Four enormous ghouls flanked him.
“Who the hell are you?” the gnome newcomer demanded of Nanoc and his friends.
“Who the hell are you?” Nanoc demanded right back.
He didn’t need to ask – his identify enemy skill kicked in:
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Nerak the unpleasant
Level 7 Middle Manager
A bossy and difficult fellow. He controls his fellow gnomes, forcing them to work long and poorly paid hours. Nerak himself is not paid much more than his workers, but his real reward is an inflated sense of self-importance.
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Nerak was quite taken aback by Nanoc’s attitude. He was used to people cowering before him (or at least the ghouls at his side) but Nanoc stood with the arrogant ease inherent to the barbarian class. Dren didn’t cower, either, but mostly because he was madly scribbling down notes about a strange beetle he’d just found in his robe. Rotcel ‘Loc did back away from the gnome and his ghoul entourage, but that was mainly just due to the smell.
“Disgusting,” she muttered. “Gross. You smell like turnips.”
The ghouls’ skins were grey from a lack of sunlight and brown from dirt, their eyes were red, their hair – if that was what the white threads hanging from their heads were – was terribly out of style. They had a musty, dusty, crusty smell. One of the ghouls pointed a brown talon at Nanoc and bit the air hungrily. Nanoc drew back, grimacing.
“Are you allergic to soap?” he asked them.
“You’re one to talk,” Rotcel ‘Loc muttered.
“Excuse me,” Nerak shouted, annoyed that everyone’s attention was on his bodyguard and not on him. “I’m the manager of this factory, and I demand to know who you are!”
“Do you know, we’re just passing through,” Dren said brightly, releasing the beetle he’d been studying. It flew into the air and out of the barn. “We were just leaving, I think?”
Nerak’s eyes narrowed as he stared past Nanoc and saw the revolutionaries, Xram and Lrac, cowered against the barn.
“And you two! Larc, Xram, Why aren’t you working? This was your last warning, I’m done coddling you! Ghouls, take them away!”
Two ghouls stepped forward towards the revolutionaries, Larc and Xram, who stood quivering but did not dare even run. The other gnome workers kept their heads bowed low over their work, their hands busy, their hearts full of ice. Like most gnomes, they were far too scared of getting into trouble to stand up for themselves. But Nanoc was not like other gnomes. He knew that trouble was inevitable, one way or another, so it might as well be his way. He stepped between the ghouls and the revolutionaries, a stake in each hand.
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“Leave them alone,” he said sternly. “Or things were get ugly. Uglier, anyway.”
A ghoul lunged at Nanoc. He stepped neatly to one side and slapped it in the side of the head, sending it flying into a pile of springs with a gloing. The ghoul bounced right back out, hitting Nanoc in the back tackling him to the floor. The gnome hit back right away.
“Show gnome mercy!” Nanoc shouted out as a battle cry.
“Do you know, I like that one the best,” Dren said, nodding. “Although it doesn’t make sense. Is he going to show the gnome mercy? Or show a gnome’s mercy, or—”
“Get them!” Nerak screamed, clutching the buttons of his suit.
The ghouls surged forward. A pair of them threw themselves at Nanoc on the floor, another charged at Dren. Rotcel ‘Loc sighed in annoyance, ducking under a table. There was a flash of bright blue light as Dren levitated a ghoul off the ground so that it floated helplessly in the air, doggy-paddling uselessly with its massive hands.
“Do you know, that’s not what I was going for,” the field scholar said, starting at his fingers and clicking them a few times. “Now, what did I—”
The ghoul exploded into a splatter of bright green goo all over the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the two young revolutionaries, half of the gnomes, the other ghouls, Nanoc and Nerak. The only people who were not hit were Dren, who once again avoided the consequences of his own spell, and Rotcel ‘Loc. The lizardling was still under the table. She nodded without surprise at the groans and curses that filled the barn and made no move to leave her shelter.
The explosion of goo was so startling that all the fighters separated to different sides of the barn, cursing and wiping goo from their eyes.
Dren clicked his fingers again. Everyone winced. The elf smiled brightly.
“Do you know, I really do think I know what went wrong. Let me just find a notebook—"
“Are you all right back there?” Nanoc called out to the young revolutionaries.
“Yes, comrade. Although this green goo’s is really sticky, isn’t it?” Xram said.
“And the rest of the workers?”
The other gnomes were already back at work, wiping good from the clock gears and pretending as hard as the could that they hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Nanoc stared at them, amazed at how dedicated they were to their own servitude.
“They’re fine,” Larc said bitterly. “They’re just cowards. They think that ignoring the problems around them and just doing their jobs will keep them safe.”
“And will it?” Dren asked, interested.
“They’re all covered in goo, just like the rest of us. So no.”
On the far side of the barn, Nerak had regained just enough composure to be angry again. His suit was ruined, his ghouls were shaken, and green goo was leaking down the side of his face.
“Hand over the revolutionaries and you can go,” he shouted. “I don’t care who you are, just get the hell out of here before I really make you regret this.”
“Nah,” Nanoc said. “Why don’t you leave them alone. Or you can fight us, but you won’t win.”
“There are still four of us and only three of you,” Nerak pointed out.
“Two,” Rotcel ‘Loc corrected him from under a table. “I’m not coming out there until Dren promises to never use that spell again.”
“Actually, I think I was holding the magic upside down—"
“Three,” the revolutionary in the said, stepping forward. The small revolutionary held a clock in front of her like a shield.
But it still wasn’t going to be a fair fight: another four ghouls entered the barn, slouching over to stand behind Nera, their long tongues rolling out eagerly. Larc gave a squeak of alarm and took several steps back, then ducked under the table beside Rotcel ‘Loc, who gave her a small smile in greeting.
Nanoc smiled.
He was outnumbered. That’s just how a barbarian liked it.