And then everything changed.
The shriveled goblin appeared in the doorway and surveyed the carnage in the room with a somewhat displeased expression on its face.
Displeased not shocked, or scared, or… or any other reasonable reaction to seeing all the goblin melee fighters hacked to bits and pieces, including the king, which was on its last leg.
Legolas had noticed the appearance of the wizened goblin geezer as well and was sliding smoothly toward him, sword raised and ready to slice the old chap into ribbons.
My intuition told me that it was not going to happen.
And it turned out that my intuition was spot on.
Suddenly, the enormous mental pressure from earlier returned, but this time as if on steroids. With a gasp, I sank to my knees, trying desperately to resist the oppressive aura that seemed to blanket the whole area into a suffocating mental quagmire. I knew instinctively that a single slip in my focus, a tiny flaw in my mental defenses, would be the end of me. It felt like there was a bottomless pit waiting, a space full of darkness suffused with streaks of violent red, waiting to snuff out my consciousness and perhaps even my soul.
I had never been a real believer in the existence of a soul, and the associated religious tenets of life after death, deities, and any particular purpose in life. But perhaps I had to revise my opinion. Maybe there was something to it. Because I felt something, deep inside of me, that reacted to the mental strain that was put on me.
Or maybe it was just those stupid fleshy leaves that I had eaten, giving me a stomach cramp at the most inopportune moment. Faced with the mental pressure, fighting for staying conscious, it was hard to separate things. All other sensations kind of blended together into a sludge of peripheral impressions
But whatever it was, a squirming soul or just an ordinary stomach cramp, it felt fucking uncomfortable.
And I wanted it to stop.
But short of running out there and try to run the old goblin through with my sword, I did not really have many options. And I was not going to do that, no thank you.
So I had to endure.
Every second it got worse – the pressure kept on ramping up, and I could feel blood starting to drip out of my nose. I faded in and out of consciousness, desperately attempting to stay alert and focused on my mental defense.
It bit my lips until I could taste the metallic tang of blood; I dug my fingernails into my legs, trying to ground myself in reality.
Nothing helped.
In a desperate gamble, I tried to put my body on autopilot, blend out the mental pressure and find an inner haven of tranquility and safety.
In short, I attempted to fucking meditate while being pummeled by outside forces that I neither understood nor was able to effectively resist any other way.
At first, I went with the tried and true method of imagining waves gently lapping against a shoreline while relaxing one muscle after another. Like in those yoga meditation movies.
“Namaste, Om, Prana…” I mumbled softly, listing the few terms I remembered from the single Yoga class I had ever taken, hoping that something would stick and do something for me.
Of course, that didn’t do shit.
Slowly, I felt myself spiraling into unconsciousness.
With the last shred of awareness and willpower, I decided to try one more thing - I moved all my available silver mana into my brain. And for a moment, the pressure receded, as if a silvery sun was burning away the fog of oblivion that was threatening the core of my being.
But then the silvery orb of salvation began to stutter and turn purple, shot through with veins of weakly pulsating silver. And the silver veins kept on receding, and with it, my consciousness finally succumbed.
------------------------------------------------------
When I came to my senses, I found myself lying on the cold tiles on the floor, partially obscured by the shadows cast by the door. At first, I had no idea where I was and why I was on the floor, with a splitting headache to boot, but within seconds the memories returned.
How much time had passed?
I didn’t have the foggiest.
Ever so slowly and carefully, I raised my head, trying to get a good look at where the battle had taken place. From my position on the floor, I was not able to see anyone, but I did hear a crunching noise coming from the location of the fight.
So clearly I had missed some time, but something or someone was still there. Or, perhaps, something new had arrived while I had been out.
The crunching made me think of some scavengers chewing on bones. A chilling image if there ever was one, because if I was not very mistaken, the elves had been on the losing end of the fight after the goblin shaman had made his appearance. Granted, there had been more goblin corpses than total elves, but seeing dead goblins had become already par for the course.
Which was kind of scary in its own way.
I knew that humans are good at adjusting to new environments and changed situations and all that. But to see this type of pragmatism when it comes to death and destruction in myself was something else entirely.
But, given the world I was in, it probably was helpful. I’d have died several times over if I had shied away from killing goblins – pacifism and humanistic ideals are for those with the luxury of safety and wealth, not for those scrambling to just survive.
And now I had a choice to make. One option was to slink back into my hiding spot and later try and find some other exit. Or perhaps give the chimney a shot. The other option was to go out and see where that noise was coming from and scavenge some of the equipment of the dead elves. Those cloaks, the gleaming weapons, and, equally important, the lanterns were pretty compelling reasons not to run away, tail tugged between my legs.
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Maybe they even had some food fit for human consumption.
And just maybe the elves had won.
After all, if they had one magical item, they might have easily had more that could have turned the tide of battle. Or another special ability like that red mist that had temporarily buffed them like crazy.
Mind made up, I carefully got up on my knees, trying to stay covered in the shadows of the door as much as possible. With some delay, I remembered to recast Shadow Skin, increasing my chances of staying hidden and then slowly made my way out into the grand chamber.
I’m not gonna lie, stepping out into the brightly lit room made me incredibly nervous, but needs must when the devil drives.
I could make out the corpses of the five goblins and, partially hidden behind the column, the body of Glorfindel. All I could make out was his head, and one of his arms. And he was clearly dead as could be with his head caved in, and brain matter splattered all around.
But then the crunching noise recurred, and Glorfindel’s body twitched.
Fuck.
That almost gave me a heart attack.
Memories of late-night sessions of ‘Train to Busan’ and ’28 days later’ briefly resurfaced, instantly making me ready to hightail it out of there – I was not prepared to deal with zombies or ghouls.
But Glorfindel had already stopped twitching, while the crunching noise persisted.
So unless zombification involved crunching noises, I figured it was unlikely to be that.
Much more likely for it to be a scavenger, feasting on the lower part of Glorfindel’s body and thus making the rest twitch around randomly.
Simultaneously relieved and revulsed, I grabbed my sword tighter, and carefully sneaked closer, always keeping the column between myself and whatever was chewing on poor Glorfindel.
A couple of times, there was a break in the noise, and I could hear some rustling as if something changed position. Both times I froze, anxiously waiting to see if the scavenger had noticed me. But after a moment of silence, the crunching started again and I felt confident in getting closer.
Just a few more steps.
As I changed my approach path slightly, I was able to catch a first glimpse of the mystery creature, gnawing on dead bodies. It turned out it was not a rabid dog or a pack of giant rats… It was the former King of Flab, now decidedly less massive than his previous self.
And he was… I had to look away to avoid throwing up. The savage creature was ripping out the entrails of Glorfindel and stuffing them in his oversized mouth like a kid might slurp down an extra-long spaghetti.
Fuck, that was bad.
Despite looking away, I could not get rid of the image of the goblin’s bloody visage and the glee with which it was eating the intestines of its vanquished foe. I felt the bile rise in the back of my throat, and I resolved to take out the mofo, no matter the cost.
And, truth be told, this was probably going to be my best shot. There was no other goblin around, and the goblin king was utterly focused on its feast. And while it was a far cry from its previous size, I could already see it regaining some of its mass.
How that worked, I was not sure. I mean, building up all those fat reserves should take significant time… but there was always magic. As if on cue, I noticed a red flash surrounding the goblin’s body, just like when it had been regenerating from grievous injuries. And, without the distraction of a fast-moving battle, it was quite obvious that the flash had originated from a gold ring, with a huge ruby inserted on top, snugly sitting on one of the gob’s fat fingers.
Well, well.
That was good to know.
Momentarily distracted, I failed to notice a piece of wood on the floor and inadvertently kicked it with my next step. Immediately, I froze, desperately hoping that the goblin had not noticed, praying that it was too absorbed in his gross meal, not paying attention to its surroundings.
At first, there was no reaction, and I was suddenly hopeful that I might have dodged a bullet there… but then the goblin king slowly, almost casually turned its head, looking straight at my position. And Shadow Skin or not, it was quite clear that the goblin was able to see me.
Slowly, all the while grinning menacingly, it got up from its crouching position, and, with blood and gore dripping off its chin, it grabbed its massive Morningstar and started moving toward me.
And I was just fucking standing there, petrified.
“Move, Daniel,” I shouted mentally at myself, but my body would not obey. Perhaps, seeing the bloody mouth, with bits and pieces of elven flesh stuck between the teeth, froze me. Or, maybe, it was the manic grin on the goblin’s face or the almost palpable aura of violence and mayhem that bore down on me.
Whatever the reason, it temporarily took away my ability to move.
Until it was almost too late.
When the big goblin was about five feet away from me, it started to swing its massive Morningstar and rushed toward me, clearly attempting to end the fight in one, devastating strike.
In the last second, I finally was able to overcome my paralysis, much too late to attempt a block or fancy evasive move. So it did the only thing I could… I just let myself drop to the ground.
Clearly, under normal circumstances, that was not a prudent move, as it would allow for an easy follow-up attack by my opponent. But frankly, I had no other option remaining. When my body hit the floor, I immediately rolled further to my right, anticipating another strike of the Morningstar.
Which saved my life.
The spiked metal head obliterated the floor tile, where my chest had been just a split second earlier, sending shards of tile flying in all directions.
Not willing to just keep dodging, I swept my sword across the floor, counting on the goblin to be too immobile to evade an attack like that. And, indeed, my counter attack may have surprised the goblin, because I was able to score a solid hit on the back of one of its tree trunk-like legs. My elation quickly turned to fear, though, when I realized that I had hardly even penetrated the skin of the goblin, and the little damage I had caused was immediately healed with another flash of red light, covering the goblin’s body.
Even worse, the goblin had mostly ignored my attack in favor of preparing its own attack – another overhead strike with its weapon, going straight for my head.
Woefully out of position and balance, all I could do was roll across the floor again, to try and gain some distance between the goblin and me – not the way I would have wanted our fight to begin.
This time, I focused on getting up, instead of trying some weak and ineffectual counterattack. Of course, the fat gob did not sit around waiting for me to get in position… it went right after me, with another vicious swing of its Morningstar.
At least now, I was a bit more mobile and was able to evade the swing by merely stepping back, giving me an additional moment to catch my bearings.
The situation was not good.
Despite being a lot skinnier than it used to be, the goblin still packed a mean punch and had plenty of striking speed to go with it. The only weaknesses I could make out so far were its footwork, and the ungainly weapon it was using. While a Morningstar is an excellent weapon in a battle, especially if heavily armored, it is less advantageous in a duel-like setting. And the footwork wasn’t bad, but having to move all that mass around, even if substantially diminished, implied that the goblin was not quite as nimble as it could have been.
Or perhaps it was not a lack of footwork, but simple inertia - once the goblin’s mass was moving, it was hard to change direction.
The next time the Morningstar was whistling past my head, I jumped forward, stabbing at the prodigious gut of the goblin. An easy target, and, luckily, the tip of my sword had a good deal more penetrating power than the edge, so it actually caused a significant wound.
Not that it seemed to bother the goblin overly much. Instead of falling to its knees, or stumbling backward as any normal person, or goblin, would do, it just grunted.
And then, with another of its toothy smiles, it swung its heavy weapon right at me, as if nothing had happened.
“Fuck,” I screamed while letting go of my sword and jumping back just in time to avoid the spiked metalhead.
Rationally, the lack of response by the goblin to being impaled should not have come as a surprise, since I had seen just that in its fight with the elves. But it was something altogether different to experience it directly, with my own sword stuck in its gut.
Desperately, I looked around, trying to find another weapon, when my eyes fell on a war ax, half-buried underneath one of the goblin corpses. That was exactly what I needed to get through that thick skin and do some real damage.