TOOGI

Half a dozen human heroes rode into the goblin encampment with the banners of their guilds streaming behind the staves attached to their saddles. Among them was a [Monk], clad in simple brown robes, his hands wrapped in cloth. He slid down off his horse as soon as they reached the edge of the camp, patting it on the nose with a friendly goodbye. A [Paladin] sat tall atop his mount, both he and his warhorse decked in gleaming plate. His shield was emblazoned with a sword cross, the mark of his guild, his face hidden behind a heavy helm. Behind him, a woman wearing a red robe clutched a twisted ebony staff, intently surveying the disarray before her. Coming in on foot, a [Ranger], garbed in earth-toned leathers and carrying a longbow, surveyed the area with a hunter’s eye. A string hung from his belt, already heavy with goblin ears, a memento of the scouts and watchers the party had encountered on the way.

The horns had not been a warning. They were a good luck token from Harborfell, wishing the adventurers success on their raid. The group would have ridden into Midden well ahead of the sounding and may well have headed directly for the area where the Junkmaster’s reports indicated goblins congregated.

As the first goblin warrior lunged at the human heroes, a cacophony of battle cries echoed through the encampment. Goblin fighters swarmed around the intruders, wielding makeshift weapons with dogged ferocity. The [Monk] dodged their strikes with fluid grace, countering with swift, precise blows with his feet and fists. He ducked under a board with a nail in it to strike one goblin in the throat, and it went down gurgling, its trachea caved in. The [Ranger] loosed arrow after arrow into the fray, each finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Amidst the clash of steel and snarls of combat, mothers clutched their children close, their eyes wide with fear, trying to shepherd them to safety.

"Scatter!" one woman cried out; her voice barely audible over the din. Her trembling hands held tight to her little ones as they scurried for cover. “Scatter and hide!”

"The tunnel!" a goblin man shouted, gesturing desperately toward Toogi’s tent. Women and children hurried to heed him, stumbling over debris in their haste to escape the chaos.

From his vantage point atop a mound of scrap, the Great Goblin surveyed the battlefield, his jaded eyes taking in every movement. "Hold your ground!" he bellowed, his harsh command cutting through the din. "Protect the young!" His orders were met with fierce determination from his tribe, their loyalty unwavering even in the face of certain defeat. Goblins did not expect to kill heroes. Their goal was to save as many as possible from the slaughter.

The [Paladin]'s imposing figure caught the Great Goblin's attention, and a predatory grin spread across his weathered face. He descended from his perch with a leap, landing before the armored warrior with a resounding thud. "You dare to challenge the Midden tribe, human?" he taunted, gripping his staff. “Is this your father’s head I carry? Do you come seeking revenge?”

He knew, of course, that the human party came seeking no such thing. But he had seen this tragedy played out too many times over the course of his rule, and something in him had snapped when he saw the [Paladin] in his finery, striking down yet another innocent who had not been fast enough to flee. Seeing Sooji again, the disgraced goblin chief, and the scheming [Songstealer], had already put Toogi in a fell mood. These humans truly saw themselves as heroes, and his kin were nothing but vermin beneath their boots. At the very least, he could hinder them long enough for more to escape. They would have to earn the ears they took back with them as trophies before he made his own withdrawal.

The [Paladin] answered him in a steady tone. "We are here to cleanse the Midden," he replied, raising his shield. “It has grown foul of late.”

Toogi jumped, sweeping his staff in a wide arc that narrowly missed the [Paladin]'s helmeted head as the human deflected the blow with his gleaming shield. The [Paladin] countered, his sword shimmering with divine energy, raised high for a [Smite]. Toogi sidestepped just as the sword plunged down. The blade did not reach the earth, but the energy of the blow did, sending a shower of dirt and gravel into the air and leaving a scorched line among the shells.

Toogi pivoted and swung his staff low, aiming for the warhorse's forelegs. The staff connected with a thud, crunching metal, and the horse whinnied in pain as its bones cracked. Unprepared for the sudden shift, the [Paladin] lost his balance, tumbling from his saddle and landing with a crash. The clatter of metal echoed as he found himself pinned under the weight of his own warhorse, his sword slipping from his grasp and his shield landing a few feet away.

The [Monk] darted forward, his brown robes flowing behind him like the wings of a bird of prey. Cloth strips wrapped around his fists seemed to whisper through the air as he launched a flurry of quick jabs toward Toogi's midsection, each narrowly missing as Toogi danced back. His feet were equally lethal, one coming up in a sharp, arcing kick aimed directly at Toogi's head.

Before the monk's foot could make contact, the [Shield of Retribution] around Toogi reacted. He was a [Tribe Champion], the goblin equivalent of a [Paladin], and the distinction came with certain advantages. A burst of divine energy erupted from the aura, snapping back at the [Monk]. The force met his foot in mid-air, neutralizing the impact and sending a surge of radiant damage coursing through the monk’s leg.

Seizing this moment, Toogi gripped his staff with both hands and swung it upward, arcing it toward the unbalanced [Monk]'s exposed head. The wooden end of the staff connected solidly, accompanied by another burst of divine energy. This time, the energy radiated from the staff itself, magnifying the impact.

The [Monk] staggered back, his hands up in a fighting stance, but it was only his body’s muscle memory. His eyes lost their focus, and he stiffened, then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The [Paladin] pressed his gauntleted hand to his chest, murmuring an incantation. A soft light emanated from his palm, seeping into his armor and the flesh beneath. Filled with new strength, he dragged himself out from under his wounded horse and rose again. His sword was only a pace away, and in another second, he had it in his gauntlet. His shield had slid farther away, and he let it lie.

Armed and rejuvenated, the [Paladin] lifted his sword, charging it once more with divine energy. He lunged at Toogi, attempting a second [Smite]. Toogi intercepted the attack with his staff. As their weapons met, there was a loud crack. Toogi's staff, though reinforced by the energy of his aura, shattered under the blow.

Undeterred, Toogi kept his grip on the top half of his weapon, the end adorned with a human skull. He swung it like a mace; the skull crashing against the [Paladin]'s chest plate. Each blow pushed the [Paladin] back, step by step, and Toogi couldn't help but laugh, savoring his newfound advantage. Never had he taken a stand like this. To do so meant he was almost as mad as old Jiwoo, but their purposes could not have been more different. Jiwoo had attacked the humans for his personal gain, and that of the [Songstealer], whereas Toogi fought only to give his people the time they needed to reach safety. All around them, goblins were still dying.

The [Ranger] was adding body after body to his tally, but soon found himself surrounded by the most loyal warriors of the Midden Tribe. They forced him to drop his bow and engage them with the scimitar that had been hanging on his hip. Individually, the goblins were no match for him, but fighting together, it was possible for them to drive him off. There were only four heroes here, and Toogi had incapacitated one of them himself. His opponent could not help his comrades without exposing himself to the full wrath of the Great Goblin.

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A grim smile painted itself across Toogi’s square features. The [Paladin] was so tall, so proud, how it must have pained him to be outdone by a mere goblin. He knew he was violating his oath, that to take the fight personally this way was not only to risk his own life, but the integrity of the tribe. But he could not help himself. These adventurers were weak. They had not known his strife; they had not proven themselves in trials of the Midden.

He batted the [Paladin]’s next strike aside and struck him once more in the chest. The armor rang like a bell. It wouldn’t hurt him much, but Toogi could keep this up all day. The more goblins he protected, the stronger he was. He felt each death sapping a little of his strength, but there were hundreds pledged to him, so a few lost lives would not weaken him much, and most importantly, his children were safe. When he was finished with him, the [Paladin] would know what it was like to be beaten like a drum.

The woman had never dismounted. Every goblin that approached her was met with a bolt of purple energy from her staff. One bolt wasn’t enough to kill them, but it knocked them silly, and a second would do the trick. He could see the panic in her eyes. She had only one spell, it seemed, or only one useful spell, and she was using it over and over again. How long until she ran out of mana to support herself? A sling stone from one of the goblin women stopped a foot from her head, bouncing off an invisible barrier. Not one spell then, at least two. This raid wasn’t going the way she had expected, and spellcasters weren’t meant to fight on their own.

She may have had the same thought as she pointed her staff at him and sent a purple bolt whizzing toward his face. He ducked, but it distracted him sufficiently to allow the [Paladin] to score a bloody line down his left arm. Toogi grunted, ignoring the pain, and positioned himself so that the paladin was between him and the woman.

“Demon,” the [Paladin] swore, “I will be your end.”

“Suck a mud tit,” Toogi replied easily, batting away the next strike with his skull mace. Winning or not, time was short. The Great Goblin was privy to knowledge kept secret from the general populace of Midden. A party could be rebuffed, and heroes occasionally died. That was the risk they accepted when they entered Midden, the contract they signed with the Junkmaster. But there could never be a true victory for the goblins. If he killed them all himself, if that was even possible, consequences would follow.

It was time for his retreat. He went back and forth with the [Paladin] a few moments longer, gauging his opponent’s skill. When he deemed the moment was right, he struck the man’s sword hand with his mace, causing the weapon to once again fall from his grasp. The [Paladin] swore, lunging at Toogi, but the Great Goblin slipped away. With one eye on the mage, he put some distance between himself and the heroes, veering toward the tunnel where most of his people had already found their escape.

More goblins would die, but he would live to fight another day, and so would the tribe. That was what mattered. He had done his duty. He broke into a run, using tents and shell mounds as cover, and caught a strange sight out of the corner of his eye.

The Gang of Fools had sought shelter under a wagon. They were all huddled together, spectators to the unfolding scene. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected any better from them. If they didn’t move soon, they would die anyway. He wasn’t sure if he cared.

Something was wrong.

There were corpses all around the tunnel beside his tent. With all of his skill and attention required for his duel, he hadn’t felt them die. He glanced back toward the battle. The heroes had regrouped; the [Paladin] guarding the female spellcaster, and the [Ranger] had recovered his bow. They were making quick work of the defenders that remained. He could not help them.

None of those heroes had killed these goblins, they couldn’t have. There was another raider here. Toogi's footsteps slowed as he scanned the area. His eyes darted about, landing on overturned carts, heaps of cast-off weapons, and the tattered remnants of collapsed goblin tents. The bodies around the tunnel hadn’t been killed by arrows, nor did they appear to be marked by spellfire. This was blade work, clean and precise as any death could be.

A subtle change swept through the air. Almost indiscernible, the echo of an errant breeze, the distant rustling of cloth, but it was enough. The hairs on the back of Toogi’s neck prickled, standing on end. It was a familiar feeling, one he trusted after years of being the paranoid leader of a famously paranoid race, an acute awareness of being watched. Whoever had done this was still here.

He caught the movement in his peripherals. A lithe, dark shape lunged, materializing from behind a screen of cloth, a slit in his own tent. A female, not even as big as he was. Twin daggers extended like a pair of fangs, eager for a bite. Toogi's makeshift mace intercepted one blade, a grating noise filling the air between them as metal met bone. The [Rogue]'s other blade, however, danced free, swinging dangerously close to Toogi's torso. [Shield of Retribution] activated once more, having fully recharged during his retreat.

The blade was caught by a field of emerald energy, the force of the blow traveling back into the [Rogue]’s hand and up her arm. Almost too fast to follow, the [Rogue] repositioned, unloading a series of calculated attacks that left Toogi breathless. The daggers flicked out like a serpent's tongue, each time finding a chink in Toogi's defenses, each time leaving behind a trace touch, a scratch, a slit in his leather, or a thin line of blood. Despite his best efforts to parry and dodge; he was weakened, he was tired, and the woman had taken him by surprise.

Toogi’s grip tightened around the shaft of his mace, and he swung it with all the strength he could muster. The human skull at its end slammed into the [Rogue]’s shoulder, or it would have. He was sure his aim was true, but what he struck was an illusion. His opponent had used a skill to avoid the attack, separating herself from her image by a few inches, just enough that what Toogi hit was only shadows. With no target to absorb the impact, he swung straight through, exposing his side. The [Rogue] had been waiting for this opportunity, and she jabbed one of her daggers in between Toogi’s ribs.

Pain flared, clouding his focus, driving all thought from his mind. He retreated a step, his arms heavy, following up with an unwieldy stroke that the [Rogue] casually avoided. With a deliberate pulse of mana, he recharged his [Shield of Retribution], which was enough to stop the next attack. The [Rogue] must not have been expecting him to use the skill again so soon, and Toogi heard the bones in the woman’s hand crack. It was a satisfying sound, but it wouldn’t save him. The dagger was still in his side, and he needed to remove it if he was going to heal himself.

He got a good look at his opponent. A face covered by dark cloth, only the eyes visible. Sky blue, and startlingly lovely. The figure was so slim, so small, was about to be killed by a human girl? The knowledge irked him, but he wouldn’t have a chance to mull over this ignominious end.

She recovered quickly, coming in again with her uninjured hand, and he was only barely able to avoid having his throat slit. His movements slowed. He barely had the strength to lift his mace to fend off the next stroke. He lunged for her, risking everything in a last-ditch effort to bring her down. She was so thin, even in his weakened state, surely, he could overpower her.

In the next instant, he found himself flat on the ground. The dagger came out out his side, and blood poured freely. He began to utter a prayer, calling on the Great Mother of Ailond to close the wound and restore him to health. The prayer failed when a new pain blossomed in his back, and then one more. His vision blurred, he was losing too much blood, and his vitals had been pierced. If she continued stabbing him, he didn’t feel it.

His thoughts turned to his tribe. The [Rogue] had seen goblins fleeing into the tunnel, and put herself in the way of their path, but not before dozens had already escaped. Others would have scattered into Midden, into more tunnels, more hideaways. Most of his people were safe. This was the end for him, but not for his tribe.

He smiled despite the circumstances. The Great Goblin was dead, but the Great Goblin would live on. Humans lived a different life, thinking only of themselves, of the countless deaths that they would have to deliver to achieve the greatest heights the [System] allowed. Goblins were different. They lived for their tribe. They died for their tribe. A new leader would rise to replace him, and when that leader received the pledges of his people, they would become as strong as he had been.

They would learn the rules that only Great Goblins knew and do with that knowledge what they chose. He did not regret fighting, not in his last moments, not when he knew his sacrifice had saved lives. The cycle of life and death, the cage of Midden; it had weighed on him over the years, and it was almost a relief to be done with it. Old Jiwoo may have been mad, but Toogi understood where that madness had come from.

He closed his eyes and knew peace.