[Trial (Copper) Activated!]
[Objective Gained: Clear the fortress of monsters]
[Reward: ???]
The text hovered before Zander's vision, imprinted within his vision as if he'd looked into the sun. The rest of the world was enveloped in a menacing purple light, still reminiscent of the portal they'd taken, before slowly the void around them began to fade away, solidifying into a collection of tightened, concrete walls, eerily similar to when he awoke in the first layer.
He brushed his hand along the course of the wall, feeling its familiar texture. He observed the paneled walls of concrete as they began to shift, spinning in place, as if controlled remotely. They moved and spun in place, churning as if alive, before rapidly retracting, creating a massive, country spanning space in just an instant, before the concrete fell away, replacing itself with harsh rock. He watched with awe as a landscape began to construct itself around him, creating a beautiful environment, layered in a blanket of snow.
He watched cliffs construct themselves from thin air, forming mountains and mountain ranges in an instant. He took a deep breath, tensed for any action, but the only thing that came was a harsh wind, blowing fiercely toward him, making him shiver as snow began to blow in, drifting off from the mountains beyond. He shivered violently as he began to be pelted with snow, his leather armor allowing a brief relief, but unable to fully block the freezing cold around them. Looking up, the sun shone brightly in the sky, but he felt no warmth from the clear sky. He looked around, trying to search for any source of cover or relief from the winds, finally happening upon a cave that bore itself into the cliffside, alight from a series of lanterns that lined a treaded path.
Despite the entire ground being covered in the thick snow, an outline of a path remained, the snow stained a dark, discolored white that twisted and curved as a road would. It was just enough of a difference for Zander to see the intended trail. He felt as if he'd been placed into a the beginning of a play.
Speaking of that, where the hell was he? He felt a small sense of relief, being outdoors for the first time in around two weeks, but the strangeness of it all gave him a sense of uneasiness. On top of that, he didn't recognize any of the landscape around him, much less the style of terrain seen on Earth. This world felt alien, as if everything around him was constructed around a concept of Earth was like.
Shaking himself of his thoughts, he slowly walked along the edge of the path, his boots threatening to slip on the icy path as he moved, teetering for balance. He moved at a sluggish pace, his boots managing to find footholds in the snow, using the soft powder to catch himself whenever he felt like he'd slip.
He followed the tunnel before him, which ran through the side of the cliff, moving upwards until it eventually opened up onto the surface once more, the path now becoming littered with a border of stacked stones, finding further confirmations of life. He hesitated for a moment at the mouth of the tunnel, looking for any landmarks, and finally he spotted it.
A large castle-like fortress, held along the top of the nearest mountain, sat menacingly before him. Wooden spikes along the palisade created a feeling of barbarism. He leaned forward, looking closer at the pikes that layered the battlements, noticing a collection of human heads impaled along their tips. He paused, freezing at the harrowing sight, unsure of what to do. His mind screamed at him to avoid whoever this force was, but he had no food, and certainly no way of surviving on his own.
He prepared himself to make his way towards the fortress, warming his hands by rubbing them together and checking his pack for supplies. He had enough food for a few days, but any longer and he'd incapable of finding any other sources of food, as the cold would've driven away or killed any wildlife long ago. He looked back up towards the fortress, taking in its gothic style architecture, its cold, stone structure looming imposingly over the valley in which he stood.
Sighing, he hiked up his pack, adjusting its position on his shoulders before pushing forward, his head tilted downwards as he hiked up the steep trail.
He walked for a few hours, slowly but surely making his way towards what certainly was his objective, making sure to stay just out of sight unless he was forced to reveal himself. He nudged himself around the thin edge of a cliff, the rest of the path fallen and destroyed, a ruin of the deadly rocks below. He leapt forward as he neared the edge, landing softly on the safe ground that awaited him with a grunt of effort.
As he continued to walk, he managed to finally take a look at his status, looking for any changes.
[Status]
[Core: Copper (Lower)]
[Soul: Copper]
[Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]
[Species: Human]
[Status:]
[Strength: 17]
[Constitution: 18]
[Dexterity: 15]
[Intelligence: 10]
[Spirit: 12]
[Charisma: 10]
[Abilities: Willpower, Adrenaline, Sword Mastery (Copper)]
[Essence: 67]
His statistics had changed, but much less than he'd expected. His earlier fights had netted him a series of multiple stats, yet this elongated battle against hundreds of thrall left him with barely any growth. It seems my time of rapid growth is already over, he thought, frowning slightly. If the growth was this slow with this much effort, how could they possibly expect to reach the level of the powerhouses, much less the third layer?
He waved his worries aside, choosing to focus on the current issues over those of the future, continuing his solitary hike up the mountain. He noticed a series of bones littered across the path, bones that looked awfully like they were human. He felt the chills worsen as he silently watched the bones shift in the wind, clinking together softly as they moved.
He silently let out a prayer for whatever had died here, not knowing who or what he was praying to, but praying all the same. He moved on, his unending hike continuing further. Every time he looked, the fortress was closer, but it still felt like it was miles away. His face was solemn as he considered what he would do when he arrived.
The text that floated before him echoed in his mind:
[Objective Gained: Clear the fortress of monsters]
He'd already seen signs of dead humans at the hands of whatever lived here, that was evidence enough that monsters inhabited the fortress, but were they intelligent? Was it simply more thrall, buzzards, or even trappers, or something else entirely. This felt like an entirely different layer, as if it was separate from the second. No part of wherever he was used the rules of the second layer, so he decided it was best to treat this as something isolated and new, and potentially far, far more dangerous.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Zander finally reached the gate of the fortress as the sun peaked in the sky. He'd appeared in the layer just as the morning sun began to rise, and now it was the prime time to scout for information. His sword clinked in its sheath along his belt, and he lifted its scabbard, doing his best to prevent it from making further noise, afraid of whatever the inhabitants of the fortress were hearing him.
He carefully traced the side of the fortress, hiding amongst the collection of cut tree trunks that littered the mountain side, the remains of a forest that used to exist. The trees were massive, yet their trunks were cut down all the same. Upon closer inspection, he saw a massive layer of uneven cuts, as if something that frantically and unceremoniously hacked at it without a care for its even-ness. He looked for recent signs of labor, but found strangely nothing, as if this was done long ago. He furrowed his brows, but continued his mission.
He searched for any sign of movement, looking for a flash of light, but all he saw was the gentle blowing of snow in the wind. He thought he saw a flash of green for a moment, and he snapped his head towards its direction, but nothing appeared. Unable to see anything properly, he fell back into the safety of the pointed rocks, an eye still cast in the direction of the fortress.
What do I do? He pondered his situation. Clearly something was here, but he didn't want to wander into the den of a monster alone. Should he look for a fellow scout? Perhaps they weren't even in this instance of this "trial." He had no proof that they were here with him. The gate was down, allowing for an easy entrance, if he was willing to face the danger, but his mind flashed back to the fight with the thrall. After Maia's spell had ended, he was unable to face even a normal thrall on good terms, barely managing to fight back against them in their multi-pronged assault. He'd gone from cleaving through massive hordes of enemies in a single moment, to being their prey in the next. Who knew how strong some of the monsters here could be?
He paced for a moment around the rock, considering the options, before he took another look into the keep, finally getting a glance at its interior, seeing a bright orange glow emerging from within. He strained his senses, listening intently. He could hear the overpowering gusts of wind, but just barely, coddled within that sound like a whisper in the night, he heard something.
Singing, he heard singing.
A collection of voices, speaking some strange, unfamiliar tongue emerged from the keep, cheering in waves of roars fell silent on the snowy mountaintop. The shouts came like the unyielding tide, falling silent for a few minutes before thundering across the fortress again, petering off in the harsh winds above. Zander inched his way closer to the gate, before poking his head in, doing his best to stay in the shadows. Surprisingly, there was nothing on the battlements. He walked around cautiously, his hand on the hilt of his blade, but not a single soul was active along the battlements, though he did find chunks of meat and small daggers scattered about haphazardly.
He inched his way towards the main structure of the fortress, finding it similarly unguarded, and the sound of merriment rose exponentially, now coming to him as a soft roar. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the building, which was sunken into the cliffside. As he entered, it was clear that the upper layers were completely devoid of life. Instead, the former floor of the defensive structure was dug out completely, like a pit mine.
The first thing to hit him was the stench. A collection of bodily fluids, feces, and rotting meat met his nose with a fury, almost causing him to vomit on the spot. He covered his nose, yet the smell did not dissipate, lingering in the air like the remnant of a deadly plague. Down below, a flurry of movement streamed outward, and Zander's jaw dropped when he saw hundreds of small, humanoid creatures celebrating around a massive bonfire.
The monsters were dirty, disheveled beasts, their skin twisted and dried as if they'd been baking in the sun for centuries. Layers upon layers of wrinkles marked their skin, and they each wore a small brown loincloth covering their privates, luckily leaving that image from being burned into Zander's memory. Hundreds of the monsters surrounded large, hastily crafted tables, each uneven and crooked, not even forming a complete circle, looking more like an misshapen egg. He watched as goblins jumped with glee before taking a swig of what he assumed to be alcohol. Some of them leapt across their own tables, throwing punches at their fellow monsters, occasionally causing a fight. He grimaced with disgust as he watched them move, their crude actions repulsing.
As he overlooked the celebration, being careful not to be spotted, he discovered a small, untreaded path downwards, and one without any guards whatsoever, not that any of the creatures seemed to want to look. He quickly launched himself to the bottom of the stairs, any noise he was making overshadowed by the merry celebration that lay out before him.
He looked left. Nothing.
He looked right. Nothing.
Once more he looked left, and upon confirming he wouldn't be seen, he slipped into a nearby doorway, plunging into the darkness beyond. He moved as quickly as he could, barely managing to slip past a new group of monsters that rounded the corner, each one carrying a full tankard of alcohol, swinging their cups in unison as they chanted something in a foreign, alien language.
The room was much more than it seemed. Instead of leading to a side room, usually for storage, the doorway instead led into the mouth of a massive tunnel, which plunged downwards. Below, he could hear the slam! of metal on rock, and the groans of exhaustion, followed by a snap of a whip.
He furrowed his brow and made his way downwards, delving into the depths of this seemingly large system of caves, all lit by a collection of misshapen lanterns and candles. Skulls hung from the ceiling, their craniums pierced by a heavy chain, which kept it afloat in the air. Most of the skulls looked human, but there were a few more that seemed unfamiliar.
His eyes widened as he witnessed a collection of horrifying scenarios before him. Tens, if not hundreds of humans, all draped in rags that barely shielded them from the cold of the icy cave, hacked away at chunks of stone and ore, whilst others hauled heavy wheelbarrows, filling its contents with the chunks of rock before moving onto the next. Some carried heavy backpacks, filling them similarly, their faces downtrodden and in despair.
Whack~!
A whip pierced the air, snapping behind the heads of a few of the workers, sending them into a frenzy, desperately clawing for more ore, filling their bags in just a few moments. One of the men's legs caught on the stone, sending them tumbling to the ground. Their face twisted in fear as they screamed, clutching their leg, but turning back towards their captor, another short legged monster holding a massive cleaver, which now swung unhesitatingly down towards the man's head, splitting it in two.
What the fuck! Zander thought to himself, covering his mouth with his hand as he hugged the wall, making sure he only touched shadowed ground. He clutched his sword tightly in one hand as he considered his options. His breath grew heavy as he began to seethe with a mixture of anger and fear. He closed his eyes, tuning out the terrifying screams as he steadied himself, releasing his breath, which he hadn't known he was holding.
These humans were slaves. Based on the massive pits, tunnels, and cave systems below their fortress, it's likely that the monsters had dug in from underneath, before flooding their garrison with pure numbers. It would've been easy to do, with the sheer amount of force they had, flooding in from below, away from the safety of their defenses. The fate of the humans however… it was unacceptable.
Steeling himself, he continued forward, his eyes closely marking every single nook and cranny of the cave, making sure no gap in the wall led to secret passage, or a guard outpost that may've resulted in his capture, something that would make his already strenuous efforts for naught. It was a miracle he hadn't been caught already, but thanks to their laziness, he'd managed to slip through so far. Still though, he knew it was a matter of time before he'd be forced to fight.
He slithered down the halls, witnessing more atrocities as massive piles of human corpses littered the halls. There couldn't have been more than a hundred people manning the walls, yet there are thousands of bodies here! Where did all of these people come from? He hadn't recalled seeing any ruins or civilization within the mountains beyond, and there was definitely nothing in the valley, as he'd trekked through its treacherous, winding path on the way here, nearly dying several times in the process.
He turned away from the gory mess that followed the continued path downwards, threatening to keel over in sorrow at the sight of so many dead, but he pressed on, hearing a few muttered, whimpering voices further on. He entered a smaller cave system, the tunnels twisting and carving themselves through the rock. It looked like an elongated hallway, with small divots the size of a few adult men carved into the walls every few yards. He edged closer to the strange carvings, only to find that they weren't hallways or storage areas, they were cells.
His eyes met that of a poor, dilapidated and disheveled soldier, still clad in broken pieces of metal armor, his limbs hanging limply at his sides. Blood pooled around his sitting form, creating a trickle of red that slowly flowed through the cracks in the cobbled stone below. Zander gasped, holding his hands above his mouth as their eyes connected, and the man opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out, only a desperate gasp for air. The man's hand twitched, and he grunted as he lifted his open palm towards the cell door, before it fell limply once again towards the dusty floor, falling back into a helpless slumber, perhaps for the last time.
Zander was shaking, his steps uneven and crooked as he passed from cell to cell. There were hundreds of cells within this room alone, if not thousands, all filled with nearly dead people, or corpses that had been rotting for what seemed like weeks, their lifeless forms surrounded by dozens of flies and maggots. Soon Zander's helpless shamble turned into a jog as he began to run through the seemingly endless halls of cells. The jog turned into a full on run, and evolved even further into a desperate sprint, his eyes retaining the flashes of the horrifying state of living each of these people were living in, most completely unable to even move from the pain.
He continued to sprint, a few tears forming within his eyes, streaking out behind him as he moved at inhuman speed, his strength now allowing him to surpass human limits. He was nearly twice the strength of an average human now, and although acts that could be deemed as superhuman were difficult to do, they weren't impossible any longer, even for someone like himself, who was apparently very weak within the second layer.
He lost himself in his thoughts as he kept running, springing around the halls as he finally reached the end of the prison, clutching the wall as he stilled himself, finally catching a breath, panic evident with his every move. His chest heaved as he curled himself into a ball, sweat beading down his neck with intensity as he struggled to process the situation.
The requirements for the "trial" said he needed to clear the fortress of monsters to clear it. He doubted there was any real way to escape without completing the objective, so he was stuck. On top of that, Reginald, Sarah, Logham, and Carlos were nowhere to be found. He'd looked for their faces whilst running through the cells, but there was no one he recognized, only those hopeless faces, which clung on to their last vestiges of life, barely even surviving on a daily basis. The thousands of corpses that littered the tunnels, all clad in remnants of both plated and leather armor, gave no hope against the forces that occupied this keep.
He was trapped in a seemingly unwinnable scenario, with nowhere hospitable to go, doomed to fight an impossible battle against an endless horde of monsters, all the while terrible atrocities were committed against his kin, atrocities that could very easily make him a victim if he slipped up? I can't do this… he thought to himself, his arms gripping his legs. The cold stone floor felt alien, as if a mysterious chemical was making it unnaturally cold to touch, despite the ice surrounding the cave. Even the land around him wanted him cold and miserable, he barked out a small laugh at the thought, burying his face in his hands as he finally settled into the silence, away from the fanatical partying of the monsters that had inflicted all of this pain and suffering. It was unbearable, the knowledge that he was the only one here who could do anything, yet he was helpless. It was pathetic, it was unexceptab-
"Zander?" A familiar voice rang out to his immediate right, and he spun his head in the direction of the voice, his expression lightening, before falling once more.
"Is… that you?" Sarah's raspy voice called out from the midst of the nearest cell, her arms shackled to the wall, the cuffs digging into her skin uncomfortably, leaving a series of long red marks along her skin where the shackles slowly shifted over time. Her skin held a collection of cuts and markings, each fresh and still dripping blood. She made no attempt to move, laying limply whilst turning her head in his direction. "So, I'm not alone…" her voice was barely louder than a whisper, her voice hoarse and gritty from hours of shouting. Zander did not know which part of that concerned him more.
He scrambled to her cell, pressing himself against the bars as she smiled softly before breaking into a coughing fit. She spat a small glob of blood onto the ground, staining the pebbles with its sticky fluid. Zander's face drooped even further as he observed the state of her body.
"Ah- I- I wanted to say sorry, for bringing us here, for getting Maia and Xavier killed. I should've known, as second in command… I should've been better… but I let greed get the best of me." Her voice cracked. "It's- It's all my fault" She sobbed out the last few words, a small tear flowing down her cheek, dripping onto the floor. Her hands moved for a moment, but the shackles above her head kept them firmly in place. "I woke here, in this cell, about three days ago. Whatever those beasts are, they grabbed me when I was unconscious and made sure I wouldn't be able to escape my bindings." She nudged her head towards the floor, causing Zander to follow where she mentioned. "Those markings, they're some kind of rune or enchantment. Somehow, they shut down all magic-based abilities completely. Basically, besides my stats, I'm useless." She said, her voice solemn. "All the years I spent making The Garden into our dream, only to die here in an unknown realm. It feels shameful, really." She said, a pained laugh escaping her lips as she spoke.
"I'm still here…" He said softly, and the two locked eyes, joined in their fear.
"Does it really matter?" she asked sternly. "They have thousands of bloodthirsty beasts, and you just have… well, no offense, you just have a sword. Perhaps if I can be freed from this torturous cell, there'd be a chance, but you'd still have to get the keys from the Chieftain. He seems strong." Her voice filled with a sliver of hope as she lifted herself into an upright position along the wall, her back pressed flatly against it.
"He's at the bottom of the keep. They only keep the slaves down here, so don't bother searching. If you snuck down here, you might be able to somehow- miraculously- steal the keys. If you can do that without raising the alarm, and without getting yourself killed, I can take down this entire fortress almost by myself." She spoke with confidence, causing Zander to nod at her instructions.
"Got it, get the keys, bottom of the keep. Don't die" He took a mental note, spinning around, eager to attempt to fix this horrific situation, but paused once he saw the halls of cells once more. "What about them?"
"What about them?" She said back, her voice indifferent. "It's entirely likely these people aren't even real. This thing is a trial, right?" she asked, getting a nod from Zander. "This scenario was made specifically for us, and my guess is that it's probably the same for anyone in here. If Logham or Reginald were in our version of this trial, I'd assume they'd be here by now or caused enough ruckus to get themselves locked in here with me." She bit the bottom of her lip, thinking quickly.
"Think about it. Remember Beryl, from the first layer? Every person met her in the exact same way, and she introduced herself the exact same, over and over. After that, the outcome changed based on what the person did, and she'd either live or die depending on the circumstance. She couldn't have been real, right? No! She was a construct created by the system, based on the individual." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Believe me, I have the same concern, but even if these people were real, you'd have to ignore them anyways, at least until after we find a way to clear the trial. They're far too weak for a slave's rebellion, and those that fought against the guards were punished so harshly that they'll never thinking of even whispering a bad word about them again." She shrugged, or at least tried to, the gesture failing short.
"It depends on you." She said, nonchalantly. Her tears were dried by this point, her mood changing in an instant as she grasped onto Zander's small hope with all her might. "Perhaps they are real, and are stuck here, like us, but perhaps not. It's all about priorities at this point."
Zander pondered on that for a moment, but chose to turn around, his mind steeled in his goal. He needed to take this place down if he wanted to escape, one way or another, and that meant he had to fight a small nation on his own. He pushed himself back towards the keep that housed hundreds, if not thousands of partying monsters, his eyes stinging with determination, feeling as if they were sunk into his head.
He quickly moved through the tunnels, finding his way back from the cells. He passed through the halls of slaves once more, ignoring their cries of anguish as they were quickly whipped back into line, but he paused, just before he entered the next room. He looked back, seeing a lone guard slapping a man across the face, who fell to the ground helplessly, his limbs giving out from exhaustion. The monster reared itself upward before slamming its disgusting, malformed foot into the man's face, stomping on his head. Luckily, they seemed to be not as strong as the thrall, giving Zander a boost in confidence. He closed his eyes, whispering to himself to focus on his goal, but he forced himself to turn around, back towards the beaten slave. He unsheathed his sword as he moved, the blade glinting in the soft light of the nearby lanterns, barely making a sound as he waltzed towards the pair with an air of grace.
The slave clutched his head, crying, begging for life in a foreign tongue, yet blow after blow rained on his body, leaving him brutalized and battered. He cried then, knowing he wouldn't be able to meet their demands on his next shift. Dying here would simply be the inevitable. He closed his eyes, letting the blows take him, finding a certain peace in the pain, falling into a trance-like state as he heard his bones snap and his back crack, until finally, the final blow came, slamming down upon his ne-
"Arghlgh~!" A gross, garbled scream echoed throughout the hall as his captor suddenly fell over, clutching its chest. A sword the length of his arm impaled the monster's chest, piercing a lung, filling its throat with blood. He watched in a mixture of horror and relief as his savior bent down over the beast, watching the light fall from its eyes as it gargled on its own blood, suffocating silently before falling still.
[Goblin Killed]
[1 Essence Gained]
Goblin? Zander tilted his head as he read the kill notification. They didn't give much essence, but that proved their lack of strength. Why were they called goblins? This was the first time a creature had matched a fictional species from Earth, striking up a series of very concerning questions in his head. Did the layers take inspiration from human literature? Why did these goblins look so different from those traditionally displayed in media? He was expecting goblins to be green-skinned, thieving, miniature creatures, but instead they were more like slightly smaller, far more disgusting and twisted humans.
A few jumbled words of a foreign language shocked him back to the present, and he found the victim of pointing towards him and muttering something he couldn't understand. Despite the lack of communication, he felt there was no betrayal or scorn in his words, and he eased his tensed muscles, sheathing his sword once more. The man watched carefully as Zander walked over towards the goblin's crude sword, reaching down to pick it up. It was utterly devoid of passion or care, rusted beyond oblivion. He couldn't even infuse it with his sword energy, the manifestation of his weapon of choice deeming the blade unworthy of its presence.
He flipped the weapon around, carefully gripping it by the blade, before handing it to the now former slave, placing the weapon in his palm and nodding, meeting the man's eyes, which burned brightly with hope. There's no way these people could be fake he thought, watching the perfect expression of human emotion play itself across his face. I'll come back for you he thought, leaving the man to his machinations as he made his way towards the still roaring party, the noise reverberating off the walls, masking any sign of the brief conflict that had just occurred.
As he found his way back to the party room, he leapt towards the stairs, doing his best to remain low to the ground, managing to find his way back outside. He did another long search, looking for any signs of goblins patrolling about, only to find none, seemingly still out partying. Satisfied, he placed his pack down just outside the keep in a hidden location, leaving the rest of his food to the side in case of emergency. Next, he moved to re-enter the keep, but stopped himself right before, shoving a small piece of dried jerky into his mouth, a portion of the rations he would've eaten if he'd waited any longer. He didn't know if it was smart to eat right before potentially dueling to the death with hundreds of bloodthirsty, human hating monsters, but he certainly didn't want to do it on an empty stomach.
Finally ready, he moved back into the keep, finding himself overlooking the bulging mass of bodies embroiled in feast, raising toasts high as they downed their drink. He carefully followed the edge of the hole, his eyes darting across the procession, looking for any sign of the king, hoping it would be obvious to find. Lucky for him, he was right.
The king of the goblins was enormously fat, its belly poking outwards, sloping far down, reaching its knees. It was larger than multiple versions of Zander, making him a rather imposing figure. Its bloated stomach expanding across the table it sat at, where he sat alone, cheering loudly before drinking an entire barrel of alcohol, making Zander flinch at the sight. Ugh… The creature thoroughly disgusted him. Its ugliness was something indescribable. Zander even thought that the ugliest, most disgusting and vile human was nothing in the face of this beast.
"BOIS!" Its voice rang out violently across the hall, turning the previously loud room completely silent. "We's done da pillagin'!" This time instead of silence, a rallying applause ravished the room, the noise so overwhelming Zander thought his ears would burst. How could he understand the king? The other goblins had been speaking a weird, guttural language, yet the English the king spoke felt different, wrong even, as if his words were being automatically translated to him. Is it a side effect of the system? Then again, he'd not really considered how he'd been able to communicate with foreign people in The Garden. Despite their small size, they had people from all over the globe, speaking a wide variety of different languages, yet after a day or so he'd naturally started to understand them as he would English, without noticing at that.
"We's taken da ewmans as slaves! No more's workin' for da goblins!" The king grabbed another barrel of alcohol, raising it high into the air, causing another round of excited cheers and shouts to erupt. It took a long, impressive swig of its barrel, before belching loudly, slamming the barrel down on the table. The table cracked, a line forming in its already broken surface.
"ONLY PARTYIN'!" It shouted, standing up on its feet as it made its way to the front of the keep, placing itself atop a throne that was incredibly small for the king. Clearly, it was a throne made for the local lord, who was probably dead, now that Zander thought about it. Its armrests were cut off to allow for the goblin king to space itself upon the throne, posed like a royal directing its subjects.
"We's rules da lands now! Be merry!" Its voice was deep and overpowering, a strange contrast to the higher pitched, pathetic growling of the other goblins. It made Zander question if the king was even a goblin or not.
"Taraq' Tuvar be OURS! Praise be da boxes for makin' us stronga!" It began to ramble on, and Zander started to ignore the humanoid beast, instead looking for some way to get close to it. There was no path from above, but he looked for a path from the staircase to the king. Unfortunately, everywhere he looked there was more and more bodies. Perhaps taking this face on wasn't the right move?
Could I find a way to kill the lot of them? His gaze drifted upwards, looking towards the stone ceiling that hung above. That'd probably do the trick. How can I bring the ceiling down, though? His face scrunched in concentration as he thought frantically for a solution. He was on a time limit here, that much he knew. Two large, burning chandeliers hung from the top of the keep, maintaining the well lit hall below, coupled with the several dozens of lights brough by the goblins from below.
He frowned, opting to look for other options before picking the violent one. If he dropped the ceiling, then some of the goblins were bound to survive. If he was swarmed he'd be killed. Plus, what if the collapse blocked off the passageway to the cells? He'd be potentially dooming both Sarah and the slaves.
His gaze moved next to the large cauldron in the center of the room, the source of their unending feast. A pair of two miniature goblins sat atop the mixture, stirring the broth with a massive, wooden spoon. The food they'd been making looked like an eldritch horror, a mixture of unnatural, terrifying colors swirling together with the spoon's movements.
I could go for the classic poisoning of the pot… his thoughts trailed off, thinking of the numerous stories he'd heard of heroes poisoning the comically oversized cooking pots of goblins, a prime opportunity for him to follow. He leaned over the edge of the gap, knowing he could be spotted if any of the goblins dared look up, but it seemed safe enough. He grabbed a small pebble, holding it out as far as he could reach, before dropping it towards the cauldron, watching it fall easily into the pool. He scrambled back so that he would avoid detection, but it seemed his plan could work, pretty easily at that.
Smiling to himself, he leaned over the edge once again, looking for any ingredients that could potentially kill the goblins once they drank from the liquid, but the local area was strangely devoid of anything edible or inedible, or at least inedible to the point of death. He frowned as he strained his neck, peering over the collective swarm of goblins. Perhaps he coul-
A pressure planted itself on his back.
He swung around in an instant, his hand already on the hilt of his weapon, unsheathing it without hesitation. The blade leapt through the air with an audible shing! as it almost immediately pierced the flesh of his target, a lone goblin who'd made its way up the stairs during his focused scheming. It plunged into the goblin's neck, sending its head flying to the side, rolling down the edge of the pit and hitting another goblin in the back of its skull, but it wasn't the only thing falling.
Despite Zander's quick reaction, it was not fast enough to stop the goblin from shoving him off the edge, suddenly sending him plunging to the group a few stories below. His heart raced in his chest as he braced for impact, slamming into a group of four goblins that partied below, their bodies breaking his fall, alongside his increased strength. His head spun as he staggered to his feet, his sword somehow still miraculously gripped within his palm.
Shit…
He was standing in the center of a completely silent main hall, filled head to toe with innumerable goblins, all of which were now staring directly at him with malicious intent. Time seemed to stand still as the goblin king watched in shock, staring at Zander with widened eyes.
Zander closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them once again before breaking the silence, stepping forward into the center of the room, the horde of goblins making way for him as he raised his sword, pointing the deadly edge towards the oversized king. His blade swung through the air as he raised it pointedly at his enemy, his focused face instilling a primal fear into those around him.
"King of the Goblins," he smirked, calmly walking a few unhesitating, uninterrupted steps towards the bulging, hulking monster.
"By my own decree, you will die by my blade."