Instakill!
The tuskarr falls over, lets out a prolonged gasp, and dies. Experience points are awarded, hundreds of them, and a healing potion appears on the ground. The tuskarr’s staff floats in the air, upheld by a halo of shimmering light.
(0)__(X)
“Sweet!” FeeTwix makes a beeline towards the staff, grabs it, runs his hand along its contours, spins it three times, and puts it in his inventory list. “I’ve been needing a good shaman staff.”
“How many items do you have in your inventory list anyway?” Ryuk asks.
“A lot.” His finger comes up and he scrolls through his list. “Approaching three hundred as we speak, but I try not to brag about the items I have, and I’ve got no problem letting them go if they’re taking up space. There’s no sense in having shit that I’ll never use. My list has been upwards of six hundred items before.”
“Will you fickers quit comparing list sizes and get me the fick out of this carpet!” Hiccup wiggles and thrashes and rolls himself back into the mud puddle. “YOY!” he splutters, “Dammit! Someone get me out of here!”
FeeTwix shows Ryuk a poll of his audience.
“They think it’d be funnier if we keep him in the blanket for a while and just log-roll him anywhere we plan to go.”
Ryuk offers FeeTwix a rare smile. “That would be funny.”
A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand and he speaks to his reflection. “Sorry, everyone, Hiccup is a guild-mate and you just don’t do a guild-mate like that.”
“Damn straight!” The goblin barks.
FeeTwix drags the blanketed Goblin out of the mud and cuts the tape. Ryuk helps him unroll Hiccup, who’s seething with disgruntlement. FeeTwix produces an ornate pair of solid gold diagonal cutters and frees Hiccup’s wrists.
Hiccup pulls himself to his feet, turns to Ryuk and clenches his fists at his sides. “PTSG is a real thing, you fickin’ fickwads, and you got one right here – a Pissed off, Tired, Stressed out Goblin. Kick me in the mouth, zip-tie my hands, roll me in a carpet … ”
“Blanket.” FeeTwix interrupts.
“ … blanket, and drown me in a mud puddle. I call that the Genghis Goblin treatment! Ever heard of that guy? He used to roll people up in carpets and have them beaten to death.”
“Why carpets?” asks FeeTwix.
“Because it was less bloody that way. He was a real hemophobe. He sent his harem to Polynya whenever they were visited by the red horse. But even he wouldn’t have rolled me into a mud puddle to drown!”
“Trust me, Hiccup, we didn’t do that to you,” FeeTwix explains, “you did that to yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I suppose it is my fault that the tuskarr bewitched me and the sun was orange this morning and the only ficker I could recruit for our fickin’ guild was a vain Swedish videophile with a bunch of voyeuristic, fanboy cellar dwellers for followers. Let me see, what else? Oh, and I suppose it is my fault that Tammy was captured and we’re out here leveling up when I should be sleeping because just like hobbits – and fick those guys, by the way – goblins need several naps a day. Somehow, all of this is my fault.”
Ryuk clears his throat. “Actually, most of what you just said is indeed your fault.”
“Like fick it is, Marbles!”
FeeTwix claps his hands together and his eyes flash back to their normal color of blue. “Before we continue, I must tell you that my audience just loves you! It’s like the more outrageous you are, the more they like you.” FeeTwix laughs. “It’s very, very odd. You should run for Overlord of Public Sanitation the next Tritanian election cycle. You’d make a great politician!”
“Whatever, Twixy.”
The Swede’s eyes turn black again. “Okay, back on, say something funny.”
“I’m not some sort of one trick fickin’ pony and you’re not the boss of me!” Hiccup eyes the tuskarr’s corpse, equips a cleaver, and drops to his haunches. He quickly hacks at the creature’s dental appendages with all the finesse of a Rwandan rhino horn poacher and makes a revolting, bloody mess of it.
“So whaddya think?” He grins and holds the tusks up in front of his mouth, waggles them at FeeTwix, and then adds them to his inventory.
What was that? Movement near an abandoned cathedral about ten meters away catches Ryuk’s attention.
A dark shadow appears on the side of the cathedral; it sinks into the ground, leaving an ink-like stain on the soil. Ryuk has a black marble on the way faster than he can think about it.
The explosion is fiery, satisfying even.
“Cripes!” Hiccup jumps backwards and tosses his ax to the ground. “What the fick are you shooting at?” He asks as he grabs his ax and the tusks.
“There’s an ink shadow over there,” Ryuk says.
FeeTwix equips an industrial-sized can of medical freeze spray. “This will work, right?”
Ryuk shrugs. His slingshot is aimed in front of him; a pair of clear marbles now rest in its pocket. “I’ve only seen mind and ice magic work against the higher level ink shadows.”
“Ink shadows are bad luck,” Hiccup says, his face wrought with worry, “really bad luck, fellas. My brother got bit in the chalupa by a dyckbyter snayke after seeing an ink shadow in his garden. He still walks with a limp!” He wipes his bloodied hands on his pant legs.
Ryuk steps in front of him. “Just stay behind us and we’ll take care of it.”
The three motley Mitherfickers approach the cathedral, Ryuk scanning right and FeeTwix scanning left. The cathedrals of Tritania are the only places to initially select and later change classes, although changing one’s class can require months of paperwork, another reason some simply become resetters.
A private message appears on Ryuk’s vision pane.
FeeTwix: Hey, my audience is telling me to use Hiccup to bait the ink shadow. Apparently, they like teasing goblins.
Ryuk: There must be some other way. I really don’t want to hear Hiccup’s bullshit after we suggest using him as bait.
FeeTwix: True. Let me check.
Ryuk watches as the ink shadow slithers from the ground to the roof of the cathedral. For some reason, it’s not engaging them.
FeeTwix: My peeps got nothing. Not much is known about ink shadows other than they love to gamble and they generally dislike goblins.
Ryuk and FeeTwix lock eyes, or better, Ryuk locks eyes with FeeTwix’s legions of followers. “Do you have any games in your list?” he asks loudly. “Specifically gambling games?”
The ink shadow perks up and slowly turns its head to them.
Hiccup tugs on Ryuk’s shirt. “What in the hell are you going on about? You’re supposed to be protecting me!”
“Why is it that ink shadows hate goblins?” Ryuk asks under his breath. “Remind me, I forget.”
Hiccup clears his throat. “Because we’re better gamblers than a bunch of fickin’ fart clouds!”
“Did someone say something about gambling?” The ink shadow boils up from the soil and presents itself to the three Mitherfickers.
“You heard me!” A hand ax appears in Hiccup’s grip. “You want a piece of me, come and take it!”
The blob of animate darkness looks from Hiccup to Ryuk for a moment and finally speaks in a low, melodic voice. “Did I hear, ahem, the goblin say something about gambling?”
“I said it, meant it too!”
FeeTwix steps in front of Hiccup to hold him back.
“Interesting,” the ink shadow lifts a tendril of inky blackness and strokes the place where its chin should be. “In that case, would you be willing to make a wager?”
“Would we be willing … Ryuk! Blast the crap out of this guy and let’s get on with it!”
“If you win, I’ll grant each of you a level.”