Keaton cringed, feeling that in a visceral way. He’d never actually seen a troll, and he didn’t care to. Supposedly they lived in the bogs where they were easily camouflaged. The mam at the orphanage had said the tops of their heads looked like logs just floating there, waiting for adventurous children to leap on them.
With that in mind, he made a wide berth around any logs he saw floating in the swamp, keeping his attention half on the ground, and half on the cave entrance which — as he drew closer — Keaton realized was capped off with the skull of some massive creature.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “What is that from?”
She just blinked at him, considering him for a long moment before she said, “A dragon, of course.”
Keaton looked between her and the skull, a question forming in his mind. How…? He blushed. No, that was way too crude to ask. He shouldn’t even think it.
His companion blushed as well. “Oh, no. This is an Ancient Dragon. My kind are not borne of theirs, though we are distant relatives. Dragonkin lines are diluted by centuries of elven blood.”
That made a lot more sense and didn’t make Keaton question things he was better off not questioning. Instead, he was able to focus on something else: The impressive, intimidating skull.
“How did a bunch of goblins get ahold of a dragon skull?”
“There are Ancient Dragon bones throughout these lands. It is plausible that some have sunk to the bottom of these swamps, and the goblins simply pulled this skull out and used it to mark the entrance of their home. I imagine they’re able to keep other tribes from bothering them with such a fearsome display.”
He could imagine that, too. Even Keaton was tempted to leave them be. But he needed minions, and this was his best shot at it.
“Do you know if there’s another entrance?” he asked, maintaining a whisper.
“I’m not sure. Lord Havron just stormed in through the front,” she said with a frown. “He killed anyone who got in his way.”
“Yeah, well. Lord Havron and I differ in technique. By a lot,” he muttered, gesturing toward the side of the cave with his chin. “Follow me.”
Keaton snuck around, the dragonkin following close behind. She was surprisingly quiet, aside from the slide of her tail through the boggy underbrush. That could be reasoned away as a large snake, though, and the guards posted outside the cave didn’t seem to pay them any mind.
He crept close to the side of the ridge, listening for activity within. The walls were thick, but he was still able to hear a snarling argument. Over food, it sounded like. If food was scarce here, maybe that would be a selling point.
Though if I’m controlling one of them, do I even need a selling point? It’s basically ‘join me or die.’
The thought didn’t sit well with him, but Keaton pushed it aside as he finally found what he was looking for: A side passage. The bouncing flicker of torchlight revealed a patrol, but he only heard one set of footsteps. Putting a finger up to his lips, Keaton crept closer and waited.
The goblin appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, the torch giving him a glimpse of ruddy brown-green skin that looked as tough — and dry — as an alligator’s. That descriptor wasn’t far off for the creature in general, actually. Its snout might not have been nearly as elongated, but it sported two rows of sharp teeth that didn’t quite fit in its mouth, a ridged head with nostrils higher on the nose than a standard humanoid, and webbed feet with talons at the end of each toe.
This one carried a torch as well as a bone club, the weapon resting lazily at his side, smacking against his hip as he walked. Even from here, Keaton caught the sulfuric scent of the swamp mixed with old, rancid meat. He had to stop himself from gagging.
As the goblin turned to resume his patrol, though, Keaton sprang into action. This wasn’t the hobgoblin he was supposed to use his special dungeon lord powers on, but it would be good practice for the real thing.
He moved swiftly and silently, creeping up behind the goblin in record speed. The only things he wasn’t able to control were his scent and his shadow, and the goblin seemed to notice both at the same time. As soon as it started to turn, though, Keaton was there. His skeletal gauntlet wrapped around the goblin, bone-clad fingers covering its mouth. The creature thrashed, surprisingly strong for its small frame, and he realized he… had no idea what to do.
“Do I say something?” he asked in a whispered hiss, panic hitting him hard.
“Just do what you did when you first interfaced with the crystal,” she said, eyes darting all about, “when you attuned it to you.”
He could only assume she didn’t mean the blood part, as she hadn’t told him about that. Keaton really didn’t know what else he’d done, though. Things had just happened.
Alright, just calm down. Think this through. Visualize the outcome just like you do with the crystal.
He did so, holding the struggling goblin with no lack of effort. The creature was unarmed, he noticed, and saw the dragonkin holding the bone club far away from her body. She must have wrested it away from him at some point.
Closing his eyes, Keaton forced himself to focus. He imagined holding one of those Anima crystals in his hand, but instead of crushing it, he drew it into himself; drew upon the energy and siphoned it so that it joined his own, becoming part of a whole.
At first, nothing happened. The goblin still struggled, his calls for help muffled beneath Keaton’s hand. But slowly he felt something pull into him. It crept up on his consciousness at first, just a fuzzy note of acceptance on the edges. Then it slammed into him all at once, overwhelming his senses as a massive surge of raw power hit him.
It felt like he was on his fifth drink of fire water, but without any of the staggering loopiness. He was invincible, lifeblood surging through his veins, his heart pumping double time just to keep up. It was that moment of accomplishment after trying so hard; standing at the top of a mountain and realizing everything else was so far below, and nothing would ever feel so spectacular. It was that moment right after denying himself the chance to come, when orgasm exploded over him, his entire sense of self concentrated in that one instant.
It was the most amazing feeling Keaton had ever known… and also the worst, because he knew how it ended. Five drinks of fire water meant he was barely conscious the next morning, with even the mere act of existing causing him pain. The climb to the top of a mountain was always followed by the long trudge back down. And an amazing orgasm came seconds before those feelings of regret rushed in, making him wonder why he even chased such highs in the first place.
It felt good, but it was destined to feel worse. And when Keaton really thought about what he was doing, he knew the low would never be worth the high.
He pulled back, ripping his hand away, but it was too late. Vacant eyes stared up at him, a tendril of drool seeping out of the goblin’s mouth.
“What does master command?” it asked in a raspy voice, looking at him with less life in its eyes than a drone.
“Gods, what have I done,” he mumbled, staring back at the creature in horror.
This was a sentient, sapient being. It had a life. A job. People it cared about and wanted to protect. Now it was… nothing. Its brain was just jelly inside its skull, stirred around by Keaton’s careless fingers.
“Lord Keaton, we must—”
The dragonkin’s words were interrupted by the pounding of several pairs of feet. Goblins thundered through a nearby tunnel, and only now did Keaton hear the sound of an alarm in the distance. They’d been seen, and he hadn’t even realized it.
And now — armed with only a dagger, a bone club, and a near catatonic goblin — they were going to be surrounded.