"Goblins' Snare"

by Jolebin Swordstaff

Greetings, gentle reader. After penning the informative articles published by Waerd Aev earlier this year, it occurred to me that this fine periodical's readership might, perhaps, enjoy a somewhat more expanded description of some of my experiences. With this in mind, I now embark upon a new series of articles, entitled "Tales of Me Dying."

Some instances of my deaths, such as the one of which you are about read, translate rather well into narrative prose. Others do not. (We shall not speak of "The Incident of Jolebin and the Odd-Looking Meat Which He Ate Anyway Because It Didn't Really Look That Odd and He Was After All Quite Hungry.") But I have been fortunate enough always to be resurrected subsequent to my fatal exploits. That is why I dedicate this tale, and the others that will follow, to the Clerics' Guilds of Zoluren and Therengia, without whose altruistic and steadfast service I would not be here today.

* * *

Before I begin, I must offer a brief grammatical note that will apply to future installments as well. I have never considered myself a man of letters, and so I was unsure of the proper use of pronouns in relation to sub-human creatures such as goblins and trolls. I have been assured by a reliable authority at the Asemath Academy that it is appropriate to use the word "it," as opposed to "he" or "she," when referring to such vermin. I apologize in advance for any confusion that might arise from this, as I realize that it may be difficult to determine if the correct antecedent of "it" is actually the creature I am fighting, or some inanimate object such as a sword or shield. I shall attempt to make all such references as clear as possible.

* * *

In this story, I will be relaying the circumstances of my very first death. It is all the more ignominious because it is nearly inexplicable; there is simply no excuse, save the careless enthusiasm of youth, for having let this situation get the best of me. And now, without further ado, I give you "The Tale of Jolebin and the Goblins' Snare."

* * *

I emerged from the Warrior Mage guildhall and stepped into the fading light as the heavy ebonwood doors slammed shut behind me, impelled by their own weight. In contrast, my spirit was light, lending a jovial bounce to my steps, which I directed towards the Northeast Gate of the Crossing. I had just achieved the third circle in the Warrior Mage Guild, and nothing could bring me down.

I pushed through the throngs at the gate, though I didn't find the experience to be as aggravating as usual. I drifted southwards until I reached Clanthew Boulevard, and then I struck out towards the West Gate. I was eager to try out my newest spell, Aether Lance, which I expected would perform quite differently from Fire Shard and Fire Ball, the only two other spells I had learned. The last of the day's light vanished from the western horizon as I crossed the Oxenwaithe Bridge, and with it the gleam of my untarnished, utterly undamaged chain mail.

The crowd at the West Gate, always smaller than that at the Northeast Gate, had dwindled down to almost nothing by the time I sallied forth from the safety of the city walls; few merchants or travelers of any repute would start a journey after sunset. I did not consider myself to be similarly constrained, as I knew that I would be making but a brief foray into the local fields before returning to the relative safety of the city. And so, with the reckless abandon of youth, I plunged through the gate into the darkling night.

My rapid steps carried me over the even ground of the well-used path. Though the sun had already set, the western sky before me still shed sufficient light for me to navigate by. I was unconcerned about the steadily increasing darkness, for I was planning to experiment with my new spell but briefly and then retrace my steps before the full onset of night.

I was less than a mile from the city when I caught sight of a small stone outcropping on my left, a few dozen yards from the beaten path, that seemed just tall enough for a field goblin to hid behind. Naturally, I was wary in my approach, drawing my short sword as soon as I stepped from the trail, and I was not particularly surprised when a beady-eyed field goblin leapt at me from behind the rock. I immediately traced the pattern of the Aether Lance spell in the air and began to gather mana from my surroundings.

I kept my distance from the goblin as I waited for the magical pattern to form fully in my mind. The goblin struck at me impatiently with his short sword, seemingly enraged by my refusal to take the offensive. I managed to parry the erratic slashes, while taking stock of our relative positions. I carefully targeted my opponent, taking the little beast's movements into account. I saw my chance when the goblin turned slightly in an attempt to hack at my leg, the movement accentuated by the swish of its black cloak. I cast the spell and as the silvery blue lance materialized in my left hand, I hurled it at the goblin.

The lance struck the goblin on the tender side of its abdomen, slightly behind the spot I had been aiming for. The goblin screamed sharply when the point made contact with its flesh, and I was pleased to see the lance cause another wound as it exited through the goblin's back. As the ethereal projectile dissipated in the crisp night air, I saw silvery sparks dancing across the dark fabric of the goblin's cloak near the hole it had left. The sparks spread across the whole right side of the garment, and I saw that they left fine tears in their wake. As the goblin increased the ferocity of its attack, that entire half of the cloak fell in tattered ribbons to the ground. With no purchase, the opposite sleeve slipped off the goblin's arm, laying its scabrous, hairy, and generally appalling body bare, save for a brief loincloth.

It was then, when the little fiend would have desired it the least, that I took the offensive at last. Distracted by its sudden deshabille, the goblin was initially unable to avoid the backhanded slice of my short sword into its right side. Unfortunately, it did manage to twist away from the blow before I reached any internal organs. I jabbed at the goblin's chest, but it parried the blade. Then, the creature stumbled slightly as the intense pain in its right side interfered with its attempt to dodge a second jab. Spotting the weakness, I quickly struck at the goblin's right kneecap, and my opponent went down.

As the goblin struggled to get back on its feet, I quickly raised my sword into the air and struck downward, forcing my blade directly into the goblin's heart. With a feral scream and an accompanying shudder, the little beast expired. I stooped briefly to retrieve two bronze Kronars and eleven copper Lirums from the scraps of the goblin's cloak before turning my attention to the corpse. Returning my sword to my scabbard, I withdrew my small skinning knife from my sheath and knelt on the ground next to my fallen foe, ready to skin it.

I was delighted by my success with the new spell; Aether Lance was clearly destined to become a vital part of my repertoire. It was while I was making rough incisions in the goblin's skin that I was roused from this contemplation by a sudden weight on my back; with a guttural war cry, a second field goblin had leaped from the top of the boulder onto my exposed backside, bearing me to the ground, prone on my stomach.

By sheer luck, my arms were not pinned beneath me. Using my hands for leverage, I was able to twist far enough onto my side to cause the goblin to lose its grip on me, and it tumbled to the ground next to me. It took us the same few seconds to stand up again, but I was decidedly more disoriented than was my new adversary. Still, I was able to slip my knife back into its sheath and replace it in my hand with my short sword.

I set myself to face the miserable creature, but was shocked to hear a sudden surge of noise from the woods beyond the stone outcropping. I turned to see that the goblin's war cry had brought its companions running. I could see four of them: a stout one with a leering grin, a tall one whose cloak only reached its knees, a skinny one whose gaunt face reflected the cruel look of hunger in its eyes, and one with brown freckles marking its jaundiced flesh.

Well, if they thought they had found easy prey, then I would prove them wrong. After all, they were just goblins; what threat could they pose? Alas, I soon learned the answer to that fateful question. While I was looking at the approaching goblins, Jumper brought my attention spinning back to itself by slamming the flat of its blade into the armored side of my ribcage. I stumbled slightly but quickly brought my blade up to meet my adversary's. I was able to parry his next three strikes, all of which were directed at the same spot on my side, and I even managed to land a light hit on the goblin's right kneecap. But by that time, the others were upon me.

Freckles appeared on my right and tried to slice at my abdomen. I managed to jump just far enough to my left to avoid the blow. I quickly snatched my shield from my back and held it between myself and Jumper so that I could concentrate on Freckles in front of me and Stout who joined it on my right. I was helpless to dislodge Slim from the post it took up behind me. With one goblin on each side of me, there was nothing left for me to do but fight.

Unfortunately, the plurality of my opponents made it virtually impossible for me to take the offensive. Instead I had to assume a defensive stance and hope I would be able to find sufficient opportunities to attack the diminutive cretins. Stout jabbed directly at my chest, but I warded the blow off with my sword. The maneuver, however, left my abdomen open for Freckles' sudden thrust. I could feel myself become bruised, even through my chain mail. I lowered my sword to parry Stout's slice at my ankles, but my body was jarred by Jumper's blade striking my shield. Stout's attack found its mark, and I saw white for a moment as the sword met my chain greave.

I decided that I had to do something drastic before Slim made its move. Taking a deep breath, I traced the sigil of the Fire Ball spell with the pinky finger of my left hand, and began to target Freckles' twisted little figure. While I drew in mana from the area, I managed to slam my boot-clad foot down on Slim's unprotected toes, effectively removing it from the melee for a moment. When I sensed that I was ready, I cast the spell at Freckles. A moderately sized ball of flame flew from the backs of my knuckles and sped across the narrow space between me and the goblin's mottled face.

I couldn't have hoped for better aim; the ball exploded into open fire right in front of Freckles' eyes. Above the quiet roar of the little flames, the pitiful creature's wails could be plainly heard as it groped frantically at its face to put out the flames. Once the ruddy glow had faded, the skin of Freckles' face was revealed to be nothing but a pink mass, with rough gashes and horrible agglutinations wherever its fingers had abraded the tortured flesh.

Unfortunately, I got only a brief glimpse of that rewarding sight; the backlash of the elemental fire hit me full-force due to my extreme closeness to the fireball's detonation, forcing me to close my eyes against the hot blast. I must also have involuntarily recoiled, because Slim was able to recognize my brief incapacity, even from behind. I felt a sudden blow that could only have been the hilt of its sword slamming into my back, finding the delicate spot directly behind my kidney. The pain was immense, and it filled my vision with flashing points of light. I lost sensible contact with the world around me, and I didn't even feel the blunt side of Stout's blade smashing into both of my kneecaps at once, taking my feet out from under me as I fell to my knees.

Slim and Jumper continued to pummel me with their blades, hilts, and fists, kicking me as they cackled with glee. And still, I could see only stars. And then I saw one star brighter than all the others. But it wasn't a star at all; it was Xibar, reflected in the steel of Stout's sword. The light grew brighter and brighter as the blade arced closer and closer. That was the last sight that my eyes beheld before the weapon struck me across my face and blackness claimed my vision.

* * *

And so ends "The Tale of Jolebin and the Goblins' Snare." The goblins ransacked my corpse and took everything of value, and left me to rot. Luckily, rigor mortis had not even set in before a group of travelers from Tiger Clan Village came down the path and spotted my body. They were kind enough to carry me back to the Crossing, where an Empath and a Cleric were able to repair my broken body in short order and breathe life back into it.

Naturally, there is a moral to be taken from this story. I suppose that the best way to phrase it would be to say "Never be too proud to flee a superior force, even when its members are harmless when taken singly." I failed to perceive the four goblins as a threat, because I considered field goblins to be harmless, despite their aggressive tendencies.

However, there is a great difference between fighting a single field goblin one-on-one and fighting four of them on all sides. Specifically, I usually emerged victorious from encounters of the former type, while from the latter I emerged -- well, dead. Certainly, by the time I had gained just a few more circles in the Warrior Mage Guild, such a battle would have been little trouble. Still, it is always a valid statement that the difficulties of fighting increase geometrically (perhaps even exponentially, you'd really have to ask a Moon Mage to find out for sure when it comes to matters of mathematics) with greater numbers of opponents.

Safe Paths.
Jolebin Swordstaff, Elemancer of Riverhaven