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That’s not helpful. How am I to know how much damage they do.
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No need to get all snippy with me. Still trying to adjust to this being like a game, almost like a game. He kept his eyes on the hill, muttering aloud, “Where are they? Did they give up already?”
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I think I liked you better without the attitude. But yes that is helpful. What would be real helpful would be to find out where these latest Goblerins are at.
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“Wha…” Valgrin jerked his head to the right, and three seconds later he saw a green beachball with feet. Followed by two more beachballs. That was surprisingly more help than expected. More of that in the future?
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One thing I’ve been wondering. Why in the world would a race of creatures chose this wintery environment if contact with ice causes them to explode?
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Really, that’s the worst ‘not going to tell you’ I’ve ever heard.
All three Goblerins bounced into view, their sickly green bodies pulsing as dozens of thin, glistening tentacles whipped the air around them. Valgrin's gaze darted across the small clearing behind him to where a wall of orange barked trees stood sentinel, the purple vines growing up the tree and the pine-like shrubs created a tangled mesh of needles and shadow. His fingers twitched, a familiar cold tingling in his palms. "Can't get a clear shot from over there, but would provide cover," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. The air around his hands crystallized as he summoned the first ice spear, its edges catching the light. "Two quick ones, then I'm gone."
The spear whistled through the air. It struck the first Goblerin with a sound like glass shattering, and the creature burst into a spray of green slime that steamed where it hit the snow. Valgrin's hands were already moving, forming the second spear. The remaining Goblerins quivered, tentacles flailing wildly. The nearest one took the second spear straight through its bulbous center and exploded with a wet pop.
The third Goblerin collapsed in on itself, spreading outward like spilled paint. It oozed across the packed snow, disappearing into shadow.
"That's new," Valgrin whispered, eyes wide. His gaze darted between the trees and the dark patch where the creature had vanished. Heart hammering, he sprinted across the clearing on the opposite side. Halfway across, the hairs on his neck stood up. Something watching. Faster. Don’t think they have distance weapons, but didn’t think they could take the form of a pancake until a few seconds ago. He pumped his legs harder, lungs burning with cold air. The shadows between the trees swallowed him as he slid into the undergrowth, needles catching in his hair.
Valgrin settled in beneath some lower hanging boughs, and looked back to where he last saw the Goblerin. Nothing there. His gaze began searching the area, growing a little more frantic as he looked. There were no signs of where the creature could be.
His eyes were drawn to a moving shrub, just feet from where he’d thrown the spears from. A couple of seconds later he heard a sound pierce the air. It sounded like the battle cry of a deflating balloon, moments after it started the missing Goblerin formed right next to the moving shrub. It continued to grow as the noise became even more high-pitched. Valgrin moved to cover his ears just as the violent explosion knocked snow from the trees around him. When everything had settled the small hiding place he’d left, was gone. A smoking crater in the middle of snow and wrecked trees were all that was left of it.
“Good thing I moved.” He said to nobody as he crawled to the edge of tree line. He cautiously stood, brushing snow from his clothes once he confirmed the Goblerin had gone the way of the trees over where he had last seen it. “Wonder if they always sound like a over active boiling tea kettle right before the blow up? Be a nice thing to know.” Sandy, you hear that? The Structure’s silence didn’t surprise Valgrin.
Valgrin crouched in the shadows, muscles tensed, counting his own heartbeats. The crater from the explosion still smoked. One minute passed. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Nothing stirred but the occasional drift of snow from a branch. He exhaled and rose, joints popping.
His boot crunched on a patch of gray snow—and a laugh escaped his throat. "Magic ice shards. Exploding green monsters. Walking on snow. Now taken as completely normal." He shook his head, still grinning.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The trees grew denser ahead, branches interlocking like fingers. Valgrin ducked under a low bough, branches clawing at his sleeves. checked the position of the sun. His eyes flicked between landmarks—a split trunk, a peculiar rock formation. One more clearing, then the woods, then their battleground. The hairs on his neck prickled again. He spun around. Empty forest. He sidestepped a clump of light-brown scrub grass. The purple vines wrapped around the orange bark caught his eye, “Hmm, wonder if they are part of the tree instead of a separate plant.”
Minutes later, he emerged into the clearing where they'd fought the first time. Snow had erased all evidence of the battle, smooth as fresh parchment. The sealed hole sat undisturbed. That prickling sensation intensified, burning across his shoulders. Valgrin's hand moved to his weapon as he pivoted, scanning the tree line—and found nothing.
“What is wrong with me? Or is it some scrying magic? Going insane? I’m only standing here in the snow in a fantasy world where magic is real, talking to myself, seems to be the actions of a real sane person.” Valgrin’s voice rose as he ranted to the trees. “Oh, I forgot to mention that I’m friends with a talking pig that has his own magic, more evidence for the sane argument, I’m sure.” He gestured wildly as his voice made it to shouting levels. He took a deep breath, then returned to bellowing out his complaints. “Don’t forget the almost chickens, deadly green beach balls, trees that make you crazy, puking up your guts when traveling by magic and…” He stopped abruptly, looking around then mumbled to himself, “…and that wasn’t smart now Valgrin, was it? Probably have a whole hoard of Goblerins headed this way. Have to admit, felt good though.” A chuckle escaped. “That didn’t sound crazy at all.”
^^There are no ghormoqs in the vicinity.^^
Valgrin jumped at the voice in his head, looking around frantically, his katar pulled and ready. That wasn’t me or the Structure. Where? Who?
^^Apologies. There was no intent to startle. We’ll show ourselves.^^
At that moment Valgrin found himself in the center, between three larger than normal, white lions. Each of home stood at different places along the edges of the clearing.
“If you’re trying to put someone at ease. Showing up surrounding them…doesn’t work.” Valgrin’s head swiveled attempting to watch all three.
^^Another apology owed. Korvek, Dargan to me.^^
Valgrin watched two of the huge white cats pad over the snow and to stand next to the largest of the three.
“Thank you. That helps, some.” Can you hear me when I think?
The center creature nodded slowly, ^^We can hear thoughts if directed at us in a way that makes them hearable. We can also pickup some surface thoughts if the person isn’t holding them to tightly. You asked a question about who was speaking to you. I was able to hear that and answered.”
Then I’ll move the conversation inside, so to speak…um…or think. The no longer surrounded thing helped tremendously. But, not going to lie, still nervous. Haven’t had rhino sized lions telepathically reach out to me before.
The creature cocked its head for a moment. ^^Rhino is an unfamiliar term, the archive did have a picture of one. I see the size reference, but little else to compare us to one. We, as a race, are called Snions. I am known as Dralvek.^^
Snions, as in snow lions?
^^Another term I had to look up. I see the resemblance is stronger with these creatures. I don’t know the reference about snow lions. We have always been called snions, since we were created, joined with the Sevles, and placed here in the early days of the EverNever.^^
Hmm, Sevles? Would that be spelled, S-E-V-L-E and add an S if not single one?
^^Curious question, but yes.^^
Mashing snow lions into a word and spelling elves backwards for another. Is your creator known by the name Bryan?
^^He is. We know little more than that however. He seemed to disappear after we were created, at least we know of nothing more he created after the Sevles and ourselves. How did come to know this? Did the Structure tell you?^^
No, I know of a Bryan that could be a creator. I recall he created a race call Sevle, I don’t recall snions. Not sure if they were added for…um…games before I started playing with him or he created them after and never had a chance to work them into the game before he passed away.
The three snions looked at each other. ^^Creators can die?^^ Dralvek asked.
He didn’t know he was a creator before he died. At least I don’t think he did, maybe he got pulled into the EverNever when he died? Its been over forty years since he passed in my world. He was the person responsible for teaching me how to be a…well…creator though we just thought we were playing a game. He also introduced Malcolm and I—Mark and Kevin as far as creator names you might know.
All three snions froze, then turned to Valgrin. ^^You are a creator?^^
I don’t recognize whomever is speaking…er…thinking.
^^Apologies, in our confusion and shock Korvek cast his thoughts to you instead of me. The idea of the Syl-Aith-Ria being a creator.^^
Syl-Aith-Ria, would that translate to White Death?
Dralvek looked up to the sky as he cocked his head, his mane flowing as he moved. ^^Yes, it would. Gryzar Bloka, would be the ghormoqs word for it. I’m informed you’ve heard them chant that.^^
And that sort of brings us full circle. Ghormoqs are the green ball-like beings, correct?
^^This is so. Caelith Rowanstar, Elunari of the Sevle, would like to meet you. Would you follow us to the clutches location?^^
Clutch? Did this Caelith think this to you?
^^Caelith and I are joined, so it is a more direct thought than you and I have shared. Clutch is a small group of the whole Congress. Wait.^^ Dralvek’s mane emphasized his head’s movement as it cocked from side to side. After several seconds, Dralvek continued, ^^The confusion on your face indicated I needed better words. Congress is the whole of the Sevles, a clutch is a smaller group formed from the whole to serve the whole. The Elunari is the leader.^^
And joining would be the same as bonding? Being bonded to a priggy, I understand what that entails.
^^Ah, yes. And Dargan has reminded me to ask you if this priggy is the one our advance guard saw in action during the wagon attack last night.^^
That would have been Skwilly, the priggy I mentioned.
^^He is not with you now? We, the snions would like to meet him while you speak to the Elunari.^^
He doesn’t handle snow well, being short and not having the ability to snow walk. So I left him back at the inn.
^^We can travel there and then bring both of you to the Clutch. The tales of his bravery and skill in taking on your attackers by himself, until you could arrive, has been a thing of much discussion today.^^
If we can go back to the inn and still make the Clutch before dark, Skwilly would love to hear how majestic beasts such as yourselves have been discussing his bravery. Not sure I can live with him after. Valgrin’s laugh filled the air.
^^Climb on my back and we shall run. There will be no issues with the time it takes—nor with anything that tries to get in our way.^^
Since you offered, it would be my honor to ride on your back. Let me know if this hurts you any. Valgrin slung an arm around Dralvek’s neck and pulled himself on his back. Nearly falling off as the snion began to stride across the snow, picking up speed with each step.