“Dig faster you wretched sacks of filth! Giblit, pick up the slack! Don't think I don't see you just pretending to swing!” Gnarl yelled his subordinates. “If you lot don't pick up the slack, and get through that wall by the end of the night, you're not eating tonight!”
The five tunneling goblins paused wide eyed for a moment and began swinging their stolen Dwarven picks at the Keeper made stone wall in a frenzy.
The aged goblin pinched his nose and shook his head. For the first time he bemoaned the generally worthlessness of his race. Sure, they had their good points, like their abundant manic energy, malicious fundamental nature, and savant like talent for destruction, but their bad points such as their individual cowardice, minuscule attention span, non-existent sense of foresight, and relative physical weakness hand doomed most of his keen to be the lowest end of the underworld totem pole.
He snorted. One fact that most people, including most Goblins themselves, didn't know was that Goblins had lifespans that were borderline immortal. In fact they could challenge even the longest lived of mortal races, the Elves, when it came to longevity. Gnarl knew this because even by Elven standards he'd be considered older than dirt. It was just the sad fact that his race reached physical maturity far far before they reached emotional maturity, and thus looked at the world through the impulsive eyes of a psychotic hyperactive child with a penchant for torturing small woodland creatures. Needless to say, most happily got themselves killed horribly at a young age, and it was only their tendency to breed like rats that saved the lot of them for extinction.
Sitting on a rock to rub his creaking bones he thanked his lucky stars once again that in his long forgotten youth he'd learned to read, a rarity for his kind. He'd been not too different than the other rubes but he'd been fortunate enough not to have gotten the blame for when his band had accidentally raided the wrong building because they couldn't read the street signs. Seeing one of his companions fed alive to starving wolves had been example enough to get through his thick head and he bribed one of the master's dungeon slaves to teach him to read.
He smiled. Not long after he'd stolen some magic books from the library and put his new found literacy to work. Good thing too, because not long after his master was attacked by a band of heroes and he'd had one option the rest of his kin didn't: he knew the teleportation spell. He'd looked death in the eyes and had the ability and wherewithal to do the smart thing and run like hell.
In the days since then Gnarl'd grown into a comfortably powerful, but far from exceptional warlock. Not much in the eyes of most, but by the laughably low standards of his own kind it made him a power to be feared. Thusly it had been easy for him to gather his own tribe of goblins and since then he'd worked for more Keepers than he'd care mention.
He sighed and pulled a cute fluffy little chick out of his bag, his last one, and threw it alive into his mouth, savoring the crunch of its bones and is fleeting screams of terror as he consumed it. This latest attempt at independence was proving to be a bit of a bust. They'd moved into the long abandoned dungeon of a once great keeper, one who's main treasure chamber had never been located and was rumored to be full of obscene riches and all kinds of priceless magical goodies.
He'd thought it would be easy. After all, while all but the most pitiful Keepers had him beat on magical resources, few could match his manpower. Imps only do what they're told, and most minions are usually kept busy engaging in the various Acts of Infamy that most Keepers commit in order to build up their reputations when they're not actually doing something important, so the effort invested in a difficult treasure retrieval like this tends to be fleeting and short lived.
He grinned as he pulled out a bottle of Fungus Beer and washed down his chick. That was where he had the advantage. He had 200 crazed goblins, and everyone knows that goblins can get into everything. He thought that through manic exploration or just random tunneling they'd eventually find something, so for the last six months they'd gone at it and found pretty much nothing of value.
Oh well, if wasn't a total loss. Even if they didn't find the loot, an abandoned dungeon was still a good stronghold for a tribe of goblins to set up shop in. Offered more security than a natural cavern, they were close to water, and there was a portal. All in all, it could be worse.
“Boss!”
He grunted. “What it is Moldy?”
“The wall just fell through. We got Impies!”
Gnarl's eyes went wide. Crap. Crap! DOUBEL CRAP! They just broke through into a real dungeon.
This was not good. He could only think of three eventualities from this. First, they get conscripted. Second, they get kicked off their plot. Third, they get slaughtered. He scratched his chin still, they might be able to overrun a weak enough Keeper.
He scratched his chin and walked over to the hole to get a better look. The imps were running off at rapid speed. From the length of it and the unfinished nature, but there was a crew of them gaining fast because he could see the glow of imps claiming space down at the far end of the long hallway.
He had to decide quickly he turned about and looked to the others. “Alright, everyone gather togeather, we have to...”
“Hi.”
Gnarl tensed as he heard a calm, masculine voice behind him. One deep enough that it couldn't come from any goblin. Slowly he turned and looked up at the imposing figure of a feral looking man in a toga, cut in the style of the highly decedent Empire to the far South East.
“I'm Naruto. I'm a Dungeon Keeper.”
Gnarl scowled slightly. That wasn't much of an epic introduction, now was it? He'd heard better from Bile Demons. Still, he was a Keeper. Best to keep up...
“Oh! Nice toga!” One of his subordinates cut in. “You having a party?”
Two of the others started dancing around in a circle chanting, “TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!”
Gnarl sighed and looked back up the the Keeper. He really hated goblins sometimes.
“Um, yes, Keeper, how can I help you,” He asked, wonder what the result would be, and if they could take the Keeper.
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(Posted Fri, 11 Sep 2009 01:14)
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