The Underfell Wizardking does not deal with us. His Supreme Majesty has so many other things to deal with. Like Heroes and Chosen Ones and little Timmy from a slave colony now on a hero’s journey to vanquish the grand evilness of the Underking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So that means that generally… typically… most often-ish… the Master of the Underfell does not care what we do. As long as our jobs get done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But that doesn’t mean that our boss, Fat Tits, extends to us the same level of disdain. Oh no, unfortunately, his unctuous ugliness, the grandiose Fattest of the Tits, makes it his life mission to ensure that us goblins stay under his thumb. Supposedly, if he does a good job, he will get a bonus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do we get a bonus?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What do you think? My boss’s nickname is Fat Tits! Of course we don’t get bonuses. We get kicked. And hit. And whipped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“GET OFF YOUR ASSES, BREAK TIME IS OVER, YOU SUBPAR TINY PEEN JACK OFFS!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was our Orc boss, Fat Tits. Yelling (normal). Slobbering while yelling (also normal). And his big bouncy oversized orc-boobs were bright red (not normal).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Omish elbowed me lightly in the ribs, an impish grin on his wide face, “Look at Fat Tits. He must be in trouble.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I hope so. I hate<\/em> that guy…” I replied. I pushed the last of my simple Moo sandwich into my cheek, chewing the last of the spicy preserved meat delectable sandwich thoughtfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk smirked, “Who doesn’t?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Whoever butters his tits,” I joked, still mid-chew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “GET OFF YER ASSES AND GET OUT TO LEVEL TWO, WITCHES ARE CONJURING AT BAY ORANGE.” Fat Tits continued to loudly slobber (again normal).<\/p>\n\n\n\n How that fat bastard managed to even talk around those massive lower incisors of his, I will never understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hastily dropped my canvas lunch sack back into my small locker, grabbed my tool belt and my Enchanted Power Gauntlet Mark 4 (the best) and heaved a huge sigh at Omish, since he was still fiddling with his salad (gross) and not getting his shit together (dumb).<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Bay orange, Omish, come on!” I rolled my eyes at him as I buckled my tool belt across my chest. “Fat Tits is going to beat you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Fat Tits won’t notice me. He is stalking down Team Snake.” Omish waved me off. “I will catch up.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I glanced in the general direction Fat Tits was headed, and sure enough, he was chasing down Team Snake. Fuckers. They were our biggest competition. I mean Team Ratking was close too, but Snake really rubbed me the wrong way. Their lead, Dizzi, was hot as hell, but a total see-you-next-tuesday. Power hungry and just… plain mean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Forget your salad, Om. We gotta roll to stay on top of Snake. They are having themselves a slowdown.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Fine.” Om shook his head and gathered his things. “Maybe we can take the leaderboard today.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n As if on cue, Grunk shouted from the break room doorway, “You dumbshits coming?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I pushed my right hand into my oversized EPGmark4 (again, the absolute best), and I felt the hum as its hex cores spun up and tickled my fingertips. My gauntlet was nearly an antique, but it had been made by a master hexsmith, the greatest of my grandfather’s generation, Mickroof the Resolute. There was a rumor he created a Mark 5 EPG before his death, but I think that was wishful thinking for those diehard Mickroof fan boys. Sure I was one of those too, but I was at least realistic that what I had was the absolute best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “YOU GOBLIN FUCKS NEED TO MOVE OUT!” Fat Tits yelled from the other side of the break room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish tapped my shoulder, and we jogged to catch up to Grunk. Grunk grinned at two of us like a loon and we headed to the demarcation room (what we all called the Demark).<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Think we should add a fourth?” Om asked again. “We are the only Gob team without one.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “There is no replacing Dink, Om.” Grunk shook his head, his pitbull like jowls shaking in emphasis. “We do just fine as a three Gob team.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “But we are the only<\/em> three Gob team… how can we expect to keep our lead?” Om complained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I held up my gauntlet, its knuckles glowing blue. “We beat the shit out of them.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I don’t think we can beat up our competition, Teller.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed. “We could…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk turned into the cavernous Demark and beelined toward the massive bowl of the orange bay. Omish and I followed closely behind. The entire area was a hum of activity. Other Goblin teams filed through the space, either heading towards their work assignments or coming back to have their break. The conjuring bays were arrayed around the circular cavern hall evenly, each bay was like a carved out vertical bowl in the wall, each wall painted its designated color. A team of witches stood at each one, their projection crystals between them, sometimes lashed to wood trusses, sometimes nestled into a stone base, it depended on the witch team leader’s preference. Bay Orange was manned by Clementine, a human witch with a mostly Elvish coven. The three elves were named after flowers, but I could never keep them straight. Something like Rose, Orchid, and Tulip? No, that wasn’t it. Daisy, Poppy, and Lily? Fuck. It didn’t matter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Hey Ms. Clementine,” I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The tall human witch turned, and like most witches, she was a knockout. Even my Goblin boy parts felt a tingle looking at her. I knew it was the enchantment she held, but still. So hot. The tight clothing helped too. Goblins and humans are not so different. Outside of the skin color. And the height. And the weight. And the facial features. And the smell… ok, just about everything was different. But woof. Like all the witches manning the bays, Clementine and her elves were sex on a stick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite Gobs. How is Team Kelpie this fine morning?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish grinned like a schoolboy. “Good ma’am.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk just made a noise that sounded like he either was about to orgasm or take a dump in his leather shorts. Either way, he turned away embarrassed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Ready to go, Ms. Clementine.” I said. “Send us on our way.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a loud boom from the Blue Bay, and we collectively turned to see a team of Goblins pour out of the shimmering portal, with smoke billowing inwards behind them. A couple were limping, and another was missing an arm. The fourth was cursing up a storm, punching the ground. He was pissed.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n “Damn it, third team today. Word is that there is a party of adventurers wrecking havoc on level one. Some hotshot mage is in the party. Apparently, he really likes using fire magic.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We are headed to two, right?” Om said, his nerves showing. His father had died in a confrontation with an adventurer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yes, yes, you will be safe my little Gob.” Clementine winked, and I almost lost my composure. Omish definitely lost his, and he turned away, following Grunk’s earlier example.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Clementine giggled, and started her incantation. Her elvish cronies joined in on the chant, the air wavered, the rocks vibrated under our feet, and then their crystal flashed brilliantly as the cusp of the portal flared to life. It was taller than a troll’s height, easily fifteen feet tall as it was wide, and it took on a mirror-like sheen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Good luck, boys.” Clementine crooned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We stepped through to find…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two walls had caved inwards, and a wide blue shimmering pool between them had an entire colony of Kappa arguing loudly between. The ceiling did not show any damage, so all in all, it appeared to be highly salvageable. I couldn’t make out what the group of Kappas were gesticulating at each over, but it sounded like they were debating on how to save their families from an imminent collapse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Oy!” I shouted raising both of my hands into the air. “We are here to salvage the situation. Who is in charge?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n An elder Kappa limped towards us with a cane in one hand and carrot in the other. He took an absentminded bite of his cane before he realized the carrot was in the other hand. He spit out the splinters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Oh thank the Underking. You are the damage control I requested?” The old Kappa asked aloud, having to shout over the arguing that had continued even with three goblins stepping out of nothing into their midst.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We are Dungeon Management Team Kelpie. We prefer the term Dungeon Management.” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Oh sure, put on airs,” the Elder Kappa grumpily turned his lip. “Can you fix the walls?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yes.” I replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Is the wall damaged?” He asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yessss?” I trailed off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “And you will control it?” He added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This old fuck can get bent. “Yes,” I sighed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Then damage control it is.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Thanks. Can you get your people out of the way?” I asked with a sneer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The elder Kappa turned and whistled loudly, and the entire cohort dove into the pool, heading for the deeps. He waved his carrot at me like it was his dick and jumped in last, quickly disappearing from view.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What an asshole,” I grumbled. “Oy, Omish. Lights?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish pulled his Lighttosser from his back holster and cranked it back. He gently placed a triad flare into the slot and fired it towards the ceiling. The flare spread widely, and each dart hit a different part of the ceiling, throwing off a bright yellow light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The space was wide, the bright blue pool was lit from within, even though the depths were just a black as any pool of deep water. The walls that had caved inwards were encroaching the edges, the light of the water illuminating the lower half of the walls, while the flares cast their yellow light in a diffused way, only being noticeable once the blue light faded to nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish made a face, “Wonder what caused them to cave inwards like that?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Pressure,” Grunk nodded knowingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Pressure?” Omish was younger, so he hadn’t seen as much as Grunk had. Grunk was nearly twenty, which was ancient in Goblin years. Omish was only nine. I was between them, at fourteen years old, so a full adult. Om had a year or so before he would be considered an adult himself, stature and thin black hair on his upper lip aside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Think of the room like a box. If you squish the top, the pressure has to go somewhere. The ceiling transferred the load to the walls and the weakest walls caved first. The other two held… we need to check them out but see how the ceiling is braced? Those stanchions and arches? Then look over here,” Grunk pointed. “These arches were put in to be wider, fewer stanchions, right?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I see it.” Omish nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Those were designed to fail first. Warning the inhabitants to get out. Dwarves know what they are doing. Great engineers.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You ever met one?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “A dwarf? No.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You wish you could be an engineer, Grunk?” Omish followed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Ha. No. I fix things. Over time, you learn to appreciate good design. Because when we have to fix bad design, our jobs are much, much, worse,” Grunk grinned his trademark veteran smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I will clear the rubble,” I said. Not like Grunk or Omish had anything to say, as we each had our role to play. I was the earth mover, hence my EPGmark4. Grunk was the builder, and Om was the apprentice, which meant he held shit, levered shit, and shot shit when we told him to. He had nothing enchanted on his person, except maybe a talisman or two under his clothes, but we all wore those. Basic safety in these parts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I ran my left hand over my oversized gauntlet on my right hand and flicked my fingers deftly over the nubs and runes that told the limited intelligence of the hex engine designed in the metal on what I needed it to do. In this case, I selected two hexes, Earth Melt and Shift To. Earth Melt would take the rubble, and aggregate it into super heated floating balls of molten earth. Then Shift To would push them into block shapes, set to a standard size that Grunk preferred. Then Grunk would use his enchanted hammer and chisel to carve and place the bricks in quick successive series to rebuild the wall while I braced it where needed. We would iterate this way multiple times until the walls were back to what they had looked like before. No one would have ever known they had collapsed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sighed. I guess we were damage control after all. Dumb Kappa with his stupid carrot got in my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “But where did the pressure come from?” Omish shook his head. “I mean, something had to create that pressure, right?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What’s above us, Grunk?” I asked, using my fingers inside the gauntlet to select which piles of rubble to start with. The first chunks started to accumulate a few feet above their resting place, and the heat increased. Heat waves rose from the mass as it took on its round orb shape. The first blocks emerged from the side and landed near Grunk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Probably that fire mage Ms. Clementine mentioned, if I were to make a guess. Probably a big explosion. Air expands rapidly, all that force has to go somewhere. Up and out. And in this case, down.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “If I was a fire mage, I would just melt my way to the bottom of the Underfell,” Omish joked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk pulled his hammer from his belt and tapped his chisel against its wide side, inscribing what he wanted. He swung at the top block, and it flew upwards to where the stanchion columns had failed, pushing their way in and re-adhering in place as if they had their own self contained mortar, which they kind of did, since they were still so hot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I grunted as my hand became exceptionally heavy, which meant there was something stuck in the pile of rubble. “Om, take your crowbar, and push it under that column section, eh?” I pointed at the stuck piece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Om nodded, and Grunk continued. “You wouldn’t be able to melt your way down. The walls, the floors, the ceilings, all of it was crafted to prevent that from happening. And to blast your way through with explosions would fail quickly. You would end up either blowing yourself up, or exposing something that kills you just as quick. Imagine opening up a floor to find a deep well underneath you? Or a sleeping monster? Or the Underfell Wizardking himself? No… adventurers know that if they want the loot and the want to live to enjoy the loot, they will need to play by the rules.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What if they aren’t in it for the loot?” Omish pressed as he tried to find a place to place his crowbar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Like if they are after the Underking?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yeah.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “They die. There is a reason the Underking has been the Underking for three hundred years…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Ha, true!” Omish laughed as he pushed down on his bar. The column shifted upwards, and I felt my gauntlet lighten.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a huge crack, and the column split at the top. Omish scrambled backwards afraid he was about to be crushed, and I waved my gauntlet forwards to ensure I pushed any remnants away from him. Our fourth, Dink had died in a collapse. And it was too soon to lose another team member of Team Kelpie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Om? You ok?” Grunk called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The dust settled, and Omish was sitting on his butt staring at the column. It had been hollow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What the hell?” I said. “Who in their right mind builds a hollow column?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk put his hammer back into his belt and helped pick Omish off the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish smiled sheepishly, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I lowered my gauntlet after the last rubble chunk shifted to a white hot brick and floated to its waiting spot among the others. I stepped up behind Grunk and Omish and looked on. In the hollow of the column, there was a small white chest. It looked like it was crafted from wood, but the surface nearly glowed it was so white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Its hailstone.” Grunk breathed heavily, his voice full of wonder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No.” I said. It couldn’t be hailstone. That was rare. Rarer than rare. That was like Wizardking bedroom chambers kind of rare. “Surely, its just a trick of the light.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk stepped cautiously over the rubble, doing his best to make sure it didn’t shift. He laid his hands on the chest and lifted it from its hollow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What if it had vaporized you?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Then you would know not to touch it, eh?” Grunk said flatly. “This is hailstone. Look at the etching. Its old. Ancient.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n My gauntlet seemed to vibrate as I drew closer, like I had an angry bee in my palm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish stood and looked on in awe. He had been raised on stories of the magic of the Underking, the power that he had wrought in the Underfell. Hailstone, the living rock of the dwarves, said to have built the very foundations of the Earth. What was a chest made of hailstone doing on level two of all places!? It would be like going to the surface and finding a chunk of moon rock just sitting in your garden. Not impossible, but highly improbable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Should we open it?” I asked Grunk. “What if your face melts?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Then don’t put your face over it,” Grunk replied in his flat monotone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Gee thanks, Grunk.” I laid it out as sarcastically as I could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Without recognizing my tone, Grunk flipped the clasp and pushed the lid open slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside there was a jewel about the size of a hex core sitting on a small wire enclosure affixed to the bottom of the box. The stone glowed with a purplish light, not the customary bluish light that I was familiar with from my own EPGmark4.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What is it?” Omish whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My gauntlet felt like it was about to vibrate off my hand. I ran my fingers over the controls worryingly, instinctively turned everything off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I have no idea.” Grunk picked it from its wire cage and turned it between his fingers. “It looks like a core?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Uh…” I muttered. My gauntlet was vibrating even more violently. I had turned it off, but it was not off. It was violently asserting to me that it was still on. Omish and Grunk where staring at the core between Grunk’s fingers, and not paying attention to me at all. “Guys?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Teller…” Grunk turned in time to see my eyes go wide as my right hand, wearing my EPGmark4 literally lifted me off the ground. “Let go!” Grunk yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I CAN’T!” I yelled at no one in particular. I tried to yank my hand free, but it was like my fingertips were glued to the inside surfaces of the gauntlet, the knuckles were glowing so bright, I had never seen my EPGmark4 do anything like this before. I yanked and yanked, but it ended up with me jiggling about like a marionette, bouncing around on invisible strings, the tips of my large goblin toes inches from the ground. I felt panic. Goblin level panic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Let’s pause here and explain something critical to understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n See… most folks have all sorts of emotions. Intelligent beings feel things. Shocker, right? Even Goblins. But some intelligent beings feel things much more distinctively than others. Elves are really good at disassociating, and with long lives, they feel the same feelings over much longer time spans. So they may have mind blowing sex, but it also takes days, so its really spread out. Not worth the time, if you ask me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A goblin’s life is a fraction of a humans. And we are small, so we die easy. So when we feel things, it tends to be explosive in nature, and very much in the moment. A human feels panic, they figure they either have to fight or run away. When a Goblin feels panic, we figure we either take some motherfucker out with us or we die screaming so at least our killer is deaf for their rest of their life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt Goblin level panic. And the only choice I had was to start screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Omish started screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grunk started screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n GOBLIN PANIC FOR EVERYONE!<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n And like reality was unrolling in slow motion, I witnessed everything with perfect clarity as it unfolded before my horrified point of hanging-in-the-air observation. All at once, Grunk’s hand inadvertently tossed the purple core upwards in his panic as if the core was a stick of lit dynamite. Omish dove for a pile of nearby rubble, pulling Grunk along behind him as if the old Gob was a bag of oats. An elderly dick-waving Kappa head emerged from the blue pool, his eyes growing wide as the same scene unfolded. And I, my legs dangling like an aforementioned dick, was launched through the intervening space, being pulled by my EPGmark4 (scary as fuck right now), as if I was a smoke trail of a projectile (and that projectile being my aforementioned SCARY AS FUCK EPGmark4).<\/p>\n\n\n\n My gauntlet encased hand flew in front of me, the fingers closed of their own accord around the purple core, and there was a blast of purple light without sound. I landed on the ground roughly, feeling my ribs get bruised against some rubble. Serves me right, right?<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was absolutely quiet, except for the sound of sizzling. I cautiously opened my eyes and noted that all the piles of rubble were smoking, the surface of the pool was steaming, and a headless Kappa elder floated at the surface. There was no blood. His neck had been cauterized shut. Ew. Gross.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Om? Grunk?” I mumbled, pushing myself upright. My right hand was still folded over into a fist. My EPGmark4 looked the same as it did when it was off, just an inert hunk of armor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We are here,” Om called out. “We are ok. You ok, Grunk?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yeah, yeah.” Grunk mumbled. “My ass feels flash fried.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Not as bad as the sunburn the Kappa has,” I snickered. It was terrible. But it was also hilarious? I was so confused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was an ominous crack from above. The kind of sound you don’t really hear, you mostly felt. That was the sound of bad shit about to happen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “The ceiling!” Grunk shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I spun my chin from shoulder to shoulder and quickly noted that the other two wall’s arches and stanchions were not only cracked, but crumbling like old paste. This room was about to cave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “FUCK!” I screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What? You hurt?” Om yelled back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No! There goes our fucking lead!” I shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Run to the doorway!” Grunk picked Om up and they started to run towards the dark entry way closest to us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With dawning horror, I realized the entry was was going inwards. Regulation said we should never leave our assigned work area. BUT… our assigned work area was about to cave in. Regulation said we should never head inward, as that is how traps get set off. BUT… were not only heading inward, but running as fast as goblin’s legs could carry them. Double side of holy hell with the fuck sandwich.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I managed to catch up to Grunk and Omish, and the three of us cleared the entryway as the ceiling gave way behind us. We collapsed in the hallway (thank god, its a hallway, traps are usually halfway down), and the reverberations were intense as everything behind us was swallowed by the earth. And we sat, exhaling heavily in our desperate panting as if we had just outran Death himself, and somehow had managed to escape the guy, while he stood there with his hand in his underpants.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Well not only did we lose our lead,” Grunk sighed. “I think I shit myself.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I let my head rest against the cool stone. Goblin level panic and all took its toll. I sighed, “That’s fun too.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Underfell Wizardking does not deal with us. His Supreme Majesty has so many other things to deal with. 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