Spire's Spite

Beyond the stone entrance there was a shallow basin in an enormous cavern, the outlying stony lands were covered in fields of pale mushrooms the size of small trees obscuring the basin's floor.

Fritz could see there were a scattering of shanty towns where goblins slept, cooked or ate, overseen by captains and their warrior squads. Further in there was a circular wooden wall, six feet tall, set with pillars and spikes of crystal patrolled by warriors who oversaw the scrabbling masses of ragged workers as they moved like minnows through the great gate of the fort.

In the very centre of the fort was an unfinished radiant tower of crystal currently under construction by the hordes of workers carrying their blue-white glowing burdens and primitive stone tools. The entire cavern was lit by the bright light of the glowing tower. It stood at least fifty feet tall gleaming coldly and watching over the glittering walls and the mushroom fields.

“Walls and a Spire. Why are they building a Spire?” Sid said mostly to herself.

“And where’d they get the wood?” Bert asked

“It’s not wood, it’s those strange mushrooms, look over there they’re cutting one down and taking it it to be dried over there,” Fritz explained as he watched them from their vantage point. The other two squinted at where he pointed out what he was seeing.

“As for why they’re building a Spire, I have read of that being something of a reoccurring trend in Climber reports. Some say the monsters are trying to emulate our own Spires, but as to why is a mystery. The most convincing argument I’ve heard is that they build it to try and escape the Spire, causing a Spire breach. But that’s just speculation.” He didn’t really know that much about the subject as there was precious little knowledge available, even for the nobility. Fritz suspected that only the most powerful, wealthy and connected knew something, but if they did they weren’t telling anyone.

“Huh,” Bert said.

“Sounds plausible,” Sid said. “But don’t only aberrant beasts cause breaches?”

“Maybe the Chief is aberrant,” Fritz posited.

“Well if it is, we should kill him and harvest his Seed,” Sid suggested.

“Seed?” Bert inquired blandly.

Fritz sighed and Sid scowled, “Do you really never learn anything, Bert?” She said in agitation. “I thought it was funny at first but this almost seems on purpose.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with,” Fritz said self-pityingly.

“Of course I know what an Aberrant Seed is. I was just messing with you both,” Bert said smugly, his grin widening.

“Really then what is it?” Fritz demanded.

“What is this? A test? Right now? Don’t we have better things to do, like kill hundreds of goblins?” Bert deflected.

Unwilling to argue, Fritz just shook his head in resigned bemusement and interrupted Sid as she made to answer or berate him, knowing it would do no good.

“Battle plan?” He said, looking for suggestions.

“Charge the spire and kill all the goblins that get in our way,” Bert stated.

“How about a plan with a little less suicide?” Fritz suggested.

Bert grumbled and Sid spoke up, “Any chance you could lure out the captains and we could ambush them?”

“A much better plan, and yes. I’m great bait,” Fritz replied.

“I want to be the bait this time,” Bert said. “Standing around waiting is far too boring.”

“You’re harder to kill too,” Sid pointed out.

Fritz felt a pang of worry but suppressed it. Bert would be fine, those crystal swords, even if they hit him, could barely cut his friend’s Tough Skin.

Bert turned to him with a pleading eagerness in his amber eyes.

“Fine,” Fritz agreed. “Watch out for shamans though, I haven’t seen any yet but there still may be some in those bigger buildings behind the walls. They may have some snaring magic or something, we shouldn’t assume they all have that same eldritch fire spell. I would suggest you try that shanty town first. I think I saw a glowing baton over there. We’ll want to target the captains and warriors until they can no longer maintain their oppression of their ill-treated kin. Then the ragged workers should rebel and attempt to overthrow the Chief, while their forces are weakened from our ambushes.” He pointed to a set of tents shaded amongst the mushrooms while espousing some strategy he had read in ‘The Observations.’

Sid seemed to notice the similarities. She smirked knowingly then nodded once in agreement.

“Will do. Try not to miss me,” Bert said, setting down his heavy pack and sneaking down into the basin, using the mushroom’s thick stems as cover.

Fritz watched as Bert left and set down his own pack. He took out his fish blade from its loop, deciding it would be better in this ambush than the dagger. He looked to Sid who was also placing down her pack, she set up on the other side of the entrance and they lay in wait. Both were quiet and prepared to ambush whatever Bert brought to them, Sid tested her bowstring with a soft twang and Fritz clenched the cloth hilt of Quicksilver tight.

He glanced at Sid and caught her doing the same, they both looked away quickly letting the air be filled with only the noise of distant, giggling and groaning goblins.

His face heated a little and his heart sped up, not from the anticipation of battle but because he just realised this was the first time he and Sid had really been alone, together. He focused his attention on the mushroom fields and squashed the squirming desire to speak to Sid.

Watching and waiting, they stayed silent and prepared for the fight to come.

---

Finally, some time away from those two and their annoyingly awkward tension, Bert thought as he slipped from one mushroom stem to another making his way towards a collection of tents where Fritz had pointed out. Maybe once I get back they’ll have worked it out, one way or the other. Or knowing that idiot Fritz maybe they’ll both be stupid the whole climb.

Bert let himself chuckle at the thought of Fritz spluttering and managing to put his noble foot in his overly wordy mouth. Again.

He had been running for at least ten minutes when Bert heard a giggle and thwack from ahead. Goblins! He grinned wide, his heartbeat picked up and he felt the blood roaring through his veins with that raucous, drumming thrill he’d been revelling in recently. Dashing around a mushroom stem and bursting into a tent village, Bert found himself facing down a startled captain and his retinue of warriors. He seemed to have interrupted the beating of some of the workers, the glowing baton was still being swung at a bony back when Bert yelled out his challenge.

“Come at me gobos, meet my fists!” Bert bellowed.

Around fifty goblins all stared in surprise at the unarmed and unarmoured man screaming at them, for a whole moment they stood there, unmoving. Then the captain giggled and the workers scrabbled for weapons while the warriors drew their own short swords and scurried to surround the insane interloper.

While he knew the plan was to lure them back for an ambush Bert decided instead to have a little fun, if Fritz could defeat six alone then he could easily do better.

He didn’t want to give the goblins the time to encircle him so he rushed at one of the warriors. He pulled on the thrumming power of his Sanctum to bring out the hammering ripples of Concussive Blow. The warrior brought up its shield covering its torso but Bert kicked it with the full force of his Ability and Strength. The wood splintered, so did the forearm beneath as his heel struck and the goblin was flung off its feet from the powerful blow, crashing into tent behind. His foot ached from the impact but he easily ignored it.

A sword slashed in from the side but Bert easily slipped by it and with one quick punch shattered the attacking creature's face like it was an egg. A rotting egg. The fight was on, the goblins surrounded him on all sides but Bert was a whirlwind of destruction, dodging blows and responding with fists, feet, knees and elbows. Each of his punches would break their weak bones and it felt like his kicks crushed their skeletons to powder. But there were a lot of them and one had managed to sneak up and strike him with their jagged sword, leaving a shallow cut that only bled for moments, his Vitality plugging the piddling wound quickly with a scab. The aching bruises on his heel and knuckles rapidly receded, even as he kept up his punishing punches.

Those sort of pathetic slashes wouldn’t slow him down at all. No, they would have to hit him somewhere vital, like the neck to actually hurt him and even then Bert had the distinct impression that he’d survive if the strike didn’t cut deep enough. Or was cursed, he reminded himself.

The goblins piled in, the workers scavenging spears to join in jabbing at his back and sides, it seemed wherever he faced the creatures would run and scurry to his flanks. It did them no good as Bert grinned and spun, letting forth a gout of misting liquid from his palm right into the throng of jostling goblins behind. The searing, bubbling Power burst forth from his command and the goblins shrieked as the Corrosive Spray showered them.

Bert laughed as the workers broke, sprinting in every direction to get away from his outstretched palm and his gruesome guffaws. Only the warriors and their captain remained and Bert could see that they were all shaken. The captain went to say something in its guttural tongue but Bert didn’t listen. He dashed forward ducking and rolling under the swings of its bodyguards. He got to his feet as the radiant baton came down to meet his charge. Not having enough time to dodge effectively Bert took the blow on the shoulder and moved with it, shrugging away some of the force just like the Arte Pugilist taught. Thunderous pulses passed through his body, staggering him and disrupting his Strength as he swung an ineffectual fist into the captain's mushroom breastplate where it bounced off with a weak thud that was accompanied by a mocking giggle.

The baton’s effect wracked him for another moment before it began to fade and the captain took advantage, yelling out an order in its rough, high voice. The warriors abandoned the flanking tactics they had been employing, instead, they threw themselves bodily onto Bert, grabbing at his limbs, attempting to overbear him, bind his movement and bring him down.

Damn! Bert thought as he was dragged to the cavern floor under the mass of at least twenty goblin warriors. He struggled, slipped and managed a few quick punches here and there, breaking bones where he could. It was hard to breathe under the pile of grey-skinned, stinking creatures that were still jumping onto him and holding onto what they could. Bert couldn’t move under all their bodies, his muscles strained as he tried to pull free of the countless grasping limbs. It was hot and sweaty at the very bottom of the jumble of goblins and he stopped laughing when some of the monsters that had brought daggers and swords with them started to stab him through the pile’s gaps.

He hissed in annoyance as they poked and pricked, and then the slashing started. He supposed it was like being eaten alive by a swarm of gutter rats. It was probably painful, but it was easily bearable, as nothing could feel as bad as his time in the salt snail’s shell, that had been truly agonising. That experience had really taught him something of pain and this barely compared to that burning, melting, blistering, blinding abyss.

Maybe I should give them a little taste of that abyss, he thought while grinning spitefully.

Unclenching his fists, he turned his hands upwards and echoed the roaring voices of his Sanctum. He wrestled the ruinous power in his centre and poured forth gouts of acidic spray from both his palms. Corrosive Spray burned as it splashed back against his own skin, he hissed in pain and the goblins screamed as they struggled to get free of the pile. Their momentary weakness was enough for Bert to move his arms again and he swung with abandon throwing goblins off him as he pushed them and pulverised them with Concussive Blows.

With some frantic tossing and turning in the sizzling pile Bert broke free, getting to his feet and laying about him with punches and kicks, letting his training take over and his wondrous Technique guide him as he shattered, threw bodily and broke the goblins still standing before him.

Bert felt himself getting tired, getting slower, each of the Abilities he used taking their toll on his vast but still limited Stamina. Even with the cost reduction from his Technique he found himself panting heavily and sweating hard. He was taking more cuts from stray strikes as the goblins fled his reach or got in one last stab before they died to his mighty fists.

It seemed that the captain had finally reached the end of its patience and it dashed forward swinging its baton in a sideways arc right at Bert’s head. He was able to duck the first blow, but the goblin followed through with another slashing strike, this time low enough to hit Bert’s upper arm just above the elbow.

The baton’s power thundered up his arm, again stunning him and numbing it completely below the shoulder. Bert clenched his teeth and snaked his good arm around the goblin's head grasping its face from behind, pulling and pinning the captain’s head between his arm and chest. The move resembled a face-forward headlock mixed with a bear hug, Bert knew it wasn’t going to be effective at holding the creature for long but with the last of his dwindling Stamina he sprayed acid directly up its nose and down its open, now-screaming mouth.

It dropped its baton and immediately used all its unusual strength to push Bert off of itself in blind spitting panic. He was happy to oblige, letting the goblin go, watching it retching and sneezing a virulent rain of blood, pus and other equally horrible body fluids. Bert moved to finish off the kneeling, spluttering goblin captain as it gasped, struggling to breathe through its melted throat. Bert in his tired state, swung a right hook at the side of the captains head. The un-empowered blow caved in its skull and its wooden armour clunked on the stone as the creature fell bonelessly.

Bert was left breathing hard in the now silent shanty town. He looked around for some moments counting the slain. One captain, at least twelve warriors and about ten workers lay dead and destroyed, scattered around the ruined camp. Only got around half of them, the other workers must have fled once they saw my might, Bert surmised smugly.

Bert gave himself some minutes to recover, he could feel the warm, invigorating energy of his Vitality pulsing in time with his heart, rumbling in his blood and tingling over his wounds working its restorative magic. It was a great feeling, ever since he had woken with Vitality he felt had this well of boundless life right there, bubbling forth like a wild spring from his centre. Bert’s cuts had scabbed over in the fight and now they were beginning to close properly. He knew from experience that these small cuts and bruises would be gone without a trace within an hour.

A horn blared and Bert could distantly hear high yells of alarm from the direction of the fort. No problem I’ll just wait here until a group comes to scout out the danger and by danger I mean my fists, Bert told himself. So he waited for the squad of grey-skinned monsters he was to lead to his crew.

After around ten minutes the blaring of horns intensified as did the sound of stampeding feet. Bert realised he may have completely Fritzed up their plan with his battle lust. There was possibly more than the one or two squads of goblins he was meant to string along. Fritz and Sid will just have to deal with it, it was a dumb plan anyway, he concluded as the gibbering and giggling of an approaching horde of goblins grew closer.

They were getting close so he prepared to run, he had recovered enough for a quick sprint, just another great bonus from his recovery Attributes. He noticed that they worked together Endurance easing the tiredness and Vitality healing any soreness in his muscles. He’d have to talk to Fritz or Sid about it to see if they knew why this was the case, but for now, he just enjoyed the benefits without thinking too deeply about them.

The veritable horde of goblins, far more than the fifty-or-so he had fought, burst from the forest of mushrooms. They were mostly warriors with a spattering of captains and they spotted him standing there out in the open amongst the ruin of the goblin camp. The horde charged, screaming their small fury in a shrill war cry. Bert waited until they were within ten yards, then he sprinted up the incline, toward the entrance and where his friends lay in ambush.

A cackle rang out over the screaming tide behind him and a familiar bolt of blue-green flame passed over Bert’s head and struck a mushroom's stem, wreathing the pale trunk in twisting fire and eerie light. The cap sizzled and burnt releasing a not too terrible smelling steam as the fungus was cooked.

It seemed there was a shaman with the goblins, or two he noted as another shrieking bolt flew overhead and Bert could only say one thing as he ran through the pungent clouds of steam and smoke.

“Whoops.”

---

Fritz and Sid were waiting and waiting and waiting. It was something of a new experience for Fritz and he had to say he didn’t care for it.

“This is what you two do when I’m off exploring? Just wait in silence?” Fritz asked.

“Shhh,” Sid hissed.

“Bert was right. This is boring, no wonder he’s always so excited to fight,” Fritz continued in a projected whisper as he stared out over the field of mushrooms in frustration.

He thought he saw a flash of blue-green light and his stomach tied in a knot.

“Did you see that?” Fritz said.

Sid squinted into the gloomy forest of fungus then shook her head, conjuring an arrow and putting it in her quiver to join the others she had been summoning when her air mana reservoir was full. They would disappear within an hour but Fritz looked on enviously, wishing he had his own Magic Attribute and contemplating if he should start littering the area with Stone Pits.

He decided against that in the end as they were far less useful when they were obvious, relying more on the surprise of the stone moving out from under your foot than the actual hole itself. Plus he didn't want to tire himself out for the fight ahead.

Fritz worried at his shirt, stopped himself from pacing in impatience then he smelt something on the air. Smoke with a strange scent, like cooked dirt.

There was another flash of blue-green, this time closer. He could see movement, a glimpse of blue and white here and there, running ahead of a tide of brown armour, grey-skin and clear crystal. Fritz heard the distant, but very familiar sound of Bert’s laughter and motioned at Sid to get ready, he didn’t have to though.

Sid drew in a breath and conjured an arrow into her hand and Fritz prepared to sculpt a hole under the most dangerous of Bert’s pursuers.

A figure in blue and white sprinted out of the mushroom field ahead, his golden hair whipping out behind him as he ran, laughing the whole way.

Madman, Fritz thought while smiling wide. Sid seemed to echo his thought in a grumble.

It took Bert a whole minute to reach the entrance, sweating and panting then turning his back to them just as the goblin horde poured out of the forest of mushrooms in a great wave of gibbering and jabbering rage. Bert spread his arms wide as if inviting the cheers of a crowd and bellowed in challenge at the approaching tide of spears and swords.

“Come at me gobos, meet my fists, and my friends!”