I waited.
That was the plan—wait until the goblins grew careless. Wait until enough of them left the territory hunting or raiding so I could slip in, cut ropes, and disappear before anyone noticed.
It wasn't a bad plan... so it may not be the best plan but it was honestly the best I could come up with. Clearly my cognition stat was still too low.
It just didn't work.
The first day passed with nothing but observation. I stayed hidden in the trees above the cave, memorizing paths, counting goblins as they came and went. Too many. Always too damn many. Even when some left, others returned. The cave never stood empty enough for what I needed.
The second day was worse.
The captives were alive. I only knew this because the goblins had to carry in food and water... also no more bodies had been added to the mountain of death as I dubbed it.
I counted hours by the way the light shifted across the stone.
I stole clothes that night.
I hated myself for it, but I needed them more than the dead guy.
I crept back to the corpse pile under cover of darkness, moving slow, listening for any sign of life. There wasn't any. Just rot and silence and the heavy, sweet smell of decay. I chose quickly—pants that were too big, smeared with stif dried blood. I tried not to think about the person who'd worn them.
Imagining them made it harder.
By the third morning, the goblins began to prepare for something... it must me another ritual then. I thought.
Torches were lit early. Symbols were redrawn on the caves outside entranceand I knew. The bowl—the same shallow stone bowl I'd seen filled with my blood—was washed in the river and carried back into the cave with great care.
Ritual day.
I felt something cold settle in my gut.
I was out of time.
I crouched in the trees, heart heavy and slow, watching goblins gather. I waited for some of them to leave.
They didn't.
They never did.
"Damn it!" I whispered as I crawled down from my perch. The whole damn tribe was there inside the cave how could I sneak in? Shit shit shit! No one else was around so I ransacked the pile of death looking for a single item... "Ah." A cloak it had holes it stunk and it was coated in more dried... fluid. I shuddered but pulled the cloak over my head anyway and wrapped it over my body.
It had a similar look to the ones the goblins had been wearing the night they killed me. 'Here goes nothing.' I thought as I crouched down to a goblins hight and basically waddled into the damn cave against every instinct I had.
The backs of many goblins came into view they were all shirtless exect the ones at the front preforming the ritual. The ones in the center spoken and hummed dancing and moving around in a circle chanting splashing oils water? Other painted new symbols on the walls. I wated from the back, all were too preoccupied with the ritual to notice me. There had to be at least over a hundred goblins here.
As I watched a captive was dragged out from a makeshift bone cage. There was more then I had realized I counted a total of eight people. One of the men had been selected and yanked out of the cage, thrown to the stone floor.
He was the tallest one—the one with the broken sword hilt—shoved forward the moment her tried to stand. His wrists were already raw, rope biting deep into his skin. He was shaking so hard I could see it from where I hid in the back.
I closed my eyes.
If I do nothing, he dies I reminded myself, repeated it like a mantra. I didn't know how many lives this power would grant me and I didn't want to waste any but I couldn't live it knowing I could leave these people to die such a tragic death.
That thought made things simpler.
I moved.
I didn't rush. I didn't scream. I waited until the goblins were focused on the symbols, on the chanting, on the moment they thought was sacred. As one held the man down just as they had held me down. The crowd parted for me in my cloak that resembles the ritualists even though I was crouching they didn't notice my size until it was too late.
I came out of the crowd low and fast.
The first goblin holding the man down never saw me. I drove my shoulder into its back and felt bone give beneath my weight. It went down with a wet crunch, and I didn't stop to look. It was a similar situation to the goblin in the woods. This one felt weaker and smaller though.
A second goblin turned, shrieking in rage at my interruption.
I didn't need to speak goblin to know it was definitely cursing me out. Haha.
I looked around for something to grab and found the god damned bowl—heavy, smooth—and brought it down on its skull. Once. Twice. The sound made my teeth ache.
The chanting broke.
Everything exploded into noise.
The man who had been released from the goblins hold was getting to his feet now. I reached the man just as a blade came down. It seemed they wouldn't be cutting wrists this time.
I didn't think.
I stepped between them.
The blade cut into my side instead of his neck, deep and burning, and I felt warmth spill instantly. I shoved him forward, hands slick with my own blood.
"Run!" I screamed.
He didn't hesitate.
He ran.
Straight through the crowd of agitated goblins and out of the cave. I couldn'thelp but marvel at the goblins who hadn'tbothered to bard the mans way... They didn't even try to case him. What the hell? At least he got away then. Instead all of the goblins attentions were turned on me.
For one perfect second, I thought I'd done it.
Then the ritual reacted.
The symbols flared bright red, brighter than before. The ground shook—violently and wrong, like reality itself had taken a breath it shouldn't have. The goblins howled, not in fear but in triumph.
I was suddenly dragged backward, hands clawing at the stone, blood smearing across the glowing markings.
"No—!" I tried to fight, but my strength bled out faster than I could use it.
A goblin slammed me down in the center of the circle.
The pain was different this time.
Not sharp.
Not crushing.
It was like something reached inside me and squeezed.
My blood lifted from the wound, pulling free in thin streams, flowing toward the bowl I had dropped I don't know when, all on its own. My vision tunneled. My limbs went numb.
I laughed once.
A short, breathless sound.
"Worth it," I whispered.
The cold rushed in.
The chanting grew distant.
And then—
Nothing.