They both stood and watched the die spin above the makeshift arena. It seemed to hang in the air far longer than it had any right to, as though either time had slowed or the die itself possessed some ability to slow its own downward trajectory.
Thankfully, the dozen or so goblins still gathered around the arena had stopped attacking and were all staring up at the die, mesmerized by the sight. They each clutched the dice cages hanging from their necks, weapons all but forgotten as the spinning die eventually struck the ground with a resounding clang.
It bounced back up, spinning even more violently than it had before. The hobgoblin High Roller grinned broadly, rubbing his hands together as the die spun. Pete looked down at Coop and then back up at the mini boss. The die was definitely falling much slower than it should be, even though it was spinning furiously.
He watched as, once more, the die hit the ground and bounced up into the air, spinning even faster if possible. It was spinning so quickly that the sharp corners of the object had blurred into a sphere of golden light.
“Is it ever gonna land?”
Pete turned to see Sam running up beside him with Wolfy close behind.
“It already has, twice,” he said, turning back to look at the spectacle. “Damned thing just keeps bouncing up again.”
As if to demonstrate his words, the die struck the ground once again, this time with such force that it cracked the asphalt, sending deep cracks snaking their way out from the impact point. Instead of skipping up into the air again, however, the die was fixed in place, sitting in a small crater, an image of Tongsly Belch sitting on the top face of the object with the number twenty written in block letters across the smiling teeth of the figure.
A roar went up from the surviving Dice Barons as the Count boomed with laughter and glee, pointing a finger at Pete and his crew.
“Natural twenties!” the huge figure boomed as the ground began to shake around them. “You little mucky mucks are gonna die!”
Pete steadied himself, trying to remember what a natural twenty roll from the boss’s dice would do. Before he had a chance to ask Nero, shapes started to coalesce in the sky above, a series of huge black dice tumbling down from a height and spinning wildly.
“Fuck!” he barked, summoning his Pauper’s Ward as Coop did likewise. “RUN!” he boomed, causing the group to scatter as the huge, car-sized dice began crashing into the ground.
It didn’t take long for Pete to discover the real problem with the devastating dice as they crashed into the ground left and right, tumbling and spinning and bouncing up into the air before landing once more. It wasn’t just the dice themselves that he had to dodge but also the huge chunks of torn-up asphalt and earth that were thrown into the air with each impact.
He ran towards the car wall but had to quickly shift directions as one of the huge dice smashed into the ground ahead of him and sent a ripple of torn-up earth in his direction. He dodged to the right, narrowly missing the chunk of the car park large enough to crush his body as it flew past him and slammed into the ground just behind.
>> DODGE PROFICIENCY +1
He recovered and ran, trying to see how Sam and Coop were doing. The little ferret was running at speed in the opposite direction to Pete but managed to keep ahead of the die as they thudded into the ground all around. Pete couldn’t see Sam partly because it wasn’t just he and his companions who were being battered by the falling dice and the resulting earth that was churned up with each impact. The remaining Dice Barons were likewise being indiscriminately battered, and several bright green stains on the still falling dice suggested that a few of the little goblins had lost their fights with the spectral dice.
There was no time to think, no time to make a strategy or find safety. The dice spun and slammed into the earth, bouncing up again and repeating the process. The only factor that had kept them alive was that the dice fell in relatively predictable ways. That predictability changed the moment they hit the ground, however, a fact that Pete discovered as one of the giant dice hit the ground behind him and, instead of bouncing straight up into the air again, shot off in more of a horizontal direction and smacked him square in the head.
At least, that’s what would have happened if his Pauper’s Ward ability hadn’t absorbed the damage and broken. The flying debris that followed the die, however, was another matter entirely. Thick clouds of earth and asphalt smashed against Pete’s back and legs, tackling him to the ground and where he rolled tore open fresh wounds on his arms and legs.
The pain was immediate and crippling, but Pete gritted his teeth and pushed himself up to his feet as a second die fell toward him, threatening to turn him into paste if he didn’t do something. He ran on bloody legs, wondering whether it would be worth using another medkit or if he’d be better off just enduring and waiting for his wounds to grow more serious.
He was aware of a large gash in his right arm and several abrasions on his legs and his other arm, as well as a badly twisted ankle that was already starting to throb. He could stealth easily enough, of course, but that wouldn’t do any good against the mindless dice that were pulverizing the mall car park like a kid with a hammer brutalizing an ant mound.
[Sam] Need to do something to stop this!
[Pete] I know…I…
[Sam] We need to hit the boss! Knock him off balance. Maybe it will stop all this?!
Pete wondered how she could be so calmly plan with everything that was going on. Then again, the Coinlink comms system didn’t always do a terrific job of conveying emotion.
He was about to reply when a goblin with a large club thudded into his chest, the edge of the club hitting Pete hard in the head and giving off a comical doink sound as it made contact. Pete twisted and turned from the goblin, cursing and rubbing his head as he tried to stop himself from falling headfirst onto the ground.
Stumbling forward, vision blurred, Pete slowed to an unsteady jog, blinking away tears as he tried to get his bearings. No, not tears, blood. Blood was streaming from the wound on his head, pouring down his face and obscuring his vision. As he slowed to a standstill, he pulled his hand away from his head and stared down at the sticky, hot blood in confusion.
The goblin hadn’t been purposefully trying to attack him. It had simply been flung at Pete as a result of one of the dice smashing against the ground. Goblin shrapnel that had done more damage to him than any of the other goblin attacks so far.
He tried to clear his thoughts, tried to think of what to do next as giant dice bounced all around him. Roaring laughter drew Pete’s attention, and he turned to see a blurry vision of the huge hobgoblin grinning and clapping meaty hands as he pointed at Pete.
“Little boy got you good!” the hobgoblin roared, pointing to his own head. “Smacked you in the noggin and made the mushy mush come out!”
>> WARNING: FATAL INJURY DETECTED!
You have sustained a fatal injury and require healing immediately. If you do not heal within the next thirty seconds, all vital brain functions will cease, and you will be removed from the Dominion Ultrimax Contest. Any funds or loot you currently have in your possession will be transferred to the Tongsly Belch Corporation unless you give it to other members of your party within the next twenty-five seconds.
Blood. Why was there so much blood? It had just been a simple hit to the head, and Pete had been hit like that before, hadn’t he? There was that time he ran into a metal support strut during a basketball game when he was in school. Or when he fell out of his bunk bed in college and smacked his head against the floor while he was half asleep.
There hadn’t been that much blood then, had there?
>> 28 SECONDS TO BRAIN DEATH!
Sight and sound began to fade as Pete stood with his hand out in front of him, staring down at the warm blood covering his fingers. Someone was still laughing, still speaking to him, but he couldn’t understand the words. As he looked up, he saw the large hobgoblin slapping the side of his leg and pointing as he laughed.
[Coop] What the hell are you doing, Pete?! Don’t just stand there! You’re gonna get crushed to death.
Something about that strange figure in the purple suit was familiar and alarming, but he couldn’t quite remember why. He had to do something, something important. He had to…
[Sam] Pete! Use a medkit! Jesus, you’re dead on your feet!
[Coop] I can’t get to him. There are too many of these damned dice!
>> 20 SECONDS TO BRAIN DEATH!
That was it. That was what he had to do. He needed to pull a medkit from his inventory and use it before… before what? Also, how did he pull something from his inventory?
Pete smiled, blood trickling through his lips and filling his mouth with salt and iron. He’d completely forgotten how to get anything out of his inventory. It must be a fairly simple process, he reasoned. Maybe there was some kind of verbal command he needed to give or a specific display he needed to bring up.
[Coop] Pete, you stupid boy! Use the damned thing before it’s too late!
Use the damned thing? Pete puzzled over that as a huge die smashed against the ground nearby and sent thick clods of earth out in a devastating ring. A piece of rock hit Pete on the shoulder, spinning him around and sending him hurtling to the ground.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
He held that rock in his hand as he fell… no… not the rock. He was holding something else, something that looked like a can of deodorant, but which was pure white with a red cross on one end that looked like a button.
>> 12 SECONDS TO BRAIN DEATH!
Now lying on his back, Pete held the strange object in his bloody hand, realizing that he knew what it was he was holding. A medkit. A medkit?
A MEDKIT!
>> 8 SECONDS TO BRAIN DEATH!
Pete was suddenly and vividly aware of two significant truths in that moment as he lay with his back to the ground, a medkit in one bloody hand, a large black die swirling in the air above and heading directly for his body, set to pulp his organs the moment it hit.
First, he needed to use that medkit. NOW! Second, he needed to use his Pauper’s Ward ability to stop himself from being crushed by the falling die.
Yet somehow, even that awareness wasn’t sufficient to save him. It took a certain little white ferret who had jumped on top of his hand and pushed his thumb into the medkit activation button to trigger the life-saving healing.
He felt a thrill of strength and vitality as he triggered Pauper’s Ward and grabbed Coop’s body, turning around so that his back was facing the falling die and Coop was protected in his grip. Light flared as the ward shattered, and the die bounced off in a different direction. Pete dropped Coop to the ground and kicked up into a run, channeling what little money he had into Coop’s wallet and shifting into his Insolvency debuff as he drew his bow and notched an arrow.
[Coop] What are you doing!
[Pete] Need to stop this shit! Just keep running and stay safe!
The hobgoblin boss was no longer laughing. Instead, he was squinting, trying to locate Pete, who had suddenly disappeared.
“Where you gone, you mucky muck?!” the brute growled, hefting his huge mace in one hand. “Where you gone to?!”
Pete slowed his running and stood still around thirty feet away from the boss. He held the bow with a drill arrow in position, waiting for the charged shot ability to trigger. The moment it triggered, he picked the single-target option, aiming directly for the brute’s eye and this time far more confident in his ability to hit the enemy.
Pete released the shot, to an accompanying rush of air and a burst of light as the arrow flew toward the enemy.
It may not have been the most spectacular shot he could have made, but the situation had grown dire, and racking up achievements no longer seemed as important as it had moments earlier. Failing the achievement quest would put them at a significant disadvantage, but at least Pete, Sam, and Coop would survive this encounter and have a chance to succeed. Trying to toy with the enemy in the hope of picking up another six achievements was likely to get them all killed.
He left all of that behind and started running, swapping from the bow to the machete immediately after he fired. Before he managed to take a single step, the arrow struck home, burrowing into Count Filsworthy Crappshoot’s eye and shooting through the swollen orb as the arrow drilled further into the brute’s head.
The boss roared in pain, dropping his club and reaching up with terrible speed to grab the arrow just before it buried itself in his brain. Staggering, the brute ripped the arrow out and managed to pull his own eyeball out in the process.
>> ACHIEVEMENT: Eye for an Eye!
Congratulations! You just convinced a hobgoblin mini boss to rip out his own eyeball! Of course, that eyeball was pretty much screwed anyway, and now this suave, casino-strutting High Roller is going to need to order himself a new eye patch. Ten guesses as to what kind of motif big boy’s gonna have with his new eye apparel! Dice anyone?
ACHIEVEMENT REWARD: Battle Fortune Proficiency +1, Archery Proficiency +1, Combat Awareness Proficiency +1, Critical Strike Damage Proficiency +1
“Mucky muck!” the boss screamed, holding the arrow like a popsicle as a string of veins ran from the eyeball at the top of the arrow to the hollow cave in his skull. “Yous mucked me mucking eyeball!”
Pete ran to the left, heading toward the brute’s blind spot and already knowing what his next move would be. He’d cut the legs from the boss, holding it in place, partially blinded and vulnerable to further attack. It was only then that Pete became aware the huge dice had stopped falling from the sky.
The oversized d20 die Count Filsworthy Crappshoot had rolled earlier returned to its master’s jacket, jumping up off the ground and into the pocket as the hobgoblin whipped the drill arrow, grunting in pain as the move tore out his eyeball and the strands of veins clinging to it in one brutal motion. He swung the arrow down at Pete a moment before Pete could slash at the giant figure’s legs.
“Yous token me eyebally balls!” the hobgoblin roared, swinging the arrow left and right, the swollen orb jutting from its end like a candy apple.
The big brute lunged forward, blindly swinging the huge dice-studded club toward back and forth in an attempt to find the enemy that had just shot him through the eye. Despite Pete’s invisibility, the hobgoblin was swinging in such a wide arc and moving so quickly that he came within rang and nearly took Pete’s head off with a savage swipe of his club.
He ducked and dove out of the way, using the edge of his machete to partly deflect the swing. The club was so heavy and swung with such force that it shoved the machete violently away, almost spinning Pete right around but diverting the path of the huge cudgel enough to send it slamming into the ground nearby.
>> DODGE PROFICIENCY +1
>> DEFLECTION PROFICIENCY +1
“I smells you, mucky muck!” the hobgoblin growled. “You gots that hooman stinks on ya!”
Pete ran around the hobgoblin, reasoning that perhaps the brute wouldn’t be able to smell him if he approached from behind. The huge figure sniffed at the air, turning left and right as Pete circled around him, still holding the machete and eyeing the brute’s legs for his next attack.
“I still smells yous!” Count Filsworthy Crappshoot brked, swinging his club in a wide arc once more. “I smalls all of yous, little mucky mucks!”
Pete darted forward, swinging the machete in a downward diagonal arc toward the brute’s left leg. The heavy blade cut into the Count’s flesh with a sickly wet sound, spraying vibrant green blood as Pete felt the machete sink in deep. Before he could rip the blade out, however, an eyeball the size of a melon slapped against the side of his head, sending him staggering backward.
“I feels you now mucky muck!” the Count roared, holding the giant club in one hand and the arrow shaft with the battered eyeball in the other, veins dangling from its lower half. “I gonsta beat you wif me own eyeball ball until yous is dead!”
He swung the two weapons back and force, scything through the air like some crazed harvesting machine. The two clubs moved at terrible speed and forced Pete to back away despite his invisibility. He’d left the machete buried in the hobgoblin’s leg but found that if he tried to drop the weapon back into his inventory, the System allowed it.
As the hobgoblin strode forward, blood sprayed from the wound, but the machete had disappeared, drawn back into Pete’s inventory. That raised an intriguing possibility, and Pete made a note to ask Nero about that once this was all over, but for the time being, he had to keep backing away to avoid being battered again by the eyeball club.
Despite the fact that he had a much more powerful weapon in his right hand, the towering hobgoblin seemed intent on killing Pete with his own eyeball. Perhaps the brute thought there would be some kind of poetic justice in bludgeoning Pete to death with the eyeball?
The big brute kept swinging back and forth, swiping out with the larger club and following up with the eyeball on a stick as he bent low and sniffed the air. Count Filsworthy Crappshoot grinned as he caught Pete’s sent, but before he could launch another attack, Wolfy appeared, leaping through the air and biting down on the hobgoblin’s arm with savage force. At the same moment, Coop appeared beside the giant figure’s head, having scampered up his back without either the Count or Pete being aware of that fact.
She bit into the Count’s ear, ripping through the flesh as the hobgoblin staggered backward, suddenly under threat from multiple sources. He opened his mouth to growl a complaint, but thick spectral chains suddenly appeared around his legs, pulling tightly and cinching his legs together, each link of the chain boasting a translucent silver skull with its mouth wide open.
Sam stepped out from behind the figure, a look of intense concentration on her face, hands outstretched and strands of power stretching from her fingers to the spectral chains wrapped around the hobgoblin’s body like writhing snakes. There was a determined look in her eyes, and her mouth was twisted in a slight grin as she moved around the large enemy, shifting her fingers so that the chains binding him grew tighter still.
Pete drew out his bow and notched an arrow as he stepped back. Flailing, the Count fell to the ground, still holding the giant dice club in one hand and the eyeball on a stick in the other. He tried to step forward, failed because of the binding chains, and waved his hands about frantically for a second before hitting the deck. Before he did so, however, he slammed the fist holding the makeshift eyeball club into the ground to break his fall, not realizing that the eyeball and arrowhead were both pointing directly toward the dark hole where his eye used to sit.
Momentum did its work, and Count Filsworthy Crappshoot slammed down against the ground, eyeball, arrowhead, and arrow shaft thrust up into his skull through the empty eye socket. Pete could only guess at how deep the arrow drove itself into the figure’s head, but it must have gone right into the brain because the Count failed to rise after he had fallen. His legs twitched a little, still tightly bound by the spectral chains, while Wolfy and Coop both jumped off the dead brute, each licking their lips to clear away flecks of bright green blood and gore.
Sam stopped her spell, and the chains vanished while Pete still held his arrow ready, not yet trusting that the hobgoblin was dead. A quick glance to the sides revealed that all the other Dice Barons were now dead, either killed by Pete and his crew or battered by the giant dice during the Count’s first attack.
The car park looked like a charnel house, with green bodies scattered everywhere. Some of those bodies still twitched, but Pete very much doubted that any of the goblins were still alive. He turned his attention back to the Count, who still hadn’t moved from his face-down position, other than twitching a little.
“You think he’s—”
Before Pete could finish his thought, an impossibly loud burst of flatulence roared from the dead baron’s ass, shaking the figure’s entire body as though Count Filsworthy Crappshoot’s spirit was leaving his earthy vessel, moving on to the next life. The sound was bad enough, but it was accompanied by a stench that could have stripped paint off a battleship.
“Jesus!” Sam blurted, covering her nose and backing away. “Smells like the devil’s asshole!”
Pete also backed away, waving a hand in front of his face to try and dispel the stench as Coop circled behind him, her ferret face screwed up in a look of utter disgust. Only Wolfy seemed utterly unaffected by the hobgoblin’s death wind. The hellhound sat right next to the body, tongue out, panting contentedly as it stared at Sam.
>> BOSS DEFEATED: Count Filsworthy Crappshoot!
Congratulations! You just killed a hobgoblin boss…or rather he killed himself by driving your arrow through his own skull, along with a good portion of his mangled eyeball. As if blinding him wasn’t bad enough, you used your masculine wiles to convince the dopy brute to stab an arrow through his brain! And what about all the little goblin cronies he leaves behind? Who will lead the Dice Barons now? Who will guide them through the plethora of opportunities and struggles that await all contestants and NPCs in the Dominion Ultrimax Context?!
Actually, they’re all dead, so you’re free and clear. Well done, you just extinguished the Dice Barons!
KILL REWARD: 600 Belch Bucks
BOSS LOOT BOX: Green Level
BOSS REWARD: Fearsome +5 [Goblins]
>> ACHIEVEMENT: Dice Doomsayer!
Congratulations! You’ve wiped out an entire goblin clan, extinguishing the Dice Barons from existence and expunging their records from the Mammon Codex! Word is already beginning to spread; whispers are being spoken into pointy green ears all throughout the Dominion as word of your brutal exploits is made known. Behold the Dice Doomsayer! The bringer of unlucky mishaps! The despoiler of hobgoblin eyeballs!
ACHIEVEMENT REWARD: New Title: Dice Doomsayer
Pete dropped his bow and arrow back into his inventory and stared down at the dead hobgoblin. In the end, the Count and his Dice Barons did just as much damage to themselves as Pete and his group did. Likely more. He shook his head, wondering what would drive a creature like this to weigh up every decision in battle with a roll of the dice.
“Well, that was fun,” Sam said, wiping what looked like goblin blood from her cheek. “I mean, intense and gross, but fun.”
Coop chuckled. “Seemed like these boys had a death wish.”
Pete turned around, looking back over a field of chewed-up ground and dead goblin bodies towards the wheel, which now stood at an odd angle with Craig’s unconscious body still pinned to its surface. He motioned to the little goblin.
“I’m gonna go and get him down off there.” He pointed to the hobgoblin. “Might be a good idea if you guys start grabbing all the loot.”
Sam shook her head. “I’ll loot what I killed, but remember the deal with your Red Ledger? You need to loot the big boy and whoever you killed. Gotta feed that hungry little book of yours, remember?”
Pete sighed, walking off toward the wheel. “Craig first. Then the looting.”