Okay, 'A' it is then. Sneak around the outskirts and pick off random gobs. Preferably with unusual wrestling techniques.
Deciding upon his next step, the adventurer crouches down and starts making his way around the Fly-Towers of Plague.
Just after coming around the corner of the Castle of Spiders, the adventurer spots a goblin heading in his direction. The adventurer begins to position himself, when the goblin ducks into a stairwell that leads into the tower, bypassing the gladiator entirely.
After some more wandering, the hero comes upon a pile of short and sturdy bones that could only have belonged to a dwarf. There is also a slight spattering of blood marring a section of the Spider Castle's wall, a testament to whatever terrible act befell this dwarf.
The adventurer ventures onward, passing a pile of coins stacked very neatly between two boulders, and a single bone that displayed the bowed shape common to goblins. Something appeared to have gnawed on it at some point, and the adventurer feels compelled to pick it up. The stack of coins remains untouched, however.
The hero passes by a pair of small chain leggings, several piles of goblin bones, and quite a few random articles of clothing. Something happened here, that much is for sure.
The hero, careful not to venture into an area that would block off his escape route, begins to make his way over to a third tower, when a goblin drunk stumbles its way around the corner of the building!
Not wanting to miss out on this prey, the hero makes a quick scan around for any guards, and then breaks out of his hiding place, charging at the goblin!
Our gladiator hurls his mighty axe at the goblin with all his might, and it connects with the drunkard's arm, severing it at the elbow!
Seizing this opportunity, the adventurer runs up to the goblin and plants his right hand firmly on the goblin's face, working his nimble fingers towards the creature's eyes. First the left, and then the right orb leave their sockets and fall into the silt at the adventurer's feet.
Satisfied with his latest accomplishment, the hero pinches the goblin's nose for good luck, and then releases his grip altogether.
Not wanting to leave the goblin just sitting there, the gladiator drops his shield and proceeds to punch what remains of the goblin's life out of him. A well-placed blow to the abdomen badly bruises the goblin's organs, as well as breaking a few minor bones with a satisfying crunching noise.
While still unconscious, the drunk vomits over himself and the adventurer, thick green slime coating the adventurer's new boots with an unpleasant odor, the result of a standard goblin's diet of unmentionables.
The hero manages to break the goblin's hands with two powerful blows before the goblin finally dies from blood loss.
Two foul beasts slain, and both of them bled to death in a most anticlimactic way. Our adventurer, more determined than ever to do something heroic, grabs his axe and shield, as well as the drunk's silk trusers, which managed to remain vomit-free throughout the death of their previous owner.
After rounding the corner of this latest tower, the largest of all yet encountered, the hero discovers more scattered clothing. Whatever happened at this place had quite a grand scale...
This site, however, is apparently somewhat fresher. Smears of blood coat the ground in places, and there is a trail of droplets leading to a small suit of chainmail, encrusted with vomit and blood from its last battle.
The adventurer spots a temple structure around a bend, and goes over to investigate.
Entering into the temple, our gladiator finds a massive swath of blood staining the walls and floor of the temple, along with the detailed engravings in both. More small clothing items litter the area surrounding the temple grounds, but the corpses are nowhere to be found.
The temple, obviously abandoned, holds little interest for our adventurer. He begins searching for his prey again, and comes across a single iron arrow lying out in a field. He feels the desire to pick it up, but feels that it may bring him bad luck, and he needs all the good luck he can get in this haunted fortress.
More bones. More scattered clothes. Nothing living. A single goblin head rests on a bed of silt, its eyes bulging and filmy from rot. The flies buzzing around it paying no attention to the reeking stench coming from the mushy pale-green flesh.
This goblin suffered far more of a 'dead end' than the simple rock formation that hinders our hero's movement. The stairs leading into the tower call softly to the adventurer, quietly insisting that he enter into the tower's dark embrace.
A dark image flits across the adventurer's view for a brief moment, a visage of hate and flames and leathery wings. Was this image a hint at what future lay ahead? Or was it a darker indication, a sign of madness in the young man?
Our hero takes a deep, steadying breath, and steps into the tower.
Author
Topic: Death and Glory! (Read 55899 times)