Gospel Goblins

Amber is shoved into the pit. Spine follows, lifting his axe high. The crowd falls silent as he declares, “Silence! I will tell you the rules. It is a one-on-one battle. Me versus her. If they win, they get to leave—and all of us leave as well. Except for me, because I’d be dead.” Laughter erupts from the goblin-filled stadium.

He adds, “I will also give her information for every good hit she gives.” More laughter follows as he concludes, “But if she loses, they are a loss.”

Around the arena, goblins chant, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Their attention is erratic, allowing some opportunity for action.

Wolfgang, standing tall, simply watches, choosing to witness the duel rather than intervene. Masaki waits as well, silent and alert.

Spine acts quickly. He charges 20 feet, great axe raised high, and swings—but Amber ducks just in time. He darts away with practiced footwork, avoiding any counterattack.

Amber dashes forward and unleashes her rage. Flames burst from her body. “Awesome,” she mutters, eyes blazing. The fire startles Spine, but it doesn’t burn him. She swings her greatsword, landing a solid hit. “Yeah! You take that, you son of a bitch!” she roars. 

Ash cheers from the stands, making as much noise as possible. Daiki joins in, staff pounding rhythmically, flowers puffing out with each stomp. “Go Amby! Get closer!” he yells.

Masaki cheers loudly as Amber’s sword finds its mark.

Spine reels back. “First point of information—besides this camp, there are two more,” he says before slashing upwards. His axe hits, but Amber snarls, “Not a fucking scratch, you bitch.” Again, he slips away, taunting: “Come at me!”

Amber answers with a javelin throw. It lands, slowing Spine’s movement. Ash slaps her sticks together, filling the air with rhythmic noise. Daiki matches her energy, shouting encouragement while his staff bursts with magical blooms. Wolfgang, now visibly amused, shifts his focus slightly, watching the crowd and keeping alert.

The crowd roars, caught between adrenaline and devotion. Wolfgang stands amidst them, goblins flanking him like a makeshift honor guard. They cheer loudly, eyes flicking between him and the brutal clash unfolding ahead. Opposite of Wolfgang, on the other side of the stadium, Masaki, usually quiet and reserved, shouts himself hoarse cheering for Amber. “Move your feet! Dodge left!” he yells, surprising even himself.

Spine charges in. “One of the camps is from my brother—Hugo Barneau!” he declares. The weapon slashes down—Amber grunts as it lands a blow, but only scratches the surface. 

She retaliates with her greatsword, but the swing goes wide. Her opponent flinches – still getting hurt from the slash that misses him, but grins, using his reaction to counterattack. It hits—Amber tanks it with a growl, her rage still burning. A goblin near Amber in the stands yells: “DIE, YOU STUPID BITCH! DIE!”

Ash, watching from the edge of the chaos, starts orchestrating the goblins into a rhythmic chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” she calls, conducting with enthusiasm. The goblins fall in, forming a raspy-voiced choir. “I’m starting to hear potential,” she says with a gleam in her eye.

Daiki joins the stomping and chanting, funneling subtle magic through the rhythm. With a stomp, plant growth spreads beneath Amber’s feet, seeping into the cracked ground. He grins as Amber’s fire seems to glow brighter. Spine shudders at the touch of necrotic energy.

Wolfgang, amused, leans toward a nearby goblin. “Please be a good goblin and fetch me a drink,” he murmurs, but the goblin squints at him, unimpressed. 

Masaki shifts from cheerleader to coach, yelling tips to Amber like a seasoned trainer. “I’ve seen you do better!”

Spine circles Amber and lashes out again—barely a scratch. “Come at me!” he dares. Amber swings again—misses. Spine counters again. She action surges—another miss. But each swing still sears him with residual rage. His axe begins to glow, madness rising in his eyes. He’s bloodied, but dangerous.

Ash turns back to her goblin choir, raising and lowering octaves, building layers like a conductor. “Fight! Fiiight!” Their harmony, chaotic but compelling, fills the air. “Having the time of my life,” she beams.

Daiki tries to echo Ash, raising his staff and chanting, but his goblins don’t follow. His attempt falters, and Ash notices with a sympathetic glance. The rhythm stumbles for a moment—but the fight, and the strange music around it, rages on.

Spine glows faintly as he paces the battlefield, not nearly as bright as Amber, who burns like a living flame. He mutters, “My brother’s camp… somewhere in the city sewers. Old sewer below a tavern,” just before launching himself off a wall, sword gleaming, and drives a strike at her. The hit lands, but it’s clumsy, which Amber shrugs off with a defiant grin.

Amber responds with a two-handed swing of her greatsword, scoring a hit. “He’s in rage,” she breathes, eyes narrowing. Bloodied but undeterred, she inhales deeply, and flames flicker along her armor as molten energy mends her wounds. 

On the sidelines, Ashira picks up the chaotic rhythm of the battlefield and weaves her voice into it. “Amber, you got this, you’re on fire—fight!” Her words pulse like music, syncing with the goblins’ chants. Somehow, impossibly, they begin singing with her. She grins.

Daiki watches the chanting goblins and sighs—his section remains quiet. But he gathers his focus, slams his staff into the ground, and channels his energy. Vines ripple forward, sapping strength from Spine and transferring vitality to Amber.

Masaki, observing the fight closely, tries to discern a weakness in the goblin leader’s movements. He finds none—no limp, no hesitation. “He’s fast,” he notes. “Not unfair, but he fights dirty.” Still, he cheers Amber on from the sidelines, urging her to keep moving, to stay alert.

Wolfgang simply watches, arms crossed. “No one’s dying, no dark energy, no drinks,” he mutters, half amused. “Guess I’m just here to enjoy the show.”

As the battle wears on, Amber turns and strikes again. She watches Spine closely—he’s nimble, not lightning-fast, but dexterous enough. The fight has begun to draw clear lines: one side chants for Amber, the other for Spine. It feels like a stadium now, voices rising all around them. Somewhere, a goblin shouts: “Dirty ginger has no soul!”

Ash continues to guide her makeshift goblin choir. “Keep it up!” she calls, rhythm steady. Daiki meets her look and responds, stamping his staff again with precision. Energy pulses out. Spine’s muscles twitch with rage and strain as he’s drained once more by Daiki’s spell. Spine snarls, eyes wild. Amber, still ablaze, stands ready.

Spine seethes with fury, rage sharpening his movements. Still, he keeps talking. “Another piece of information my brother Hugo is the only one who knows where the queen is.” He spins his axe twice and slashes at Amber. The blow nearly lands. “Queen Barneau,” he mutters.

Amber wastes no time, her strike lands. Spine reels from the blow, barely staying upright. “Oh no, oh no you don’t,” he gasps.

Ash lifts her voice again, guiding the choir, steady and soft. “You’ve got no chance on her, dear Spine. You are losing this, FIIIIIGHT” she sings. But one goblin notices. “No you don’t,” it hisses, stabbing her with a dagger. Ash falters, and her voice trails off, the melody broken.

Amber hesitates, unsure about using magic and going up into flame again – and uses her greatsword again, seeing Spine is almost at his end. It’s one slash—across his chest. Spine drops the axe, falls forward, face-first into Daiki’s plant.

Daiki reacts instantly. “Go, fireball!” he shouts.

As Spine falls to his knees, the cut opens deep. The plant beneath him twists upward, grows into him, and drains him dry. The crowd falls silent.

Then, panic. The goblins scatter in every direction, screaming, fleeing in packs.

---

Masaki strides into the pit without hesitation, eyes locked on Amber. He checks her quickly—no major wounds—and gives her an approving nod. “Good,” he says simply.

Amber still burns with residual magical flame, glowing with battle intensity.

Daiki leaps down after him, rushing over with open arms. He doesn’t care about the fire—he just wants to hug her. Embracing her, he channels a healing spell. “Good work,” he says softly, as the magic flows.

Wolfgang hovers gently into the pit. He approaches Amber with calm poise. “Well done, Ms. Ablaze. From second in the peanut challenge to first in the goblin challenge. Please, do not forget the spoils of war.” He gestures to the goblin’s fallen weapon. “Would this be… convenient?”

Amber picks up the greataxe, swings it twice, then slings it across her back. “I’m taking this,” she says, eyes gleaming.

Ash doesn’t respond. She’s hunched over, blood in her lungs, struggling silently.

Wolfgang sighs. “I have to do everything myself.” He starts looting the goblin but can’t focus—Ash’s condition distracts him.

Masaki notices. In an instant, he teleports to her side and kneels to inspect her. “You’ll be fine,” he assures her, rifling through his bag. With no bandages, he rips the sleeve from his own shirt tied on his back.

Amber steps in, offering her healing kit, but Masaki is already wrapping the makeshift bandage around Ash’s wound.

Wolfgang quips, “Ms. Ashira, no sassy comment as someone makes a bandage from their own clothing?”

Ash winces. “Can you talk slower, Wolfie? I’m savoring the pain.”

Daiki scrambles up toward them, slips, then calls out. “Ash, I’m coming!” Unable to reach her, he casts Healing Word, pollen drifting from his hands to her chest. Her coughing eases. “Oh… I almost thought I’d lost my voice,” she breathes. “Thanks, Daiki.”

Amber reaches down, still aflame but gentle, and helps pull Daiki up. He stumbles forward, frantic. “Make way! Let me help her!”

Masaki is still tending to the wound, but Daiki insists. “If you allow me… I can help you feel better—unless you prefer the pain.”

Ash groans. “No, no, I allow it.”

He places a hand over the wound and channels another healing spell. Warm energy pulses into her. Her breathing steadies.

“You can breathe again,” he smiles, relieved.

Ash nods. “Thank you, Daiki.”

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Wolfgang steps forward. “Glad to have you back, Ms. Ashira. But next time, call for help earlier. We are a team, after all.”

Ash sighs. “I couldn’t risk my voice, Wolfie.”

“A true tragedy if we lost it,” Wolfgang agrees. He offers her his hand. She takes it and rises.

He ascends briefly into the sky, scouting the goblin camp. It’s mostly abandoned—tents collapsed, goblins fleeing into the forest. He returns. “They’re gone. At least, these ones.”

Meanwhile, Masaki inspects the goblin’s body. Masaki finds little—two handaxes, large claw bones—but leaves the bones for Wolfgang. Amber rolls the goblin’s body with her foot and uncovers a coin pouch.

“Found some money,” she announces. “Wolfgang, better come here if you want your share. I’m keeping this axe.”

Wolfgang nods. “Naturally. We’ll divide the spoils once we’re safe. Use the axe for now.”

Amber grins. “Of course.”

---

Masaki, calm and methodical, takes charge. “Let’s make sure we’re safe. Search for Spine’s tent—there may be documents or letters, something connecting him to his brother.” He claps once, loudly, cutting through Daiki’s chatter.

Amber, ever meticulous, scribbles in her journal. “This is very important,” she mutters.

Daiki checks on Ashira. “Are you really okay? What happened?”

Ash shrugs with a wince. “I tried to help Amber, distracted one of the goblins… but I guess they’re not as stupid as I thought. One saw me.”

Daiki sighs. “You got caught. You know nothing happens when you don’t get caught, right? I learned that from you.”

Ash grins weakly. “Yeah, I know. I tried a whole choir routine. Thought it was amazing—until it failed. Still, no regrets. It was a masterpiece.”

“I regret you getting stabbed,” Daiki replies, “but the performance? That was great.”

Ash leans into his kindness. “And you patched me up. I get stabbed, you fix me. That’s a good system.”

Wolfgang questions Masaki. “Have you found anything useful among the goblin leader’s things? Anything pointing us to his brother’s camp?”

Masaki nods. “Secondary weapons. Claws—from a giant sloth, I believe.”

Wolfgang strokes his chin. “Those could be worth something. Probably took out quite a few goblins to get those.”

They agree to split up. “Pairs,” Masaki says. “Amber and Wolfgang. Daiki and Ash. I’ll go alone. I’ll send word with magic if needed.”

Ash raises a hand. “We can just scream really loud too.”

Masaki moves off toward Spine’s ruined tent, searching with sharp eyes and magical aid. But the goblins have looted almost everything in their frantic escape. Still, Masaki presses on, determined to find what they missed.

Meanwhile, Ash recalls something from the battle. “He said something about a tavern… or the sewers.”

Amber chimes in. “The other goblin camp is beneath a filthy pub in Evermeer. In the sewer.”

Ash nods. “I know the place. I can lead us there.”

Curious and confused, Daiki asks, “What are sewers?”

Amber explains bluntly. “It’s where people’s shit and pee go.”

Ash tries a more poetic route. “Like reverse tree roots… but instead of taking in nutrients, they dump waste underground.”

Daiki blinks. “So the city is just… losing energy?”

Amber shakes her head. “It’s gross, but it’s necessary. Don’t drink from the river. That’s the rule.”

Masaki, sensing the conversation spiraling, brings everyone back to task. “Let’s focus. Investigate what’s left of the camp.”

The group spreads out. Wolfgang and Amber find two potions of healing—something salvageable among the wreckage. Daiki, distracted, pokes at the earth, lost in thought, checking the surroundings of the camp. Daiki steps carefully around the goblin tents while Ashira pokes through one of them. Daiki doesn’t examine the tent itself—he’s more interested in what the ground might say. “Can the earth tell me a little story of what happened?” he wonders aloud, scanning the terrain for signs.

He notices the tracks first: scattered, chaotic, heading away from the village in every direction except toward the river. “They’ve been here a while,” he mutters, piecing it together. The village paths are worn with movement. No coordination. Just flight.

When the searches end, Masaki waits at the center of camp, perched on a barrel. He notices the human bones at his feet—gnawed, cracked. The message is clear.

“Would it be safe to assume they were eaten by the goblins?” he asks aloud, voice even.

There’s no need for an answer.

The group reconvenes. Wolfgang, now with them, shares all the findings: a significant number of goblins fled in one direction. “We regroup,” he confirms. Masaki nods, adding they’ve found healing potions, handaxes, and a few claws—nothing remarkable, though he places the axes neatly on a barrel nearby.

Amber joins in, handing over coins to Wolfgang. “I also have this axe,” she says, holding up Spines’ greataxe. “No clue why it was glowing. I think it’s magical.”

“I can take a look at that later,” Masaki offers.

Ashira, disappointed, shakes her head. “Nothing of musical value. No drums, horns—nothing.” She pauses, then looks down. “Wait… Wolfgang, are you sitting on a drum?”

Indeed, Wolfgang is perched atop a massive war drum. Ashira’s eyes widen, and soon she’s playing, pulling out her polished drumsticks, beating loud, fast rhythms. Her laughter echoes through the camp. “These goblins did have drums!” she beams, even finding a smaller one she can tie to her pack.

Daiki watches her and asks, “Do you know any drum signal language? Druids sometimes used them to send messages.”

“I speak the universal language of music,” Ash replies, grinning. “But I don’t know the signals.”

Wolfgang frowns. “Please stop using the drums. We don’t want to lose the element of surprise.”

Amber backs him up. “This is important, Ashira.Stop playing the drums!”

Wolfgang threatens to cut the large drum to silence it. Ash sighs dramatically. “Come on, Wolfie, you’re no fun.” But she makes a deal: “I won’t play if you promise to walk in rhythm next time.”

He grumbles in agreement. She guards her smaller drum protectively.

Back to practical matters: dividing the spoils. Masaki inspects the greataxe. After flipping through his thick black book and muttering calculations, he estimates, “Roughly 350 gold pieces. Well-made, definitely magical.”

Amber reluctantly hands it over for appraisal, adding, “I think Spine lost more control as he got angrier. Maybe it fuels rage?”

“Nothing seems cursed,” Masaki assures her. “But to be safe, we’d need a proper appraisal in the city.”

Amber considers, then nods. “I’ll use it, but I want to know more.”

With that settled, they distribute the potions—Amber hands hers to Masaki, uninterested—and Wolfgang prepares the group to move. “Shall we follow the freshest tracks into the next goblin camp?” he asks.

“Off to the city sewers it is.” says Ashira.