8: Churpo Weeb…Manga Rakka Dinka (Chapter Eight…A Declaration of War)
The sun dimmed as a sudden fluff of dark clouds swept the sky. Thunder rolled in the distance, and everyone at the Square stopped to look around, including the brown orc, the one named “Vinny.”
“What duh—” said the brown orc, but he never got to finish that statement.
A triangle of shadow appeared in the air next to Skippy, and then that shadow morphed into an oblong portal, of which, stepped through Jenny Crazy Eyes. That crazy witch held her groundhog-skull staff in her right hand, but the empty orbital sockets of that skull glowed brightly with an inner green light.
Dulp instinctively backed away…This was going to get ugly.
“Invokus Flammicus Bootus Nuttuki!” cried Jenny in a deep and commanding voice.
She waved her staff in a wide circle, the pinpoints of green light in the groundhog skull leaving a circular trail in the air, and from that circle appeared an ephemeral boot of the same ghostly green light, that boot aflame with a terrible emerald fire.
The brown orc, Vinny, backed up a little, but it did him no good, as the spectral boot in question zipped forward at top speed, stopped right in front of him, and then kicked him between the legs so hard that he was lifted into the air a good two feet before coming back down hard on his hands and knees.
Dulp winced at the cheap shot, as did everyone else, the entire collected throng moaning out a loud “Ooooooooooo!” at the exact same collective time, all in a collected fashion of collective said winces.
The boot vanished a second later, but the damage had already been done.
This “Vinny” squealed out an almost inaudible whine as his nether region burst into bright orange flame, and then the rest of him went up like a bonfire. He fell prone after that, a burning wick of muscle and piggish fat, and Dulp could not imagine a more terrible death than the one he had just witnessed.
The other orcs did not get a chance to even comment upon the grisly sight.
Multiple portals of darkness erupted in a circle around the thoroughly surprised pigs, and then the ululating voices of Lyga and Xenon sounded out as they attacked straight out of the shadowy gates.
Lyga was dressed in her leather battle armor, spear and buckler in hand. Her armor was slick, boiled, dark-brown leather with thick spaulders at the shoulders. She had on leather greaves and bracers, along with a couple of boob plates also made of leather…Dulp had never understood why she had to emphasize the boobies. That would be like him putting a big ol’ leather crotch piece over his walnuts. Couldn’t she just mash them in under normal armor? I mean, they were targets just hanging out there to be whacked at an enemy’s leisure like this, right?
And then there was Xenon wielding her short sword and buckler. The village’s fiercest bogo wore a chain shirt, a red skirt, plated greaves, metal gauntlets…and a small metal breastplate that also had boob-cups…What in the Heckens was with these two anyway?
Lyga’s spearpoint penetrated in gory exit straight through the front crotchal area of the black orc, the leader, the one named “Tony.” He staggered forward and then fell, Lyga’s small but deadly form riding on his back like a mouse on a piece of floating toast. She pulled out her spear and stabbed him in the back several more times, all with a terrible viciousness that Dulp was well familiar with.
The other three orcs did not last much longer.
Xenon did a forward roll, short sword in hand, and stabbed upwards between the legs of one of the three remaining orcs. He went down with a squeal, but she stabbed him in the back several times after that, so at least she did the mercy of putting him out of his misery.
Dulp stood there in shaking anticipation as all of this went down, so his perspective was divided between the separate duels, if duels were what you called unmitigated slaughter.
Tall Sally emerged from a portal and advanced on a second of the green orcs as he unsheathed his black blade. She wore a simple suit of boiled leather without the boob cups…At least she had some common sense.
The only black bogo of the village, Sally was unnaturally strong like Yappa, so her weapon of choice was a large two-handed hammer, the head crafted for war, that head crafted in the likeness of a gob’s surprised screaming face, and Dulp had always wondered about that hammer’s head, as it was clearly used for intimidating the gobs of Pingo, though Gimmie was really the only one Sally had ever threatened with that hammer, but Gimmie was a gigantic jerk, so it wasn’t like Dulp felt sorry for him.
Tall Sally cocked her hammer back so that the head of the hammer was behind her, the haft horizontally leveled at her right side against her waist above her hip.
The orc advanced, ready to strike her down, but he never got the chance to.
He was waylaid from behind by Akira the Blade, the one bogo in the village other than Sexy Allie Jenkins who was always dressed in the most revealing way possible, a skintight suit of black leather that covered only the bare essentials, something Dulp had always found unnecessary and somewhat disgusting, but she claimed it helped her “move unhindered,” so whatever. Still, as bad as Dulp had thought the boob cups were on Lyga’s and Xenon’s outfits, at least they weren’t dressed like that.
Akira slashed out with two long knives, hamstringing her opponent, but before he could topple backwards by sheer weight and gravity, Tall Sally swung upwards with her war hammer in an arc, tagging the poor bastage right between the legs. He fell backwards after that, and Akira finished him off, stabbing with both blades into his green temples.
The last orc stood there in a trembling panic, but that didn’t last long.
The Jojos and Curly Shirley were up next, but these idiots were decked out in the dresses they always wore…not that it mattered. Dulp was certain there was enough sadism exuding from all three of them to deflect even the mightiest blow.
The Jojo twins appeared out of portals on both sides of him, both of the sadistic bogos armed with metal-topped staves, of which they proceeded to whack the groin of this last standing orc. Curly Shirly jumped from a portal after that, her heavy mace in her dainty little hands, and as the last orc bent over in squealing pain from the Jojo’s highly accurate hits, this gave Curly Shirly the opportunity to bring her mace down upon his lowered head, that mace shaped like something Skippy had called “A lolly,” and the last orc’s thick green melon immediately cracked open like a dropped egg.
Dulp felt his own walnuts throb just from viewing this scene of crotchal carnage.
Skippy’s Field Notes #38:
Fortunately for me, orcs have a natural weakness against bogos, as these piggish thugs believe the bogos to be entirely harmless, but more importantly, the bogos are at exactly the right height to do awesome and terrible damage to an orc’s nether region, and as I witnessed today, the bogos of Pingo are especially gifted in this particular art of war.
I am infinitely grateful that Jenny’s gift to me worked and worked so well. If she had not given me her little violet bauble, the orcs would have beheaded me, so she definitely has my eternal gratitude, and I will be more than happy to draw her figure in the nude whenever she so desires, free of charge.
I have, of course, for my own sanity, blotted from my memories the exact details of what partook in the slaughter that ensued my rescue, as such gore and grossness does not sit well with me, and my mind and vision automatically recorded other, far more important details, details that needed to be recorded for the posterity of the village.
Akira’s outfit has got to be the most droolworthy set of clothing I have ever laid eyes upon! She has this tight black leather bodice that shows off, in an oval cutout, her navel area, while the leather clings to her sides, but that leather rides up to only cover the tops of her breasts (and her nipples, of course—disappointing, I know) but the bottoms of her light-green breasts are quite visible, and I have never seen this style before, and I must say, I most certainly enjoy it.
Akira’s lower section of outfit is just a black leather thong that covers her nether region, but that thong is basically a black string that goes up between the gorgeous curves of her bottom’s cheeks, so she is essentially bare-bottomed in the back, and I’ll need no imagination to fill in any details when I draw her tonight in my sketchbook.
To top off her incredible look and style, she wears thigh-high black leather boots that are indented between the toes to give her feet an odd two-toed look, and she finishes this style with a black facemask that only covers the lower half of her (I assume) beautiful face.
Ah, if I weren’t so smitten…err…fascinated with Jenny, I know exactly who would be second on my list of hot…uhh…study, not that I’m keeping a list or anything. I would never do that. Only a complete and utter cad would do such a noxious thing. As a scholar of soon-to-be renowned import, it’s beneath my station to keep track of the bogos’ sex appeal…err…level of interest for study.
(My list: Jenny, Akira, Lyga, Sexy Allie Jenkins, Xenon, M.C.A.D.L.H., Curly Shirley, Polly and Anna together—FUN!— Jamie P. McGillicuddy, Tall Sally, Olga the Grip, Fat Mary, and Plain Jane…Remember to erase this later! Seriously, don’t forget!)
It occurred to Dulp in a giant brain explosion that the bogos had just come to rescue Skippy, and they had been every bit as vicious as Dulp knew them to be, something he had warned the ugly little gob about over and over again.
There was just one problem with this realization. This meant Skippy could control the bogos, and if he could control the bogos, then…by the Great Gob…
Dulp shuddered all the way down to his bones and barely succeeded in not soiling his pants. He did not know what incredible unholy powers Skippy had used to control the bogos, but he officially wanted no part of it.
But he had a more pressing issue, as did the entire village, that issue being the presence of five very dead, very walnutless orcs from the Bloody Eye Clan in the village square.
The first to speak was the Chief, but his words were more of a finality than anything else.
“Oh, we are in the deep pox now,” he grimaced as he lowered his gaze and shook his head.
“I think not,” came a familiar but elderly voice, one Dulp had not heard in a long, long time, not since he was a gobling living over in the South Quarter.
Old Matron Bogo stepped forward out of one of Jenny’s shadow portals and hobbled toward the Chief with the help of a short, gnarled staff.
The old bogo was even older than Dulp remembered (obviously), but good Gob he could not imagine any goblin being so old! She had to be at least thirty-three, maybe even thirty-four.
The hunched old bogo had long white hair tied up in a single twisted braid that hung down her back, and she wore a plain brown shawl and dress with no markings. She had on a brown leather belt with several pouches along its sides, though what those small containers were for, Dulp had no idea.
The Chief looked up, and his demeanor immediately improved. Even Dulp felt a little better upon seeing Old Matron Bogo, because she was by far and wide the nicest bogo in the village, even nicer than most of the gobs.
“What do you think we should do, then?” asked the Chief.
“We will stay with the deal that was made with Skippy,” said the Matron.
She hobbled up to where Skippy was standing, looked him over, and smiled.
“What say you, Skippy?” she asked. “Will your people give the protection they promised?”
Skippy looked around at the crowd gathering around him, gobs and bogos alike, and Dulp could tell that the ugly little gob was still a little shaken from the experience of witnessing the carnage the bogos had unleashed.
“Uhhh…” he said slowly.
“Skippy?” asked the Chief in gruff politeness.
Skippy shook his head as if to get his senses back, took in a deep breath, released it, and cleared his throat. He took a look at the Old Matron and gave her a pleasant smile.
“Ab…so…lutely!” he said with the utmost confidence.
There was a collective sigh of relief from around the Square.
Even Dulp felt some relief, though he seriously doubted that even the White Skulls, baddies that they were, could hold off the Bloody Eye Clan for long…not to mention the Duke, but Dulp preferred not to think about that monster.
“Excellent,” smiled the Old Matron.
Skippy’s Field Notes #39:
So within my initial collection of belongings that I took with me to Pingo—not anything I received from the raid—is a rare stone borrowed from the college, a large crystal orb that works in similar ways to Jenny’s violet bauble, though hers is much more primitive.
This stone I requisitioned for my field study allows me to contact the Academy from great distances, and I can even record things with it such as one would see through the living eye, but I’m only allowed to record in a certain way as per the bylaws of the college, so actually recording images of the village outside of this context is a no-go, though I would have preferred to use it rather than my sketches to catch any discreet and artistic nudes of the bogos of Pingo, but you get what you get.
As it stands, the time has come for me to use the Teleport-Vision Stone to contact the Royal Scribes Academy of Hafenstadt, because the Bloody Eye Clan will most certainly attack Pingo in force now, so the Academy will now inform the royal army to make their move.
King Rilewun (pronounced “RILL-EH-WUNN,” and yes, I know, unusual spelling) has been itching for an excuse to eliminate the main forces of his younger brother, Duke Werner Jäger, those forces being the Bloody Eye Clan itself.
I’ve already heard rumors that the Dwarves of Keystone are ready and waiting for the word to rush in themselves, as they’ve got a longstanding bug up their bums to take out the B.E.C., but due to an accord with Auserset, they can’t officially engage in battle with the loathsome orcs until they’ve been given the word by King Rilewun.
Once I send word, the battle shall be on, the orcs will be routed before they can get here, and Pingo will be safe under the protection of Hafenstadt from now on.
I will, of course, be hailed a hero, and I’ll have my pick of…interviews…with any bogo I desire.
Here’s to the future!
Dulp was about to relax a little, come down from his adrenaline high, but one last orc appeared from virtually out of nowhere, this orc being a skinny dark-green orc with short black hair parted down the middle, and he wore round spectacles above his piggish nose, something very unusual for an orc in general, so he was probably a half-orc, some half-human hybrid or something.
This new orc was dressed in a nice white buttoned-up shirt with grey suspenders, those suspenders holding up brown slacks, a belt around those slacks, that belt containing several pouches and scroll cases. On his feet were finely-polished black leather shoes, something also very unusual for an orc to wear. In his dark-green hands was an open scroll, and in his other hand was a quill pen with black ink still dripping from it.
“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” said the orc in rapid speech as he pushed past gobs and bogos alike.
He surveyed the carnage and shook his head over and over again.
“Oh, this is bad, very bad,” he said unhappily. “The Duke won’t like this, no, not at all. He’s gonna be very, very mad, oh, yes. Not happy. Not happy at all.”
Lyga stepped forward, leveled her spear at the twitchy orc, and gave him the meanest look Dulp had ever seen upon her beautiful face.
“You tell the Duke that the goblins of Pingo are under the protection of the White Skulls now,” she said angrily. “So you go get back on your horse and ride out of here before we decide to get mean.”
“Oh, okay, okay,” nodded the strange orc. “I’ll tell the Duke, but he won’t like it, no. Not at all. He won’t like it at all. He’s going to get very mad, very, very mad at you.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked Lyga.
“Yeah, yeah,” nodded the orc. “He’ll definitely be mad. Definitely.”
“Well, you tell the Duke that he can suck my big fat cherry—” said Lyga.
Dulp bleeped out the long string of expletives that occurred next, eliminating them from his brain the moment they had entered his fragile psyche. This was a defense mechanism, of course, as he’d heard more than his fair share of this language from Lyga during his extremely unhappy encounters with her, and those encounters always made him visit his happy place, so now it was just automatic in his subconscious to mentally defend himself.
“And I want that word for word,” finished Lyga.
The orc nodded a couple of times before taking off, pushing past the crowd to run toward the West Quarter where the orcs’ horses were stabled.
“It’s a good thing we killed all of the dangerous ones,” muttered Lyga. “It’s not like we needed anyone else. I mean, how many messengers does it take to deliver a message anyway?”
“One…” said Xenon in a low voice.
The fearsome bogo produced a small black goblin bow, nocked an arrow, and pulled back the string. She let the arrow fly, and the small missile immediately struck the running orc in the right buttock. The strange orc hopped around on one foot for a moment, his face wincing in pain as he pulled the arrow out of his wounded bottom.
“Oh!…Oh, that smarts!” he cried out. “Oh, yes, that really hurts!”
Lyga turned and glared at her female compatriot.
“What did you do that for!” she yelled.
“I…I got caught up in the moment,” stammered Xenon. “Besides, he’s fine. I mean, it could have been worse, right? I was actually aiming for his walnuts.”
“What in the Heckens!” yelled Lyga. “Why would you do that! We need a messenger! All I said was, ‘how many messengers does it take to deliver a message…’”
“One…” said Xenon in a low voice.
She immediately nocked another arrow and let it fly. That arrow soared through the air and buried its deadly tip in the strange orc’s left buttock this time.
“Oh, oh, oh!” yelled the twitchy orc. “You got me again! Oh, I’m leaving! I’m leaving! Oh, that smarts a lot!”
He pulled that arrow out of his left butt cheek, and then the poor guy hobbled off toward the West Quarter.
Dulp actually felt sorry for him. The bogos were just plain mean sometimes, and riding on a horse was not going to be kind to that orc’s wounded dark-green bum.
“What in the Holy Mother Bogo are you doing!” yelled Lyga. “Will you stop shooting the messenger!”
“I…I don’t know what came over me!” cried Xenon. “Stop yelling at me! You’re just making me nervous…Besides, it could have been so much worse. I was actually aiming for his—”
“I know what you were aiming for!” yelled Lyga in return.
The Chief muttered something under his breath, smacked himself in the forehead, and then ran his hand down his weathered face. He gave a quick look toward Old Matron Bogo, and the ancient crone rolled her eyes and nodded once.
“Okay, girls,” said the old bogo. “That’s enough…Let’s clean up this mess, and then we’ll head back to the South Quarter. With these orcs dead, their belongings are ours, so at least we’ll have some fresh meat tonight.”
Dulp really hoped she was talking about either some meat the orcs had brought with them, or the horses, because if she meant…
Eh, he’d just eat whatever they sent over. It was best not to ask questions.
Skippy dragged Dulp out of the hutch and into the fading sunlight.
“Okay,” said the ugly little gob. “We have to do this now before we lose too much light…Now remember…just like we practiced.”
This whole thing Skippy wanted to do was stupid, but…eh. There was nothing else to do, and besides, Dulp was getting a bottle of hooch out of it, and hooch was worth its weight in gold. Even so, this whole thing didn’t sound stupid, no; it sounded reeeeeallly stupid.
“Why do I have to do this again?” asked Dulp.
“It’s for…uhhh…posterity’s sake,” grinned Skippy.
“Really?” asked Dulp. “Because to me it sounds like you’re trying to sell a product, like that whole commerce thing that humans do. It just sounds so…commercial.”
“Nonsense,” said Skippy as he waved him off. “The White Skulls will love it. They’ll love you for it, in fact.”
Dulp felt that old excitement building again. If he could get in good with the Skulls, he could…Wait a minute…
“Why are we speaking in human, then?” asked Dulp.
It was a fair question. The whole “human language” thing didn’t quite make sense.
“No, no,” said Skippy as he shook his head. “I’m speaking in human. I am. Me. You’ll be saying your catchphrase in Gob, and I know it’s hard to understand this concept, but you are a little slow, so just go with it.”
“Wait, why am I saying a catchphrase?” asked Dulp. “That doesn’t make any sense…and what does you being the one to speak human have anything to do with speaking—”
Dulp’s well-deserved questions were interrupted as Skippy turned him around by the shoulders and had him stare at Skippy’s own stupid “Teleport-Vision Stone.” The stone in question was actually a large, clear, multifaceted crystal orb the size of a grapefruit, and it was positioned upon a small wooden tripod in front of the hutch, that tripod positioning the crystal at exactly face height.
“Okay,” said Skippy. “We’re on in three…two…one…smile…”
A pink light shone from inside the crystal, and Dulp and Skippy stood side-by-side as Skippy held up a glass jar of honey wrapped in yellowed parchment around the bottom half of it. That parchment had the very well-drawn likeness of Dulp’s face on it, an impressive inked picture of his overwhelming handsomeness in comparison to Skippy’s ugliness, so at least there was that.
“You, too, can enjoy Bauer Braun’s Delicious Honey with every meal,” smiled Skippy. “It’s great for all your cooking needs, and it’s wonderful on buttered bread! In fact, it’s so good, even Dulp the Goblin’s sticky fingers are always after it! Pick up your jar of Bauer Braun’s today!”
“It’s the gobbiest!” grinned Dulp in fake enthusiasm.
The light died down in the crystal, and Skippy breathed out a sigh of relief. He stared at Dulp with an ugly grimace, and Dulp recoiled a little, but then Skippy’s terrible frown slowly turned into a giant grin.
“You…were…mag…nificent!” cried the ugly little gob as he slapped Dulp on the back. “That was incredible! You’re a natural!”
“You really think so?” asked Dulp in cautious wonder. “I don’t know…I thought my inflection at the end there was a little watery. Maybe we could do a retake, and I could put a little more…Wait…Wait a moment…Why are we doing this again?”
“For posterity!” grinned Skippy.
Skippy’s Field Notes #40:
As per a deal with the Academy, I have to make some commercial advertisements for my project’s patrons, and the college wanted Pingo in the deal in order to give my field study some practical application, so this is for the best.
I do, however, believe my first venture into commercial advertising went very well, as I am a natural at this, but that’s simply because of my gregarious expressions and mannerisms, making me well-suited for the role.
Surprisingly enough, Dulp is also a natural at this, and though I’m sure his ability to speak most languages would come in handy anywhere else, I think his speaking in his native tongue is more appropriate for the situation at hand. His catchphrase, “Eecha gobee!,” roughly translates to, “It’s the gobbiest!” I think this, coupled with our combined natural charm, should boost sales for Bauer Braun’s honey.
Oh, we make a good team!
Of course, what I really wanted to do was advertise for Ursula’s Naughty Toys with one of the bogos, but the Academy turned me down on that one…Spoilsports.
Oh, well. A strapping young lad like me can always dream!
There was nothing more to say on the matter, at least for the moment. If Skippy was happy, then that meant Dulp could get in good with the White Skulls, and then he’d be a made gob, so that’s all that really mattered.
Dulp helped Skippy put the “Teleport-Vision Stone” away in Dulp’s hutch, Skippy put away his jar of honey, and then they started a leisurely walk toward the East Quarter, specifically toward the hoochery.
They walked without much to say as Dulp brooded over the whole “slaying of the orcs” thing. Skippy was truly a White Skulls if he could control the bogos, but Dulp wasn’t sure if that was enough to keep the Duke at bay, because that guy was a nightmare.
The orcs weren’t going to be happy that some of their men were taken out, true, but really the Duke was a far more serious problem. The Duke was not one to suffer insults…and Lyga’s little verbal tantrum with that twitchy orc certainly wasn’t going to help. He also doubted that Xenon’s shooting of that orc in the butt would be of much help in the long run, but the damage was already done.
They were about halfway to the hoochery when the sun had sunk behind the trees in the distance, and gobs and bogos alike began to light outside lanterns on the gables of their hutches.
A low fog had picked up around the edge of the East Quarter, and this concerned Dulp to no end.
“No good ever comes from fog,” he whispered.
“What was that about fog?” asked Skippy.
“Shhh!” shushed Dulp. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Skippy.
It was faint at first, but then a low moaning picked up, and then it grew louder as they crossed over into the East Quarter.
“Can’t you hear that?” asked Dulp.
“Yeah…” said Skippy as he screwed up his lips. “What is that? Is somebody injured?”
They stopped as they continued to listen, but then a single word came floating over the wind, a word moaned long and loud that both of them immediately understood.
“Braaaaaains…” sounded out a low moan.
“Brains?” asked Skippy. “Did somebody say ‘brains’? That didn’t sound like a gob…”
“That’s no gob!” hissed Dulp in growing realization.
Skippy’s Field Notes #41:
Zombies are the reanimated dead brought back to a corrupted pseudo-life by a powerful necromancer or necromantic priest, always involving a dark ritual of some sort, usually along with blood, but that’s the extent of my knowledge on the dark arts involved with zombie-making.
I’ve always found zombies to be rather gross and single-minded, as they tend to want to eat the brains of others, which honestly and in the long run, makes no sense to me.
As far as my research has carried me, I believe zombies are often used as cheap guards, frontline shock troops for undead armies, messengers, and sales representatives for insurance, but I find that the use of corpses outside of research in the medical field to be distasteful and somewhat sacrilegious.
There is, interestingly enough, a little side industry of pornographic materials…You know what? That’s just too disgusting for even me to write about. I’ll just leave others to their sick perversions and stick to mine…I mean…err…stick to my own perfectly legitimate and respectable hobbies.
They came shambling out of the darkness and the fog, five of them, the walking corpses of five dead humans, these humans rotted away to where the bones could actually be seen through what was left of their time-decayed clothing.
“Brains!” cried out one of them upon seeing both Dulp and Skippy.
Dulp looked over at Skippy, but the ugly little gob’s eyes were wide with fear. Apparently, Skippy was actually afraid of something, but that was of no help now.
“Brains, brains, brains, brains, brains!” said the lead zombie, who used to be, probably, a big farmer from one of the surrounding human villages.
“The Chief’s hut is in the North Quarter,” said Dulp with a head nod. “Just keep walking east until you hit the village square, then go north.”
“Brains, brains, brains,” nodded the lead zombie. “Brains, brains…brains.”
That nodding caused the undead farmer’s rotting nose to fall off and hit the grassy dirt below. Skippy stared at the fallen nose in horror, but Dulp did his best to ignore it. It was kind of rude to just stare at it.
“Yep, sure thing, fellas,” said Dulp. “You have a nice night, too.”
The group of five zombies shambled off toward the North Quarter, leaving both Dulp and Skippy unscathed.
“Y…You can understand them?” asked Skippy after a few strange seconds.
“Oh, yeah,” shrugged Dulp. “I speak zombie. It’s not that hard. They only have one word, for Gob’s sake. It’s how they say it that matters.”
“By the gods!” said Skippy in a verbal panic. “We’ve got to warn the Chief!”
“Why?” asked Dulp.
“They’ll eat his brain!” said Skippy in wide-eyed terror.
“Nah,” waved off Dulp. “Those guys are just messengers. Besides, zombies don’t like goblin brains for some reason…I really don’t know why.”
Skippy gave Dulp a strange look and then raised one eyebrow.
“Uh…huh…” said Skippy slowly.
It was kind of nice to be the more competent brave one out of the two of them for once, and Dulp was selfishly grateful for that, but an unhappy thought entered his mind, a realization that was far more important than anything else at the moment.
“Hey!” he said unhappily. “What do you mean, ‘I’m a little slow!’”
Goblins in the Mist: Chapter Eight Copyright © 2022 Matthew L. Marlott