Level Up, Goblin Style!

Gnikpaugh’s newfound respect for "Ol' Rusty," mostly demonstrated by more frequent and vigorous (if still horrifyingly unhygienic) polishing sessions, translated into a bolder approach to cavern exploration. He was still Gnikpaugh, prone to yelps and bouts of spectacular cowardice, but with me in his fist, there was a swagger to his waddle that hadn't been there before. He was, in his own small, dim way, aspiring.

His aspirations soon led us into a gallery of dripping stalactites and disturbingly large, web-like fungi. It was also, unfortunately, the turf of a small pack of Cave Lurkers. These weren't your average, easily startled cave vermin. Lurkers were smaller than Gnikpaugh, true, but they were wiry, quick, and possessed a low, vicious cunning that made them dangerous pack hunters. Their eyes, like beads of polished obsidian, glinted with malice as they spotted Gnikpaugh, clearly marking him as either an intruder or an unusually plump lunch. There were three of them, armed with crude bone shivs and an unnerving, chittering form of communication.

“Uh oh, Ol’ Rusty,” Gnikpaugh whispered, his swagger deflating like a punctured toadstool. “Pointy friends not look friendly.”

Astute observation, my dear Gnikpaugh, I thought. Perhaps there’s a philosopher lurking beneath that layer of grime after all. Now, try not to get us both turned into a Lurker kebab.

This was a significant step up. These weren’t mindless beasts; they were thinking, coordinating opponents. As they fanned out, attempting to flank us, I felt a familiar surge of… something. But this time, it was stronger, more insistent. It wasn't just a gentle nudge I was offering Gnikpaugh; it was a fierce, almost desperate will to survive, to dominate.

The first Lurker darted in, its bone shiv aimed at Gnikpaugh’s exposed leg. Gnikpaugh yelped, instinctively trying to scuttle back, but his arm – our arm – moved with a speed and precision that was utterly alien to him. My tip intercepted the shiv with a sharp clang, deflecting it. Before the Lurker could recover, our arm snapped out again, a short, brutal thrust that sank me deep into its chest.

It happened so fast, Gnikpaugh barely had time to grunt in surprise. As he pulled me free with a wet tearing sound, the second Lurker was already upon him. Again, that strange sense of merging, of my intent flowing through him, overriding his fear. His clumsy footwork became a surprisingly agile sidestep. His wild swing transformed into a focused, arcing slash that caught the Lurker across its snarling face.

There was a strange exhilaration to it, this heightened connection. It was as if the usual frustrating delay between my "suggestions" and Gnikpaugh’s fumbling execution had vanished. I willed a parry, and his arm moved. I willed a thrust, and the blade bit true. The third Lurker, seeing its companions fall, hesitated for a fatal second. We – Gnikpaugh and I, yet somehow more I than Gnikpaugh – closed the distance with a speed that should have been impossible for his short, stumpy legs, and the fight was over.

Gnikpaugh stood panting over the fallen Lurkers, his chest heaving, sweat (or perhaps just cave moisture) pouring down his face. He looked utterly spent, more exhausted than I’d ever seen him after a fight. He leaned heavily on a stalagmite, his knuckles white where he gripped my hilt.

“Gnikpaugh… Gnikpaugh strong!” he gasped, but his voice was thin, shaky. “Ol’ Rusty… very… pointy today.”

As he held me up, somewhat unsteadily, to admire our handiwork, I felt the thrum of energy again, but this time it was a powerful surge, a wave of warmth and clarity that flooded my consciousness. For a fleeting instant, I swear my blade didn’t just reflect the ambient fungus-light; it emitted a faint, silvery gleam of its own.

Right, you little green gremlins, I thought, a touch of smugness coloring my internal voice, though I also felt a flicker of something else, a nascent unease at Gnikpaugh’s unusual prostration. That’s how you deal with territorial disputes! A little finesse, a little ferocity… and an almost alarming amount of goblin exertion. Ooh, did I just sparkle? Must be my winning personality finally shining through. He does look a bit peaky, though. Hope he doesn't keel over before he finds us some more grubs. I didn't, at that moment, connect his profound exhaustion with the new intensity of my own "assistance."