The Outer Dog #3

After Sergei and the Clownslayers neutralized the acid, they went on ahead.

Lee and the squeaker gathered sticks. Despite the austerity of the game's natural world, the occasional olive tree dotted the underground landscape. How the fuck they grew without sunlight, I'll never know.

As for water, we found the occasional spring, even though our bodies don't need it as often or as much. Our eyes are also accustomed to the darkness. Of course, it helped that crude stone sconces lit most of the paths.

As we got closer to Goblinsville, we saw more signs of civilization. Cave paintings danced their way toward the city. Old monster-sacked settlements often cropped up, with bones alternating between humans and goblins.

We set up a campfire and discussed strategy.

"Alright, we should find a way to negotiate your sentences," I raised my point.

"Can we really do that?" The squeaker pondered, finally serious.

"We need to find someone with power, and they'll have to speak for you." I paced back and forth.

"Who did you have in mind?" Gordon tested the sticks Lee gathered, looking for a new quarterstaff.

"Are the adventurer's guild any good?" I asked.

"Nah, they don't want to piss off the locals anymore," Craig stated at his feet.

"What did they do?"

"Apparently, Sergei said we haven't been protecting Goblinsville very well." Gordon sighed, explaining the empty settlements.

"Is that why they've been going on those massive, suicidal raids?" I pondered, remembering that Sergei lost 15 guys yesterday. Bewilderingly, unstable regimes often like to fix their internal shit by invading things around them. Mussolini's Italy, Tojo's Japan, and the fucking adventurer's guild are all guilty.

"I think our best choice is to find Sergei's boss. Then, we make her an offer she can't refuse." Craig spoke up.

"So... where are we going to decapitate a horse?" The squeaker seemed worried.

"Did you morons go to the Don Corleone school of diplomacy?" Gordon remarked, facepalming slightly.

"We do need a little bit of grease, though..." I scratched my chin. Perhaps a bride... I mean, bribe?

All of a sudden, the four of them looked at me. Staring intently, as if to them, I was a little goblin, ready to be dinner.

"What are you doing?" I stated, confused.

"You got that rare skill, right?" The squeaker salivated.

"She'll definitely need someone like you around as a pet" Craig nodded.

"I'm sorry, Ennui, my old hoser. Where I'm from, human trafficking is illegal, but..." Gordon trailed off, readying a burlap sack my size.

"It's illegal everywhere; you overshared bong cloud! Fuck this shit. I'm out," I yelled, bolting hastily into the darkness.

A single thought echoed, did I forget something?

With great precision, Lee hurled a Boulder at my head, knocking me the fuck out again.