Death After Death

Confused, Simon closed the door and rebarred it, then he sat down against it, mace in hand. He only meant to rest his eyes a bit until whatever had tried to get in before, tried again. When he opened his eyes again it was to the sound of morning birdsong, sunbeams shooting through the dusty room from the cracks in the shutters.

He got up and stretched, feeling stiff and wishing he’d spent the night on the itchy straw mattress rather than the floor, but there was nothing for it now. He grabbed the stale end of the loaf of bread and slowly gnawed through it as he opened the door to look outside. Everything was exactly where he’d left it. It was a beautiful morning in a picturesque landscape. You’d never know that there’d been something evil about stalking him and trying to slit his throat while he slept. Simon wandered slowly around the small cabin, looking at the footprints that were left behind in the dust. They were like tiny human footprints with long claws, which could mean only one thing - goblins.

He finished his lackluster breakfast and grabbed the only remaining food that didn’t need to be cooked: a sad and bruised apple, then he belted on his sword, picked up the crossbow, and went for a walk. He couldn’t see the individual tracks in the grass, but this early the dew was still heavy on everything and he could see how a small group of goblins had trampled a path through the tall grass into the woods. At least he hoped it was a small group. He had no real way of judging that, but he was only confident in his ability to deal with three or four at a time - any more than that and he’d have to go back to the cabin to get armor.

The path led to the edge of the nearby woods and then disappeared into the underbrush. Once inside the forest the grass became sparse and patchy and the under-canopy area was dominated by brambles and a thick layer of wet leaves. Simon didn’t know exactly where they went from here, but they seemed like lazy, disgusting creatures to him, so odds were good they’d taken the shortest path back to their lair. With that in mind he kept going straight, scanning the horizon from left to right for signs of an ambush.

He found nothing, and even though he searched carefully for ten minutes there wasn’t a trace of them. He stopped on top of a hill to rest, very cognizant of the fact that he needed to turn around soon or risk getting lost himself. While he sat there Simon picked up a few pebbles and started tossing them one at a time on a nearby boulder jutting out of the far side of the hill. The first two missed, but the third and fourth bounced off it with a satisfying plink that echoed among the trees. It was only when he tossed the fifth that something strange happened. It bounced off the lichen covered face closest to Simon, but when it bounced back it made another plink, followed by another, and then a third. Each of the noises got more distant and echoey like his pebble had gone down a well or something, so he got up to investigate.

On the other side of the hill he found a natural cave leading into the hill. Simon had no light, so he couldn’t go inside to investigate, but the smell told him all he needed to know. After fighting the little bastards on the goblin floor a couple times he would recognize that sulfurous stink anywhere. He considered waiting around and shooting the first one to poke its head out of the hole as a warning to the others, but eventually decided against it for two reasons. The first was that he didn’t actually know if all of the goblins had returned to the cave and the last thing he wanted to do was find himself surrounded when another hunting party came back. The second was more concerning though; shooting one in the head would be the equivalent of kicking a hornet's nest, when everyone knew that leaving it alone was always the right idea. If he had a stick of dynamite or a fireball spell he could blow the entrance shut, but as it was, one or two dead goblins wouldn’t change anything.

At least he knew where they were now, he thought, backing away slowly. That was a small victory, he decided, as he left the forest the way he came. If the goblins got to be really troublesome then he could take care of them, but for now that was more trouble than it was worth. Now all he needed to do was take care of his other little problem and light a fire, to cook those sausages, and it was going to be a great day.

Simon spent hours with the chunk of flint and a steel dagger, but he couldn’t catch any of the logs on fire. Eventually he decided that it wasn’t actually flint at all and it went outside to rub the sticks together. That didn’t work either though. He never even got a hint of smoke, and only rubbed his hands raw for his trouble. In the end he was forced to eat the apple, then the cheese, and finally the apple core because he was still hungry and there was nothing else to eat. He wished he had YouTube here so he could watch a few videos on making a fire. He was sure that if someone explained it to him properly it would be easy.

At one point Simon even got so desperate that he asked the mirror, “Do you know how I use flint and steel to start a fire?”

Predictably the mirror only answered the question with its favorite phrase. “I have no knowledge of how to start fires.”

As the sun set again though he was eventually plunged into the dark without a way to fend it off. This time though he slept with his boots on and the crossbow loaded on the chair in front of the door just in case there was a repeat of last night. He had some trouble drifting off to sleep because of hunger pangs. Only having half a meal over the course of the whole day was hard on him, but he managed to work through it and eventually fell asleep.

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It turned out that there was another disturbance though and sometime after midnight he was awoken by something trying to pry open the shutters. This time though there was a flickering light outside. Simon hopped up, lifted the crossbow and opened the front door almost gracefully considering he did it in a pitch black room. This time he surprised 3 goblins that looked like they were attempting to use a crude torch to light his cabin on fire and smoke him out. All of them were armed with crude weapons, but Simon smiled as he looked at how startled they were, because he had the initiative. He aimed and shot quicker this time, punching right through the goblin nearest to him before partially penetrating the goblin standing behind it. The third one made no effort to avenge his dead and dying companions - it just took off running into the dark while the injured one screamed in pain. It tried to lunge at Simon, but it couldn’t because it was still pinned to a corpse.

Simon didn’t care about the runner. He didn’t even care about killing the one that was bleeding out really. All he really cared about was the torch they’d dropped next to him. The fact that they’d had a clever plan to smoke him out didn’t disturb him much, but the fact that they could make fire to do it while he was still frustrated by the lack of that skill really pissed him off. That’s what he was thinking about when he pulled out his long sword and struck the goblin’s head from its shoulders. Once that was done he eagerly grabbed that torch before it could gutter out in the growing pool of goblin blood. Simon would move those bodies in the morning - right now he had a fire to build and sausages to cook.

With the torch he eventually managed to get the logs to catch fire, and before long he was roasting the sausages on his dagger. The first one came out a little burnt, but the second one was just right, and for the first time all day Simon’s belly was satisfied. He added more wood to the fire before he went to sleep so that he'd still have some coals left in the morning, and tried to enjoy a second round of slumber before the sun woke him up again.

The next morning was great. Simon woke up well rested and fed sometime before ten, if this world had managed to invent clocks yet, and for the first time since he went into the pit he felt happy and accomplished. He was overcoming all sorts of obstacles on his own, and it satisfied him more than punching a time card ever had. For a few minutes he allowed himself to fantasize about what life would be like if he just stayed like this. If instead of going back down to fight rats and skeletons he just blew up the goblin lair, he just stayed up here and led a simple, quiet life.

Simon imagined the meadow, not as it was, but as it could be, with the grass and wildflowers converted into fertile fields and pasture land. He imagined the split rail fence that neatly separated the cows from the sheep and the neat plots of corn and wheat that he’d use to feed his chickens for fresh eggs and the meat that he would one day learn how to fry just so he could appreciate nuggies in a world that had yet to invent fast food.

It was a beautiful dream, until he realized that no matter what he did some ogre would come out of the mountains and devour his herd, or another tribe of goblins would appear and burn the place down. It’s true that this could be a beautiful little farming game with a little work, but the goddess would never let him off the hook that easily. That revelation made him hate life a little more, and it was the taste of ashes in his mouth that led him to finally get out of bed and face the day.

Simon did very little for the rest of the day once he’d devoured the sausages besides dragging the goblin corpses a good ways into the woods before they attracted crows. Now that he was totally out of food he’d have to go back down those awful stairs, but at least it would be on his terms. He layed out the equipment he’d take with him and even managed to recock the crossbow on the first try. Once all that was done he went to sleep again. He could put off the fight one more night, and head out first thing in the morning. After all - now that he’d scared off those damn goblins he might as well enjoy one night of uninterrupted sleep, right? Really, the only problem with that plan that he could see was that it lacked breakfast, but he’d make do somehow.

Sadly Simon was unable to enjoy the sleep he'd promised himself, because sometime in the middle of the night they were back, and this time they were louder than before. He sighed, and got out of bed mumbling, “Won’t these assholes ever learn?” He grabbed the crossbow, loaded it, and opened the door for a repeat performance, but instead he was shocked by what he saw. There weren't just three of them like there was last time. There were over a dozen. And one of them was bigger than the rest and dressed like some kind of crazy shaman. Simon raised his crossbow and pointed it at that one, but as soon as they noticed the door was open, the goblin leader turned towards him, and barked "G̵̲̎e̷̠͑r̸̳̅v̸̝̌u̸̳͊u̷̧̕l̷͚͘ ̵͙̀M̵̭̄e̷͎͂i̸̙͆ṟ̶̀é̸͙n̵͐ͅ." There was something wrong with those words, and they hurt his ears to hear them, but before he could figure that out he had to deal with the jet of fire that shot out from its hand like it was the goblin emperor using force lightning or something.

Simon only just managed to slam the door shut to avoid getting his face melted off, but he had no doubt in his mind that the whole side of the cabin was on fire now. He’d finally gotten to see magic though. That meant it really was possible in this world. If it was possible then there had to be a way for him to learn it too, right? Soon the small one room cabin was filling with smoke and the shutters were shuddering under repeated attacks from goblin weapons. Thinking fast Simon pulled the bed aside, opened the trap door, and started throwing everything he was going to need down into the pit. He almost jumped down to join them when the flames on the roof started licking their way around the edge of the ceiling, but he suddenly realized he’d forgotten the torches he’d need to deal with the second floor.

As soon as he lit one of those though he was practically running down the stairs and shutting the trap door behind him. The air up there was rapidly becoming unbreathable and for once he'd rather face the rats down here than the world up there. ꞦÂΝöꞖÊṠ

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