'We are all dead' Imigob weakly, but correctly assessed the current situation.
One didn't need his above average brain to figure that out, the only goblin's that weren't convinced of their fast approaching demise were the ones that were already dehydrated and starved.
"I'll… I am going to get water…" a goblin hunter with a bleak look in his eyes said as he stared further into the lake, where water wasn't polluted by the reeking death.
"You'll never make it, it's in the water, it's probably watching and listening to us right now, you'll just get killed…" Imigob reminded the hunter of what lurked out of reach, out of sight, that a rotting carcass that only wished for them to resemble itself awaited in ambush.
"...I" the hunter hesitated for an instant, swallowing his saliva to soothe his dry throat "I'm going to risk it" he had nothing to lose and didn't care for Imigob to come up with reason, he rushed toward the lake.
Grabbing hold of a bucket, he held his spear tightly as he ignored the headache and nausea his sudden movement brought him, completely focused, he didn't hear the shouts coming from behind him.
It was all white noise to him.
Thrusting the spear into the ground, he rose his body up, propelling himself through the air and above the darkened waters, he flew through the air, eyeing the clean water with intensity.
Holding the bucket above his head, he allowed his body to hit the water in the most painful way, so as to not sink in too much and avoid tainting the bucket with the filthy water.
He wasn't so smart, he was stupid, below average even by goblin standards, but in the state he was now, nothing was left to chance, swimming the few meters separating him from the drinkable water, he filled the bucket and rising it above his head as far as he could, he began swimming back through vile, oily liquid.
'Is he going to make it?' Stolgob had been watching from afar, silently rooting for him in spite of not believing that he would survive in the least.
Now however, the goblin seemed fast approaching, closing in on the shore and escaping from danger with a valuable prize.
"He is making it!" another goblin exclaimed, wholly unaware of what was going on beneath the water.
Loimos had just been standing a distance from where the goblin had made his heroic leap, he just walked over, looked up at the swimming green monster and simply grabbed his ankle, hoisting himself up since even with the improvements of his ability to move under water, he couldn't actually swim just yet.
Even with only one arm, Loimos wasn't shaken off as the goblin began to panic and struggle, the hunter was fatigued, his stomach empty, he had no energy to struggle with.
The biggest and strongest were the first to feel the strain of a lack of nutrition, the hunter stood no chance of prying the undead off of him, especially since he had to keep the bucket full of delectable water above the rotten blood.
Loimos bite right through the monster's ankle repeatedly, until it was barely holding on by a thread of flesh, his bones dented and chewed, the blighted blood touched and mixed with his sanguine wound, bringing a pain he never could have imagined, making him drop the clean water and sink.
Trying to scream out in pain reflexively, he swallowed some of the surrounding water, between the pain, shock, confusion and terror, he failed to notice that the weight pulling him down had changed its position.
The last sight the rest of the tribe had of the brave hunter was of him struggling to move before a horrid undead burst out from the water behind him.
With one missing arm, filthy bones oozing rot and blood, he resembled a foul creature of the depth, grabbing the goblin by the head, Loimos sunk his teeth infected by decay into the goblin's throat, quickly forcing the twitching mess down under.
Straight to the bottom, the instant his life force left his body, the skeleton began converting his corpse into rot to fuel the generator still embedded in his rib cage.
The lake was growing darker.
'We are all dead' Imigob reiterated his earlier thoughts, he had allowed his heart to be fueled by hope for an instant, but it had served as nothing more than poison, only reinforcing his nihilistic belief.
Their numbers, their prodigal members, their defences, it was all for naught.
"We are no match for the dead" he laid on the ground, his empty gaze fixated at the sun up above as it slowly grew dimmer.
It wasn't time for night yet, a dark cloud had begun rising in the air, the miasma pursuing them was only growing stronger and faster as time went on, and now, it was expanding its cruel dominion over to the skies.
It made no doubt in the goblin's mind that the very sun itself would soon be consumed and become nothing more than another medium for the rot to spread even further.
"We have been forsaken by the gods" Stolgob looked over to the love of his life, Irgob who was currently spouting some pretty scary stuff.
He would have liked to say something to comfort her but really had no clue what he should say about this.
Say that there were no gods? That's depressing if she truly believed in them.
Say that they hadn't been abandoned? That was just wishful thinking .
"We are not dead yet, we can still triumph" in the end, he settled to just push back the inevitable and also use a big word to show off how smart he was.
Silence had befallen the entire tribe after witnessing the hunter's brutal death.
Pokzgob, the mage of the tribe approached the chieftain with a grim expression.
"I have been sensing the vibrations in the earth" he began, his face told of his mental tiredness as he had been circulating his mana into the ground without stop.
Gobstroz nodded his head, indicating for the mage to keep on speaking.
"The serpent-men appears to have all died off, I sensed no movements coming from the direction of their villages, it makes no doubt that they have all succumbed to the rot and will soon become new sources for the mist…" he gritted his teeth and looked away "...We have no other choice but to push past and move toward the fishfolks" he concluded and turned away.
Loimos emerged from the water, onto the small island, within sight of all the goblins, holding up the disembodied and already rotting head of the hunter.
A sign of what was to come.
"It won't stop, it will never stop, stop, stop, why won't it stop?!" Imigob crawled to the ground and assumed the form of a ball, delirium was slowly creeping up onto him.
Its vile tendrils of pure white probing and pinching at his mind, at his brain, his soul.
Pulling and stretching, pulling and stretching.
It wouldn't stop, it won't stop, it refuses to stop.
The pain was getting greater, yet lessening at the same time, colours and shapes were blending together, was it his vision deteriorating or was it the effects of the approaching miasma?
He was having difficulties telling reality from the hallucinations brought by his malnourished body, slowly approaching death, its grasp was cold and the fear it installed into his heart didn't fall.
Aware that death was inevitable, he thought that the terror would eventually begin to fade away, dilute as he slowly began to decay alive.
He was wrong.
Standing up to his feet, he was unable to stop himself from scanning his surroundings, still looking for a way out.
Few goblins still retained coherence and autonomy, despite being blessed by intelligence and sapience, they weren't high up on that scale, starvation and dehydration ravaged them much faster than one might expect.
Imigob enjoyed the luxury of a greater mind, he was able to see his brethren falling apart, the proud hunters, much more skilled and powerful than he was, they wouldn't be able to put up any fight in the state they were in.
"Still not stopping…" he sounded like an old tree collapsing under its own weight, his throat completely dry, the thought of quenching himself with the pungent water forced its way into his brain for an instant.
He looked up as a shadow was cast over him.
Was the chieftain here? The figure seemed tall enough to be the old goblin, but the rays of sunlight passing through the shape's body was a clear indicator proving otherwise.
Loimos had stepped out of the water, looking straight ahead, where the two strongest of the tribe were standing.
Pokzgob, the earth mage was out cold, he had exerted himself trying to prevent the undead from hitting the tribe with throws of rot.
Gobstroz and Stolgob had done their best to retain their strength and lucidity, but they had still fallen tremendously from their peaks, meanwhile, as the miasma progressed and engulfed more and more life-
Loimos hadn't stopped growing stronger bit by bit, the arm lost to The First Seed wasn't back yet, but it was steadily reforming.
Still, it seemed doubtful that he would be able to face them head-on, doubtful in their eyes, but obvious in his hollow sockets, he focused on the closest goblin.
Imigob's eyes widened as he tried to step back, but he was too weak for any sudden movements, he felt the world turn around as he fell to the ground, not any further from danger.
He raised his arms defensively but his actions couldn't matter less, none could reach and assist him in time, the chieftain and prodigal hunter tried to take aim, strike the undead with something and force him away.
They had failed to properly evaluate their state, Stolgob missed entirely, his stone knife landing straight into the corrupted water behind the undead.
As for Gobstroz, he tried to focus too hard, more than what his mental capacity would allow in just an instant, his club didn't leave his hands, his vision doubled and felt like he was more likely to hit anything but the skeleton.
Loimos bit right into Imigob's arm, grabbing him by his other arm, he dragged him away with ease, like an adult picking up a small child.
Struggling amounted to nothing, Loimos submerged himself alongside his prey, not giving a thought about the fact that he was killing a monster with a bright future ahead of himself, Imigob was a genius never seen before in the tribe.
Talent and potential couldn't save him from drowning.
It didn't take long for him to stop moving, the rotten waters, now constituted of more vile blood than anything else corroded his eyes, lips and any soft tissue, invading his throat and lungs, he passed out from pain before suffocating.
His life force dissipated, turning and transforming, shifting into death force.
Loimos didn't bother to turn the corpse into rot, he quickly reemerged onto the shore, facing the only two goblins capable of fighting back.
The chieftain rested his stone club on his shoulder, shaking his head and cracking his neck, he assumed a disgruntled expression as he stared at Loimos.
The downfall of the goblins signified the fall of this entire, little world.
As if reacting to the prospect of wiping out all life present around, his hollow sockets were ignited with a glow much different from that of the other undeads.
The dark flames burning within that of the others were dreadful and threatening, this was entirely different.
There was no fire burning in Loimos's eyes, yet, it was as if two lanterns had been lit, he casted a dark purple light in front of him, blinding the chieftain as an intense fear tried to consume him whole.
All undeads inspired a strong dread, all undeads reminded without fail to the living that death would eventually claim them.
The stronger the undead, the most powerful that sensation was.
Loimos wasn't very strong, but the terror he emitted was nearly paralysing.
"Stolgob, take your beauty and do your best to run" Gobstroz was the chieftain of this tribe, he had no other choice but to be buried alongside his tribesmen.
Stolgob had no such obligations and it could always be justified as an attempt to preserve their heritage and legacy.
The goblin didn't attempt to go against the chieftain's orders and did as he was told, running deeper in the forest with rapid steps as he carried Irgob on his back.
"Come over here! Face me like a man!" Gobstroz didn't have any fuel left for insults, so he just began making his way toward the walking corpse.
Stone club in hand, he couldn't help but notice that Loimos wasn't looking at him, staring at the back of Stolgob as he disappeared behind the foliage.
The chieftain didn't know that Loimos didn't have to make such an obvious head movement to be able to clearly perceive them, he didn't even know what an undead was.
So he truly believed that he had his sights solely on the run-aways.
He rushed forward, toward his imminent end.
Comentario de párrafo
¡La función de comentarios de párrafo ya está en la Web! Mueva el mouse sobre cualquier párrafo y haga clic en el icono para agregar su comentario.
Además, siempre puedes desactivarlo en Ajustes.
ENTIENDO