Oozewart

The crypt-licker's half burned face peered into the grave. At least, it would have done if it had possessed eyes. As it was, Oozewart didn't know what it was doing, but it still felt like it was studying her. 

"I know I'm pretty, but ya don't have to stare!" she called up to it, and the creature laughed again. Did it understand what she was saying? It didn't seem possible, and no-one had ever reported meeting an intelligent crypt-licker, but this one seemed to understand speech. 

"Maybe the laugh isn't a laugh," she said to herself. "Maybe it's another kind of growl. Or a burp. Or a hiccup. Or... a mating call... eww." The thought of the crypt-licker calling its mate over to dine on her fresh corpse was not pleasant. 

Oozewart had thought that she'd climb out the grave and hide in the hut, but for some reason she seemed fairly safe in her little hole. Why wasn't the monster diving in with her? She thought those things loved graves. So far, her first night on the job was teaching her that she knew next to nothing about crypt-lickers. 

Intending to study the creature some more, she looked up, only to find that it had gone. "It's probably gotta meet its date," she said to herself, wondering what a crypt-licker date was like. As long as it meant the monster left her alone, she didn't really care. Something burned in her pocket, a sensation she knew well. The pocketwatch wanted revenge. It always wanted revenge. That was what had encouraged her to give Lowtrap a knuckle-sandwich in the first place. “Calm yerself,” she said to the pocketwatch as she patted her pocket. She really did have to find out what that inscription on the back of it meant. 

Trying to ignore how cold and wet she was, Oozewart got in the most comfortable position she could. She'd decided to stay in the grave until sunrise and then reassess the situation. Oozewart couldn't remember if crypt-lickers liked the sun or if they spontaneously combusted at the sight of the yellow ball of light in the sky, but she supposed she might find out soon enough.

She leant back against the wall of mud and tried to relax, even allowing her eyes to close. Within moments, something hard and heavy slammed against her skull.

"Wot the fuck!?" she yelled, jumping to her feet. Her scythe lay in the hole with her. What was her scythe doing there? Excited, the pocketwatch burned again.

"Pick it up," a high-pitched voice said from somewhere above. 

Oozewart looked up and saw the crypt-licker. "You can talk? Crypt-lickers ain’t supposed to talk."

"And goblins aren't supposed to throw exploding flowers at my head, so this night's been full of surprises," the crypt-licker replied, its voice definitely not matching its appearance. 

"Yeah... er... sorry about that," Oozewart said. "I didn't know they were gonna do that. I was just trying to annoy... I mean... distract you."

"You certainly managed to both annoy and distract me." As the crypt-licker spoke, a thick line of drool spilled off its tongue. It landed in the grave with a hiss as it burned through whatever organic matter it touched. "Sorry, you might want to be mindful of that."

"Ya don't say," Oozewart said, moving her bare foot away from the fizzing puddle. That stuff had come dangerously close to stealing a couple of toes... which would have been a terrible shame, as many said that Oozewart's toes were her best feature. Covered in hard skin and thick nails, they were gross. Goblins loved all things gross. Except for crypt-lickers, as they weren't just gross, they were fucking terrifying. 

"So, goblin," the crypt-licker said. "Have you got any other magic? Other than the flowers?"

"Just the usual goblin stuff," she replied. "And, like I said, I didn't know the flowers were gonna do that... they just did."

"A likely story," the crypt-licker said, its voice so high it practically squeaked. "Even I know not to trust a goblin."

"Believe me or don't, it makes no difference to me," Oozewart said, exhaustion creeping over her. It had been a long night in a long week, in a long lifetime, and she was feeling it. 

"So you really have no useful magic?" There was an urgency in the creature's voice now. It was searching for a specific answer.

"I can do goblin shit," she said, wondering how many times she was going to have to repeat herself. She hated repeating herself, it was tiresome. "I can turn invisible, scare people... that kind of thing. Any of that useful to ya?"

The crypt-licker sighed. "I suppose not."

"Sorry."

"So am I," it replied. "It looks like I'm going to have to do this the old fashioned way."

"Wot's this? Wot's the old fashioned way? Wot was the other option?" Question after question poured out of Oozewart's mouth, each one escaping before the crypt-licker had the chance to answer the previous one. Oozewart didn't know what 'this' was, but from the tone of the creature's voice, she knew she wanted no part of it. 

"Pick up the scythe," it said.

"Wot?"

If the creature had possessed eyes, it would have rolled them. "Pick up the scythe," it repeated. From the sounds of its voice, it hated repeating itself as much as Oozewart did. 

Oozewart stood over the scythe and hesitated before picking it up. It looked the same as it had before she'd lost it. It didn't seem to be cursed or boobytrapped, but she wasn't sure if she'd be able to spot a curse even if it was... at least not until it was too late. 

"Pick it up," the creature insisted. "You're going to need a weapon. Well, you're going to need that specific weapon."

"Wot for?" she asked.

"What do you think? Why does anyone ever need a weapon? Violence, my dear. Good, old fashioned, violence."

"Who am I fightin’?" Oozewart asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Me," the creature said before jumping down into the grave with her. 

Oozewart made a sound that could be translated as panic in any language and grabbed for the scythe. Again, her pocketwatch burned. 

"Very good," the crypt-licker said, its face inches from hers. "Now, the aim of the game is to spill blood. Blood is the important part. Do you understand?"

Oozewart nodded.

"Give it all you've got then, goblin. Let's see what you're made of."

Oozewart lifted the scythe to attack at the same time as the crypt-licker lunged at her. Its acidic drool splattered against her cloak, melting away little patches here and there. This wasn't fair, Oozewart was grossly outmatched. On a good day, the worst her saliva could do was make someone want to throw up their lunch. Somehow, she didn't think that was going to be enough to secure her victory here.

'I've gotta use my wits,' she thought, while also thinking she was doomed, as she didn’t always have an abundance of those.  

"Remember the aim of the game, goblin," the crypt-licker said, its high-pitched voice seriously grating on her nerves now. "The aim of the game is to spill blood."

"I don't remember sayin’ that I wanted to play," she said, stepping backwards. Her back touched the muddy wall behind her. There was nowhere else to go. It was kill or be killed.

Oozewart snarled.

"Yes! Yes! My little friend! Give it all you've got!" The crypt-licker was practically giddy with excitement, bouncing from foot to foot, while grinning at her with its deadly sharp fangs. 

Oozewart decided to give up trying to use her wits, not that she'd really tried at all. Instead, she was going to use rage, brute force, and the sharp pointy thing in her hands. If that didn't work and the monster tried to eat her, she'd bite it right back. 

Aiming for the crypt-licker's exposed throat, she swung the scythe. Moonlight bounced off the blade as it moved, making it seem almost magical. For a tiny moment, Oozewart wondered if it would explode like the flowers had. Was this how she was going to find out that she really was special and magic? Was this the moment her whole life had been building towards? Was she about to change the world? She’d always felt like she was different, like she was destined for something greater. Was this when she finally met her true potential?

No. 

There was no explosion, and she still didn't appear to possess any magic aside from that which every goblin had. It was a shame, but she had at least achieved something.

She'd slit the crypt-licker's throat.

The creature gurgled as if trying to say something and blood cascaded out of the wound, landing in the mud and mingling with its acidic saliva. 

The ground shook as the creature collapsed, still appearing to wear a smile on its face. Was this what it wanted? If so, why? It didn't make sense. What kind of game was this?

Wind whistled through the graveyard, its tone and tune more urgent than before. Increasing speed, the wind blew around and around. Trees waved uncontrollably. Small creatures took flight against their will. The ground shook and Oozewart stumbled. Flashes of lightning exploded in her eyes, making it hard to see what was going on around her. Confused, Oozewart screamed. 

And then she was falling. 

Falling and falling. 

She fell for so long she thought she might fall forever. 

But then she stopped, and her body collided with what felt like stone. Now it wasn't just her knees that ached. 

"Ugh..." she said.

"Thank you," a high-pitched voice said. 

*****

This isn't the end...

You’ve just reached the end of the public preview for "Portal Goblin: Volume 1". As, like many writers, I'm scared that AI is gonna try to scrape my work, the rest of this manuscript is protected by a spell (okay, maybe it's not a spell, but I was feeling whimsical!). You can still read the rest of the story though, so don't worry.

Here's a couple of counter-spells (cos I'm leaning into the spell thing... just got with it, okay?):

1. Log into your World Anvil account and CLICK HERE TO BECOME A FREERANGE FIEND AND UNLOCK ACCESS. This automatically updates your profile permissions so you can read the weekly episodes free as they drop. You'll need a World Anvil account though, but you can get one of those bad boys for free.
   
   
2. Grab an ebook or paperback! Grab it from one of these delightful retailers!