“What the fuck was that?” Zignik asked.

Puck ducked behind a stalactite and covered his mouth. He found the whole situation quite amusing, in spite of accidentally revealing himself.

“There’s nothing there. Did you lead us into a haunted cave?” Cudgel asked the leader after looking around.

The leader, still angry and suspicious after the cudgel bearing goblin had questioned its leadership and admitted to being willing to kill it over their companion, no longer needed a spell to take out its frustration. Goblins never were particularly known for their common sense.

“Do you think you could have done better? We’re being hunted and how the fuck was I supposed to know there was a ghost in the fucking cave?” It brandished its poignard.

“Oh, I definitely could have done better. In my sleep. While being eaten by wolves. I piss better than you lead.”

Zignik continued peering into the shadows and looking around the tall stone teeth that rose from the ground in search of the source of the laughter while the other two argued. His back was to the leader and its poignard. Even Puck was startled when the leader suddenly leapt forward and drove the dagger into Zignik’s back precisely between the third and fourth rib and angled it perfectly into his heart. Zignik gurgled and there was a moment of completely silence before his hand release and his mace clattered to the ground, followed shortly after by his crumpled body. Blood dripped from the poignard.

Cudgel dropped his club and swept up the mace from the floor.

“Now it’s you and me,” the leader said. “Submit and I’ll forgive your mutiny.”

“You just fucking killed Zignik!” Cudgel, now Bone-mace, protested.

“Humans killed him. Just like they killed Mugnock,” the leader growled. “Just like they killed you, Chak.”

The two goblins began to circle each other.

Puck preferred the name Bone-mace, but he was impressed. He had barely made any effort at all and the goblins were falling over themselves to kill each other and, incidentally, feed him. The thought reminded him that the body was still there and his brow furrowed as he set to work absorbing it. It disintegrated and a small thrill of power rushed through his form as the mana filled him a little more. Between the constant influx of energy from the environment and the two goblins, he felt about a quarter of the way full. It was exponentially better than when he woke, but he was nowhere near satisfied. He noticed the cudgel lying on the ground and consumed it as well. A scroll came and went.

You have gained a cudgel (2 lb. Value: 5 cp) as Treasure. Largely a glorified branch whittled into a weapon, this is the most basic of basic. You can now include this in drops from your Monsters.

Puck’s actions did not go unnoticed this time. The leader of the goblins happened to be facing Zignik’s body as it was absorbed. It stopped and let down it’s defenses for a moment as a look of realization flew across its face.

“Oh fuck, we’re in a fucking dun. . . “

A soft, meaty thud and a cracking sound filled the otherwise quiet tunnel as Chak’s newly acquired bone mace slammed into the leader’s ribs. The leader reflexively grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the weapon and stabbed his poignard into his opponent’s gut, pulled it out and slammed it home again. Three, four, fives times the blade slipped in and out and the light finally went out of the dying monster’s eyes. As the goblin finished off its last remaining follower, Puck floated down from the ceiling and landed softly on his feet. The spirit smiled at the wounded leader as it pushed the body off and to the ground, between it and the entrance.

“Well done,” Puck said.

The remaining goblin stared at the disembodied sprite in fear. “Y. . . y. . . you did this!” it stuttered and coughed, blood flecking its lips from inside.

Puck laughed. “No, you did. I just gave you some. . . inspiration.” He tilted his head curiously at the goblin. “I think you’ll be joining your friends soon. Let me make it easier.”

In sleep we stand at the border of death,

So rest, beast, and in peace take thy last breath.

Nothing happened. There was no surge of mana being spent, no drain in the well. Nothing. Puck’s jaw dropped in frustration. The goblin stared at him with wide eyes, then ran for the entrance. The poignard dropped from his hands as he ran. The sprite moved to block his way. The goblin ran right through him. Puck’s eyebrows narrowed and he appeared in front of the fleeing monster. It ran through him again, stumbling on the uneven ground of the cavern and coughing up blood. Its breath was ragged and coming to the creature with more and more difficulty as it ran.

Puck was out of ideas and watched helplessly as the goblin fled. His magic only worked with what was allowed by the system and he had no idea how to control his environment. The only hope he had left was that the little green humanoid’s obviously punctured lung would kill it before it escaped. All he had in his arsenal were his illusions. The thought made him feel like an idiot, and he cast a spell.

Let the yawning freedom seem a wall,

So the dead may keep company, one and all.

As the dungeon, Puck had a strange ability to perceive the illusion he created in the minds of his victims, and reality at the same time. So he saw as his spell registered while the goblin was already halfway through the wall’s space and it failed to notice. The goblin ran out the exit. At the very last second, a twisting root caught its foot and it tripped and rolled. It rolled three or four times before coming to a stop face down on the ground. As Puck watched it shuddered one time and died. He grinned in satisfaction and attempted to absorb its body. The gloating sprite’s glee drained as it realized the goblin was outside of his zone of influence. By a foot.

“Well, fuck.”