Dialysis Book: Intermission Lord Gol’Nik

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“We already removed his core, so if we don’t try this little freak is dead anyway.”

All that ever happened to him was pain.  As a goblin that was to be expected, but he wasn’t a goblin anymore.  Those adventures weren’t content to kill him, they wanted him to suffer.  He was afraid, for the first time ever.  Goblins didn’t get afraid, could get afraid.  They were monsters and monsters couldn’t be afraid because their cores didn’t permit them to be afraid but his core was removed.

He might run, he should have when the adventurers came into his warren.  They slew all the elders, including his sire and dam.  Slew all the priests, all the fellowship until no one remained by the children.

The dead were the lucky ones.

After they were removed, the thrice damned adventurers began the experiments.  Removing a monster’s core should have killed it.  Would have killed it if the system knew any mercy, but the system did not.  The system did not care about monsters after they were spawned.

So one by one his brothers and sisters died screaming in mortal agony as the adventurers removed their cores.  The level of the shardsmith required to remove a system core from a living monster was phenomenal, and he failed every time for six months.  Six screaming months of dying goblins.

The dead were the lucky ones.

Finally they learned the trick, the trick of removing a monster core from a living monster.  Even then the core could only be removed for a few moments before the system itself caused the monster to die from the most horrific of agonies, the twisting death as the system lost control over every aspect of the monsters at once.

The dead were the lucky ones.

Finally, the adventures started chipping off portions of the cores and reinserting them.  Trying to remove the behavioral limiters on a monster was a task so difficult that it made every previous attempt look like child’s play by comparison.  It truly was a divine task to modify shards, and they failed in the most horrible ways.

The dead were the lucky ones.

Finally a convergence happened, and in their desperation they gathered up relics of power deciding to use a system ritual.  Their legendary shardsmith used his powers in conjunction with the ritual and managed to break off the behavioral controls of a single goblin. He died screaming.  The Shardsmith tried it on three more.

The dead were the lucky ones.

One survived for an hour, a broken, bloody no long goblin.  They couldn’t get the core back in.  Without her core, the goblin mutated into a massive ball of muscles and anger. Then she died and he was alone.  All of his brothers and sisters were dead and only he remained.

Finally, mercifully, they removed his core.  The pain was greater than anything he could imagine, but it was the final injury they could cause him.

It would all finally be over.

“What is your name,” yelled an adventurer, she had blue hair.  He hated blue hair.

“Gol’Nik.”

“I order you to sit in that chair,” said another, one with red hair.  An elf.  He hated elves.

“No,” replied Gol’Nik.

“It worked, I told you it would work,” said the blue haired adventurer.  “The ritual of ascension worked.  It was enough to break the restrictions and allow him to be free.”

“But the festival of butterflies is a convergence.  We used enough relics to make a system lord,” replied the red haired torturer.

The blue haired fiend scoffed, “We checked for that.  System lords don’t normally die, and only a handful have ever died on a convergence.  Unless you think Petah is going to slip and break his neck or the fairies are going to finally kill off the human system lord, we are safe.”

The red haired fiend snorted, “Fine, it was a worthy risk.  I’m amazed that a fairy would be so interested.”

“She did this,” asked Gol’Nik.

“Yes, she granted you your free will,” said the red haired bastard, “And now…”

He never finished.  Gol’Nik found the scalpel they used to cut out his core and drove it into the adventurer’s back with all the force he could muster.  He was just a goblin, but his hatred drove the blade through the elf until the bloody tip was exposed.

Gol’Nik had been aiming for the heart.

“How,” screamed the blue haired girl as she lifted her hand to cast a spell at him.  Gol’Nik rushed towards her in a blur, to his constant regret.  He took her hands in his and twisted.  The bones cracked and shattered as he tore them free.  It was impossible to cast spells without hands, everyone knew that.

Next was the bringer of his pain, but she was gone already.

Gol’Nik screamed in rage, screamed in agony, screamed in fury, and screamed in mourning.  For his world had been destroyed.

***

“Lord Gol’Nik,” said Chort, a loyal servant.  One of many loyal servants.  Chort was a hero, weaker than the agents another system lord might use but as the System Lord of the Goblins, Gol’Nik did not possess massive supplies of powerfully cored adventurers to recruit from.

His ilk were the ones slaughtered by adventures.

Worse, Goblinkind could not even handle anything more potent than a heroic core.  He had more heroes than the rest of the system lords put together, but that was only because the other system lords would sneer at such a force.

As a rule, System Lords could only empower so many agents.  The rule of six was informal, but generally kept that a System Lord could provide boons to only 6 mythical cored adventurers.  They could in turn grant boons to 6 heroes under them.  Mortal cores were of course beneath their notice.

The goblin race had no such limitation, he could bring as many heroic goblins to bear at a problem as he desired but each time a goblin hero was killed an adventurer gained power.  Earlier, Cho’Nik’s efforts had lead to a bit of a boon in the adventurer community, so now he was more careful when he deployed his assets.  His caution only existed within his own forces though, and he often worked through unaffiliated goblin warrens who cared little for limits imposed on them.

No matter, Gol’Nik would do what needed to be done.

Gol’Nik’s eyes opened and he sat up from his bed, beside him a dozen hairy goblins rested, or pretended to rest.  They would want to hear his plans, and he would let them.  Such was the reason many shared his bed.

When he awoke, becoming aware of himself for the first time, he had not been aware of what a system lord even was.  Then he learned of the power of a system lord.  Every moment after that was learning that the powers of a system lord were weak, and could be overcome.

But the trick was not to be the one who was overcome.  It was to overcome others as opportunities presented themselves.  Others such as Domagal.

“What word brings you,” he said, reaching down to stroke a hairy backside.  He knew she was awake.

“Spies report that the elves are moving against each other in Dominus, and your raids nearby are being responded to by adventurers, not agents.  The elves are preparing for another power struggle,” said Chort confidently.

Gol’Nik almost went back to bed, “Again?  They will exhaust themselves well before the convergence.”  Still, he considered his map of the region.  He had goblins everywhere because monsters were everywhere.  He could damage his foes if there was an opportunity.

“I had a thought, my lord,” said Chort.  Gol’Nik glared at the temerity of the servant, but the expression lacked any real heat.  There was a reason Chort was here.

“Go on,” said the system lord.

“The Brass Bell is still missing, whereabouts unknown,” said Chort quickly.  Before he could be interrupted he blurted out his idea, “We could say it is in Dominus, that was the original destination according to your sources.”

Gol’Nik had been somewhat upset that the relic had been stolen.  He lacked the proper configuration of relics to use it in a ritual, but as bait the item had been quite potent.  The Domagal had lost several agents searching for the item only to have it stolen out from under her by an unknown system lord’s agent.

She might not know that, he realized.  The elven witch was powerful, but her spells couldn’t confirm the location of a relic she had not touched with her own hands and each time the relics were used the system generated entirely new ones.  The elf figured out where he was keeping that relic, but could not know which one it was and so now she had no idea where it had gotten off too.

The safe bet was that another system lord moved it, and they wouldn’t be talking about the relic at all.

“What is your plan,” asked Gol’Nik.

“We use your spies in the city to claim the brass bell is in Dominus, the elves will tear the city apart to find it,” said Chort.

“That will make the upcoming raid far more effective,” mused Gol’Nik.

“And fewer agents will make my attack far more effective,” said Chort, with a wicked grin.

“And the packages,” said Gol’Nik.

“Messenger bats have been returning, despite your express orders some of the items have been used,” said Chort uncomfortably.

Gol’Nik on the other hand anticipated that.  His people were not fully controlled by the system anymore, but there were stong urges ingrained into them.  Urges he alone no longer felt, but could remember.  The urge to create mayhem would have been so strong no goblin could resist, so he took precautions.

“No matter,” said Gol’Nik.  “There is enough extra so that my people can experiment a bit.  Find the worst offenders and punish them, but as long as at least half of the packages are delivered the raid will be successful.”

Gol’Nik glanced over at his map, happy again that only he could see it.  Each of his minions was moving closer and closer to the goal, and the results there would be interesting.  With the convergence almost upon them, goading the foolish elves into another battle was child’s play.  Then, weakened, he would raid their city for items of power.

Of course, Gol’Nik knew that wasn’t Chort’s plan.

Chort thought he was to be the next system lord, he was wrong.  His plan was to attack the very palace of the elves and strike down Domagal allowing him to perform a ritual of accession.  That would make Chort another goblin system lord.

Except Gol’Nik estimated he had no greater than one chance in a thousand of being successful.  Still, at least that desire for evolution was aimed outside his own race.  Gol’Nik’s loyal followers were chosen specifically because they wanted to kill people other than Gol’Nik himself to advance their power.

So while Chort was extremely unlikely to be successful in his attack despite all of the tricks he employed, his force was likely to do quite a bit of damage and loot a considerable haul of treasure.  Gol’Nik would be content with those results, even though he was sure Chort would not be returning.

It was a flaw in the character of his people.  They were monsters, and monsters strove to tear down the world.  It was a tiny, creeping thought that always persisted in the back of every goblin’s mind every moment of every day.  That thought and pain was what had initially driven Gol’Nik.

Worse, he’d actually mitigated the instinct with his first ritual of accession he’d completed for his people.  Before the instinct roared at them, now it just growled.  Many more rituals of ascension would be necessary to completely fix his people so that they could choose their own destiny instead of having the system assign them a role.

They would still be monsters, but if he could break the instinct then they would be a free thinking monster species and that would be something new.  Something terrible.

Something to avenge the dead.

The system’s instinct were shackles on his people that prevented them from evolving past heroes.  It also stopped them from building the kind of civilization that would allow him to challenge the other races.

Chort’s desire to tear down the elven civilization would consume him.  It did not matter to Gol’Nik.  Chort, because he was a goblin, was never able to think clearly enough to see to his race’s problem.  Goblins existed in a system that hated them.

That was fine.  Gol’Nik hated the system right back.  He reached into the bed again and found another hairy leg.  She too was awake, and not even concerned enough about his anger to feign sleep.  He would ‘avenge’ himself upon her later, but she was not his current goal.

Gol’Nik’s dream was to break those shackles.  The very limits the system built into goblins were what prevented goblins from achieving their rightful place.  They were like beetles, there were a million million times more goblins than all of the other species and when he was done they would be the dominant power in the world.

Even if everything didn’t go perfectly to Chort’s plan, he could at least hurt the elves.  They were responsible for the deaths of so many of his people it was mind boggling.  It was the unexpected death of their system lord Petah that allowed him to claim his rightful place as a system lord.

Then he would find the fairy that was responsible for his torture.  He wanted to thank her, before he ate her.  Eighty years of searching and he wasn’t even sure which one it was, his mind was so new he didn’t recognize the fairy as she fled.

They had a plan, something to do with altering monster cores.  He still wasn’t sure what, and none of the ones he’d captured actually knew what the plan had been.  With everyone gunning after fairies it was possible he’d never learn.   So he ate every one he’d captured just to be safe.  He’d find her eventually, he’d recognize her taste.  Her smell.

He remembered her smell even after 80 years.

He had time.  System Lords were longer lived than even legendary adventurers, and they lived for centuries.  Speaking of which he reached into the pile again until he found a smooth neck.

Yanking, he pulled up a handful of blue hair.  It was still just as healthy as the first time, as it would remain for centuries.  A stump pushed weakly against him and he pulled her from the pile.  It was a good night.