(Book One Complete!) Friendly Neighbourhood Goblin (Mercenary Company LitRPG)

"Bolt the doors!"

A series of loud thuds followed the command as the manor locked and braced for its final line of defence.

Show no fear. The words traded hesitantly between defenders, imbued with power only through its repetition.

Rilla and Wick crossed rooms, tallying their numbers and calling for Durgish and Eskel to patch up any wounds. Both Medics obeyed, but warned their virtue was running low.

Dharmis propped Tallas in a chair and whispered words of comfort, and a frantic storm of voices out of sight confirmed others still alive—Morg, Boren, and the Orwens. Tydas and Merra, who'd emerged from the cellar. There were others of the Iron Fleece Stump hadn't met, but if they lived through the day he promised himself he would learn all their names.

"They're moving by the windows!" Ilora called.

Shapes skittered outside, and the smoke followed. It snuffed the twilight gloom, shrouding the manor in a darkness deeper than the rainstorm.

Everyone hushed. Waited. The manor creaked, and chitters beyond teased of the coming assault. Faelan jolted at the shudder of the dining hall doors. Thudding sounded from the storage room, the greenhouse, the sunroom.

"Can't see nothing out there," Hadder's voice quivered. He held his sword like someone might wield a hammer.

"That's cause there's smoke," said Durgish, kneeling next to Tallas.

"I can use my eyes, dwarf."

"And it's starting to r-rain again," said Wick.

Stump heard it, too. The gentle patter along the walls steadily grew into what sounded like the second coming of a downpour. But it was strangely clawing…

"That's not rain…" he breathed.

Nell finished his thought, oddly calm. "They're climbing the walls."

Shouts came from above. Glass shattered, and the battle was met. Rilla summoned what was left of her virtue and rallied everyone to their positions. Tallas, now conscious enough to regain his bearings, followed Durgish, Wick, and Boren upstairs. Everyone moved about with heightened precision, covering every room, every window and door, bracing for the entryways to crash open to the goblin horde.

Somehow in the frenzy Maven managed to slip by, and waved her pipe in the air like a banner.

"Greenhouse! They're coming through my greenhouse!" she cried.

Stump knew what to do—they'd planned their defence for days.

"Aim true!" Rilla bellowed.

Power buzzed through his chest and out to his fingertips. It was a dizzying meld with the bloodlust, but after its sharp intake came hawklike focus.

He grabbed a candlestick and a nearby sling, and Maven pulled open the greenhouse door with a grunt. Commander-infused accuracy killed the menacing smile of the goblin in the doorway. He ducked, but Stump wasn't aiming for him. The Speak-To-Me-Not wheezed on impact. Noxious gas sighed from its bulbs, settling a green mist beneath the noses of the invaders.

"Close it!" Stump said.

Maven threw her weight against the door, slamming it shut before the fumes drifted inside. She slid to the floor with a satisfied grin. It nudged into a chuckle as the coughing ensued, and then to maniacal laughter when the goblins gave in to the manic chatter of botanically induced insanity.

"That's right!" she called through the door. "Enjoy the next twelve to eighteen hours of your pitiful lives, if you can live that long!"

With the greenhouse secured, they scattered to the rest of the manor. Rocks sailed through windows, cratering the economic value of wall paintings and blowing apart chairs. Smoke curled in, and goblins followed.

Shrieks announced their presence as they landed on carpets lined with broken glass. Ivis, pressed against a wall, leapt out and sunk his fire poker into the neck of an invader. Celetta doused another in boiling water. Servants emerged from the shadows, wooden planks and chairs in hand, and brought them down again and again.

"We've got the windows, sir Stump!" Ivis called. "Show no fear!"

The felari's words carried no arcane weight, but his conviction instilled a bravery Stump carried to the foyer, where the doors heaved against heavy raps and war cries. Merra and Tydas stood by the hearth, weapons in hand. Ilora and another from her company squared for battle.

By the time Stump looked up to ensure the trap was still in place, it had already been sprung. The doors smashed open, and the rope snapped. A log swung down from the ceiling, held aloft by chains, and barrelled the goblins back through the threshold like a godly spear.

And from it the Firestone rolled out of its pouch. The explosion shook fixtures off walls and threw a cloud of dirt and gravel through the doorway. Streaks of goblin blood coloured the ground, and their frantic screams signalled retreat.

But only for a moment.

The rest of the horde bore down, frothing and angry.

They won't stop, Stump thought. At least two or three dozen had to be dead by now. Where are you, Thrung?

Ilora lifted her sword and shield. "They're coming!" she said.

Four charged through the settling dust, and three more shattered nearby windows and engaged with the manor defenders. Ilora stepped forward with her ally and thrust steel into flesh.

Knowing the foyer was too enclosed to use his magic without blinding his friends, Stump grabbed nearby hearth stones and volleyed them at the enemy. One down. Two. Ilora floored another with her shield. Tydas cleaved a fourth. Merra killed two with one sweep of a rapier, but still the goblins came. Fearless. Angry.

Someone yelled from above. There was a thump, a crash, and a scream. Who is that? Stump wondered, but before he could chase the thought, Rilla thundered by, yelling commands with her frayed voice.

"They've broken through the dining hall!" she said.

Distant thunder rolled near. Bright orange light lanced through the front doorway. Stump tried to scream, but the impact drowned the sound.

Flames spewed burning wood and set tapestries alight. Chairs buckled. Jagged knives of glass cut the air and drew heat across Stump's cheeks, arms, and neck as he turned from the explosion.

When he spun back, the Rainstone was in his hand. He threw it low and watched as it skidded over rubble, ejecting pellets of water and turning fire into towers of smoke and steam and drenching the hall in soaked heat.

"Fall back!" someone called, farther away. Is that Morg?

Ilora turned and ran. Her ally would have followed if he wasn't a melted husk of metal. Tydas lifted Merra off the ground, whose belly was dark with blood—when did she get hurt?

They were running before Stump could dwell on the thought, and he followed close behind.

The cover of the Smokestone lifted, inviting slants of golden sunset through the windows. It might have been pretty if not for the goblins clambering in and their bodies piling up. But where one died two more appeared, stepping over broken glass and the corpses of the dead with relentless determination.

There's so many. They won't stop.

Ivis and Celetta fled a room swarmed by the horde. Boren, Tallas and Kestrel sprinted down the stairs, sponging rocks and thrown weapons from every angle. Blood painted the wall. Fire blackened the wood.

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Stump coughed hard and blinked through the daze of heat. He was in a hallway, he realized, windowless and narrow, but he couldn't stop to find his bearings. He was carried on a wave of retreat more than he was moving on his own. Somewhere ahead iron screeched, and cool wind rushed over him. Someone shouted, but he couldn't separate the voice from the din of battle or his own thumping heartbeat.

At the end of the hall they began to lower one by one into a room beneath the manor.

"I… I don't think… I can…" Eskel wheezed.

The old man shuffled behind, one hand propping himself against the wall. Blood dribbled down his leg from a dark spot under his ribs. Morg and Ivis moved to help him as the rest of them filed through the trapdoor and into the cellar.

"Take him down," Ivis said. "I'll ensure they don't follow."

Goblins turned down the hall, leaping over one another in their struggle to kill.

Stump rushed to the door with Morg and Eskel and helped the old man duck through, then turned back and wrapped his fingers around the handle. The tribe neared, and Ivis squared his shoulders. He's too far to make it, Stump thought.

"Ivis!" he called.

The felari glanced back with a sad smile. "You see little Lyda makes it out of this," he said, and turned to face the horde. He spread his feet wide and raised the fire iron with both hands. "Show no fear, sir Stump."

Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled - Virtue +1 (10/9)

The last thing Stump saw before the door squealed shut was Ivis, posed in the regal manner of a knight, bringing his weapon down as the army crashed over him.

"No fear!" he roared.

The cold and musty air warmed with the desperate panting of mercenaries.

One by one bubbles of candlelight flared to life, unmasking cobwebbed shelves and wine racks heavy with dust. Swords and shields clattered to the floor, and before Stump could scan the faces of those still alive, the trapdoor shook.

Morg left Eskel against the wall and bounded up the steps and out of sight. "We got a plan here?" he called back down between grunts. "No tellin' how long I can hold it closed."

Rilla allowed herself only a moment to gasp for air, and another to wipe the sweat from her forehead before she was up again, pacing the dank space and listing the names of the defenders with a tone veering stubbornly from defeat.

"Medic!" Tydas called, pressing down on the wound across Merra's belly. Blood pooled beneath her. "Eskel!" He looked back to find the old healer slumped and nodding off, mumbling incoherently.

Hadder slapped him to no effect. "He's fading, I think," he said.

"Dying?" Celetta's voice broke.

"Not yet. Out cold for now."

Tydas frantically glanced about. "Someone who can heal, then! Hurry!" he begged, the cool evenness of his speech having fallen away.

Lyda rushed out of the shadows. "Ma? Ma!" she cried. Maven followed and fell to her knees by her daughter.

Durgish waddled over, nursing several injuries of his own, and squatted by the unconscious Merra. "I don't got any virtue left, so it's got to be natural, hear?" he said and wasted no time getting to work. He tore Merra's tunic with a paring knife and brushed away the blood. After a pause he glanced up, and from his grave expression the lord of Peaktree went pale.

"Save her," he said, halfway between a command and a plea.

Rilla continued her roll call, unshaken by the dying. Everyone responded except for two members of the Iron Fleece and three of the household staff. Stump's ears fell at the silence that followed Ivis' name.

"Alright, everyone up," Rilla said over the clanging door and Morg's strained voice. "This is our last line of defence. They have the upper hand, but the stairs are narrow and the room is wide enough to stage a shield wall… if we had more shields. Wick, search the cellar for anything that can be used. Barrels. Planks. Ilora, Dharmis, Boren, Tallas, break down anything he finds. Hadder, stop Eskel's bleeding while Durgish works on the lady. Faelan and Nell, gather bottles of wine…"

Her hastily cobbled plan went on, interrupted by glances to the ceiling where the storm of footfalls shook free pillars of dust. Those she named obeyed with reluctant enthusiasm, as if Chrona had granted them a vision of the end and they had resigned to following their roles before the inevitable.

Stump moved to the Valroys to lend his support. He put a hand on Tydas' shoulder, but the lord barely registered his presence. He was busy wiping strands of hair from Merra's face and whispering assurances into her ear.

"Merra… my dear…" was all Stump could parse.

Maven lent a hand to the dwarf at his instruction, and Lyda sobbed into her mother's gown. Kestrel knelt nearby, at the ready for support when needed.

After some time Durgish sat back, hands red. "I'm sorry," he said. "The wound's treated, but she's lost too much blood." His eyes fell, and Stump felt the pain of the dwarf's failure.

Could've been a fisherman, ye know? Durgish had told him.

Tydas shook his head and strengthened his voice, as if by sheer will alone he might summon some magic from the corpse of a faraway god. But no virtue moved from him to Merra, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest slowed.

Lyda let out a final heavy sob and looked up to her grandmother. A silent question sparkled in the young girl's eyes, a desperate stare that tightened Maven's features.

The old lady considered the Solarmancer with worry and contempt, then squeezed Lyda's hand. "You must, my dear," she answered.

Before Stump could piece together what they were talking about, Lyda bent forward.

"Ma…" she said. She covered Merra with her body and sunk her teeth into her mother's neck.

Tydas pulled back slowly, mouth agape. Confusion gave way to horror, and back to confusion as he listened to the soft slurps of blood bringing colour to Merra's face.

She opened her eyes and stole a sharp breath.

"Lyda…" Tydas began, but the rest of his thoughts tumbled out incoherently. He was afraid, he was relieved, Stump could see, but no matter what his collected thoughts might be, in that moment the lord of Peaktree threw his arms around his family and drew them close.

Stump's smile faded when he noticed Kestrel rising to his feet.

The Solarmancer stepped back, and the lumen flickered in his hand. "Under my nose…" he whispered.

Stump straightened. "Kestrel," he warned.

His voice shook the Valroys from their joyful tears. They looked up at the lizardfolk and the dead glare in his eyes.

"The door's heatin' up," said Morg. "Think they're tryin' to burn us out!"

Rilla rallied who she could, but Stump didn't hear her call. He was too focused on Kestrel.

The Solarmancer raised his arm and the light followed. It brightened.

Merra leapt to her feet and shoved Lyda away in a surge of strength, and pounced faster than any tall man could, landing on Kestrel's chest and throwing him into a rack of wines.

Glass shattered and wood snapped. The light flickered and blinked out when Merra drove her own fangs into his shoulder.

A wheezing scream brought daylight to the cellar. Stump staggered, his ears curling at an anguished cry. When he blinked through the light, Merra was rolling on the floor in a steaming heap, clawing her face. Maven collapsed with a shriek of pain.

They're all vampires, Stump realized. The whole family.

Tydas threw himself over Lyda, swallowing her in his shadow. "No! Kestrel, stop!" he yelled, looking desperately at his thrashing wife, who was too far away to shield.

Stump tried to pinpoint Kestrel behind the light when the lord of Peaktree caught his eye a second time.

Tydas twitched, hunched over, and jerked again. His irises narrowed into slits. His nose protruded. The fabrics around him tore and shredded off his limbs, revealing grey fur covering his body and claws curling from his feet.

With a roar he spun and darted into the light. The lumen blinked out amidst a warlike howl. Werewolf and lizardfolk twirled, bouncing off the wall, crashing into Hadder, knocking over racks. Flames swirled between them, and a whimper escaped Tydas. Fire singed his fur. He rolled away, desperately beating the flames down, giving Kestrel an opening.

He lunged for the family and summoned the lumen in his palm.

But Stump slid between them.

You see little Lyda makes it out of this, Ivis had said. And with his sacrifice, and the single point of virtue he offered, Stump reached into the weave of light around them like Wasptongue had taught and Borag had cautioned. He steadied his goblin rage, forcing it to bend with Lumensa's power as it surged through his fingertips.

He caught Kestrel's lumen.

It hovered in the air, suspended between them, moulding and warping against their two forces. It dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again. Stump held his hands around it, glaring beyond with gritted teeth at the shocked eyes of the Black Sun.

But Kestrel didn't release control. He was powerful enough to barely hold on.

"You're not a monster!" Stump managed.

"No, the monsters are behind you!" Kestrel roared, despite how much the words cut his necrotized throat. "All these years I've been searching!"

"They haven't hurt anyone. Neither has Morg. I'm sorry for what happened to your mother and father, but they're not to blame." The world blurred as Stump fanned the bloodlust. Command of Lumensa's glow flickered like a fire between them.

"Stand aside!" Kestrel barked. He stepped forward and Stump staggered back. The lumen drifted closer to Merra. Her screams echoed behind him.

"Lyda is five, Kestrel," Stump pushed, regaining an inch or two. "How old were you when your mother was killed? Remember that feeling. Remember seeing her. Don't become the thing that made you, and don't put Lyda through what you suffered."

Anger and pain swirled in the Solarmancer's unblinking eyes. He ceded a foot, but kept the light burning.

I need to push further.

Stump took another step. "Lesson one: mastering the tenets of Lumensa, isn't that right? Helping others and teaching them to help themselves."

One more step, and then another. Kestrel stole a look at the wall approaching at his back.

"I can only say the words," Stump went on, "but you have to hear them. Our god may be gone, but her light is not. Don't let it go out."

The lumen dimmed, but this time it didn't brighten again. Stump closed his palms around it, forcing it smaller and smaller. And the sudden power that flowed through him was not his own.

Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled - Virtue +1 (7/9)

Daylight became torchlight, then the lumen flickered no brighter than a candle. Kestrel lowered his arms, and it winked out, inviting darkness back into the cellar.

Skill Level Increased: Lumenurgy (level 6)

Character Level Increased: Level 6 - Maximum Virtue +1 (7/10)

Kestrel fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

The screams of the family faded, and Tydas, back to his human form, grabbed what remained of his torn cloak and moved to his family. They huddled in the darkness, muttering words of calm to Lyda.

The others gawked at the scene before them. Even Rilla was at a loss for words.

But Morg was not. "What in Lumensa's great glowin' ass is goin' on down there?" His voice was thick from incessant yelling. "Bloody greens are hammerin' through, 'n smoke's seepin' in! Get yer damn selves sorted 'n brace for 'em!"

Everyone turned to the shuddering door, the mocking chitters behind it, and the barely audible crackle of fire.

Thud. Thud. Thud.