#dwoblin

“What now?” Jinx yapped, twirling her knife. “Do we take his loot? Torture him?” 

“We bring him to our side,” Grub answered. “We can use his strength.” 

“Wait, that’s something we can do?” 

“Shroom said we can,” Grub answered. “Right Shroom?” “Uhh yeah of course!” A third goblin, scrambling through a sack.“I just… I need to get my spells sorted, and he’ll be converted in no time.” 

“Oh this’ll be good,” Jinx said with an evil grin. 

Grub, a taller round goblin, looked over at shroom with concern, and patted them on the back, their ears lowered. 

“Hey shroom,” he said, “Are you okay?”

“Everything’s fine!” Shroom replied. “I just…” they sighed, lowering their ears. They stopped sifting through their bag and looked at the bigger goblin.

“I’m worried I’m gonna fail like every time,” they muttered. 

“You won’t fail,” Grub said. His tusks pressed against his lip as he set his jaw, taking on a look of determination. 

“You’ll get it right this time, I know it.”

“But what if-“ 

“You’ll get it right, because you’ve been practicing, and you know, now more than ever, it matters.” 

Shroom took in a deep breath, then nodded to Grub in thanks. They sifted through their bag some more before pulling out three different items: an oddly proportioned panflute, a wand made from a gnarled stick, and jar of a green viscous fluid. 

“I need to play this throughout the spell,” Shroom explained. “So… Jinx, you can have fun transforming him, and Grub: since you’re the leader you can give the commands.” Jinx’s grin widened as she giggled at the thought of the dwarf transforming. Meanwhile, Grub gave a thoughtful nod. Shroom passed out the components of the spell and each of the goblins got into position, Jinx standing next to the dwarf, and Grub holding the wand. 

The spell began when Shroom played the first note on the panflute. The melody they played was grating, and jumped from being dissonant, to augmented, and back to dissonant again. It would have sounded like they were playing poorly if it weren't for their delicate and deliberate touch with each note. The dwarf tilted his head, stirring for a moment, before falling into an even deeper slumber.

Meanwhile, Jinx began taking globs of the green goo and splashing it over the dwarf’s skin. Each glob quickly dissolved and sunk into his skin, leaving behind mossy splotches that each spread across his skin, each large green splotch merging with one another until. When the splotches reached his stomach, his fingernails sharpened into claws. When they reached his legs, his feet swelled, bursting through the front of his shoes, one claw on each of his toes. 

She poured some of the green goo down his throat; his stomach gurgled and bloated, peeking out from under his shirt. Then all of his muscles throbbed and swelled, ripping open his dwarven garb, down each sleeve, and down the center his torso. Finally with the jar half empty, Jinx flipped the jar over the dwarf’s nose, letting it sit on the dwarf’s face, and letting all the liquid surround his nose. When she finally removed the jar, it left behind a nose that had grown so long and fat it conformed to the size of the jar. Jinx pressed her hand against the dwarf’s nose; it felt soft and squishy, as if it was all flesh and no cartilage. She giggled at its almost gelatinous sensation. 

“Listen to my words,” Grub said, pointing the wand at the dwarf. The song combined with the magic of the wand to manifest in a purple cloudy ether, which surrounded him and flowed through his ears. The goblin’s words themselves flowed in and out of his ears, making them perk up, stretch out, double, triple, and even quadruple in size. They stretched horizontally, becoming pointy and triangular, new muscles forming within which allowed him to twist and bend them as he pleased. They perked up to listen to their commander. 

With that final change, one could not call Dulof just a ‘dwarf.’

Dulof dreamt that he was knelt in front of his king, not the High King, but the king of his own dwarven polis. Nevertheless, he was honored to be in his presence, and patiently awaited his wisdom. 

“Rise,” the king commanded him. 

Grub nodded over to Jinx to cut the dwoblin’s bindings. She appeared confused but reluctantly obliged. 

“Rise,” Grub commanded Dulof, waving the wand. Like a marionette being lifted to perform, Dulof floated to his feet. His eyes were still shut and his ears were perked up. Grub pulled out a slingshot, a proper goblin weapon, and tucked it into Dulof’s belt, he would need it if he were to fight.

“You are to follow my word,” the king commanded.

“Of course, my king!” Dulof replied, nodding his head rapidly. 

“You are to follow the song.” 

“Yes my king!” 

“You are to follow your nose.” 

This gave Dulof some pause within the dream. He looked inward at his dwarven nose, round and snub, prodding it with his thumb. 

“My… nose?” 

“Listen,” Grub grunted, stepping right in front of Dulof and prodding his nose with the wand.

“You remember nothing. You know nothing. You think nothing but my words, and you believe them without question. You are a goblin, and goblins follow their nose.” 

Dulof tilted his head back, feeling a dizzying affect from the goblin’s words and from the song. He furrowed his brow as all of these commands burrowed deep into his mind, affecting his core mental faculties, replacing any of his preconceptions with these new truths. 

“Goblin…” he muttered. “I’m a goblin…” 

“Good,” Grub sighed. He pressed the wand against the dwoblin’s nose and shifted it around, bending and squishing it at its tip as Grub drew circles with the wand. Then he pressed his palm against the big squishy nose, wrapped his fingers around it, and began massaging it. 

All of these motions the goblin made brought about tingles in Dulof’s face, but then these tingles turned into a strange tickle to his brain, some contortions to his mind. Ecstasy clouded the his mind. He found he couldn’t stop focusing on his nose. It held his mind in place, gripping his consciousness.

Within the dream, Dulof watched his nose change, becoming a grey lump in the center of his vision. He stared at his nose; its color became brighter and brighter until it became a bright, healthy green, growing longer and fatter until it was noticeable in his sight, no matter where he looked. It was no longer an object unnoticed in the center of his vision, and now was impossible to ignore..

“Your nose is the best part of you,” the king explained. “Long, fat and squishy… it has a spirit of its own. You must always follow it, always listen to it…A goblin must always listen to their nose.”

The dwarven king’s image blurred like a reflection on a lake rippling. His skin color changed from tan to bright green, and his nose and ears both became long and pointy. 

“You’re a goblin, and you always have been. And to prove you’re a good goblin, you must steal a pair of socks from the dwarven king.” 

“Goblin… always have been…” Dulof muttered. He turned away from three goblins, and tilted his head back raising his nose high into the air. The melody of the flute weaved its way in and out of his ears, getting stuck in his head, its vibrations making him feel like he was floating within a clouded ether when he began to wander. In his dream he felt he was floating with the music, inside of a place outside of time or prior circumstance, where he could simply listen and experience the music. He stretched his arms forward and began to walk in a flatfooted manner, following his nose, unaware with what he was doing, following because it felt right.

“Must… steal… socks…” he muttered, repeating it over and over within his trance. 

“Must… steal… socks…” 

“Must… steal socks.” 

“Yes~” Grub whispered with a grin, “this is what you want… this makes you happy…”

The odd resonance of the melody carried Grub’s words all the way to the dwoblin, even as he walked away. 

“I’m… happy…” he repeated. His brow was still furrowed as his mind took a great deal of effort to process each of these words, but each time he processed them: they’d become irrefutable fact. 

The three goblins watched the dwoblin wander away, Shroom watching in awe, Jinx watching in amusement, and Grub watching with a look of pride and satisfaction. Shroom did not stop playing however, in order to not break the spell, and also so their new ally could finish the job.

“We did it! We actually did it!” Jinx shouted, clapping her hands together. The dwoblin was so deep in trance at that point that he didn’t flinch or stir. She didn’t need to worry about being quiet.

“Not yet,” Grub grunted. “Now comes the hard part…” 

Dulof had awoken from the dream the next morning, feeling a little confused and dizzy, and in fact, a little bit disappointed that he needed to go back to life as normal. He didn’t remember exactly what the dream was about… something related to goblins? He just remembered it felt vivid and he was very happy in the dream. He and his friend spoke about the previous night deep in their underground city, a twisted labyrinth of stone hallways lit by torches.

“Ya got back to the city very late last night,” his friend, Furaen told him, “you’re telling me you don’t remember what you were doing?” 

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I traveled one city down to do some tradin’, and then everything was blurry afterwards?” 

“Are ya feeling okay?” Furaen asked, studying his friend’s face. 

“I think… It’s just my head hurts a little…”

“Get some rest, okay bud?” His friend said, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Sure thing,” Dulof muttered. Furaen walked away, leaving Dulof alone in the hallway. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head, and then dropped his hands down with an exasperated sigh. But when his hands fell to his side, he felt something long and tough by his side. Chills ran down his spine when he saw a scrappy wooden slingshot poking out of his pocket. 

It’s… from my dream!

The three goblins watched the dwarf through a wooden scrying bowl that Shroom set up. 

“This is the moment,” Grub muttered, “Does he embrace it or reject it?” 

Shroom cupped one hand near their mouth, as if about to tell a secret, and spoke into the scrying bowl.

“That’s right…” they whispered, “you’re a goblin.” 

“I’m a goblin,” Dulof echoed, his eyelids immediately drooping. The transformation began restoring itself, his teeth and claws sharpening, green splotches spreading across his skin, his nose swelling and his ears stretching.

“I can’t believe it!” Grub laughed, shaking his head. “No resistance, no denial… he wants to be with us! Shroom! Can you cast an illusion over him so no one else can tell what’s going on?” 

“On it!” 

Once Dulof’s transformation completed, he fell deep into trance again, his eyes falling closed and his head lulling backwards, his nose pointed high in the air once more. 

“Good~” the voice cooed. “Did you forget your mission?” 

“Must… Steal… socks,” the dwoblin muttered. 

“Good… so you remember,” the voice said. “Then why have you stopped? Proceed.”

The dwoblin turned around to start down the path toward the kings quarters, and began sleepwalking to his destination. 

“Must… steal… socks… must… steal… socks…” 

“Good. Now remember: you are a goblin. The dwarves are your enemy. If they get in your way: you knock them out.” 

“I’m a goblin, the dwarves are my enemy,” the former dwarf mumbled. The words circled in his mind once more, hard to wrap his head around but they became intertwined with his thoughts and what he knew.

“Very good… now if someone were to confront you, you will wake up, and all I’ve said will be true, and you will know nothing else. You are a goblin. You want to steal the king’s socks. You were never a dwarf. Dwarves are your enemies… when you wake up… it’ll all come true…”

“It’ll all come true…”

Shroom’s illusion spell worked so well that no one confronted the zombie-walking dwoblin, even when he entered the king’s quarters. This was somewhere he was unfamiliar with so his instincts didn’t help him out. Because of that, he used his new goblin nose to sniff around the room, and was able to track down the dresser from the scent of fabric and old wood. He made it about halfway across the room before a deep gruff voice interrupted him. 

“Now what are you doing in here?” This new voice huffed. 

The dwoblin was startled awake. He looked around the room, rapidly looking around to find the source of the voice. When he turned around he saw a dwarf stouter and taller than he, with a long black beard, and a pair of horns growing out of his head. He was familiar with what this honorable blessing meant. 

“Dwarven king!” The dwoblin sneered. “I’m here to steal your most prized possession! And if you wanna stop me! You’re gonna have to fight me for it!” He put up his fists and lunged forward, shaking them as if getting ready to punch. But the dwarven king sighed and waved a hand, dismissing the challenge to battle. 

“Just.. what are you here to steal?” 

“Your precious socks!” The dwoblin cackled, “Oh no what will the dwarf king do without his socks?!” 

The king bowed his head and put a hand over his brow, sighing, and muttering something in high dwarven, before looking back at his adversary. 

“Just take them.” 

The dwoblin’s smile faded, a look of shock and confusion taking over. 

“Huh?!” 

“Take a pair,” the king repeated. “I have plenty. It won’t affect me at all.” Still shocked and unable to understand why the king was doing this, the dwoblin wandered over to the dresser, opened a drawer,  pulled out a pair of socks, and held it high for the king to see. He began cackling once more. 

“I have stolen the king’s socks! A victory for the goblins!”

“Yes and about that,” the king interjected, “I do believe I recognized you behind that spell. Dulof, was it?” 

The dwoblin’s eyes widened. He lowered his ears passively, and looked at the ground, his hands settling behind his back. Some part that was left of his dwarven self felt incredibly honored by this. The king knew his name?

“Ah yes, I knew it was you,” he said. “I remember you, you’re a hard working stone, mason and you grew up as tough fighter… I can tell you’re going through… some changes, but I would like one last chance to win back your loyalty.” 

The dwoblin lifted his ears, and made eye contact with the king, as if genuinely curious. 

“No…” Grub muttered. 

The three goblins looked up from the scrying bowl and to each other, meeting each other’s looks of disappointment. Grub rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes out of shame, Jinx kicked a rock, and Shroom lowered their ears, eyes watering. 

“We were so close…” Grub muttered.

“If you were to denounce… whatever this is, and eventually revert back, then I’ll personally appoint you a high position on my guard. What do you say?” 

The dwoblin’s eyes watered, pride swelling in his stomach. This was his ambition, his dream for so long. It was what he always said he wanted, and now that he was truly in the king’s presence, and now that the king truly admired his work, he felt deeply honored. He stepped toward the king, ready to shake his hand, when he realized what he truly wanted. 

“My nose is the best part of me,” the dwoblin stated, “long, fat, squishy… and I choose to keep it.” He accentuated the end of his sentence by slapping his nose with his palm and giving it a good squeeze. The motion didn’t hurt and felt satisfying, in fact. The king’s stoic attitude faded, and he gave the dwoblin a deadly scowl. 

“You’re making the wrong decision, Dulof.” 

“My name’s Gourd, and I choose to be free!” Gourd ran out of the chambers cackling with socks in hand. He hooted and hollered with glee, and his three goblin friends did so behind the scrying bowl as they saw his decision. 

“Go, after that disgusting thing!” The king shouted to his guards. Three dwarven guards ran after him in armor, but they were no match for his goblin agility. He dashed away with long deliberate strides, hopping around each corner, and weaving between confused and scared dwarves.

“Dulof?!” Furaen called out. “What’s going on, what happened to you?!” 

“Who’s Dulof?!” The dwoblin sneered, calling back to his old acquaintance. “I’m Gourd!”

Gourd finally made it to the exit of the city, where a long stone staircase lead them upward into a bright grassy plains. He hopped up two stairs at a time while the armored dwarves clambered up one step at a time.  When he made it to the top of the stairs, he dashed out of the exit, halfway across the field, and blew a raspberry back at the guards who waited by the exit. Their venomous looks of fury told him they wanted to do more, but he knew they couldn’t they were guards, not bounty hunters. Free from danger, Gourd skipped the rest of the way across the field and into the forest. 

“That was fun,” he muttered. He crossed his eyes to look inward at his bulbous nose, giving it a pat.

“Now what?” he asked his nose. He wasn’t sure if it was instinct, the voice, or the ‘spirit’ of his nose speaking, but something told him he needed to be with his friends. He felt a twitch in his nose, and a pull in the direction they were, answering what ‘follow your nose’ meant. With some bounce in his step and eagerness in his heart, he headed for his new goblin friends, and along the way, he heard that voice speak to him again. 

“Gourd,” Grub said, “Welcome to our group.”

*****