Respawn Condition: Trash Mob

We march in unison, our bony bodies moving together as one mass. An army of the forsaken, treading through the darkness of the final-labyrinth. We are searching, hunting. We’re doing our part as trash-mobs outside of the arena. Patrolling. See, as a slime I was fairly free of responsibilities, more or less. But here? I have people counting on me. The skeletons. The dungeon-master. It is my job to patrol the labyrinth, to lead my fellow spooks through darkness and to war. We must patrol the labyrinth, find the adventurers, find the hero. I feel my cape flowing behind me as I walk.

I feel so cool. Can you see me dungeon-master? Do you think I look cool too? I hope so.

As we walk, I see a familiar sight. The maze of the labyrinth opens wide here, to a larger chamber. Open, wide, empty. Except for one defining feature on the far end. The staircase leading up to the floor above. We seem to have found the entrance. Wow. Lucky! Wasn’t expecting that!

I observe the area as I feel some nag in my mind. Like there is something I am supposed to be remembering. The stairs bother me, but I can’t figure out why exactly that is. I wonder… Hmm.

How long has it been? This life? I don’t know, but I need to set up before they get here, the adventurers, that is.

Turning around, I look at my army. We are roughly a hundred strong now, having collected many stragglers on the way. I am filled with pride as I see them all standing there before me. Men, women, one or two dead children. All united together in arms to defend their home. If I could cry, I would. I feel like I should hold a speech to motivate them before the battle. But I suppose there isn’t much point. There isn’t an ounce of sentience between the lot of them. I see one or two robes in the mix, we have casters too. Nice. I need a plan. The adventurers will come down the stairs soon. I’ve taken on the role of the welcoming committee, apparently. It’s up to each champion to decide where and how to attack. I am perhaps a little too eager to meet the hero again, so I have decided to wait right at the start.

Though, honestly, it’s really more of a spontaneous decision. The truth is that I was walking blind the whole time, just marching through the maze. If I could have sweat, I would have, just out of the feeling of all of my minions behind me, probably believing that I knew what I was doing. Friend, listen, I have no idea what I am doing. In truth I know they don’t believe anything, they can’t. But still, you know? I turn around and look back to the stairs that I found only by chance, having said nothing to my loyal soldiers. That’s okay.

I point with my sword to the left of the stairs and shriek. A dozen skeletons motion forward, one of the casters in the mix. I grab her shoulder, I need her elsewhere. Another emerges from the swarm to take her place up front. With another motion I send another dozen to the right of the stairs. Those two will be the first welcoming group. Flank them on each side. Behind each of them, I place another group of the same size as a second wave. I have about half of my minions left now. Walking to both of my casters, who I have singled out, I send them back to the walls of the labyrinth. I shriek. A dozen skeletons pile onto each other, the casters climb up over the bodies and stand atop the walls of the maze. I figure casters will be better off at a height, they have a clear view from up there and are out of reach. Not that that will really stop the hero. You wouldn’t believe how far he can jump. It’s pretty exciting to watch, honestly.

Once my two casters are up high and in safety, I leave two extra skeletons beneath the wall in the back as protection for them. Raising my sword into the air, I shriek and the rest march in unison together behind me, as we stand in front of the stairs. I send them all before me and stand in the back of the undead army. In the middle of the room before the stairs is a large rock, I climb up onto it and stand proud and tall atop my vantage point. Taking my sword I hold it downward, the tip of the blade touching the stone. Both hands resting on the hilt. This is the coolest waiting pose I can think of. I want the adventurers to come down and be like, ‘woah, look at that dude!’ And I’ll just be standing here looking all cool and threatening and… wait, my cape.

I turn around and look at one of the skeletons behind me. I shriek, he understands.

Ducking down low behind my rock, he reaches up and grabs the bottom of my cape and throws it up into the air over and over, giving it the appearance from the front that it is blowing in a mystical wind. Good. Good. I’m envisioning the sight from the stairs, it must be pretty awesome. Oh man, I’m so excited. How long will it be? I hope he gets here soon. If I could squeal in delight, I would! I feel like an excited child. It is taking all of my resolve not to bounce on my heels in excitement. I need to keep calm, I need to look cool. Ooooh, he’s gonna be here soon though! My bony fingers rattle over the hilt of the sword, as I can’t manage to keep them still. I need to preoccupy my mind, keep myself busy. I decide to start counting the steps on the stairs, just so I have something to do. About halfway through, twenty-seven, if you’re interested, I notice something.

That feeling that I should be doing something. Something important. It is stronger than ever now. What was it? What did I want to remember? It was recent. Didn’t I think about this just before? Uh… traps! Traps? Yeah! I look at the stairs. It was traps, wasn’t it? I think so. I scratch my head, but then stop myself. Scratching your head doesn’t look cool. Wasn’t there something else? Something big?

Uh… Hmm…

Well, it can’t have been important if I don’t remember it, right? Where am I going to set up traps here though? The floor here outside the labyrinth is open except for the stairs. The stairs.

The stairs? Traps? Rats? Huh? Wait. I HAVE IT.

I shriek in excitement, nine skeletons leave the core of my army and walk to the stairs. I can hear the glow of the shadow magic ringing out behind me as the casters prepare. The nine skeletons stand tall before the bottom of the stairs. I look at them proudly, those are my boys. The bolts of shadow magic fly out past me into the bones of the skeletons, traveling up into their skulls, which now have a mystical midnight-blue glow that leaves their eyes. This was it, this was a good idea. If the adventurer’s killed them, well, re-killed them, I would have the casters shatter the magic while they were close. Maybe they would get sucked in, the adventurers, a booby-trap hidden inside of my own men. It’s devious. It could wor-!

I don’t really know what happened, guy. I don’t know how fast it came. The fireball, that is. The nine skeletons, my selected martyrs, vanish in an instant in an explosion of orange light. Bones fly all around the room, pelting the others, who remain undisturbed. A single finger lands before me. Shit! I look up to the stairs. They are here. Already? They were too fast! Shit! I wasn’t ready yet. Shit! Is my hair okay?

Metal boots ring out, as the hero himself descends the stairs, not breaking his stride as the fire rises around him. The wafting flames, that seem to stick to the stones, cause a rising draft of heat which moves his cape behind him as he walks down the steps. Shit! Why is he so cool?! The priestess and the wizard-girl are behind him. I see the thief too, she is there as well; further in the distance. We haven’t seen her yet, I think? She’s an elf, you know? But I never really see much of her, I suppose that’s just the nature of the beast though, so to speak. Thieves you know? So I can’t say much about her in all truth. She wears a lot of grays and dark greens, she also has one of those cool shadow hoods I told you about when I was a dark-fairy. She looks pretty edgy really, but that’s cool. Everyone has their own style. She’s always off doing her own thing for some reason, always splitting off from the party.

The hero stops. Time seems to slow. He and his party look around the room, getting a feel for the situation. His eyes meet mine. Oh gods. Oh gods I’m so nervous. Do I look cool, hero? They’re so pretty, his eyes. I feel like I am going to faint, the hero is looking at me! I click my finger beneath my cape, the skeleton behind me continues waving it up and down, but faster now. Do you see me, hero? I do this for you! Now. This is it! My moment has come!

All of them look at me, they have identified me as the champion, which makes me feel very proud. I hope the dungeon-master is watching. This is it. I raise my left arm, sword still in hand, obviously, and cast it out to the side. The cape flies wildly through the air. The orange haze of my dark magical weapon creates an edgy and very cool spectacle of death. As my cape flies out and my arm swings to a halt, the blade whistling as it cuts the empty, everything changes. I shriek and forty-eight skeletons charge into motion from the sides of the stairs.

In an instant the hero draws his sword, his cape flies behind him too, just like mine! I am holding my breath, it looks so cool! Aaaaaaah! I’m so jealous! But we’re cape brothers now, that makes me so happy. I could cry if I had tear-ducts. Like lightning he bolts to the side and slices through my spooky guys one after the other, the thief-girl rushes in and holds off the right. Their middle is open. I shriek and send in my core contingent to charge straight ahead into their midst. To cut the hero and the thief off from the other two. This is my chance. They charge ahead, rattling and shrieking. Good luck, friends! All I see from here is the waving of their weapons in the air as the bony mass charges to their targets. Which they quickly surround, I order ten of them to get the priestess, get the wizard.

However, in that very same instant, as I give the command, I realize that I have made a critical mistake.

Ten sets of bony, skeleton feet stand on the stairs, all of them down on the lowest step and go no further. Oh no. In an instant, the priestess holds her arms out wide and sends a wave of that beautiful, rainbow-colored white-magic over them. They all shudder, their bodies contracting together for the first time since their first deaths, as if they finally all felt how cold they were this entire time. Shit! I messed up! Shit! The stairs! Of course they can’t go up stairs! The adventurers are safe there! AAAH! I’m such an idiot!

Wait. I turn around, my casters! I shriek, ordering them to send their shadow-bolts to the stairs, to get the supports. I see nothing happen in response to my cry. The two casters on the wall are gone. The thief-girl stands there, her dagger severing the spine of the second caster, who tumbles down into a doubly-lifeless heap below. The first one is already re-deaded. Shit! When did she get there?! I shriek, ordering the rest of my men to split up, to fight her behind us and fight the others upfront. Shit!

One by one I see my spooky compatriots fall, vanish, vaporize, get smashed and bashed. One fireball after the other flies down from the stairs, destroying row after row of my men. Wave after wave of the holy white-magic comes down, like the crashing of the ocean against the shore, washing away one skeleton after the next. Occasionally, I see the glint of the hero’s shining armor peak through the chaos, illuminated by the aura of the magic surrounding him. I hear the sounds of battle behind me, the sounds of bones and metal hitting the floor in quick succession all around the room. It’s a slaughter. I messed up! I’m sorry, dungeon-master, I’m not fit for command!

Soon, there are only a handful of skeletons left and soon, they fall too. The room turns quiet, as the adventurers gather themselves back together. I feel something pull on my cape. It is my designated cape skeleton, he is still there. I tell him to stop, it’s over. We’re the last ones left. The hero and the rest turn to face me. I tell my last man to run, to go into the labyrinth and run until he reaches the dungeon-master, he will survive the longest there. It is the only mercy I have left to offer my soldier. I step down from the rock and slowly walk towards the hero, towards the adventurers. I do so on purpose, you need to walk slowly to look threatening, okay? As I approach, I hear a smash behind me. I turn and see the thief-girl. She caught my cape-skeleton. He is no more. I am sorry, friend.

My head turns back to the hero. At least I still have this.

See, this kind of stuff works on him when you’re a skeleton. Maybe because we used to be human? Dunno. But he isn’t used to trash-mobs acting so differently. Skeletons are mindless rushers. But by approaching him casually, I make myself different. Interesting. Please notice me, hero, priestess, wizard, thief. I stand about ten paces away from the man now and look into his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful sparkly eyes. I see the glow of the white-magic start to grow behind him. The aura of the radiating fire of the fireball. They are going to wipe me away before I can fight him. I hold out my free hand, the palm facing up and extend my sword arm out behind me, beneath the cape. In an instant I feel the atmosphere change in the room. They have noticed. They see that I am acting differently. The hero says something to the supporters, something quick as he raises his hand to them to stop their attack, they look uneasy. I think he told them to wait. He sees what this is. He knows what I am doing. It is working. Swordsmen are too easy to understand.

I nod to the hero. He looks sad. But he nods back. Why are you sad, hero? Please don’t be sad, this is a happy moment for me! I feel so happy. I finally get to fight you again. I have been waiting for this for so long! I have been practicing! I have been practicing for you! I have been practicing for as long as I can remember. Do you see me?

Okay, wait. You might be wondering now, guy, what? What the hell are you talking about? Good question! So, let me break it down for you. See, you know how I have a sort of moral-code of my own that keeps me sane and busy in my role as a trash-mob? Well, it turns out that the hero has his own code. It’s a swordsman thing really, so the hero has no choice but to follow it. This gesture I did, opening my hand out to him with my sword down behind me? It is a challenge to an honorable duel. Something never found in trash-mob society. You know where it is found though? Exclusively in humanity. By swordsmen. By heroes.

That is why this body is perfect, why this is my perfect life. I have made my challenge as an undead human. As a fellow swordsman, he has no choice but to accept it, because of his moral code. He probably thinks that I’m some lost wayward soul, damned to the dungeon as a half-mad undead. As far as he knows, he’s going to end my suffering. He thinks I am some damned swordsman, asking to die a final death in an honorable battle. He is only half-right. I am so happy! Do you think my cape is cool? I like your cape a lot! I am sorry that I have to manipulate you hero, but this is the only way that I can make this happen. They are arguing, the priestess and the wizard-girl are yelling at the hero from the stairs. He looks annoyed. Don’t let them get you down, hero, I am here for you.

He talks back to them in a stern voice and gestures with his hand, I think he is telling them that this has to happen. I bet he’s saying something cool and mysterious, maybe about how he has to grant my final wish. Or maybe it’s something really heroey and sad. Do you have a tragic back-story, hero? Did your family turn undead and you had to strike them down? Did your master turn into an evil zombie? Is that why you are sad? What are you saying? I wish I could understand them. They look worried and continue to argue. I am so excited! So happy

I hope we can start soon. My fingers are rattling beneath my cape, I am so excited. Ahhh! I want to shriek, but I don’t. Play it cool. Play it cool. The orange rust aura seeps out of my bones, leaking from my sword. I hope I still look awesome standing here like this. Wait. How am I standing? Shoulders back. Head straight. Dagger through my chest. Okay. Look cool. Look cool. Okay, breathe. Breathe. Don’t let them see that you’re nervous.

I hear a shout. The hero, he turns to me. He looks angry. Furious. I have never seen his face angry like this before. Why? Huh? Why are you mad? Did I do something wrong? I just wanted to fight you. He doesn’t seem to be mad at his friends on the stairs, he is yelling at me.

Wait. ‘Dagger through my chest?’

No. No, I see now. He is yelling behind me. At her. The elven thief-girl. I turn my head around, I see her head behind me. The long ear sticking out sideways, the shadowy hood covering her face that looks at me… oddly. There is something different in her eyes than usual. Something… creepy.

My gaze returns forward and I look down. I see the blade of the dagger again, noticing it now, as it is tearing through my cape. My beautiful cape. Oh no. It doesn’t hurt, I can’t feel pain. But it hurts a lot. It hurts me. Not skeleton me, but me-me. I haven’t felt this in a long time. The magic that binds my body together is waning, she has severed it. Apparently that’s in my spinal cord, who could have guessed? I hear garbled words, shouts and screams. The hero is angry. I hear an equally frustrated, resolute voice behind me, I can only assume explaining her actions as my bones start to shake. It has only been a second, maybe two.

I don’t have the energy to be mad. I am just disappointed.

I don’t know how to say it. I am… drained. I don’t even want to sigh. You stole this from me, thief-girl. I wanted to fight the hero. This was all I had. I won’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you, thief-girl. You ruined my duel. My dream. When will I get to be a skeleton again? How long will it take? I was waiting so long for this. So many lives. I will never get a life this perfect again. I was the champion. I was the elite. I had a cape. He accepted my duel. What was it all for?

Nothing.

I didn’t get to fight him. She stole it from me. I hate her. The hero is approaching me quickly, his sword in hand. He wants to grant me my final death to honor our duel, but he won’t make it in time before I go. What a great guy. Ah. I really wanted to fight him. I am dying. Did you think my cape was cool, hero? I made it for you. I am falling. My bones are coming apart, in an instant I land in a heap on the ground, as the magic binding my body as one whole is broken.

I die.

I am floating in the void. My life is over. I have accomplished nothing. I was the champion and did nothing with my strength. I was a skeleton and did nothing with the opportunity. I made a cape and I never got to have an epic sword fight with the hero. Ah. I feel… ah. I think I feel like a mushroom that has lived too long. My roots are too many, all the nourishment gone from the soil around me, after these many many years. Consumed. And now I am still here. Starving. My soul is starving. I just wanted to fight the hero, man. I should have used my skeletons better. I was too eager. It was my fault. If I had set up my troops inside of the labyrinth, we could have used the space to our advantage. No, I got greedy. I wanted to fight him too bad. I got myself killed. It’s not your fault, thief-girl, I understand. It was me.

I float for a while. This time I think it’s just me up here who isn’t ready to move on yet. Man, this was a short life. No. Stop. I need to pull myself together. No more moping, come on. Get it together. It was short, but eventful. Yeah! Yeah that’s it. I got to see the hero fight, right? That was great! Oh! And I got to see the priestesses’ white magic again, that was really nice. It’s so pretty. And I had a lot of fun. It was a good life. I was a good skeleton, wasn’t I, dungeon-master? I tried. I tried my best, that’s all that matters and -

Huh?

Who are you? I feel something here with me. Oh. Oh! I remember you. Wait. Why did I forget you? We just met. We just met on the… STAIRS. STAIRS. HIDDEN STAIRS. I want to scream, I remember. I REMEMBER THE SECRET STAIRS. Usually, my memory isn’t this bad. Sorry, squiggly demon-creature. I think I’m not gonna keep it together much longer. I’ve been doing this for a long time and everything is getting kind of fuzzy, you know? The miasma permeates this empty place now, all of it, it has been waiting up here for me to come back. It knew I would. Fair enough. What’s up, demon-miasma? Couldn’t you come back down with me? Or didn’t you want to? I get that. It’s nice up here. Quiet.

We both just kind of float here for a while. I don’t know what I want to spawn as next, not that I have a choice. I guess I do feel kind of blue, despite my best efforts though. Ah, no. Come on. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts!

So! Demon miasma. How’s the weather? The feral entity doesn’t respond to my question. I can feel it floating around me, the black ooze of its being, touching and probing this shapeless thing that I am. Reminds me of that time I was a sli- Huh? Please don’t go into my memories, they are private. Ah, no I don’t want to think about that one.

Oh, that one was fun, I completely forgot that one. Huh? This isn’t one of mine. Is this one of yours? Cool, I like your… huh? Is that you? Sick armor, guy, were you a human?

Sorry friend, I’m too busy trying to keep up with the memory jumble going on here to keep narrating, it’s all kind of confusing. Apparently, demon-miasma used to be a human. Long story short, they’re a demon-miasma now. That’s all you need to know.

Ah. I am falling. You want to come along? No? Okay, that’s fine. I’ll see you later, friend. I lurch. The cold comes. I am about to be reborn. The miasma touches me. It wishes to repay the favor, to make us even for helping it escape the dungeon, even if only to here. To this place. That’s okay, demon-miasma, we’re all in this together. The demon-miasma disagrees, it repays me with something I can not understand.

Everything is cold. Everything is warm. Hot. Very hot. SUPER HOT. I jump to my feet and open my eyes, the skin on my little body burning with fiery intensity. I curse and flinch as I look at the red spot on my little green hand. My little green hand? Oh, I’m a goblin. Nice. I guess. I mean, sure. It’s okay. Not that exciting but… sure. Goblin. Okay. I look down at my belt, I have a simple hatchet. Looking around the room, I take stock of the furnishings. It is plainly clad in simple goblin decor, which looks just like you think it would. Dirty. Filthy. Grubby. I know this place, I am in one of the towers of the goblin outpost. Cool. Cool. I am alone, I suppose I am just a normal patrolling trash mob. That’s fine.

I look around. My memory is crisp. Clear. I feel… present. I remember the hidden stairs. I remember the traps. I remember the thief-girl. I remember the memory that isn’t my own, my reward. Is it real? I am excited, as excited as I was when I became a skeleton. Looking around to make sure that nobody can see me, I do what I see in my mind’s eye. I raise my hand forward and my other back in the hero’s menu pose, like I did in my past skeleton life. I am surprised, but I’m also not, you know? This is the gift that the demon-miasma has given me. The thing to make us even.

As I look before myself, I see it clear as day. A floating, midnight blue rectangle, spanning the width between my two arms. The edges of the box fraying and tattering, like the unraveling weave of a mummy. It is janky and wrong. The inside is filled with dead words and ancient symbols that I can’t read. Still, it is a menu. A menu of my own! It is really old. Really corrupted. Not like the hero’s shining, pristine, golden one. But it is my own. I smile happy, excited. I’m happier and more excited than I have ever been, tell you what! This will revolutionize trash-mobbing! All of the sudden, all of the failures and mistakes are gone from my mind. The skeleton-blues, the long slog of the last trek of that life over with for good.

I am a step closer to the hero now. I have a plan, I know what I need to do.