Draft: 54 Goblin Alarm Clock

James woke up to the sound of an animal sniffing at her. In her sleep-addled state that didn’t mean much, and she tried to push the animal away, turning on her side. Maybe this was a dream about being a veterinarian. But her hand didn’t budge a thing, and, blearily opening her eyes, James’s brown eyes met those of a goblin.

Suddenly it registered that her lovely little treehouse stank. Or maybe that was just the goblin breath. She was staring at a goblin. She had just tried to shove a goblin. There was a goblin in her treehouse watching her sleep.

Clamping down on her base instinct of screaming, James tried to run through her options. She could simply use her Mana Blast, but she didn’t know how that would affect her tree. She loved the warmth it provided, and she was sure it was caused by its orange mana veins. She didn’t want to interfere with it. Of course, that left her trying to fight a physically superior opponent with a lone dagger. She would have listed running as an option, but the goblin was in between her and her one open wall.

All of this analysis was done in a split second, and a moment later she had summoned her Radiant Dagger of Necessity to her hands. The dagger seemed to entrance the goblin for a whole second before it let out a wild screech as she swung at it. Jumping back, the goblin seemingly forgot there was nothing but air behind it and James heard a quiet thud in the suddenly silent forest.

Not letting the fact that the goblin could, at the very least, see the dagger distract her, James scrambled out of the sheets and peered out the missing 4th wall from her tree house. Remembering to put away all the pillows and blanket in case things got bloody, James didn’t let herself get too distracted as the goblin shook itself off. With another screech, its whole body turned to face her from the ground despite her being hidden in the shadow of the tree.

Shuddering, James gripped her dagger tighter. She vowed to herself that after today, she’ll start to stock-pile rocks in her tree house so she could have something to throw. With nothing in her storage to make up for this lack after her rendezvous at the cottage, James was practically a sitting duck up there.

A small part of her piped up that this situation was still better than being the coal mining cannery back at the clearing.

Moving towards her, the goblin finally hit her tree, crashing into it ungracefully. The second it was on it through, James was surprised to see how small bursts of yellow mana were injected into the tree, lighting up those particular areas of it in her sphere. She hadn’t expected that level of mana control from the goblin.

It was unsurprisingly adept at climbing, but was surprisingly fast at it for its size, and James quickly got into her balanced fighting stance. It already felt less familiar than when she had finished practicing with Jean Paul and Louise, but she could do nothing about her neglecting her training for now. Right now, she had to survive. Realizing the best position wasn’t even the one that she had practiced, she kneeled down and waited for any part of the goblin to get closer.

From this lower position in her tree house, it was harder to see anything, but when she saw a hand reach up to grasp at her floor she stabbed it. Hard. Purple blood started to spurt out, in a manner that James would have considered unconvincing if she saw it on screen.

A second later, its head appeared at the bottom of her open frame and James switched targets, cruelly stabbing down at it and managing to catch a portion of its face. If she had any other dagger, she would have replaced it, the goblin could clearly sense this one. Still, a hit was better than nothing, and her actions had slowed it down. Getting up from her kneeling position, James viciously stomped on the goblin’s head.

James grinned; this was a bit like whack a mole! Except with a goblin. In her treehouse. The one that she built. And the one she will defend.

Thankfully, the goblin wasn’t very smart, and the same sequence repeated itself another two times before it had apparently had enough. Shakily getting gup on four legs, it teetered away, its hands a tattered mess. James let it; she didn’t need to kill it in order to defend her home. And the goblin was probably so concussed it didn’t know left from right. If it ever knew the distinction in the first place. Besides, if she concluded it was necessary, the trail of purple blood would be easy to track.

Watching the area from her vantage point for the next couple of minutes, James let her heart rate slow as the forest sounds picked back up again. Who needed coffee when they could be woken up by a goblin instead?