19 Versus Imitator #2.69

I wallowed in the mud, pretending I was a pig. My new brethren paid me no mind, eating from the delicious scraps. I didn't have the heart. There was no way I could tell them there was pork in there.

My assailant, the Imitator, had pursued me into the bazaar. Now, he was slowly scanning his surroundings like a clever raptor or dumb terminator.

The bazaar had been hastily abandoned. Produce had been strewn about, and panicked animals beat against their cages. One or two elderly Goblins laid on the ground, eyes glazed. They're probably dead from heart attacks.

An hour passed. Since the underground city was lit by artificial sources, such as torches and glowing gems, the passing of time never seemed to matter. The Imitator slowly grew frustrated until it decided to search elsewhere.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it left, finally remembering that I was human. I gathered my thoughts.

The Imitator had fucked up stats. It had high destructive power, but much less than it should. It always grew tired, and its sensory skills were dogshit.

Where was the weakness? Why does Yoghfdcjrwsss look down on this B-29 class motherfucker?

I left my superb fortress and oinked farewell to my dinner. I tried to clean myself off before realizing it was futile.

A legion of Clownslayers poured into the bazaar from the other end, looking for a fight. It was unfortunate that I had just saddled up a lizard-looking thing. I had almost legged it out of town.

...

And that brings us back to the present. After that attack yesterday, the Imitator disappeared without a trace, taking two dozen more goblins and humans away. Sergei, whose life I had saved, chained himself to me as my punishment for desertion.

I took another bite out of Greatwurm meat, wishing I could have eaten those pigs.

All of a sudden, I forgot who I was again. The Angel of Playerkill Gorge had entered the hall.