The Goblin Chief

Taking a series of deep breaths, Azrael focused on calming his nerves. Priority one: he needed a weapon. Scanning the room, his eyes searched for anything useful. A variety of weapons lay scattered about, and among them, the one he felt most comfortable with was a sword, a classic choice.

Despite Azrael's movements, the Goblin Chief remained unmoved on his throne, not shifting an inch. The eerie stillness only heightened the tension in the room.

Numerous swords cluttered the room, but a substantial portion of them lay entangled within the morbid heap of decaying bodies and refuse.

'What a disgusting sight.'

Azrael sifted through, careful to avoid the repulsive mess, until he found one not tainted by the filth. His choice was a sword with a black hilt and a crimson pommel. Though the blade showed signs of rust and serration, it was the only weapon he deemed practical enough for his use in this dire situation.

Azrael treaded cautiously across the floor, mindful of avoiding anything that could pose a threat, as he gingerly plucked the sword with just his fingertips. With the weapon in hand, he approached the unconscious Erik.

Kneeling beside his friend, Azrael's voice quivered as he whispered, "Forgive me, Erik." He then began to wipe the grimy sword onto Erik's slave tunic. The dark, mucus-like substance adhered to the fabric, and a grimace of distaste flickered across Azrael's face. With each pass of the sword, Erik's clothes became increasingly soiled, while Azrael's hands gradually grew cleaner.

With a firm grip on the cleaned blade, Azrael steeled himself for the impending confrontation.

'Now, all I have to do is kill this abomination and save everyone.'

His gaze shifted to the unconscious man on the ground. The poor soul was already out cold. Overwhelmed by a twinge of pity, Azrael carefully lifted him and gently placed him aside near the wall.

'May you have a peaceful sleep, old man. Hopefully, you'll wake up after everything.' 

The Goblin Chief remained immobile on his throne, seemingly unable to budge from the weight and girth that held him captive.

'Could it be his weak point?'

He advanced cautiously, making sure not to produce any noise. The Goblin Chief appeared to be in a deep slumber, his enormous chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Occasionally, the beast would chew, the sound echoing like an old man savoring tobacco, his jaw emitting cracking noises. Azrael pressed on, closing the distance. The sheer size of the Goblin Chief was daunting, and the prospect of facing this colossal creature filled him with a mix of anxiety and determination.

'Just stay asleep, you fat sack of shit, just stay asleep.'

Azrael moved with painstaking care, navigating the treacherous terrain littered with bones and decay. Each step was a calculated leap, a delicate dance to avoid making any noise. The importance of maintaining the element of surprise weighed heavily on him; if the Goblin Chief were to awaken, Azrael knew it would spell certain doom.

'Where are they? Did he already eat them?' His thoughts drifted to his kidnapped friends. Initially, he had embarked on this mission to rescue them, but his own life now hung in the balance.

'I hope you guys are alright, held in a different area.' The silent plea resonated within him as he edged closer to the slumbering behemoth.

Pushing aside distracting thoughts, Azrael inched closer and closer to the behemoth. Coming to a halt, he took a moment to scrutinize the Goblin Chief. The golden glow he initially mistook for its eyes turned out to be two white tusks, adorned with a hint of gold at the ends.

The creature was undeniably repulsive. Its massive form, bloated and blistered skin, painted a grotesque picture. Red, veiny, and coated with a mucus-like substance, the Goblin Chief featured two large ears, two sizable nostrils, and the distinctive pair of golden tusks.

The sight only fueled Azrael's determination, knowing that defeating this monstrous aberration was the key to survival.

'Maybe slicing the thing's neck might do the trick?'

The dilemma presented itself—this creature had next to no neck; it was a mass of fatty layers. Azrael glanced at his standard-sized sword, realizing how minuscule it appeared compared to the layers of fat enveloping the Goblin Chief. It seemed more like a needle than an actual sword.

'Can it even penetrate this goddamn thing?'

The Goblin Chief huffed, releasing a noxious breath that carried the putrid stench of decaying flesh and excrement. Azrael reacted instinctively, clamping his mouth shut with his left hand, desperately trying to stave off the urge to vomit.

'Disgusting.' The single word echoed in Azrael's mind as he battled not only the physical challenges but also the overwhelming repulsiveness that surrounded him.

Beneath him, more bones and filth littered the ground, and Azrael, overwhelmed by the repugnant surroundings, couldn't contain himself any longer. He retched, a violent expulsion of the contents of his stomach, coughing and spitting to rid his mouth of the acerbic taste.

It wasn't the gruesome sight but the pervasive stench that had taken its toll. The thought crossed his mind that others might have perished not from the Goblin Chief's attacks but from the toxic air surrounding this walking poison of a creature.

'This thing is a walking poison.'

Azrael coughed a few more times before straightening up. However, when the Goblin Chief exhaled again, the breath was even stronger, and the stench became overwhelming. Azrael collapsed to his knees, overcome by the nausea and vomiting once more.

'Shit. This thing is not even moving, and it's already killing me.'

As Azrael coughed, a few tears dripped down from his eyes, a mixture of physical distress and the grim reality of the dire situation.

Carefully, Azrael moved toward the throne, taking a moment to catch his breath and observe any reaction from the Goblin Chief. When no response came, he made the bold decision to ascend the throne itself, edging closer to the creature with a determined focus.

Aiming for the neck, he prepared himself for the precarious climb, steeling his resolve as he prepared to confront the monstrous being head-on.