There was a saying Artyom was familiar with: “If violence wasn’t your last resort, you failed to resort to enough of it.”
But to say violence was always his last resort would have been an outright lie. However, it was almost never his first, for the sole reason that all other options could at least reveal some kind of weakness, making the eventual violence all the more effective.
So while Artyom cast an array of combat spells on himself for the coming inevitability, he also sharpened his tongue for the prelude.
“So does your boss share his meals with you?” asked Artyom idly while keeping in a tense, combat-ready stance. “I mean, he made it sound like I’d be pretty tasty.”
“The boss doesn’t share anything with us,” said one of the kobolds.
“Except rocks,” chimed in another. “He likes throwing his rocks at us.”
“Or making us eat them!” said a third.
“They taste awful,” whispered a fourth.
“Right… have you considered taking a taste for yourself before you serve it to him, or try any leftovers after he’s done?”
“Eh, not really,” said the first kobold. “You humans are always so scared and miserable when you’re here, we might end up like you if we took a bite.”
“Yeah, imagine feeling like that all the time!” added a second. “Things aren’t so great for us as it is, imagine if we cried about it all the time, ha!”
“The boss would probably make us eat even more rocks if we showed him that kind of attitude.”
“But how do you think I would taste?”
“Gross,” they all chimed in at once.
Artyom cursed to himself. These creatures weren’t compelled by hunger then, not even to the degree a wild animal would be.
“Alright, so why do you listen to your boss if you’re unhappy?”
“Because he’s scary!” they all said in unison.
Artyom shook his head. It was as if all seven of these kobolds shared a single brain cell. Yet as he looked at them, they were smiling and chatting amongst themselves with barely a care in the world. Maybe it was that Fairytale world innocence at play with even the monster population, or maybe they were just stupid.
“This one seems a lot happier than all the others,” said one of the kobolds.
“Maybe he’ll taste better?”
“Do you think it’ll make the boss extra happy?”
“I hope so, he might even give us a bigger compliment!”
The whole group began to excitedly hop in place.
Artyom frowned. Was this all it took to get them excited? He turned towards them and spoke. “I have to admit, the way you snuck up behind me to knock me out was pretty smart.”
They all turned to him at once and preened. The low chirping sound they made didn’t at all fit with their scaly visages.
“So those are their weaknesses: fear and flattery. Yeah, I can work with that, but how far can I take it?”
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Artyom cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Who do you think will get the most praise?”
They looked at him with confusion, before one of the kobolds puffed out their chest. “Obviously it’ll be me, I’m the one who swung the club to knock you out!”
Another one stepped in front of them and sneered. “I’m the grill master, I’m the one who’ll actually make this human taste good!”
Another pair walked in between the two and pushed them apart. “We’re the ones who collect the herbs and mushrooms that make them taste the best, we’re the ones!”
A fifth kobold picked out a black rock from its pocket, and scraped it against another pair of stones until it caught fire. They then lobbed it at the group, who jumped out of the way and began screaming at the pain.
“What was that for?!” they all asked.
“I mine the coal that’s used for the fire. The boss would only have raw human if it weren’t for me.”
The first kobold pulled out a wooden club and began to march over to the one who’d thrown the flaming coal, who immediately turned around and ran.
Without too much space in the current room however, they weren’t able to get far before receiving a trio of whacks to the head.
Before a fourth could land, the pair of herb and mushroom gatherers grabbed the club wielder’s arms and pulled him back.
The grill master took that opportunity to drop kick the club wielder from behind and send him sprawling to the ground.
The group erupted into an all out brawl that had Artyom staring at with bewilderment.
“It just took one sentence…”
After half a minute, overwhelmed by a mix of guilt and pity, Artyom shouted at the group.
They all stopped in place, half of them on the ground or with their hands around another’s horns or tail.
“Why are you trying to kill each other over a little praise?”
“We’re not trying to kill each other, we’re just teaching each other a lesson,” said one of the kobolds, the club wielder. “But the only lesson I have to learn is how jealous everyone else here is of me.”
The fighting quickly resumed after that comment
“Hey!” Artyom shouted again, making them calm down once more. “There’s no way they’re this dumb, right?”
“What is it? I want to get back to bashing!” one of them asked.
“Instead of hitting each other, why don’t you improve your chances of getting more praise?”
“How do we do that?” asked another.
“Obviously, by helping your boss make me taste better. Grab some herbs from outside the cave and some hardwood from the trees for grilling so I taste especially yummy! I’m sure your boss would think you’re the greatest for going that extra mile,” he said with an exaggerated smile.
The five creatures took a step back and stared at each other before turning back to Artyom and nodding.
“Thanks for the advice!” the last of them said as they all turned around and ran out of the room.
Once he was alone, Artyom let out a sigh. “I’ve never seen mook monsters this ridiculous outside of a Fairytale world, maybe this really is one?”
And now that the room would be empty for the foreseeable future, Artyom checked himself over.
“Looks like they didn’t take any of my gear. That big one called me a dumb peasant, so they probably didn’t realize what all of this is. All I need to worry about now is grabbing that armor piece and getting out of here.”
Artyom walked over to the door and inspected the lock and hinges. The rock and metal were completely ordinary, without any sort of magic flowing through them.Alternating weak elemental spells to weaken the material would have been perfect to escape, but Artyom had a less… “clever” means of escape.
But before attempting it, Artyom grabbed the door and began to rattle it. The noise was loud enough to echo throughout the room and well into the next. Yet as much as he shook it, not a single one of the five kobolds ran back in.
Seeing as how they weren’t just acting dumb earlier and truly had left, Artyom put his escape plan into action.
He placed a foot against the hinged side of the door and recast Tungsten Body and Lion’s Strength, before beginning to push.
On the first shove, he heard a creak of metal.
On the second, a cracking of rocks.
And on the third, the door gave and fell to the ground. Artyom caught it before it could land with a thud, and he slowly lowered it without making too much noise. He wanted to sound desperate, not like he actually escaped.
“Let’s do things properly this time; Detect Life, Pitchblack Vision,” said the man from Earth as he bent into a crouch and began to make his way out of the prison cell and back into the dungeon proper.
