NOVEL FROG Chapter 3 - Timber Tussle
The Mannequin whirls around at the same time as the intruders' footfalls echo around my chamber. Taking up a defensive posture in front of me, it readies itself for whatever may happen. I, meanwhile, tremble in fury. Not at the fact that these creatures have entered my domain so suddenly. Nor at their hideous appearance, with their gangly, short limbs, their oversized heads full of sharp fangs, their ridiculous noses, their green, warty skin, or the drool that they generously dispense onto my floor (but seriously, ewwww, I feel like I can taste it). No, what makes me most furious is that something is missing! My Instincts are screaming at me that they did something absolutely unforgivable by simply entering my halls.
I was under the impression that creatures entering my domain and doing battle was kind of my purpose, but it seems I was missing something, a crucial detail, and I don’t know what it is, but it is infuriating me. So, channeling all of my fury to overcome the sheer terror that caused me to freeze at the sudden intrusion, I scream. No sound, of course, is created, but my intent still reaches my one and only defender, my loyal mannequin.
“Slaughter these Intruders!”
I feel the acknowledgement, the grim purpose radiating from my defender as it strides forward a step and then… stops any movement as the creatures round the big chunk of debris and come into sight.
There are 4 of them, little buggers about half the size of my mannequin, armed and armored in shoddy bone and pelt constructs. They move around the space carefully, glancing this way and that with their glowing red eyes, sniffing the stale air with their comically sized noses. My seemingly innate knowledge identifies them as goblins. Common pests all across the world, they are weak individually but get progressively more dangerous the more of them there are.
The group of them has detected both me and my mannequin now, before stopping, gesturing in our direction, making strange grunting noises at each other. Debating. They seem unsure what to do and wary of the mannequin. But there is a greedy glint in their eyes as they look at me. I shudder mentally at the looks I get, and bid my mannequin once more defeat them, lest they abscond with me and use me as a backscratcher or something.
Having come to a conclusion, the group walks forward warily, a pair of them focused on the mannequin, the other two keeping their heads on a swivel in case of an ambush. Step by step they draw closer, my mannequin remaining still and motionless. I would panic if I didn't know that my mannequin fully intended to fight for me, and was merely biding its time for the best chance at an opening strike.
After a tense while, the goblins arrive at the stage and begin clambering atop it. The mannequin mentally tenses as they step within its reach, but remains motionless. The lead goblin walks right up to my creature and pokes it with its club after sniffing at it repeatedly. At the utter lack of reaction, the goblin is invigorated and pokes once more, stronger this time. The mannequin wobbles slightly, yet still it waits. The monster reaches out with its empty hand to lay its palm upon my mannequin, feeling the wooden texture under its disgusting skin. I feel my mannequin similarly disgusted and struggling to hold itself back from moving.
Its patience, however, is soon rewarded as the creature relaxes its stance and starts giggle-hissing, while turning towards its comrades, who similarly relax their stances. The boisterous exclamation that it starts, however, is cut short by the simple fact that my mannequin has seized its chance. In a flash, it grabs the small creature in its wooden arms, lifts it to its chest, and simply squeezes. After a brief struggle and disgusting noises, the goblin stops moving entirely and is unceremoniously dumped on the stage, right as its fellows gather their wits about them, what little they might possess at least.
With a warcry, the now closest living goblin lunges forward, attempting to impale the wooden assassin that had just murdered its comrade. It succeeds, the mannequins' wooden limbs too stiff to dodge the fast assault, but is rewarded with a wooden fist to the face in exchange, spilling blood all over my stage. The spear is impaled slightly in the mannequins frame, but the wood that makes up its existence seems to have dispersed the force behind the shoddy bone spear rather efficiently, and it continues moving with ruthless efficiency, as it steps onto the goblins lead foot with one leg as it brings around the other to knee it in the chest, crumpling it and sending it into a coughing fit.
Before it can finish its foe, however, it is beset by two feral balls of anger and teeth, that rush at it with a pitiful battlecry. Raising both arms to block the assault, the goblins chomp down hard on the mannequins guard, and I hear a sickening crunch and see wood splinter everywhere. Spinning around, the mannequin manages to dislodge one of the chomping fiends, sending it flying through the air with a surprising amount of force, off of the stage, where it lands in one of the moldy seats with a sickening crunch. Ignoring the second goblin still gnawing at its arm, despite the pain I feel radiating from it, my stalwart defender steps towards the still coughing assailant, and steps down at it hard, until there is a crack and the goblin goes limp.
The second goblin, having witnessed his comrades fate, has since dislodged its teeth from the mannequin's arm, and clambers desperately up its torso, until it chomps down at its neck. The mannequin shudders in pain, before toppling over and going limp. The goblin frees itself from the now still wooden arm that landed on it, and hisses out a victory cry. I can see that it is missing several teeth from the questionable maneuver. Blood and spittle fly everywhere, before the adrenaline seems to leave its little body and it collapses into a sitting position. Breathing heavily, it turns its greedy eyes upon my frame, which is now lying defenseless on the stage.
Oh, the horror. No, don't come closer, little disgusting creature! It seems my role in this particular scene was to be the damsel in distress, and so I scream and wail, as is appropriate. Of course, lacking any organs to actually produce noises, it's mostly theatrics, but I pray It helps to keep the little creature focused away from the wooden figure that is silently getting back up and getting in position behind it.
Just as the goblin stretches its arm out in my direction, the wooden arms that might as well be iron once more envelop a goblin body, and a short struggle later, it is over.
That was closer than I liked. Good job, my valiant defender! Though mauled all over its wooden frame, the mannequin stands proudly in front of me, having defeated four combatants by itself with wits and ruthlessness. Absolutely marvelous. I cheer and clap for it, and it seems to take my meaning and does a bow in front of me.
It takes me a bit to realize that the feeling of wrongness, of Invasion, has not yet gone away. But just as I puzzle that out, the goblin that was flung off stage emerges from the seats huffing and wheezing, before running for the exit. One of its legs is twisted and its nose is angled away from where it should be pointing at a prodigious angle, but it still lives, and at the speed that it is shuffling away, I doubt my mannequin can change that.
In a flash, the creature arrives at the door, and makes a break for it. I sure hope it won’t come back with more friends.