Dogdog, a classless goblin

"Look at the mess you've made," the guard's voice echoed through the cold stone walls of the cell.

Dogdog groaned and peeled his eyes open, the stench of ale and vomit assaulting his nostrils. His head pounded in protest against the unyielding floor. He squinted through the gloom, making out the outline of a large wooden door with a barred window. The light spilling through the bars cast eerie shadows across the room, dancing and distorting with every throb of his hangover. He sat up slowly, his back protesting against the rough stones beneath him. His mouth tasted of bile and sawdust. The drunken revelry last night was NOT worth the hangover today, he thought to himself.

Looking up, he saw the guard through the bars. She was a towering figure, with skin like polished bronze and muscles that rippled under her armor like the surface of a still lake. Her eyes, a piercing blue, bore into him with contempt. She leaned against her spear, which looked more like a toothpick in her grip. Her hair was a wild cascade of blond, tied back in a tight bun that screamed discipline and strength. Dogdog had seen his fair share of guards before, but none quite so... Amazonian.

As she caught his gaze, she rolled her eyes and huffed. "You're not even worth the space in this cell, goblin scum," she spat, her words sharp as the sword at her side. He couldn't help but admire the way her armor clung to her curvy form, highlighting every powerful curve and line of muscle.

Dogdog's cheeks reddened. He wasn't used to being talked down to by someone so... well, so beautiful. Most of the guards he encountered were gruff men with the charm of a brick wall. "I didn't do anything wrong," he mumbled, his voice raw from the night's escapades.

The guard's disgust grew more palpable. "Not having a class makes you the lowest of the low, goblin," she said, her voice like a whip crack. "You're nothing but a burden on society."

With a flick of her wrist, she spat through the bars, the glob of saliva landing on his nose. He felt a hot flash of anger and humiliation. He had never been so degraded, not even by his own kind. Most goblins didn't bother to look down on him; they were too busy fighting for their own survival. But here was this... this... she was something else entirely. A warrior, a protector of the realm, and she had the audacity to belittle him.

Her laughter filled the cell, a cruel sound that echoed in his ears like the clanging of a funeral bell. "I'm a guardian, Level 4," she said, her voice thick with pride. "I could wipe the floor with you and not even dirty my sword." She leaned closer, the bars of the cell seemingly disappearing between them. "What's your pathetic level, goblin?"

Instinctually, Dogdog brought up his stats....

Dogdog Scurryscrape (lv. 2 Classless)

HP: 19/31

ST: 11/65

Attributes…

Effects…

Dogdog felt the weight of his worthlessness pressing down on him, but he **** the words out. "I... I don't have one. You already know I don't" he murmured; his voice barely audible.

The guard's laughter grew louder. "No class, no level. What good are you?" She stepped closer, her breath hot and minty. He could see the amusement in her eyes, the kind that came from watching something pitiful and weak. "I should just kill you now, save us all some trouble.”

Dogdog’s thoughts flashed back to his upbringing in his village. Even among his own kind he was looked down upon. Most creatures like Goblins had the “monster” class by default. Not particularly powerful, often serving as fodder for adventurers who got real classes. A select few goblins even got real classes. His parents had been blessed with such classes, his mother a shaman who had attained level 6 and his father a rogue who had attained level 8, both rather high for goblins. Big things had been expected of him. They had taught him the basics of their classes, hoping it would be enough to survive in a world that had no use for a classless goblin. His mother's gentle whispers of spells and his father's nimble hands picking locks were his lullabies. But as he grew, it became clear that no class would choose him, no matter how hard he tried. The shame had led to his eventual exile.

Dogdog pushed himself up to a kneeling position, steadying himself while the world spun, his hangover still going strong. “Wh…why am I even locked up?”

His Amazonian jailor looked down on him in disgust. “Public nuisance.”

“Then I can go? That's just a fine, right?” He asked, hopeful.

Sneering, his captor shook her head. “Maybe if you weren't a classless goblin piece of shit. We're bereft of other prisoners, so I'm bored. Think I'll keep you locked up to fuck with. Not like anyone is going to come check on you.”

Dogdog’s heart sank. He knew this was trouble. She was right, no one would come looking for him. And the saliva drying on his face from earlier showed him exactly how she planned to use him to entertain her.

Laughing, she dumped a bucket of something foul smelling on the floor of his cell. “Dinner is served bitch boy”

Dogdog groaned as he realized what she's done. His dinner has been dumped into the jails chamberpot and she had just dumped the resultant mess on the floor. He rubbed his head and just hoped she'd grow bored of tormenting him sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately, she did not grow bored of tormenting him. The last several days had passed on a sea of pain and ridicule. He hocked a loogie and spit it out, watching as best he could as a tooth joined the bloody phlegm and arched to the floor. The difficulty came from two things. First, his right eye was swollen shut, second, he was suspended upside down by his ankles, swinging back and forth as his jailor, whom he'd learned was named Ginny, used him as a punching bag. Once again her fist propelled by her muscular arm, arched towards his chest. As it connected he could feel a few ribs break, causing him to cough up more blood. The blows were like sledgehammers, but she wielded them like a surgeons scalpels, never doing any damage that would permanently harm him, to prolong his suffering.

Ginny wiped her forehead with a towel, “I wonder how many more days I'll have to beat you before you gain a level in punching bag?” She said, laughing cruelly.

His world was now a twisted nightmare of metal bars and her mocking laughter. The only solace he found was in the brief moments of darkness when she left the torch unlit. In the shadows, he could almost forget his plight and dream of a world where he mattered. But the light always returned, along with the pain, and the cycle would begin anew.

Hours later that night, he was finally left alone once again. The ache on his cracked ribs only matched by the searing pain shooting through his head. As he lay there, contemplating his own worthless existence, Dogdog felt the air grow thick. It was as of the very fabric of reality was being stretched thin, pulled at its seams by something beyond our world.

Groaning, Dogdog pushed himself into a sitting position, mouth agape as a figure materialized before him. She was a goddess, radiant with power, her eyes like pools of molten gold, and her hair a flowing river of shadow and starlight. Her beauty was so overwhelming it stole his breath, and for a moment, he forgot his pain.

But as Dogdog stared into her molten eyes, the facade of beauty cracked slightly, revealing something sinister lurking beneath the surface. It was almost as if he saw a reflection of his own desperation, twisted and transformed into something unnatural. For a heartbeat, he glimpsed a creature with too many eyes, a pincer mouth, and a form that was almost insectile. Then, with a blink, the vision was gone, and she was a vision of perfection once more.

Her words were the sound of the moon setting at night, of a baby falling into its deepest sleep, of the peace of a job well done rewarded appropriately, but straining his goblin hearing, he could sense the buzzing of a million insects ever so slightly behind the words. “I am Ellenox, goddess of forgotten things. Things such as yourself.”. Her voice came out almost as a purr. She ran her long, slender fingers along his bruised cheek, his pain melting away under her delicate touch.

“Trapped here, no one left to remember you, you have entered into my domain, a forgotten thing. I offer you salvation. Power. A class.”.

The last words took his breath away. A class? All his hopes and dreams flashed before his eyes. It was as if he'd been offered a treasure map that would lead him out of the depths of despair to fulfillment of all his dreams. “What kind of power are you offering, my lady.” He said, falling to his knees.

The goddess leaned forward; her smile enigmatic. "I offer you the class of 'Mind Goblin', a rare and often feared path. You will be able to manipulate the thoughts of others, to bend their minds with the power of your will. You'll feed on the fear and desires of others to sustain your powers. In exchange, you'll do my bidding in this world." Her words painted a vivid picture in his mind, one where he wasn't the butt of jokes or the subject of scornful glances. In this new reality, he was a **** to be reckoned with.

Dogdog's mind reeled with the implications, but the desperation to escape his current fate was too great. "Yes," he murmured, the word a mere breath in the heavy silence of the cell.

With trembling fingers, he reached for her, and as his hand touched hers, a jolt of power surged through him. It felt like a thousand needles piercing his mind, each one carrying a memory of fear and despair. The pain was unbearable, but he clung to her hand, **** for the promise she had given him. The world around him swirled into a kaleidoscope of darkness and light, the cell fading away to be replaced by a vast, starlit expanse. In that moment, he understood the cost of his newfound power.

When the world righted itself, he found himself standing in his cell, his wounds gone, the pain a distant memory. Buzzing with anticipation, he called up his class menu.

Dogdog Scurryscrape (lv. 2 Mind Goblin)

HP: 89/89

ST: 92/92

PSP: 156/156

Attributes…

Skills...

Effects…

Dogdog's jaw hit the floor. It was true! It wasn't a dream. He flicked his eyes down to the skills menu and opened it.

Skills

[Telepathic] Enthrall (cost: 100 PSP): The user permanently subsumes the will of target creature, bending it permanently to their will. The number of thralls the user can have at any time is limited by level. (Current total thralls: 1)

[Psychokinetic] Launch projectile (cost: 15 PSP): The user launches one object within range at the target with considerable ****.

[Clairsentient] Thrall sight (cost: 10 PSP): allows the user to see through the eyes of a chosen thrall.

The powers didn't seem particularly powerful outside of enthrall. Nothing particularly offensive or even defensive in nature. "Launch projectile...." He pondered. "I can already throw rock."

He didn't have long to consider his powers, as Ginny swung open his cell door. "How's my favorite punching bag?" She sneered. "Wait a minute... where'd your bruises go?"

Panicking, Dogdog activated launch projectile, levitating a small junk of mortar that had broken free from his cell wall at his tormenters head. Ginny's hand shot up, summoning a shimmering blue barrier around herself, a spell of protection known to be unbreakable against physical attacks. The piece of cement shattered harmlessly against it, sending small ripples through the blue glowing barrier. Her eyes narrowed. "How the fuck did you do that, asshole?"

Maintaining the shield she stepped forward, raising her fist to deliver another hammer blow to him. Scrabbling back, he summoned his will again, this time attempting Enthrall. A tendril of mental energy snakes out, slowly approaching Ginny. When it reaches the shield, it simply...passed through, continueing on, wrapping around her head, encircling her mind. She stiffened, her eyes widening as she felt the alien presence in her mind. "What... what is this?" she stuttered, her confident demeanor slipping like armor off a clumsy child.

Her knees buckled, and her shield flickered, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead from the effort of her concentration as she clung to the defense, as ineffective as it was proving to be. Her muscles strained as she attempted to resist his power. But Dogdog's grip on her mind proved to be undeniable, his influence spreading throughout her mind, an unstoppable ****.

Her knees hit the ground with a loud thud, the weight of Dogdog's gaze heavy upon her. She has been so confident, certain in her superiority, but now she was nothing before him. Her body relaxed and she looked up at him, the look in her eyes no longer one of anger or haughty superiority. No, now it was one of worship. She whispered one word. "Master...."