I awoke slowly. I was horribly stiff, and my legs ached. I didn’t remember my bed ever being this hard. I placed my hand on it, and I felt a strange texture. It was a coarse carpet. ‘Did I stay up too long gaming and pass out on my way to my bed?’ I wondered, but this carpet wasn’t mine. The carpet in my room was plush and soft. This was a short and hard carpet… like the carpet in the hallway-

‘Shit!’ I cursed as the events of yesterday washed over me. I was in a complete panic until I realized I was inside the housekeeping room. The carpet had reminded me of that day I had passed out in the hallway. I slowly got up and stretched to try and relieve my aching muscles. I looked around the room, but unless I was about to go on another cleaning spree, there wasn’t a whole lot I could use.

I took a few minutes to psych myself up for what I was about to do. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be any goblins on the other side of the door, and I could then make it to the stairwell, where I would again pray that the way was clear. I didn’t like my chances too much at the moment. It was painfully obvious to me that it was all wishful thinking. On the other hand, bunkering down here was much less than ideal. I had no food supply on this floor. I would have to break into rooms and bring the food back to this room, all while under attack by goblins.

I took a few deep breaths and cracked the door open. I peeked through the gap, and I was relieved. There were no goblins in sight, at least on that side, but… wait. There was a pile in front of my door. I opened the door wider and was immediately even more confused.

There were two piles in front of me. One of them was a pile of food. There were a dozen packs of Twinkies, a bag of sugar, two bags of potato chips, an opened box of granola bars, a very rotten bowl of fruit, and a half-eaten birthday cake.

The second pile was a stack of weapons. There were eight kitchen knives, a few sharpened broom handles, and some chair leg clubs.

It was absolutely surreal, and I had been hopeful that there was a person on this floor trying to help me until I realized what that specific collection of weapons meant. Kitchen knives were one thing. Any normal person would see those as useful weapons. Sharpened broom handles were getting a bit strange. Unless there was a group of people that could form a line and keep their enemies from closing the distance, I had a hard time picturing them using that as a go-to weapon. They would have at least taped knives to the end unless they were throwing them like I was. It was the chair legs that left no other alternative.

There were so many more efficient weapons a human would use before flipping a chair over and snapping off the legs for such a short, light weapon. It was a decent size weapon for a child… or something child-sized. Goblins had made these piles.

I grabbed one of the spears in front of me and braced myself against the door frame. It wasn’t the best position, but it served a purpose. I turned and peeked around the door frame to the side I hadn’t seen yet, but there was nothing there. I frequently checked the hallway on both sides, as well as the apartment doors. I was sure there was an ambush waiting to strike, ‘But… Why did they leave me this food and all these weapons? Is it bait? If it is, where is the trap?’

I was so confused, my mind couldn’t understand what was going on, and then a large box appeared from around the hallway corner to my left. The box was approximately a three-foot cube bearing a potato chip brand logo, and there was some kind of dark cloth hanging under it. Then it moved forwards, and I saw a green foot dart out before the fabric covered it again, and another green foot emerged before the cycle repeated.

There was a goblin carrying a giant case of potato chips, and it was moving in my direction. I heard a soft whimper, and the box was lowered to the ground. The goblin shuffled around to the side of the box without ever turning to face me and sat against it. Its whole body was heaving as it took rapid, panting breaths. The cloth I had seen was a shirt. This goblin was wearing a shirt far too large for it, and I had only ever seen a goblin wearing human clothing once before. I wondered if it was the same goblin I had seen on that very first day, but that seemed unlikely. I had killed most of the goblins on that floor, and while I never found one wearing a shirt, it could have simply taken it off.

The goblin finally noticed me out of the corner of its right eye. Its head whipped towards me, and the sight was absolutely horrid. The side of its face I had seen was completely normal, but the left side had been torn apart. The beast’s ear was gone, and claws had torn apart the right side of its face, leaving behind a grisly, and very clearly infected, mess of flesh. I only now noticed the way the beast was also cradling its right arm.

As soon as the creature saw me, its eyes bulged in terror, and it threw itself to the ground. The pitiful wounded beast rolled onto its back, covered its face with its hands, and then I smelled a distinct scent I was all too familiar with now, goblin piss. The beast’s behavior reminded me of a dog, although I had only ever seen an extremely submissive dog piss itself like this once.

Every ounce of common sense I had demanded I finish off the wounded beast here and now and get on with my life, but those feelings of guilt I had thought were finished came rushing back as if they had never left. It had made no aggressive moves towards me… but what on earth was it doing with a case of potato chips taller than itself?

Something clicked in my head, and I looked at the pile of food and the pile of weapons. This goblin had made these piles or at least been one of the goblins building the piles. They had seen me yesterday, so they knew I was inside that room. The offerings were meant for me, and so was this bag of potato chips.

One thought kept coming up over and over, and I kept dismissing it. All I could think of was that piles of offerings and the display of submission added up to surrender, but it just didn’t make sense. Did it just want me to leave and not kill it? As pitiful as it was, and since this was the first time I had seen a goblin actually trying for peace… I couldn’t just kill it. I found myself wondering if I had made the wrong choice before. I wondered if that couple had somehow attacked the goblins first and started the fight.

I started to back down the hallway towards the stairwell, but the beast’s eyes, which had changed from wide-eyed panic to a resigned stare at the floor, snapped up at me as I moved. The frantic terror returned to its eyes, and it stumbled to its feet and hobbled after me. I stopped and raised my knife. I was even more confused than before.

‘Is this a trap? Was it suddenly afraid that I might escape?’ I wondered to myself. The beast dropped to the floor and resumed its submissive posture. I could swear the stench of goblin piss grew more intense.

I was stuck rapidly switching between checking over my shoulder for a trap and looking back at the goblin. I just wished it could tell me what it wanted, so I could either kill it or just leave it alone already. It rose to a sitting position and raised its arms towards me. I stared at it, completely uncomprehending, and then it pulled out its club that was tucked into its belt and chucked it to the side. ‘Surrender it is… Now what?’

I glanced at the club it had kept for itself, and it was clearly inferior to every single one in front of my door. So it had given me the best of everything and kept the worst for himself. I glanced doubtfully at the rotten fruit, but maybe goblins considered that a delicacy.

I took another step away from it and watched its eyes. Complete panic set in the moment it thought I was leaving. Once again, I felt a tug on my conscience that I had thought died with that couple on my floor. It was a monster that would eat me if given a chance, but it acted like a wounded, abandoned puppy.

I picked up its club and threw it inside the housekeeping room, along with all the weapons piled up outside the door. The only weapons in the hallway were the knife in my hand and the spears and wrench in my pant-pack.

I slowly approached the creature and waited for it to lunge out or try and bite me, but it never did. I reached my left hand out to it, and all it did was look at me. I patted it on the good side of its head, and I saw all the tension and fear start to evaporate from the wounded creature.

‘Looks like I have a new pet.’