On my way out of Mr. Sada’s driveway, I noticed a line of ravens on the fence, staring at me while I walked. None of them did anything, but every single one of their heads focused on me and swiveled to keep staring at me while I walked. As I left the driveway and entered the road, a single raven opened its beak at me, and soundlessly extended its wings. I shuddered and started to seriously worry about the campground ravens. They seemed really pissed about something and were directing it at me.

When we arrived back at the campground, I wanted to go get the golf cart first, to make everything else easier. Oh, and check on Phyllis. I’m sure she was just high and watching TV, but you know. Trust but verify.

When I approached, Phyllis raised her arm in greeting and waved a freshly lit joint at me. It was tempting, but the multitude of problems stacking up overwhelmed me and I turned down her good weed. She frowned in surprise but nodded and listened while I spoke. She also smoked the entire time I spoke, and by the end of my little speech explaining things, she was bleary eyed and reeling.

“Oh Tyson, you worry too much. Those militia boys are giant pussies.” Phyllis leaned over in her giant suit of armor and winked at me. “If you’re scared of ‘em, I’ll take care of business. Don’t worry.”

“I believe you, Phyllis, and I’m very happy to have you on our side. Please don’t leave your suit’s ‘do not disturb’ feature on again though, you might sleep through a raid. Wake up to a buncha flaming corpses or something.” I got up as I spoke and made my way down the ramp to leave. My only goal had been to check on her and get her teed up for the potential conflict coming our way, but when I got up I remembered Doofus. “Oh, hey Phil, can you watch Doofus for me? He loves your shady porch anyway.”

Phyllis immediately cooed at Doofus, and he began wagging his tail and taking his big lazy steps toward her. “Oh Doofy baby, hanging out with granny Phil is the best thing for you. We have to get ready for a big scary raid later tonight, so I’m thinking another nap is in order.”

She reached out and gently scratched behind his ear with her giant mech fingers, and he happily stretched into it before walking in a circle and flopping down at her side. I knew from experience, a flop like that meant he was settling in. Nothing short of one of those skinny-ass desert hares we got occasionally would rouse him.

“Thank you Phil!” I shouted as I descended the rest of her ramp. My ass hit the comfortable padded seat of the golf cart and I slapped my foot on the accelerator. The cart shot off and I struggled to control the wheel under the sudden torque. Phyllis laughed behind me and I stuck up my middle finger. She laughed harder.

This time I rolled the cart into Molls’ area slow and careful. Once I hit the entrance road, I kept to the left and circled around the lot to come to rest facing the Lincoln’s front windshield. Molls was inside the car, down underneath both of her blankets, and from the soft glow lighting her face and the interest in her eyes, I assumed she was reading something. Her inner hood scales glittered faintly, and when she looked up, a small smile came to rest on her features. It looked more polite than friendly, but I was thrilled with the progress. When I stood from the cart, I hesitated to approach and held my ground. Molls looked confused for a moment, and then waved me over to the car.

The door lock popped up as I approached and I opened the passenger side front door, and then hesitated again. “Do I . . .” I began, and Moll’s head snapped up again.

“Yes, please. You’re letting the heat out.” She still wore the smile, but her scales were a vibrant green. I hurriedly scrambled in the car and shut the door behind me. It was sweltering in the Lincoln, the car had been baking in the sun all day. I immediately began to sweat, but she looked comfy, all coiled up in a blanket in the backseat. Her tail rested on the front of the seat between us, and the heavy rattle on the end of it occasionally tapped as she read.

I waited, practicing my breathing until she finished what she had been reading and closed whatever device she read it on. She smiled at me genuinely and blinked a few times as her pupils shrank in the sunlight. “Thank you Tyson, for being patient and letting me finish. What can I help you with?”

I slid over in the seat until I could see her in the rear-view mirror and met her gaze. It felt less intimidating than meeting her face to face in such a closely confined space. I was also honestly a little afraid my breath would horrify her, with my recent menu choices. Mr. Sada liked a lot of mustard on his hamburger. “Hi Molls, and no problem. We have a bit of a crisis that I need your advice on.”

Her eyebrow ridges rose slightly. “A crisis?”

I nodded to the mirror. “Yeah, a group of armed guards escorted a BuyMort priest named Garthrust to Mr. Sada and tried to take his plot of land through basic strong arm robbery.” I watched her expression closely as I spoke and while she did a good job of maintaining a professional calm, her scales grew orange in color, and shimmered between that and red while I spoke. “When they left, they rolled out with an armored convoy, plenty of stuff that could easily flatten our little iron fencing around this place. Lots of guns. I’m concerned that they’re coming back, soon.”

Molls listened to everything I said carefully, and then raised a hand when I finished speaking. “I am shocked to hear such an accusation of one from the church. We are here to help. Profit as well, of course, but all profit if living well.” Molls shook her head. “This is a very serious thing to say.”

My first reaction was to nod along as she spoke, but then I understood what she had said and stopped. “He said he represented the Dearth Conglomerate, whatever that is, and when we said no, he tried to invoke church law to become our priest. He only backed off because I mentioned you.”

Her expression changed, her eyebrow ridges narrowing. “When you mentioned me?”

I nodded.

“Unlikely, but not impossible. I have heard rumors of corruption in some portions of the church. Of unfortunate business tactics wielded by some. The church is formidable, but it would not tolerate corruption of this sort in its ranks.” Molls scales changed from orange to yellow as she spoke. “The Dearth Conglomerate is a company like any other; diversified. I know they are a large, successful company, but not much about how or why. I will look into their reviews, see if they have a history of poor business dealings.” Her hands raised to the mirror to prevent my response, and then she continued. “It is possible that you misunderstood an aggressive commerce attempt.”

My eyebrows furrowed at that and I shook my head. “I believe you Molls, but this was worse than aggressive. They were priming weapons before I mentioned we had a priest on site.”

She took a sharp breath at that, and her eyes flitted down to her lap. The soft glow lit up her hood again and the dancing lights on her scales mesmerized me. “I will look into this Garthrust, and the Dearth Conglomerate. Return later, and I will have more information for you. This is very serious, and I want to be careful about how we address it.”

That felt very final, so I slid to the door and prepared to hurriedly leave. My mind was on preserving the heat in the car, and I gripped the door handle. Molls stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face her.

“Tyson, please,” she said, her eyes full of soft concern, and her scales filled with yellow anxiety. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Ha!” I burst out in a single, barked laugh. “That,” I said, “is something I never promise.” With that, I smiled at her and popped open the door. I was out and the door was reclosed in under a second. When I got back to the cart and looked back to wave goodbye, Molls was staring down at her device and failed to see me. I awkwardly dropped my hand to my lap and turned to head back for Mr. Sada’s place. Felt like most of my life had become going back and forth between the campground and his mansion, but at least the golf cart made it easy.

As I approached, I noticed something strange. A pocked wall was rising all around the campgrounds, new additions oozing and bubbling as they steamed into the sky. The fortifications weren’t just going up, they were going up fast and making otherworldly progress. Hardening mud rose in the air all around the mansion, and everywhere I could see, little green men scurried about. They wore bright orange helmets on oversized heads, had bulbous bloodshot eyes, and a lanky frame. On the front of each helmet in sight, the word Gobb was emblazoned in black plastic.

I knew I’d ordered a construction team but by the speed and efficiency of their work they seemed to be wizards.

As the cart carried me onto Mr. Sada’s driveway, I saw a crew of the creatures working in the pit the clay clones had been digging earlier that day. They were affixing thin rebar spikes into ball formations and wedging them into the earth at the foot of the wall. It would make climbing the medieval fortification more difficult. A rickety looking crane swung a pallet filled with large mud blocks, and a single Gobb clinging to the ropes, over to the top of the wall.

Their machines spit black smoke and sparks, but they functioned, and there were a few dozen of the little guys running around, so things were moving right along with their project. I parked the golf cart in the open garage and plugged it back into its charging station. Now that it was mine to use, I wanted to make sure it didn’t run out on me. Then I slung my shotgun over my shoulder. Felt better carrying it than not, with the looks of the creatures running around. After that was done, I entered the house and walked into the kitchen, where I had to stop and stare.

Dozens of bottles were set out on the counter. They were simple ceramic bottles, with thick corks stoppering the hardened clay openings. One of them was broken open on the counter and dripped a thick, viscous liquid to the floor in a pile. It looked like runny bread dough. On each bottle was stamped the word D’jhz.

D’jhz (Creamy ambrosia sucked straight from the Hennel grain and pumped directly into bottles for your home. Intoxicating and alluring, it doubles as a powerful facial defoliant. 25 morties,) 3.5 stars.

As I watched, a little green man ran past me and snatched a bottle off the table. He tore the cork out with his disturbingly sharp and curved teeth, and then proceeded to guzzle at it while walking out through the broken sliding glass door. Other Gobbs were working on that, and one chattered angrily at the first when he walked through their work zone.

Mr. Sada appeared at the top of the steps. “Holy shit, Tyson. Thank God you’re back man. You gotta help me. These green fucks are everywhere, and they scare the shit out of me.”

I walked slowly up the stairs, watching as another Gobb ran past with a bottle of d’jhz. “What the hell is going on, Mr. Sada? Isn’t this just the construction crew we ordered?”

He shook as Hobb stood behind him with a confused scowl. “Yeah, that’s them. I mean, we gotta get some fortifications man. But I was waiting for, you know, humans like us to show up. Hard hats and vests and all of that. Then I got a prompt asking me to pick construction material and I went with some middle-line shit called mudcrete and just as soon as the buckets of that arrived these fuckin’ goblins showed up and start tearing ass all around, scaring the life out of me. You seen their teeth? Shit, I ain’t even safe in my own house.”

I glanced back down the stairs to see a crew of them replacing the sliding glass door and sweeping the glass clear. When I turned back to Mr. Sada, he was stretching to see past me, eyebrows knit in concern. “But they’re fixing stuff and building your walls,” I said.

He pushed me. “You gotta go manage ‘em, Tyson. You gotta, man. I can’t, they scare the fuck out of me.”

One of the Gobbs in the kitchen chattered in a harsh, guttural language and the sliding glass door crew took off. Their job was finished, and the door worked again. Each of them grabbed a bottle of d’jhz off the counter and ran on to some other task. Mr. Sada jumped back and made a strange whining sound in the back of his throat. I glared at him.

“Dude. Go lock up in your bedroom. I’ll ask our priest about this and figure it out.” He started nodding as I spoke, and before I had even finished, he was backing down the hallway and avoiding the windows. “And you owe me dinner!”

I turned around and sat down on the stairs. Hord followed Mr. Sada to his room and secured the door. With a deep sigh, I pulled out my crummy psychic phone and pressed the button to activate it. The thick fog rolled in from the sides of the screen and a now familiar face rose into view. The head’s lips were tight, and his eyes were narrowed. I pictured Molls in my mind, and tried desperately not to imagine her nude, but the head flashed a wicked smile at me anyway. Then I said, “Call Molls, please.”

The head blinked. “Manners. Very well.” With that, it turned away and became a tunnel that opened up on Molls in the Lincoln’s backseat. I could see the small, recessed light above her, it was a dead giveaway with the Lincoln symbol etched into it.

She looked at me and her eyes widened. “Another question so soon, Tyson?”

I chuckled and ran a hand over my head, feeling the metal plating at my hairline. “Yeah, it’s a day full of fun. Mr. Sada ordered a bunch of these little green men to build a wall around his place, and fix it up, construction stuff. They all wear helmets that say ‘Gobb’ and seem to really like these bottles of stuff called . . .” there I hesitated for a moment, struggling with the word I had seen on the bottles. “Duhjuhz?”

She scowled and recoiled from the screen. “Do you mean ‘jizz?”

I blinked at her a few times, as my mind raced to process what she had just said. But nope, nothing came to mind to say, so I continued blinking until she scribbled something on a pad of paper and held it up to the camera. When I looked, the word ‘d’jhz’ was all she had written.

“Is it spelled like this on the bottles?” She asked, blinking seriously a few times.

I nodded slowly, my hand going to my chin. My eyebrows furrowed.

“That word is pronounced ‘jizz,’ she reiterated. “The ‘D’ is silent. It’s a grain-based product, absolutely necessary for a goblin work crew. It’s what they work for, their sustenance, and a potent alcoholic stimulant. If you are using a goblin work crew, you must carefully regiment and control the rate they consume their d’jhz.”

I looked at the counter as another Gobb raced by and snatched a bottle of d’jhz. “Oh.”

Molls’ eyes narrowed and she turned her head. “Are they allowed free access to the d’jhz right now?”

I nodded, my lips held in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You have to stop that! If allowed free access, goblins will consume their allotted supply of d’jhz far too rapidly and become unstable as a workforce!” She waved her hands in a fast circle. “They’ll start breaking things to sell for scrap money and tear the place apart! They may even kill people!”

After jumping to my feet, I realized I had no idea how to do what she was telling me. I raised my hand and took a deep breath. Then I realized I also had no idea how to ask for clarification. I was still processing the fact that the goblins had a drink called jizz, and nothing else was getting through. “How? What?” I stammered.

She flickered out her tongue and turned bright green with an outline of red. “Get your Hobb! Most hobbs can manage Gobbs! Tell him to secure the d’jhz! Buy more if you have to, fast!”

That gave me a clear direction, anyway, so I ran up the remaining stairs and approached Hord in the hallway outside of Mr. Sada’s room. His eyes went wide as I approached. “Hord. I need you to go secure the goblin d’jhz downstairs. Don’t let them take any more for a while. Can you work with Gobbs?”

He visibly relaxed and started to nod. “Yes, Hord Gobb trained. Want light ration?”

I nodded and exhaled in relief. “Yes, please. They’ve had free access for a while.”

Hord’s eyes popped wide, and he gripped his sidearm in its holster. “How long free access?”

I shook my head and shrugged. “Since they got here.”

He turned and ran down the hallway to the stairs, yanking his rusty 1911 out of its holster. “All Gobbs stop d’jhz consumption at once!” His footsteps hammered on the stairs. “No more d’jhz!” When I glanced at Molls, she was reading something, but turned and gave me a fast thumbs up. I opened Mr. Sada’s door and interrupted him in the midst of cutting another line of drywall coke.

“Mr. Sada! You need to order more of that drink the goblins came with!” I shouted as I entered the room. He stiffened and glared at me, eyes wide. Then he held up one finger and bent to do his line. My head fell back, and I groaned. This partnership was on shaky ground. Immediately following the phlegmy snort, he hooted and turned back to face me, bloodshot eyes wide and spinning.

“What the fuck for?” He turned and flopped into place on his bed.

I walked over and loomed over the top of him. “Because they’re going nuts drinking it, and we were supposed to carefully ration how much they get. They’re all fucking hammered right now and are like fourteen bottles away from ripping your place apart to sell the scrap on their way out. I’m sure they’ll hold a knife to our throats and make us give them a five star review too. Just buy another pallet of the stuff. They have a shitload of work left to do, and Hord can manage them.”

Mr. Sada nodded and followed along with everything I said, and then when I finished and took a breath, he reached up and clapped his hands in my face. “I can’t.” Then he flopped back on the bed again, too helpless to retaliate against.

“I’m broke.”