“Agob ood. Ah’choo ood. Fras een. Wat?” I slowly interrogate, stock still and mouth agape.

  “Wat? Ach yoo? Agob mad? Afras scarr?” the mysterious little one uselessly questions back, aggressively pointing at my head.

  Does he not know his own name? Is the status appraisal wrong?

  “Agob feet. Agob gud! Wan afras?” he yells out again after my long, non response, pointing at me and hopping up and down excitedly.

  The other goblins around us all perk up, hoping that the action and entertainment will finally get restarted. If they’re so eager for this, then why won’t any of them volunteer?

  “Gew gew. Der!” he eagerly explains, running over to take my arm and point towards the circle.

  When I still refuse to move, he lets go of my arm and holds his little hands up, aimed at my face.

  “Bow! Bow! Fier! Bow! Fier fier!” he theatrically cries in my direction, waving his hands up and down for further effect.

  What? Is he imitating my flame song? If this was a different goblin coming over from the planks hours after the fight, then there’s no way that he’d know about that. He came straight up to me, so no other goblin had a chance to inform him of the previous match. It’s really him! It must be. But how? Is he the only one? How?!

  Obsessively, I methodically run from goblin to goblin appraising them. I must commit every name to memory in case another one dies. No, wait. That’s not enough. I need a new moniker. No, wait. A mnemonic, yes. I don’t know how I know this, but I also need that. The names alone aren’t enough. The names alone are easy to remember, but there’s so many different goblins. What if they repeat? No, no, I must remember the specific goblins here along with their names. Only then can I truly confirm their return after dying.

  Short and pudgy, Urgle. One squinty eye, Aieek. Tongue hanging half out and to the left, Gack. One by one, I struggle to burn their names and likeness into my mind. However, there’s so many to keep track of. After looping around to start back from the beginning, I find myself forgetting most of the little ones. However, I won’t give up. Again and again, I repeat the gauntlet, slightly tweaking the details for each one until I find myself consistently remembering nearly all of them.

  Huh? How does that make any sense? Immediately opening my status to check, I slap my annoying personal details away in order to only bring up my map panel. To my astonishment, it displays the area around me perfectly, even though I’ve barely spent any time here. The gangplanks all the way back to my birthing pit too. Most shocking of all, the nearby goblins are also pinned on the map exactly where they stand in reality.

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  Zooming in on each pin, it clearly shows each goblin’s name in addition to an icon resembling the actual creature. It’s exactly like the song hierarchies I created. Build up enough relational intuition and this status feature generalizes it into an incredibly invaluable tool. I am so powerful.

  Deeply engrossed in studying my new toy, I realize that all the pins have closely gathered nearby on the map. Looking up, a sea of fascinated little eyes are all intently staring at my light. Understandable, as I felt much the same way when first ogling this beauty. However, I quickly dismiss it, recalling that my first time seeing status also brought out that insatiable greed. No point cruelly tempting my brothers with a treasure that I certainly won’t share.

  “Afras!” my dogged shadow yells from behind me, never having left my side throughout my research.

  Pondering for a moment, perhaps this new tool warrants another experiment. After all, the subject himself is demanding it. Who am I to say no?

  “Afras,” I cooly reply, storming gallantly towards the circle.

  Taken aback by the sudden change of heart, it takes a few moments for Ah’choo to understand exactly what’s happening. However, after sinking in, he quickly scampers into the circle to join me, excitedly bouncing along the way. Having noticed the circle repopulating, the others excitedly rise and cram up against the boundary again.

  The little psycho amps up across from me, frothing himself into a spitting frenzy. I squat down and stand ready with my hands up. The little green missile fires itself at me, but this time I’m adequately primed and ready. With an easy, now practiced release, the flames engulf Ah’choo’s head as soon as he enters into range. The missile’s high, fast charge immediately begins sinking, allowing me to simply step aside to dodge the now unpowered, descending fuselage.

  Good. We’re back to where we started. Checking my map, Ah’choo’s pin is definitely gone. Good, good, experiment successfully initiated. Now only need to wait. About to close the panel, I happen to catch a new pin quickly moving away from the center of the local cluster. Zooming in to follow, the displayed icon’s just a little, blue, glowing ball. However, more than that, it’s the name that startles me. Clearly spelled out alongside the mysterious image is “Ah’choo”. Rapidly moving away from the circle where he died, it’s flying towards the same mud pit that I clawed my way out of not long ago.

  “Mud,” I mutter to myself, more clearly than any of the other words that I’m allowed to say. “Ood. Gew mud. Een. Gew har.”

  Amazing. However, this isn’t enough. Is it only him? Or is it all of them? Me too? I’ll need to track the others as well. I don’t want to sully my hands by murdering any more than the excessively willing, but I must know. Thankfully, if there’s one thing these little psychos are very good at, it’s pointlessly killing themselves and each other on a regular basis. It’s only a matter of patiently waiting for more of their pointless bloodshed.

  About an hour goes by, and I watch as Ah’choo’s bright icon darkens inside the pit, turning a much muddier color from the light blue. Another hour and it’s formed stubby little arms and legs. By roughly the third hour, the icon’s fully formed and racing back towards the mound along the gangplanks. I eagerly wait, watching the little animated image move closer and closer. Then finally…

  “Ha! Afras!” the little lunatic happily shrieks and cheers upon seeing me again.