When we returned, a surprising friend was there waiting for us. With its large butt and brown hide, I was pretty sure this was the same boar that had ransacked our camp a while back. It lay in front of the vine curtain, while its eyes stared at us unblinking. I could see it eye the giant lizard we were carrying with barely concealed hunger. Gro'Bur growled faintly at the boar, obviously still remembering the food we had sacrificed, but an outstretched hand stopped him from doing any more.
Still, the big lug hadn't done anything that showed true aggression yet, so I allowed it to stay around the camp. We pushed past the vines cautiously but the lizard was too large for the three of us to fit inside. We didn't have much choice but to leave the carcass outside. As I studied the creature, I looked for parts that could be useful in crafting. The scales didn't look too tough, especially since Gro'Bur managed to crack through. A rock was still a rock, despite hitting the same spot multiple times.
No, the scales wouldn't do this time. I could use the bones again, maybe do the same for a proper weapon for my father.
A low pitched whine resounded through the site and I immediately looked to Gro'Bur. He stared up wide eyed and confused, before furiously shaking his head.
That just left one, and the culprit was sitting at the edge of the curtain staring at the pit. I chuckled lightly and got up to work. Using my blade, I carved a chunk of the lizard's tail and tossed it to the boar. It sniffed at it once, and I could see its mouth open slightly at the treat. Then it pushed the meat to the fire pit, before sitting back down at the curtain.
Who would have guessed, the pig was a bona fide connoisseur! Evidently having gained a new awareness for the finer arts, the boar refused to succumb to its inner temptations. It continued to sit and stare at the fire pit. Impressed with its will, I immediately began starting the fire. Such determination deserved to be rewarded, and I was a generous man-goblin.
This was in no way because I wanted a miniature pot bellied pig when I was younger. Nope, definitely not because of that.
Once I got the fire going, I tossed several dead vines to burn. My father busied himself by putting on my armor and imitated fighting in a heroic battle. What it actually looked like was a full-grown goblin playing out his eighth-grade syndrome. I carved off thick slices of muscle from the lizard's carcass, but since I wasn't a professional butcher, most of it came apart into unintended strips. Bunching the lot into what looked a lot like pulled pork, I smiled at the irony as I threw a handful onto the homemade grill. Some of the bits fell through the gaps and onto the fire, but there was a lot of it so I didn’t mind it that much.
As the green meat sizzled on the stones, the boar continued to stare at it. I didn’t think its eyes could get any wider, but I was obviously wrong. When the meal was done, I dragged it to the ground with my sword, where I diced it into smaller chunks. I gave half to the boar while pushing the rest to Gro’Bur who was still preoccupied.
The boar, whom I offhandedly decided to name Pongo, jumped on the meat, tearing apart strips and gobbling them up. It hadn't taken more than a couple of seconds before the pig had swallowed everything up. Gro'Bur and I had barely touched our meal before Pongo nudged me with its nose.
It appeared the measly snack I had given before was largely insufficient, so without much fuss, I repeated the process. This time with larger cuts. As before I wasn't a professional, but I did learn from my mistakes. Instead of slices, I chose to carve out whole limbs, removing the bits that would be useful for equipment. Bones, both small and large, quickly piled up. Along with claws and spines and a surprising find.
The lizard's gut and muscle sinew were unexpectedly elastic. My sword hadn't even been able to make a tear in them, which was a good thing too since the list of uses for something as stretchy as this was endless. It took a few hours but eventually I had somehow managed to sort out the useful materials and feed Pongo and Gro'Bur at the same time. Our new roommate practically ate half of Mr Universe before it was sated.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
We discovered along the way that Pongo was a she, and though it didn't matter either way, Gro'Bur was mortified for whatever reason. Eventually, tired out by the day's activities, we lay down behind the curtain.
Once again, night fell and the ambient sounds of insects along with the scraping of leaves lulled the three of us to sleep.
[https://i.ibb.co/9NqMSN8/goblin.png]
“Do be careful on your way back, Austus." cautioned Eda. "There's been talk of a new kind of beastie near the mountains. A couple of the hunters swear they've seen it stalking around, covered in black and slaughtering any woodland critters." As she spoke, her hands curled up like claws, splitting and tearing at the air.
“I’ll be fine Aunt Eda, my house ain’t that far not to worry.” replied Austus. Making one last check that his leather boots were tied on tight, he flashed her a smile; the warmest he had. “Besides, with the Chief and Uncle Jerrod out every night, the village’s been safer than ever. I mean, have you seen the game they bring back?”
With a chuckle she waved him off lightly. “Your uncle never lets me hear the end of it, so don’t you start! And you just watch yourself child. A man yourself you see, but you’ll always be a boy to me.”
Austus ended his goodbyes with Eda before setting off through the woods. He understood his aunt’s worries, however exaggerated they may be. If the Chief’s warnings were to be believed, this year’s Seventh would be hard and difficult. Deaths were a likely possibility, even with the evening hunts.
Every year the Seventh would cause the same bloodlust to build in monsters all over the continent. Some said it was the position of the moon, others the opening of the ghost gates that drove the creatures mad. It didn’t matter to him either way. All Austus knew was that when it came, everyone he knew hid within their homes and prayed to the Gods that the nights would pass quickly. A full month of deadly raids every year. Every night he would pray, and every morning he would look around for who was missing. Maybe the farmer’s daughter, or the blacksmith himself.
Death. That was what the Seventh meant to him.
Things only changed when the Chief took over. With his previous background as a sell-sword, the man had drafted several of the strongest and most able within the village to do what he knew best: kill monsters. With the best weapons and equipment the village could muster up, the militia in turn raided the forest every night they could, emptying out whatever monsters roamed nearby. The Sevenths that followed were one of the most peaceful that he had ever experienced. As long as one stayed home during the night, the chances of death were almost close to nil.
With his commanding voice and purple fire, the Chief had become something of an icon that the people rallied around, giving hope to the tired villagers. And to Austus, he was his role model. It didn’t matter what kind of new beast roamed the land. If the Chief was around, the wretched thing wouldn’t stand a chance. One day, hopefully soon, he would join the militia, and perhaps even learn how the man cast his mesmerizing spells.
So lost was he in his thoughts that he had mistakenly taken a left when he should a right, and continued walking where he should have stopped. It wasn’t until it was too late that he awoke to find himself surrounded by trees and stones he did not recognize. With a start he swiveled around and immediately chastised himself for his lack of focus. He slowly began the painful job of backtracking his path, one stone and twig at a time. As time passed, a rustling of leaves tore his attention from the ground. He glanced around him, but seeing only trees and leaves around him, the young man breathed a sigh of relief.
Some hero I’d turn out to be, scared of a few leaves. He laughed mirthlessly.
Just as he turned, a large branch from the tree next to him broke, barely missing his nose and landing at his feet. In front of him stood a dark, lithe creature. Growls and snarls could be heard escaping softly, no doubt in devil tongue. He watched in horror as the demonic being placed one hand on its head and as though in slow motion, began to remove it.
It was at that moment that he could feel his heart threatening to burst from his chest, and with a scream Austus immediately set off, tumbling and screaming in terror. The would-be hero sped through the trees as fast as he could leaving only dust in his wake, and didn't stop till he was back home, doors shut and bolted.
It would be many moons before he dared dream about monsters and adventure again.