Gro’Bur quietly crept past the sleeping body of his son, careful not to wake him. The thigh bone, still in his hand, had been ground down and sharpened to a pretty wicked edge, one that with proper application of force, would easily draw blood.

The ivory weapon brought pride to Gro'Bur, causing him to unconsciously puff up his chest. His son had made it. His son! A weapon truly worthy of a goblin.

Taking one last glance at his snoring child, he snuck out through the vine curtain. A good father took care of his son.

And what kind of father would he be if didn’t try to catch breakfast?

[https://i.ibb.co/9NqMSN8/goblin.png]

Of course, three days ago there had been nothing of the like. Three days ago, he had no son. Three days ago he had been at the deadpit, as usual, tossing bodies into the cavern.

In there, the bodies would be left to rot, attracting bugs and insects that would be fed to the young.

He had been transporting bodies, as was his task that day. The rest of the other, more aggressive goblins had usually shoved him back whenever the Knowing One had sent out hunters. This made grave duty a familiar assignment.

Goblins were inherently weak in nature, and they knew it. Which was why hunting alone was dangerous, since many of the larger beasts prowled the area. Without numbers, they stood no chance.

If you weren't careful one could easily end up in a creature's stomach, or the deadpit.

His voracious appetite, combined with lacking rations and tiring work drained him of all his energy, causing him to fall asleep at the dead pit. Something that would usually never have happened due to the smell.

It was a deep sleep that took him, one that usually came with odd dreams. And dream oddly he did.

In it, a pink, human baby had been handed to him. Surrounded by white stone walls, he watched as aliens covered in bright blue cloth handled tools that he had no hope of understanding.

His attention was immediately grabbed by the baby in front of him. Pink, soft hands with smooth nails held the child in their hands. Gro’Bur watched as the owner of the body he possessed carrassed the baby’s crying face.

As his fingers brushed the cheek of the child, the dream changed abruptly. To a similar one. This time he was in the body of a young hawk. He watched as the eggs under his wings cracked open, revealing the wondrous life beneath. Ugly, featherless creatures poked their heads out from their shells, but to him they were the most beautiful things in the world.

Swirl

Now an elf, Gro’Bur glanced about stunned. Tall trees with so many leaves that the sun barely shone through. Hearing a young girls voice, he turned back and feelings overwhelmed him as ‘his’ daughter jumped on him laughing. Her blonde hair tickled his nose, and with a chuckle he buried his face in her neck.

Swirl

Wolf pups cuddled next to him, hidden from the cold. Small yelps of terror broke out from one of them; probably a nightmare. He nudged it slightly with his snout, and the pup fell back to sleep contentedly. After confirming that there weren’t any predators around, he laid his head back on the grass.

Swirl

In a daze, he watched as each of the scenes played out with a front row seat. At every change, his heart ached painfully at the ‘loss’ of his children. It would then quickly be replaced by a new love for the child, or children in front of him.

The dream gradually faded, and like a cloud the visions dissipated, revealing a weak, scrawny little thing with a rock in his hand. The fear on the goblin’s face invoked the tumultuous mix of implanted memories within.

Before he knew it, he was already dancing uncontrollably.

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“Son! Awake! Knowing One said wrong! Was wrong! Son, awake!”

[https://i.ibb.co/9NqMSN8/goblin.png]

I woke up to a roaring fire, and the smell of burnt flesh permeating the air. Jumping up, I hurriedly piled rocks around the pit before the vines or the forest were set aflame.

”Look son, cooked breakfast!” said Gro’Bur happily. He smiled as he tossed another twig into the fire.

In a rush I quickly stopped him before he could destroy the camp. I spent the next few minutes lecturing my father on the dangers of playing with fire.

At the end, I could see his ears drooping down like a dog’s, and my heart felt a little uncomfortable. I tore off a piece of the burnt meat and popped it in my mouth.

“Is good! Delicious meat!” I gave him a thumbs up with a large grin. A small smile returned to his face and he returned the action.

In silence, we slowly picked off the blackened flesh from the creature; It was far too gone for me to recognize what it had been in life. I searched for a topic to change the awkward mood.

“Father.” I asked. "How get name?"

A frown formed on my father’s face, not of irritation but from wracking his head.

“Not sure. Hunt. Grave work. Next day, have name.” he replied with a shrug.

"How you know?" went my reply.

If hunting would bestow me a name, perhaps we might be able to rejoin the cavern, and in time take over it.

Step one in Project Talk-to-Gods, I guess.

Gro'Bur thought for a moment, before proceeding to twirl around and mimicking wind noises with his mouth.

He extended his hands out, swinging them around himself before bringing them together in one swift motion.

Clap!

"Was Gro'Bur!" he ended with a triumphant smile.

"Ooh~!" I clapped lightly at his presentation.

Applauding seemed to be what he expected, since his smile widened significantly.

I really was glad though that he could tell me what to look out for. Since strength was what was needed, every edge would help.

Equipment, Combat skills, Magic, and hopefully a Name. I'd try whatever possible.

The thigh bone was finally ready, ground down and sharpened.

It could probably draw blood about three out of every five attempts before eventually dropping in effectiveness. Hopefully with how tough it had been to whittle it down, it'd last longer than I expected.

But I was satisfied with it, heck I was ecstatic. I loved every aspect of it, in no small part due to the effort I had made, and was definitely excited to try it out.

With a bit more strength than intended, I swung the bone blade towards one of the heavy vines nearby.

The results? Disappointment

The feedback from the weapon made me frown. Like chilled butter I had managed to carve the lower chunk of the vine through, but it was nothing like what I had expected. More cleaver than katana then. Sadly, the bone was no proper substitute for metal, and my weapon crafting skills were clearly found wanting.

Gro’Bur to his credit was returning the applause I’d given him before, lightly clapping at the sad display. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the goblin was being sarcastic.

Still, the fact that it could cut the vine at all was noteworthy enough. Using it on the scales brought an unexpected outcome, since the blade pierced holes through them rather easily by just applying some pressure..

On two opposing edges of leather, I made a number of small holes just enough to fit a finger in, and in the center one large enough to fit my head through.

I quickly prepared several bunches of split vines, now working much faster as I had a proper tool. Goodbye sharp rock, hello new friend. Twisting the vines together with several long blades of grass produced surprisingly thin but sturdy cord. Cord that was used to tie the scaled leather taut to my waist.

By the end I was left with something of a singlet or poncho, but one that was tough and would probably survive a number of claw or bite attacks. Leaping three times in a row, I attempted to push my body’s flexibility to the limit, testing the range of movements I could do with it on.

I was a complete amateur in terms of swordplay, but I had watched enough movies to mimic some of the more realistic strikes. When there was time, I’d definitely have to practice getting used to fighting with a weapon.

My lungs burned slightly at the exertion, but at the back my father was howling with excitement. The way he jumped up and down made me feel that when the time came for his own set, he’d never want to take it off. The goblin’s wide eyes convinced me to make something similar for him as soon as possible. But first, we’d need the materials to do so.

We didn't have a tribe, so we'd have to hunt with just the two of us. But with my equipment and my father's experience, we'd might yet balance the scales. Flexing my arms I considered our odds at hunting one of the insectoid wolves we saw the other day. Chances are we wouldn't come up unscathed, but neither would the wolf.

I intended to start with some of the smaller creatures, slowly coming up with a rough idea of the different sorts of monsters living within the forest. Perhaps once that was done, we'd be able to take on one of the more dangerous beasts.

I turned to Gro’Bur, my eyes brimming with anticipation. It seemed he could sense my intentions, since he too stood up, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

“Father, show me how hunt?”