Thirty minutes had passed of me watching the treeline before the first stirrings began. The rifle barrel scraped against the stone as I pivoted the weapon toward the noise. A goblin, with a red-brown mane, crept out of the overgrowth, with an arrow nocked to a primitive bow. Its sloped head turned its bulbous eyes glanced around as its large maw was drawn down in a frown. A second followed after it: also carrying a bow Their rabbit hide quivers hung on their backs with a very thin strap of leather that went over their broad, pale chest. Their green scales glimmered as they stepped out of the shade of the treeline, and into the sun.
I lined the iron sights up with the center mass of the first and squeezed the trigger. The rifle roared to life, and the bullet punched through the head of the red-brown-maned goblin. It stood up straight before falling back. The other goblin jumped. Startled and glanced around:
“ICK AR! ICK AR!” It yelled.
“ICK AR! ICK AR!” Came a howling reply from down the path.
I quickly turned the barrel toward the scout as it retreated for the woods, slid the bolt, and slammed it shut before firing again. It fell forward and tried to pull itself toward the treeline to hide in the leaves, but fell still. A great bustle came from the path, as several shadows charged down the path in a small horde. I turned the rifle toward the path and waited.
Thud
I supposed that was the fall trap being activated, so I glanced at my PID. 4/10. Only two? The group of goblins rushed down the path, and into the clearing. The lead stepped into the snare I set up, and once it snapped around its ankle, it pulled: raising the small wall of spears behind it. The crude spear in the center impaled the goblin a few steps behind the first through the throat. The point of the spear pushed through the goblin’s body: the weight of its now slackened body breaking the wall apart.
I turned the barrel of the rifle toward the snared goblin and fired. The bullet bore a head down through its head and scattered its brain and skull on the dust behind him. Four left.
An arrow flew out of the tree line and stuck me in the arm. I hissed and fell back away from the window, as another crashed against the stone. I crawled over to the edge of the ledge and peeked out: two archers in the woods, and two other goblins: one with a spear, and another with a club, sneaking through the trees. As I tried to move the rifle to aim at one of the archers I could see, the muscles of my forearm brushed against the wooden arrowhead of the goblin’s arrow stuck in my forearm. I gripped the arrow: as soon as the shaft wiggled a little inside of my arm, waves of pain robbed me of my vision temporarily, as I yanked it out of my skin. Luckily, it didn’t go that deep.
With the arrow out, I was able to move my arm more freely than before. I swiveled the barrel and aimed down the sight while prone on the stone floor. The archer to my left stepped out of cover and spotted me. It drew its string back to its cheek, while I lined up the sights and fired. The bullet broke through the bow and slammed into the goblin’s chest. It collapsed forward, and the melee weapon-using goblins rushed forward: zig-zagging across the clearing. I aimed at one and fired. The bullet struck the ground and cast a cloud of dust as it buried itself into the ground. I slid the bolt back and fired. Missed again. Slid the bolt back, and hit its leg. It collapsed forward and rolled to a stop. The next bullet found its head.
An arrow flew out from the woods, and skittered to a stop on the stone near my exposed head: the tip came to a stop and poked my cheek. I sprung back behind the cover and dropped my rifle as the spear user climbed up the stairs. I picked up the pistol and whipped it over toward the staircase. The goblin was quicker, though, and it stabbed down: piercing through my shoulder and pinning me to the stone ground. It pulled the spear from my shoulder and slammed it into my gut before I could pull the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. It staggered backwards and rolled down the stairs and I screamed out in pain.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I pushed myself backward, and the spear fell out of me: pushing up my insides like a lever. I clutched the hole in my stomach and pushed the slimy stuff that slipped out with the spear. I need to get a potion. Shit. Why didn’t I bring it up with me? Shit. I rolled over onto my stomach: my left hand clutching my stomach, and my right hand holding my pistol, and dragged myself to the ledge. It was down there. Within the tarp. As soon as I peeked out of cover, the goblin archer let loose with an arrow. It slammed into my shoulder, and I rolled off the edge of the second story to the ground: slamming my left shoulder onto the ground, and bringing the tarp down around me. A bit of scuffling from the treeline let me know that the goblin archer was coming to check to see if it had killed me. I lay as still as I could as the scraping against the ground neared the tarp. A small, gurgling chuckle came from the goblin as it approached.
I raised my pistol in the direction of the sound and fired twice before the tarp tore and jammed the pistol. The sound that followed through my ringing ears was the sound of something solid collapsing onto stone. I dropped the pistol and weakly dug through the tarp for the gallon jug.
I brought it up to my lips and drained the potion. Heat rushed through my body, as tendrils of flesh began to reform. I laid perfectly, and utterly still until the strange sensation passed, and the pain faded.
“Get me some armor too,” I told Jack through the PID.
Remember to say thank you.
“Thank you.” I dropped the PID to my side and breathed out a long stream of air and stress.
Whenever I moved my torso, a volley of pain would shoot up through my body and rob me of all reason for a moment in time. Still, I had to work. The hearts would only be good for so long. I drove my dagger into the chest of the creature and opened its chest. I pulled the ribs apart, pulled out the heart, pierced it with the knife, and put it to my lips to drain the organ of its vital juices. I did the same to all the others: one of the archers had their heart punctured by the bullet that killed it, and the two that had been crushed in the fall trap were unsalvageable. I checked my PID to clear the notifications:
[GOBLIN PATROL KILLED, $2,000 DOLLARS, +5% MASTERY ALL STATS]
[BOUNTY ON GOBLINS I COMPLETED - $1,000, +1% MASTERY ALL STATS]
[BOUNTY ON GOBLINS II UNLOCKED 3/20]
REWARDS
+$2,000, +2% MASTERY ALL STATS
[RIFLE MASTERY +10%, TRAP MAKING MASTERY 9%, PISTOLS MASTERY +6%, INTELLIGENCE MASTERY +5%, PERCEPTION MASTERY +4%]
[HEARTBLOOD CONSUMED X7: ANIMA MANIPULATION MASTERY +28%, AGILITY MASTERY +21%, STRENGTH MASTERY +21%, ENDURANCE MASTERY +21%]
[TELEKINESIS TASK – BLOODDRINKER IV COMPLETED – 25/25
+20% ANIMA MANIPULATION, +5% ALL STATS
[TELEKINESIS TASK BLOODRINKER III 1/20]
REWARDS
+15% ANIMA MANIPULATION, +6% ALL STATS
[ANIMA MANIPULATION TASK III COMPLETED 20/20
REWARDS 15% ANIMA MANIPULATION, +6% ALL STATS
[AGILITY HAS INCREASED FROM F RANK TO F+ RANK]
Good gains.
I took the rest of the morning, until afternoon to butcher the corpses and skin their hides: each one better than the last.
[BUTCHERING MASTERY +10%]
There was still some soreness left, so I spent the rest of the day dragging the corpses away to the treeline and remaking my camp. It wasn’t until five in the evening that I got an affirmation from Jack that he had read my message. I remade the gallon jug into another fishing trap, put some of the goblin meat inside, and put it in the river a bit downstream from the first, and went back to the tower and watched in real-time as my remaining wealth drained down to 61,901 as he bought the things I asked for with my money.
The drums played throughout the entire night. Creeping closer and closer. If I had to put them somewhere, by the time the night ended, it would be about the gate that led down the path out of the valley. Was it my imagination? Was it my anxiety made manifest in sound? Perhaps. Whenever I camped out before, these phantom sounds were always present — the rustling in the nearby trees were mountain lions and bears, and the calls of the pheasants were phantoms. Though, in this place, both of those things were a possibility. Telling myself that on that night, I was finally able to sleep.