The next couple of days passed by peacefully, with Morgan going out with Harl in the day and training with the guards in the evening. He was still avoiding harvesting the easy to find Valoplant, but came across plenty more Versfern that pushed his level up again a couple of times. He fought off three more beetles with Harl, and with the help of the guard was becoming more confident with his sword. The training seemed to be paying off in skill levels too, with his blades and parry skill levels rising quickly. The beetles had pushed him up another level and feeding the cats had earned him another level in his cat herder skill.

On the morning of his fifth night in Caslon and his eleventh within in the game, he was, as usual, woken by the machinations of the cats. After a bleary awakening, he decided to spend a while examining his status and allocating his spare skill points. He put two into strength and ten into dexterity, as he’d been advised by the guard captain. As he confirmed the changes, he almost immediately felt a little lighter on his feet, though perhaps he was imagining it.

The complete list of stats and skill was now a long affair; with the mixed martial skills he’d picked up along the way.

[Identify : Self - Morgan Jones : Level 7]

[Class – Cat Herder: Level 6]

[Race - Human]

[Affiliations - None]

[HP – 552/552]

[SP - 384/384]

[MP - 200/200]

[Stats:]

[Dexterity - 85]

[Strength - 90]

[Willpower - 51]

[Intellect - 50]

[Wisdom - 50]

[Skills:]

[Harvest – Level 8]

[Identify]

[Proficiencies:]

[Athletics - Level 6]

[Blades – Level 9]

[Block – Level 3]

[Bow – Level 5]

[Maces - Level 4]

[Martial Arts – Level 3]

[Parry – Level 5]

[Thrown - Level 2]

He hadn’t stopped since he’d entered the world, and it had flown by so fast. He felt like he had become stronger and faster, but given the hazards of this new life, it wasn’t nearly enough. Turning to check his inventory, he lined up his items on the bed, the cats moving in to sniff everything experimentally. The black cat with white socks and the tabby both squeezed into pockets of the bandolier. He had his sword and sickle, and as they were blunting from his hard use, both would need a repair soon. He still had his vambrace, for all the good it had done him, his bandolier, his homespun everything else and a handful of kebabs. His satchel still contained a load of the disgusting offal that so delighted the cats, so he wouldn’t need to replenish that for a while.

Despite the inn fees, his silver was slowly rising through harvesting the Versfern and the Bellishroom. He currently sat at 32 silvers and 50 coppers – not enough yet to get anything useful, but it could cover a comforting number of nights at the inn. As far as he could tell, he’d picked the area around Harl’s clearing free of the easily gathered plants, and he was going to have to start wandering further away to keep up the pace. He resolved to go north today and see if he could find a spider cave to evaluate his chances there.

With that in mind, he fed the beasts while he re-equipped his items, before opening his Bag of Cats. With everything sorted, he headed down for breakfast with Harl. The man was in his usual place by the fire, and Morgan discussed his plans with him as they ate. The two headed their usual route as the sun slowly rose and were soon in Harl’s clearing.

As the lumberjack set to work, Morgan bade him farewell and headed north into the gloomy forest. As soon as he was out of range of the clearing, he let the cats out to sniff around and play. He travelled slowly and carefully northward, his charges following loosely around him. After harvesting a small patch of the Versfern clustered around a shrub, he realised that one of his cats was missing. The black one with the white socks was trying to pick a fight with the big ginger while avoiding Luna who was in turn trying to pounce on him. The white cat had been sat calmly watching him harvest the plants, while the pure black one prowled around his legs sniffing everything Morgan touched. The tabby was nowhere to be seen.

Panic rose in Morgan as he frantically looked around. The cats caught on to his agitation and gathered close to him. She wasn’t in sight, so he’d have to retrace his footsteps a bit. What if she’d been snatched up by beast or bird while he wasn’t paying attention?

He didn’t have to worry for long, as he’d barely taken a step away from the shrub when he heard a piteous meow to one side. Dashing towards the sound, he saw that the little tabby had somehow managed to somehow get herself so tangled in some ivy at the base of a tree that she was incapable of escape. With a sigh of relief, he rushed over to carefully sever stands of ivy with his sickle until she was able to move. Shrugging off the rest of the ivy, the small cat sauntered off as if nothing had happened.

“Not even a meow of thanks, ivy cat?” he called after her. To his surprise, she turned and gave him a small meow. He turned to the rest of the cats. “Try to stick closer to me, I almost had a heart attack there.” The cats stared at him blankly. It was like talking to sock puppets. With a sigh, he carried on.

The pack continued, now in a tighter grouping despite them seeming to ignore him, until he came across a patch of flowers of a type he hadn’t yet seen. The cats gathered around the patch, sniffing and pawing at the ground. He tried to identify the purple headed flower to no avail, before attempting to harvest it. Five desiccated flowers later, he managed to successfully harvest one of the blossoms, raising his harvesting level to 9.

[Identify – Violet Corpsebloom]

[Crafting Material - Rare]

Raising an eyebrow at the delightful name, he bent to attempt to harvest the rest. Amongst the stems of the tall flowers, he found a partially buried collection of large bones. He cast an eye over them, trying to work out what could have left such large bones. Around 30 of the flowers wilted and died, but he did manage to collect six of them, and also gained another level in harvesting, bring him to a round level 10.

Pleased at this result, he left the cut stalks and bones behind and carried on northwards. He idly wondered what the beast would have been, and how it had ended up there as he scanned the ground for harvestable plants. The ground started to get rougher, the flat forest turning to undulating hills, and tall pines scattered the hillsides.

He kept moving forward, finding himself in a valley between two hills, with rocky outcroppings and shrubs amongst the trees flanking him on the hillsides. It was quiet here; the sounds of the birds and insects had faded and only the gentle whisper of the breeze rustling the pine needles remained. His sense of unease at the silence grew as he travelled along the valley. He decided to put the cats away for their safety. With the beasts secured, he drew his sword and carried on.

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It was only a few minutes later that he spotted a large web, spun from tree to tree. The silken materiel stretched over a meter in height and width, and the realisation of just how large these spiders must be caused a chill to run down his spine. He slowed his pace, treading softly as he continued down the valley. The frequency of webs increased rapidly, and he saw the large concentration of them to one side of the valley. He moved very carefully towards it, making sure not to touch any of the glistening white substance. He didn’t know much about spiders, but he did know that they listened through vibrations transmitted through their webs. Slowly and quietly, he moved towards the cave, taking an indirect and weaving route to avoid the silken threads. He was perhaps 15 meters from the cave mouth when a notification appeared.

[Congratulations, you have acquired the Sneak skill]

[This skill marks your proficiency at moving undetected]

He froze. If he just got this sneak skill, it potentially meant he was in range of being noticed. He peered into the gloom of the cave, not able to make anything out in the darkness. Looking around the valley floor was similarly fruitless. He was about to take another step towards the cave, when a pine needle fell to the floor from above. Tracing its path upwards, he finally spotted the creature.

Almost directly above him, clinging tightly to the trunk of a pine tree, partly obscured by the foliage, sat a huge spider. Frozen to the spot in terror he stared at the arachnid, who seemed to be staring right back with its many faceted eyes. He’d never been particularly afraid of spiders, considering them allies against smaller pests, even if they were a little creepy. However, none of those spiders had a body the size of a pig.

After a long, tense moment; as the chill ran down his spine, he identified the creature.

[Identify – Dreadspinner - Level 10]

[Race - Monster/Insectoid]

[HP - 665/665]

[SP - 470/470]

Still frozen to the spot, he reviewed the information. The creature was far tougher than he was, and he decided he wasn’t ready to tangle with it yet. With this in mind, he slowly turned and started to back off. He carefully wove his way back through the tangle of webs, gaining another level in sneak as he did so. When he was far enough away from the arachnid, he sat down by a pine for a minute to calm down. He’d need a few more levels and maybe some armour before he would feel even vaguely comfortable facing off against such a monster.

He set off back in the direction of the forest proper, moving faster now, and as soon as he was out of the valley, he let out a sigh of relief. Letting the cats back out, he got back to scanning the ground for things he could harvest. The group wandered slowly in the direction of Harl’s clearing, picking up a few more Versfern along their route. Roughly halfway between the valleys and the clearing, he stumbled across a huge patch of Bellishrooms. With delight, he counted 25 of the yellow and grey capped mushrooms. He set to gathering them, with the cats frolicking around his feet.

As he picked his dozenth mushroom, the cats all froze at once, with their backs arched and fangs bared. He dropped the sickle, spinning to face what the beasts were looking at and drawing his sword. Two goblins stood a few meters away, rough dark metal swords in their hands and savage grins on their faces. The larger of the two, who roughly came up to his shoulder, was heavily wrapped in leather and iron, with savage looking tusks protruding from its mouth. The other goblin was a head shorter, and lightly clad in patched leather.

The pair of green skinned monsters didn’t give him a chance to think. With a fierce howl, they charged at him with their swords ready to swing, closing the distance rapidly. Instinctively, Morgan stepped forward to shield the cats behind him, readying his own blade. He took a step to the side, to face the heavier opponent first, ducking under its wild high swing and using the opening to shove the monster hard in the chest. Surprised by the move, the goblin toppled backwards, it's armour clattering as it hit the ground.

Spinning quickly, Morgan parried the blow of the second goblin, before driving the point of his sword into the creature's chest, piercing through the leather. It howled in pain and anger as Morgan saw a large chunk disappear from its health bar. He withdrew his sword, stepping back from the goblins retaliatory strike, the blade harmlessly whistling through the air centimetres from his face. As the goblin, off balance from the swing, tried to pull his blade back into position, Morgan stabbed again, aiming to ram the blade into the goblin's face. His aim was rushed, and he grazed the monsters head instead leaving a bright line of green blood on its scalp.

The goblin recoiled, blinking the vile green blood from its eyes. The heavier opponent was now back on his feet, and took over as its companion grunted and growled, wiping at its face to clear its vision. The armoured goblin unleashed a series of heavy blows, attempting to batter Morgan into submission. He managed to parry most of the strikes, stepping back on the defensive. One blow, aimed at his head, deflected from his blade and cut deep into his left shoulder. Pain blossomed from the wound, but he didn’t have time to worry about it as the creature kept up its assault. The smaller goblin had recovered, and he saw it moving to flank him as he desperately fended off its companion.

As the larger foe lined up another heavy blow, Morgan dived and rolled to the side, ending up on a knee and swinging his own blade, managing to strike at the monster's leg. He scored a deep gash on the back of the leg above the ankle, hamstringing the creature. The goblin wobbled for a second, but kept its balance, favouring the unwounded leg as it growled and slashed down at Morgan. He just managed to bring his blade up to stop the blow in time, and with the two blades locked, he sprang up from the kneeling position, the burst of power causing the unsteady goblin to topple once more.

He cheered internally at the result, but his glee was cut short when a blade stabbed into his side. The smaller goblin had taken advantage of his distraction, charging in from the side for the blow. It was Morgan’s turn to recoil as his health bar dropped by a fifth, and he stumbled away from the goblin, cursing at the pain. As the armoured goblin struggled to get back up, the smaller one lashed out at Morgan, trying to fend him off for long enough for his companion to rise.

Morgan, guessing the goblin’s goal, dodged the whirling blade and stepped in towards the foe. With a vicious swing, he managed to hit the goblin on its sword arm, almost cutting the limb clean off. The goblin hissed in pain, dropping its sword and, to Morgan’s surprise, jumped straight at him, bowling him off his feet as the monster collided with him. With Morgan now under it, the goblin punched him in the face, stunning the player for a moment. It used the opportunity to bite him, taking a chunk of flesh from his cheek.

Cursing, Morgan managed to bring his arm round, giving the goblin a hefty whack on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. The goblin toppled to the side, allowing him to scramble back to his feet. The armoured goblin, who had managed to get to his feet and limp towards Morgan during the brief struggle, attacked him as soon as he was upright again. With no time to recover properly, and his shoulder, side and face aching fiercely, he desperately parried the monster's large swing.

He blocked, and blocked again, the goblin grunting with each blow, as the smaller monster shook off the stun and got back to its feet. As he deflected another heavy blow, he realised it wasn't looking good for him. Despite his limited training, he wasn’t used to fighting more than one opponent, and was being overwhelmed. His wounds ached, and he was getting tired. He was no hero, just a guy trying to get by.

He managed to deflect a blow, and the goblins blade narrowly missed him but kept swinging. Seeing the opportunity, he lashed out at the brute. His blade pierced the monster's chest, the blade sliding between two of the rough iron plates and cutting through the tough leather, but only a few centimetres of blade went in. The goblin, enraged by the sword sticking from its chest, unleashed a massive downswing. Morgan rolled out of the way, leaving his sword embedded in the monster's torso.

He desperately looked around for something else to use as a weapon, seeing the sickle a meter away where he’d dropped it. The smaller goblin was in front of the tool, and he charged the greenskin, just dodging a clumsy thrust as he tackled the monster. The tackle took the pair to the ground, and Morgan managed to grab the sickle. Avoiding an attempt to hit him off, he plunged the tool into the creature's neck. Its eyes bulged in shock as the curved blade penetrated its flesh, its health bar dropping to a fifth and continuing to fall.

He heard the larger goblin moving towards him once more, its bad leg dragging on the forest floor. He tried to extract the sickle from the fallen foe, but the goblin grabbed his wrist with its one good arm and grappled him with its legs, holding on tight even as the life left its body. The armoured goblin, just a step away and seeing Morgan’s unprotected back, let out a roar and raised its blade high. Morgan, tangled in the dying goblins final embrace, twisted his head around to watch the blow that would doubtless kill him.

As the monster took its final step, to Morgans astonishment, it tripped. He saw two small black cats run out from the path of the falling goblin, diving behind Morgan. The monster toppled face first with the iron sword still sticking from its chest, its own blade missing Morgan by a centimetre. The hilt of the sword hit the ground first and the monster followed, sliding down the blade with a sickly wheezing sound. As the smaller goblin died from its wounds and its grip loosened, Morgan wrenched his sickle free. He turned to plunge it into the unarmoured nape of the larger goblins neck, swiftly finishing it off.

He ignored the barrage of notifications that swarmed into his vision, blinking them away for the moment. Sitting between the corpses, wild-eyed and panting, he took a moment to catch his breath. He looked over at the cats, who had moved in to sniff at the cooling bodies on the ground. One of the black cats caught his eye and moved over to him, rubbing its little face on his hand. Morgan looked at the small beast. He was pretty sure that it, and its friend with the socks, had just saved his life by tripping the large goblin.

The black cat with the white socks sauntered up, a small piece of leather in its mouth. It dropped the scrap at Morgan’s feet, meowing proudly. Morgan scratched the little beast behind the ears. Looking down at the two cats, he decided they’d earned their names. Stroking a small proud cat with each hand, he named them in his head; the pure black beast was now Trip, and the one with the socks was Scrap. The rest of the cats, who had been hiding behind Tom, or in the tabby’s case, hiding in a patch of ivy, broke cover to examine the carnage.

Pleased with himself, he turned to loot the corpses on the ground. He came away with 18 silver coins, half a dozen iron plates, a handful of leather scraps, and the two goblins’ crude swords. He fit the coins, and plates into his inventory, but as it was full of the varied plants, he didn’t have room for the two swords or the scraps of leather. Shoving the leather scraps into a pouch of his bandolier, he looked down at the remainder of the Bellishroom patch, but all the ones he hadn’t already harvested had been crushed by the battle. He put his sickle back in its sheath and slid his sword in the bandoliers’ holster.

With a goblin sword in each hand and the gang of cats following, he slowly set back off in the direction of Harl's clearing.