Damien idly flipped a beer mat, half-listening to the animated chatter of his companions. They were seated in the midst of a dingy tavern, in a town that seemed as unremarkable as the others they'd visited that week. This fruitless quest, supposedly in search of wild beasts with crimson eyes causing chaos, was starting to wear on him. Damien suspected this was more a political manoeuvre by the Duke, a show of force using their presence as a statement of power.
Captain Isak, their constant travel companion assigned by the Duke, had made it a point to announce their arrival in each new town, always drawing attention to the orange insignia on Damien's chest. It was clear they were being paraded as symbols rather than being utilized for their true potential. Damien pondered how they were ever going to reach their full capabilities if their journey continued to be mere pageantry rather than a real challenge.
Damien brooded in the corner, grimacing at each sip of his acrid brew, its bitterness akin to chewing on burnt bark. The best drink on offer apparently in this forsaken part of the world. His gaze shifted to Roderick, who was now locked in an arm-wrestling match with Gong, another youth Olympian who had picked up the gold at shot put. Her formidable strength was on full display as Damien observed the tense muscles of her arm as she struggled against the beserker. Nearby, Elena, Marcus, and Imani, who had something to do with horses – Damien had never really delved into the specifics, nor did he have any interest in doing so – were animatedly discussing TV shows they longed to watch again.
At the next table, Captain Isak and his soldiers, who were supposedly their 'escorts', were gathered. Damien snorted at the thought; in any real danger, it would likely be the champions doing the escorting. Some soldiers were playing dice, but others listened attentively to the captain. Damien, overhearing a part of their conversation, found his attention inadvertently drawn to their discussion.
"We've done our bit showcasing our strength in these towns," Captain Isak was saying, his voice firm and authoritative. "But the true test lies ahead, closer to the wilderness. That's where the real threats lurk."
A young soldier, eyes bright with a mix of nerves and excitement, nodded eagerly. Beside him, an older, more experienced soldier clapped him on the back. "Stay sharp, Thomas," he grunted. "If you want to be making it back to your sweetheart, Maddie, you’ll keep your eyes open and your weapon ready."
Isak continued, "We'll be heading to Elderford, then Stonewalls, and finally Silverpine. Rest up; we'll need to be at our best. Remember, what we're looking for could be more than just rumours."
The soldiers absorbed his words, a sense of seriousness overtaking the previous casual air.
After Captain Isak's briefing, he approached the table where the champions were seated. "Sir, ladies," he addressed them with a respectful nod, "we'll be setting off at first light. Hope to see you all ready." With that, he excused himself, signalling the end of the night for his troops. As they dispersed, readying for the journey ahead, Damien felt a stir of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, they were finally heading towards something worth their time.
The morning greeted them with an air of dreariness, matching the mood of the group as they readied themselves to depart. The dawn was far from welcoming, its light muted and obscured by a blanket of grey clouds. They embarked on their journey to Elderford under a sky that promised nothing but a day of monotonous drizzle and dampness, with the heavy, grey sky, the kind of morning where the sun seemed to have overslept. A persistent drizzle, more annoying than soaking, accompanied the group as they trudged along the muddy road out of town. Damien, his mood as dreary as the weather, pulled his cloak tighter around him, casting a disinterested gaze at the bleak landscape.
The road was a ribbon of wet earth, winding through a landscape devoid of colour. Trees stood like disheartened souls waiting endlessly in the rain, leaves shedding water in steady drips, and the distant hills were shrouded in a mist that blurred their edges. The soldiers marched in a sombre rhythm, their armour clinking softly under their rain-soaked cloaks. Every so often, a cold gust of wind would cut through the group, eliciting a shiver from even the hardiest among them.
Elena, typically a beacon of cheer, had her spirits dampened, walking beside Damien with her bow carefully wrapped against the rain. Roderick's usual boisterousness was muted, his brooding silence echoing the day's gloom. Marcus, steady and observant, matched Gong's determined stride; both were vigilant, their eyes scanning the murky horizon for any hint of change. Imani, normally composed, muttered curses under her breath with each squelch of her boots in the mud, her frustration with the weather barely concealed.
The group finally arrived in Elderford, their entrance following the usual pomp despite the persistently overcast weather dampening everyone's spirits. The familiar routine of announcing their arrival and showcasing their strength had become monotonous, with the grey skies and damp air only adding to their growing sense of weariness.
And of course, neither the town leader nor anyone else in Elderford had heard anything about the rumoured beasts. Their inquiries were met with puzzled looks and shrugged shoulders, further fuelling the champions' frustration. The lack of any solid leads or sightings made their quest feel increasingly futile, casting a shadow of doubt over the purpose of their journey.
Their stay in Elderford was brief, just enough to fulfil their obligations and rest for the night. The next morning, they were on the road again, but unfortunately, the weather showed no signs of improvement. The same dreary skies and persistent drizzle continued to accompany them, setting a familiar, sombre tone as they moved towards their next destination.
On the second day after leaving Elderford, the group decided to stop at a small clearing near the edge of a dense forest, seeking a brief respite from their journey. As they approached, a disturbance caught their attention: an overturned wagon lay a short distance away, surrounded by green humanoid figures.
The beings were slightly shorter than an average person but had hunched, almost feral postures. Their skin was a murky green, textured like moss-covered bark, and their eyes glowed a sinister red, adding to their ghoulish appearance. Sharp, uneven teeth filled their gaping mouths, and they moved with a jerky, unnerving speed. They clambered over the wreckage with a blend of destructive curiosity and primal aggression, ripping apart the wagon's contents with abandon.
Damien quickly activated his Identify skill, focusing on the creatures surrounding the overturned wagon. A window of information appeared before his eyes:
[Hobgoblins - These creatures are known for their brutish and primitive nature. Hobgoblins are one rung above beasts, but many rungs below any civilized race. They are impulsive and notoriously aggressive, often acting on a whim based on their current mood. Typically found in small, disorganized groups, they are attracted to chaos and destruction. Although not known for complex strategies, their raw strength, cunning and numbers can pose a significant threat.]
Captain Isak, with a low, urgent tone, instructed his men, "Okay, let's approach slowly and in formation. Stay alert." The champions, meanwhile, whispered among themselves about the grotesque appearance of the hobgoblins.
But Damien, adrenaline surging through him, had other plans. Ignoring Isak's orders, he shouted, "Screw that! This is my chance to level," and sprinted towards the band of hobgoblins with his sword in hand.
As he closed in on the hobgoblins, Damien's sword, a gift from his legendary class, came alive in his grasp. The blade, forged from a metal that shimmered with like the northern lights, glowed faintly with eldritch runes. The hobgoblins, caught by surprise, briefly faltered in their inspection of the wagon. Their red eyes widened, and they let out guttural snarls, quickly regrouping to face this new threat. Damien, fuelled by a mix of excitement and determination, sped towards the group, his eyes gleaming with battle hunger.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The closest hobgoblin turned just in time to see Damien, a spectral figure of determination and skill. Caught off-guard, it barely raised its crude weapon before Damien's blade swept through it. The hobgoblin crumpled to the ground, its red eyes dimming. Damien pivoted gracefully, his movements honed by years of fencing, and struck down a second hobgoblin, his blade moving in a blur too fast for the creature's primitive reactions.
The remaining hobgoblins, now aware of the threat, began to react more cautiously. They encircled Damien, their guttural snarls filling the air as they moved erratically, their hunched forms lunging in and retreating, trying to find an opening in his defences. But Damien was in his element, moving fluidly between attack and defence, each time one lunged, Damien's swordplay, precise and fluid, found its mark. He danced among them, his blade a whirlwind of light and deadly grace.
However, the tide began to change as more hobgoblins emerged from the shade of the thicket, their numbers growing. Damien found himself surrounded, forced to constantly shift his focus as one hobgoblin would distract him while another attacked. Frustration set in as he realized that for every hobgoblin he struck down, another seemed to take its place, turning the fight into a relentless struggle. Despite his skilled swordplay, the hobgoblins' numbers proved overwhelming and their erratic movements were difficult to predict. Their crude but effective weapons and sheer ferocity gradually wore him down. In a moment of distraction, one of the creatures launched a heavy, crudely forged hammer, catching Damien off-guard. The blow landed with a sickening thud into his side, sending him crashing to the muddy ground.
As he lay dazed, the sound of Elena's voice cut through the chaos. "Damien!" she shrieked in alarm, her tone laced with fear. In the split second that followed, three arrows whistled through the air, each finding its mark in a hobgoblin poised to leap onto the fallen champion. Elena, using one of her archery skills, had bought Damien a crucial moment.
Struggling to his feet, Damien's head spun from the impact. He shook off the disorientation just in time to see more hobgoblins closing in. Their twisted faces were a mix of rage and anticipation as they moved in for the kill. But then, with precise timing, more arrows flew, each striking down a hobgoblin and thinning the encircling horde. As Damien staggered to his feet, reeling from the impact, Gong managed to reach the fray. With a herculean cry, she heaved a large log, sending it hurtling into the midst of the hobgoblins. The log crashed into them with a tremendous force, scattering several of the creatures and creating a momentary clearing in the swarm. Roderick, roaring a battle cry, charged into the fray, his movements a combination of raw power and berserker fury. His massive form bulldozed through the hobgoblins, each swing of his gleaming hatchets clearing the space around him. Marcus, with a focused calm that contrasted with Roderick's wild energy, moved in with precise strikes. His attacks were calculated, each one aimed to incapacitate or dispatch a hobgoblin with minimal effort.
However, the number of hobgoblins was overwhelming, and some split off to engage the incoming champions, while a contingent remained to harry Damien. In the midst of the fierce battle, a hobgoblin's crude weapon found its mark, smashing into Damien and sending him crashing to the ground once again. Reeling from the blow and tasting blood, Damien struggled to regain his footing. As he rose to his knees, he caught sight of Captain Isak through the melee. In that brief moment of eye contact, Isak understood the gravity of the situation. With a commanding shout, "Break formation and charge!" the disciplined advance of the soldiers transformed into a ferocious assault.
The sudden charge of Isak and his troops into the hobgoblin lines was like a wave crashing upon the shore. Damien watched, still gathering his strength, as the soldiers clashed with the hobgoblins. The impact of their attack was immediate and decisive, turning the tide in favour of the champions and soldiers. As the soldiers smashed into the hobgoblin ranks, the creatures' resolve began to falter. With each passing moment, the champions and soldiers whittled down their numbers. Elena’s arrows continued to find their marks, Roderick and Marcus cut through the hobgoblins with ruthless efficiency, and Gong's sheer strength sent the creatures tumbling. Damien, back on his feet, joined in with renewed vigour, his sword flashing in the dim light.
Soon enough, the hobgoblins' resistance crumbled under the combined onslaught. A few of the creatures, realizing the battle was lost, dropped their weapons and fled into the surrounding thicket. The clearing, once filled with the chaos of battle, gradually fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the champions and soldiers. Damien, panting and wiping the blood from his mouth, surveyed the aftermath. The ground was littered with the fallen hobgoblins and a couple of soldiers were nursing wounds, though none were serious.
As Damien was glancing around, Elena rushed over, her expression incandescent with fury, yet tinged with a modicum of concern. “Damien, you idiot! What were you thinking, charging in like that?” she demanded.
Despite her worry, Damien brushed off her concern with a nonchalant “It’s fine Elena. I’m fine,” though a grimace of pain betrayed his true condition. Elena, frustrated but recognizing Damien's reluctance to talk, stepped back, casting a final worried glance his way. Damien, still catching his breath, walked towards the band of solders. Roderick, Marcus, and Gong followed suit, each wearing expressions of relief mixed with exhaustion. The battle had taken its toll, but they had emerged victorious, albeit not without cost.
Rejoining the group, Damien was approached by Thomas, the young soldier he had overheard a few days past. "Sir, that was amazing! You were so brave out there," Thomas exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and respect and his eyes wide with admiration.
Damien gave a nonchalant shrug, trying to downplay his own heroics. "Just doing what needed to be done," he responded casually, though keeping an eye on the reaction his words elicited. As he spoke, he gingerly fingered his side, wincing slightly. “Stupid goblins, that’s gonna give me one helluva bruise in the morning,” Damien moaned, lifting his shirt to reveal a bruising welt forming on his side.
Hearing his complaint, a grizzled soldier nearby interjected with a note of correction. “Be mindful of your words, Damien. They were hobgoblins, not goblins," he said. "We maintain friendly ties with the goblins of Goblinland – they're the ones who supplied the metal for our armour, after all. It's about respect; call those beasts hobgoblins or hobs, but never just goblins. It’s quite the insult to compare the two."
“And it's the same with other creatures. You wouldn't mistakenly call elves 'blood elves,' would you?” another soldier chimed in, joining the conversation.
Damien, with a hint of sarcasm, replied, “Goblinland, huh? Someone was really stretching their creative muscles naming that place.” He paused, then added, “And what's this about blood elves?”
“You know, the ones with the red eyes and blood-dripping fangs?” the soldier elaborated, seemingly enjoying the lore as he smirked towards Damien.
“That sounds more like a description of vampires to me,” Damien muttered under his breath, his attention still partly on his injury and not caring for this current chat.
Before the conversation could continue, Captain Isak approached, his demeanour relaxed yet carrying an air of authority. “Damien, can I have a word?” he asked, effectively breaking up the exchange.
The Captain pulled Damien a few steps away from the group, ensuring they were out of earshot. Once they were out of sight, Isak's demeanour shifted instantly. He turned to Damien with an icy edge in his voice. “And what was that?” he demanded.
“What was what?” Damien responded nonchalantly, still inspecting his body for injuries.
“You blatantly ignored my orders,” Isak’s voice was sharp, as cold as ice. “We had to break ranks to save you. You’re damn lucky you didn’t get killed, or worse, get one of my men seriously hurt. Otherwise, you’d be regretting it more than you can imagine.”
“Pah. You can’t threaten me, Captain.” Damian shot back with a pointed emphasis on the title. “And you can’t boss me around either,” he continued snarkily, his tone dismissive.
“Oh, is that so? And you know your way back to the capital then, I take it?” Isak countered sharply.
“Well,” Damien muttered, glancing around at the unfamiliar terrain, an edge of uncertainty starting to creep into his voice.
Before Damien could say more, Captain Isak interjected, “And if we left you behind, do you think your companions would stay with you? Or would they come back with us?”
Damien remembered the furious look on Elena's face after the fight. "Fine," he mumbled quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Fine what?" Isak pressed, his gaze drilling directly into Damien's eyes, seeking confirmation of his commitment.
"Fine, I’ll listen from now on, Captain," Damien responded, his tone dull but clear.
Isak held Damien's gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message had been fully understood. "Okay, good. Make sure you remember that. Now get a good night's rest. You fought bravely. Recklessly, but bravely."
As the two made their way back to the group, Elena approached Damien, concern evident in her expression. She gently touched his arm. "What was that about?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Oh, nothing," Damien replied, brushing off the concern. "Let's just get some rest." His mind was still processing the conversation with Isak, but he knew now was not the time for further discussions. Rest and recovery were what they all needed.