Moka searched the nearby forest and found privacy in a small glade, behind a curtain of vines draping off a fallen tree. She pulled a section of vine aside to find a cozy hollow, and a large, irate squirrel. Moka pushed into the space, staff in hand. The dead tree ran overhead like a rafter, thick sheets of vines hanging off the sides. There was just enough room for Moka to use her staff, if she was careful. The ground was clear of dead plant matter, removed by its occupant.

The squirrel chittered angrily at Moka, its tail standing straight up. The sound bounced off the vine walls and filled the space. Hair standing on end, it lunged toward Moka, pulling back at the last second. Its sharp incisors looked like they could take off a hand. The goblin snarled at it, showing her teeth.

“Mine now.” Moka hissed through her clenched jaw. Hefting her staff, she leveled it at the squirrel, two of the larger thorns angled to act as spearheads. She took a threatening step forward. The squirrel flinched back. Moka paused, as if remembering something. She shifted her grip, her brow furrowing in irritation. “Come back later.”

The squirrel leaped at her, claws splayed and teeth bared. Moka pushed and pulled on the middle of her staff, using it like a lever to swing the end in a sharp blow. She hit the flying squirrel on the side of the head with the blunt back of a curved thorn. The force of the blow sent it flying into the vines. Limp-bodied, the squirrel’s limbs tangled in the vines, leaving it suspended. Moka stared at the stunned squirrel. She blinked at it, then looked down at her [Ironthorn Staff], as if trying to figure something out.

In the Hall of Gods, Azarus celebrated [Giant-friend’s] first successful showing. He doubted a Moderate gift of Might made Moka as strong as Rascal, who had the same. But, it was a vast improvement. He did not miss [Divine Bloodsport].

Moka glared at the stunned squirrel, as if it was the one who invaded her home. She held her staff like a spear, ready to skewer the creature if it attacked again. The squirrel spasmed, life returning to its eyes. It thrashed with single-minded focus, freeing its limbs and rushing outside, away from the dangerous goblin. Its angry chittering bounced off the trees before fading into the distance as it ran for safety.

Azarus turned to Zag and grinned. He held out his hand. His voice traveled a fair distance in the vast hall before the emptiness consumed it, not leaving an echo.

“At the first opportunity, she chose kindness.”

Zag huffed, his jowls flapping. He gave Azarus’s hand a doubtful look. In the mirror, Moka looked up and to the side, nursing a puzzled frown. Azarus cleared his throat.

“She could have killed the squirrel.”

The hound snorted, sitting up. With obvious reluctance, Zag pushed his black paw toward Azarus. The look in his eye made it clear he thought the argument was tenuous at best. He lifted it up, revealing a gold coin. Azarus pocketed it with a smile. Zag rolled his eyes, laying back down, his chin on his paws.

Azarus ignored the hound’s pouting and turned to the canvas pinned to the air next to him. He ran a line through a box labeled ‘Choose kindness,’ with an ‘A’ marked on the side. While Moka had scouted the area, he and Zag had drafted a list of bets for this Trial. Zag used a claw and a bit of paint to write. His penmanship was quite good.

Running down the list, Azarus noted a trending theme. Zag’s bets ran toward things such as Moka murdering someone, stabbing someone over a disagreement, or picking a losing fight. In contrast, Azarus’s bets tended toward Moka crafting an unusual weapon, gathering followers, or winning a losing fight.

Comforting the hound with scratches, Azarus wondered where he got his negativity from. Was it a reflection of him?

In her newly claimed kingdom, Moka sat cross-legged, the contents of her pack spread out in front of her. Clusters of blue flowers hung off the vines, providing soft light in her plant-cave. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, she opened her eyes, gleaming red in the low light, and sprang into motion. Digging her claws into her bracers, she pulled with all her might.

The vines creaked, but did not give way. Snarling, she searched for a seam, intent on having unhindered use of her hands. The armor resisted. After a frustrating ten minutes, she let the armor be. Claw marks and severed vines marred her gauntlets. The vines slowly but surely knit themselves back together.

Azarus saw her sense of touch was diminished, and made a mental note to replace the [Elven Breastplate]. Even as a [Tribesman] his goblin had tended toward crafting. He would not make it harder for her. At least the gauntlets left her claws uncovered.

Raising both wood covered hands, palms out, Moka activated [Create Blueprint: Explosive Device]. Light coalesced in front of her, illuminating the supplies on the ground. It took the shape of a sheet of paper. With a light pop, the paper became real. Gravity caught hold of it, pulling it down. Air resistance turned it on its side. The paper drifted on the air, floating away.

Moka lunged for it. The wind of her movement pushed the sheet of paper further out of reach. Performing an almost disrespectful flip, the paper settled on the ground. It sat smugly on the other side of Moka’s splayed out items.

With a light grumble, Moka picked her way through the various items and packages, retrieving the paper. She flipped it over to reveal the title. [Blueprint: Goblinfire Grenade]. Azarus used [Divine Insight] on the recipe.

[Blueprint: Goblinfire Grenade]: Use this item to learn how to make a [Goblinfire Grenade]. By combining goblin blood with a strong Fae bloodline and standard explosives, create an incendiary grenade that produces a toxic gas. Cannot be extinguished by mundane means.

A screen popped up, asking Moka if she wanted to use the item. She selected yes. The paper burst into pixelated light. In complete silence, the light streamed into Moka’s eyes, causing them to roll back, glowing white. After a second, her ruby irises reappeared, gleaming with excitement. She immediately started sifting through the supplies on the ground, gathering what she needed.

As Moka sought to use her newfound knowledge, with no regard to the danger, Azarus turned to Zag. He cocked an eyebrow at him. The hound shook his head, his ears vigorously flopping back and forth. Azarus sighed but accepted the ruling. Using [Create Blueprint] did not count toward Moka ‘crafting an unusual weapon.’ That was okay. It was only a matter of time.

It also seemed like a matter of time before Moka burnt the forest down with goblinfire. Azarus held a thread of hope, thinner than Moka’s patience, that gathering water through [Condensate] counted as magical means.

Using a small spoon, Moka measured out heaping scoops of black powder into one of the clay shells. Looking closer at the shells, Azarus saw they had lines carved into them, forming a diamond pattern. Moka added two scoops of a white powder and three of metal shavings. She closed the shell with a matching piece, forming a grooved clay ball with a hole in the top.

Setting the ball aside, Moka repeated the process until she had six sitting in front of her. Taking an empty half shell, Moka sat it next to her and rolled up her trouser leg. Leaning over, she grabbed a utility knife from her supplies. Unsheathing it, she held it flat against the side of her calf. Eyeballing the distance between her calf and the ground, she positioned the shell directly beneath where she intended to cut herself. With a grunt, Moka pressed the blade against her skin. She sliced herself.

The edge ran along her skin, leaving unbroken flesh in its wake. Moka scowled at her leg, then the knife. She ran her thumb along the edge, stopping when she remembered her gauntlets. With a sigh, Moka sheathed the knife. Taking her fore claw and hooking it into her skin, Moka gave it an experimental tug. The skin held fast, not breaking. She poked herself with a claw, finding her skin much more resilient. Hardening her jaw, she stuck her claw into her calf and pulled with considerable strength.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Blood ran down Moka’s leg, dripping into the clay shell. She had used her might to carve a line into her calf. The red liquid flowed freely, reflecting the pseudo cave’s soft light with a blue sheen. Moka let it run, half filling the shell before the wound slowed. A few minutes with a small first aid kit, and the wound was bandaged and hidden under Moka’s trousers.

Taking three wicks, Moka cut them each in half and stuck them into the blood to soak. While they were soaking, she frayed the end of a fourth wick and dipped it in the blood-filled shell. Taking the wick like a makeshift brush, she painted a thin layer of her blood onto the clay balls. The blood gathered in the grooves. By the sixth, Moka had to wring excess blood out of the soaked wicks to have enough.

When she was done, Moka had six rust-colored grenades with short, dark red wicks. A dark diamond pattern decorated each grenade. She attached them to a bandolier from her rucksack and set it to the side for later.

Looking over the strewn about items and packages, Moka nodded to herself. She left out the [Goblinfire Grenade’s] ingredients to put in last, and a few items of interest. The rest, she packed away into the rucksack.

Azarus inspected an item she set aside. It looked like a three fingered glove with pads attached to the pad of the thumb and middle finger.

[Firesnapper Glove]: Leather finger-glove with flint and steel pads. Snap your fingers for a spark!

With the bag repacked and the glove next to the bandolier, Moka put the [Ironthorn Staff] and [Titan Twine Bracelet] in front of her. She attempted to take off the [Elven Heartwood Breastplate], wrestling with the vines acting like straps. The vines refused to let go. Her ears laid back, lips curled into a snarl, Moka stopped herself from taking a knife to the armor.

Her ears laid back on her skull, Moka turned her attention to the [Titan Twine Bracelet]. She played with it, much the same as she had done with Granon’s rope, testing its strength and flexibility. Azarus stopped petting Zag, his hand hovering an inch over the hound’s head. He frowned, considering a sudden thought.

Moka’s repetitiveness was a reminder she would stay the same, from run to run. She was a mortal, through no fault of her own. This was the third run. Would there be a thousandth?

Zag pushed his head into Azarus’s hand. The god smiled, petting the hound. He did not know why he thought Moka would do something different. She was the same person now as she had been last run.

Azarus turned his attention to the [Ironthorn Staff] while Moka experimented with the bracelet. It looked different from before. The small thorns looked worn down, their sharp edges lost.

[Divine Dog Toy]: This is the confiscated chew toy of the divine hound Zagrus. His gnawing has dulled the [Ironthorn Staff’s] thorns.

The [Ironthorn Staff] had three longer thorns at each end. The end Moka used as a spear looked like a claw, with two longer thorns piercing forward and a smaller thorn curling in opposite them. Those three thorns, and the medium-sized ones on the upper third around them, looked as sharp as ever. On the other end, there had been three long thorns clustered together and sticking different directions. Now, it was a smooth ball. Zag had gnawed the ends of the thorns off, including the medium-sized thorns, leaving the end of the staff bumpy but relatively smooth.

Azarus passed a piece of jerky over to Zag, rewarding him for the alterations. Smoothing out the haft, making the butt a solid ball, and leaving the head usable as a spear–he had done great work, even if the screens were disparaging.

The mirror displayed Moka unclasping the bracelet. She set the claw-like end of the staff in her lap. Putting her Moderate Savvy and Excellent Knack to work, she unraveled the first inch of intricate knots on either side. She used the freed twine to attach the bracelet to the base of the twin protruding thorns.

Standing up, Moka braced the butt of her staff on the ground, wedging it into place with her foot. With one hand, she pulled back on the bracelet, the other arm pushing the staff forward. She tested her strength against the [Titan Twine Bracelet], muscles straining to pull it back. Her stance was reminiscent of an archer recruiting their back to pull their bow. She stretched the bracelet a few inches.

The bracelet slipped out of Moka’s claws, snapping forward with absurd strength. It cracked like a whip. Moka jumped, dropping the staff. She crouched in a defensive stance, claws spread and teeth bared. Finding no threat, she inspected the staff with a curious look.

Azarus nudged Zag with his knee. Zag huffed, giving the god a baleful side eye. Snorting, Azarus rolled his eyes at the hound, turning back to watch Moka figure out her slingshot. She was searching the ground for a grenade shaped rock to practice flinging. Zag was right. The weapon was too obvious. It did not fit the ‘unusual weapon’ category.

Moka stuck a fist sized rock into the sling and pulled back with all her might. The bracelet budged a few inches. She let go, flicking the staff forward with her lead hand and activating [Triple Strike] at the same time. Azarus leaned forward, watching the rock rocket toward the vine curtain. It did not duplicate, but when it struck the vines, it left three fist-sized holes behind, arranged in a neat pyramid.

The rock hit the side of a tree with a resounding crack. A flock of birds took off, their wings shaking the still air of the outside glade. They cried warnings to each other, fleeing in fear. Moka winced, putting the staff down to gather her things. Azarus was proud of her. She knew better than to stay in one place after causing a ruckus.

Through the din, Azarus’s sharp ears caught the sound of voices heading toward the disturbance. Unsuspecting, Moka slung the bandolier on under her uniform jacket and prepared to leave. With a grunt, she jammed her wood covered fingers into the leather glove, her claws piercing through the tips. Taking her staff, she held it like a spear in one hand. She moved over to the vine curtain, parting it with one hand to peek out.

The mirror displayed three goblins with mismatched weapons creeping toward Moka’s hiding spot in a loose formation. They wore loose, ill-fitting clothes that were once fine silks. Now, those clothes were ragged and torn, marred by several lifetime’s worth of stains. The goblins kept the rags strapped to themselves with belts, each a different material and cut to size. Through the rips and tears, the goblins displayed clear-defined muscle.

The lead goblin held up his sharpened sickle, motioning the other two to a halt. The mud stained ruffles of his pink tunic fluttered in the light breeze. It looked like it had once been a lovely nightgown. The goblin took a deep breath through his large, hooked nose. His upper lip curled back to reveal sharp, snarled teeth. Releasing the breath, the goblin smacked his lips. His brow furrowed. He took several smaller sniffs, then turned to his compatriots.

“Goblin. Female. Stranger. Mixed scents.”

He waved his sickle forward and the other two goblins moved apart and spread out to flank. The goblin to the leader’s left moved first. He slid rag covered chains with bits of scavenged cloth stuffed between the links through his hands as he crept through the underbrush. He wore a plain, once-white button-up shirt bunched up around his chest and shoulders. Chains, covered in mud, blood, and rainbow rags, wrapped the shirt tight around his arms and midsection.

The final goblin was larger than either two. He held a stump like a mallet. Despite his size, he moved with quiet grace, a dozen tattered silk shirts with embroidered patterns hanging off his frame.

Moka caught their approach, her ears laying flat on the back of her head. The buzz of the forest muted the soft jingle of her earrings. She saw the way they carried themselves and her hand trembled. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she pushed through the vine curtain and stepped out into the small glade. The goblins paused their advance, freezing in place.

Distracted by Zag pointing toward ‘murder’ and ‘pick a losing fight’ on their list of bets, Azarus missed which goblin spoke first. His voice held notes of greed and confusion.

“An elf?”

Shushing Zag, Azarus took in the scene. Moka indeed looked like an elf next to the other goblins, her features finer and more angled. Except for the mallet wielding goblin, she was taller than the rest, her form lithe and muscled. Her [Elven Heartwood Breastplate] added to the illusion, but with her distinctive skin, it did not last long.

The goblin with the chains licked his lips, running his eyes up and down Moka’s gear.

“A green elf? May as well find a purple human.”

The leader snarled, making a hooking motion with his sickle.

“Doesn’t matter. Elf, goblin, dryad. It’s pretty. Boss will want.”

Moka spat to the side, using the motion to disguise grabbing a grenade from her bandolier. She snarled at the goblins, poking her staff toward the chain goblin when he took a step forward.

“I am the Champion of Azarus! I am claimed.”

The goblin with the mallet shifted, his many shirts moving to cover his hands from sight. He laughed at her. The humor never reached his dull, red eyes. He stared, unblinking, down his nose at her.

“She looks smart, like Boss. Guess not.”

The goblin with the chain spun a length up to speed, moving forward to cut off a potential escape route. The chain hummed, the fluttering rags adding a warble. Moka wedged her staff into the ground like a pike, turning her body to hide her right hand. Her eyes darted between the three goblins. She pressed the grenade against her thigh with the heel of her palm, freeing her fingers. Shoulders back and chest thrust forward, she spoke her mission.

“I seek the hopeless. To change their fate.”

The three goblins sneered in concert. The leader stepped forward, a leer on his lips.

“Dumb. Change your own.”

Moka snapped her fingers and got ready to see how well her grenades worked. Azarus watched with bated breath. He did not want to spend Divine Points on putting out fires.