The forest was bathed in the golden light of the fourth moon as Trog settled in for the night. The light that broke through the leaves above was faint but still enough to see while making his camp. After months of travel, his journey was nearing its end. His wagon was now filled with more than just sacks of soil, but also with armor and simple weapons he had traded for as he traveled. Trading was much more enjoyable once he had passed the crossroads in the north. The diversity of the middle cities and villages allowed him to blend in more often. He even enjoyed food from the great swamp area when he came across a goblin-run inn. The flavors from his home had been a gift, and he slept like a rock with a stuffed belly that night. As a thank you to the owner, he had planted one of his peach saplings in their backyard. Trog didn't speed its growth, but he left them a few watering stones he had grown. Trog had a large collection of the rocks now; he had grown them regularly and now had a barrel that always had enough water for himself and his mule, which he had named Dinner. Trog learned that if you share your breakfast peaches with a mule, they will start to demand them every morning, and they will not pull your wagon until you give in. Trog had begun referring to the mule as Dinner after the animal had stopped in the middle of the road for an hour. Trog fixed that problem now by walking in front of Dinner while eating a peach. Trog did make it a point to never give Dinner peaches for anything more than a breakfast snack. It only took one day of traveling with a mule that had eaten too many peaches to learn that valuable lesson. The road had been covered in mule dung, and Trog felt terrible for anyone who had to walk the road on foot that day.

In four days, Trog should enter the barren lands that had given birth to the Orc people. In five days, he would see the barren lands painted with the white light of the second moon. The orcs he had served with had spoken about how much they missed the nights that the bright white of the second moon illuminated the land. Apparently, under the moon's white light, you could see the reflections of the night critters hunting from a great distance. Witnessing the struggle for life reminded them that you needed strength to survive in the wild. It was something Trog was looking forward to, but for now, he would enjoy one of his last few nights surrounded by trees.

The following day, after having his vine-grown peaches and giving one to Dinner, Trog was back on the road enjoying the cool morning until he heard something running through the brush. Suddenly, a young orc burst from the bushes and, upon seeing him, yelled,

"Run!"

Trog knew better than to question a terrified orc. He jumped down from his wagon and quickly untied Dinner's harness. Trog didn't want to leave Dinner bound to the wagon if he needed to defend himself. Trog turned to run but turned back around when he felt eyes boring into his back. Turning, he saw what had the orc running in terror, and he couldn't help but smile.

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Thra's heart was pounding as she ran. She turned to see if the goblin had listened and started running with her, but she paid the price for the distraction. Her foot hit a hole, and she went down hard. She quickly crawled behind a large tree before trying to stand. Her ankle throbbed with pain, and she knew running at top speed wasn't an option anymore. The sudden roar of pain that came from the road behind her sent a chill down her spine. She was about to start to run again when another roar of pain boomed out. There was no way that the goblin was making that sound. Her curiosity wouldn't let her just run, so she started to circle back towards the road. She made a wide circle back towards the road, and then another roar of pain continued to fill the forest now and then. When the road finally came into view, she could see the goblin and a mule facing off against the troll that had been after her.

The mule was rearing up on its hind legs and braying at the troll. As it stomped its front legs down, it kicked up dirt from the road with its rear legs before pawing more at the road. The sound of the impacts caused the troll to turn its gaze to the mule. As soon as the troll's head turned away from the goblin, the goblin charged in quickly, and there was a crack as the goblin's fist slammed into the side of the troll's knee. The leg buckled, and the troll fell to its knee, letting out another thunderous roar. The goblin left trails of red blood behind him as he moved and began another charge at the troll, but he also smiled. The goblin used the back of the troll's good leg, which was now stretched out behind it, to run up the creature's back and landed another hit to the back of the troll's head. When the impact drove the troll face-first into the ground, the mule ran in and planted a powerful kick to the side of the troll's head before letting out another bray and moving away to a safe distance again. Thra could not believe what she was watching. This goblin was tiny compared to the troll, yet he completely controlled the battle. The troll continued to heal from every blow the goblin landed, and it kept standing, only to be knocked down again and again by the goblin. Each time the troll was laid out on the ground, the mule would charge in and add its attack. Thra was speechless and couldn't look away until the goblin chose to attack something else besides the knee and head. The troll didn't roar but shrieked in pain as the goblin ran out from between its legs. Then she turned away as the troll bent over and vomited in the road. The little goblin was bouncing up and down on his feet, waving his arms and calling for the troll to get up and come at him, but the troll turned around and started walking back into the woods, moaning in pain with every step.

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Trog felt wonderful after finally getting to go all out in a fight. He missed the rush of fighting for his life, and having Dinner join in on the fight was a surprise he had not expected. The troll was young but much larger than the mule. That, of course, put it at the perfect height for Trog to hit his favorite targets. Trolls had been one of the monsters he loved to fight back when training his precision brawler skill. They were slow-moving and would repeatedly fall for the same tricks until they were dead or chose to run away. It had been years since he had fought a troll, and he had enjoyed every moment of the fight. He walked to Dinner and patted the mule on the neck, promising to give him two peaches for breakfast, then felt a little bad for putting bloody hand prints on the animal's fur. He had taken his gloves off and thrown them in the wagon before the fight so they wouldn't fill with blood, and now he was making a mess. There was no helping it. He would be driving a wagon with blood on it being pulled by a bloody mule for at least a few days. After getting Dinner hitched up to the wagon, he continued down the road and saw the young orc standing beside a tree, staring at him. Maybe he wouldn't have to be the goblin with the bloody mule and wagon after all.

Trog stopped the wagon when he was close to the orc, noticing for the first time that it was a young female. She wore light armor that seemed to be made of some lizard hide. Her hair was braided with pieces of bone carved into spikes attached to the ends. The strange thing was that she had no weapons on her that he could see, which would explain why she was running from the troll and not fighting it.

"Hello, Miss Orc. Thank you for bringing me a troll to fight, but try not to lead a dangerous monster to a road that could have travelers on it next time. Not everyone would be able to run as you did, and even less would survive a fight with a troll." Trog noticed the young woman's shame when she realized what she had done. "My name is Trog. Don't feel too bad, miss. When terror takes hold of us, it is hard to make good choices. This will help you remember always to have an escape plan when traveling in dangerous areas."

The young orc nodded in agreement. "My name is Thra; I will make sure not to forget this lesson. I was tracking a lone dire wolf that had been seen in the area. Instead, I found the troll eating the dire wolf. My bow and dagger were useless against a troll, so I just ran."

"As you should do when you encounter a foe who outmatches you. I take it you are an adventurer?"

"Yes, I am. I am just a guild member, but I hope to get picked up by an adventuring team with a patron company behind it. There is a tournament at the end of the month in Skull Ridge City. It's how the teams find new members most often."

"Well, that's good to hear. I plan on becoming a patron company as soon as I get my farm up and running," Trog said, sitting tall in his wagon seat.

Thra looked at him. His hands and arms were dripping blood as he sat there smiling like a young orc that had just killed his first monster. She couldn't believe that this goblin was a farmer. She was about to ask about it when he spoke again.

"Thra, I was hoping you would do me a favor since I just chased off the troll chasing you. I can't clean my wagon or my pal, Dinner, here while my arms are still bleeding. Would you mind washing the blood away? I have a barrel of water in my wagon you can use."

"Of course, I owe you a debt for bringing you trouble."

"Wonderful, and if you would like, you can ride with me into Skull Ridge City too. I need to see about claiming some farming land near the city."

"Wait, that means you have a magical farming skill. I have never heard of a magical farmer being able to fight like that."

Trog laughed as she started using the water from the barrel and one of his empty sacks to wipe the blood off his wagon.

"Well, I was in the army before I got my awakening stone. I am a Master Precision Brawler and hope to train an adventuring team for dungeon runs."

Thra's jaw dropped. She had heard of precision brawlers before. It was an old skill from when orcs used unarmed warriors as a central part of their armies. It was a matter of pride and honor to battle at a disadvantage against the other races. And if he was a master, he could set her on a path that would make her valuable.

"Master Trog, would you be willing to take me on as a student? It would be an honor to train as a precision brawler, and I would be willing to work on your farm as payment."

Trog was caught a little off guard. He had known that orcs valued unarmed fighting skills, but the respect in her voice when she called him Master Trog was something he had never heard before. He could see the hope in her eyes as she waited for him to give her an answer.

"Yes, Thra, I will take you as a student. I will also need your help finding an adventuring team to sponsor. I have plans for the future and want to get started as soon as possible."