DAY 47 14:08

I hammered on the iron ingot, shaping it into a slightly curved plate that would fit over my forearm. When ready it combined it with hide to form a bracer. My Engineering skill was still too low to do more complicated armour than this, sewing plates of metal onto hide would have to do for now. This was the last piece I needed to make a set of crude “reinforced” hide armour. It had much better defenses, but was heavy enough that I was going to leave it in storage until I actually needed it.

The armour went into the chest with the arrows, spears, and a few extra bows. Getting my map folio out I studied the area. It didn’t have much detail for this part, being on the far eastern border of the human lands. There was a mess of mountains north of us, with the river winding through them. Hills to the south and east where my goblin tribe lived grew into another set of mountains, and that is where it seemed the giants roamed.

This spreading conflict between tribes was likely to get us stuck right in the middle of it. The smart but paranoid part of me wanted to go back to the human lands and wait for this to blow over. Another part, the angry and impatient one, wanted to head for the giants immediately. The rest of me was worried that this might turn into another Goblin War. The timeline would be about right, every twenty years or so. I really did not want to be stuck in the middle of one, or potentially have to wait years for the war to end. I might not even have years.

Idly I opened the crafting menu, flipping through the traps and devices I could make with my engineering skills. Crude things, pressure plate traps, snares, pulleys. Nothing that could take down a giant, which I was guessing would be a hell of a lot tougher than a goblin or a bear or stag or any of the other things I had killed.

Shrya’s poisons were actually the most effective option at the moment, assuming that they would even work on a giant, and that the giants didn’t just have ten thousand health and would ignore a few hundred health points lost.

These traps would however work on a goblin, and those were the most immediate threat. Putting the map away I went back to the forge, I had the iron to make a few traps that could likely break a goblin leg, or at least slow them down. My pile of ore that had seemed like far too much was actually dwindling quite fast. Abe had been gone for quite a while now. I wasn’t sure if this meant something had happened, such as another skirmish, or that he had simply forgotten.

Nevertheless I had enough iron that I felt comfortable wasting a bit to make a handful of traps. It was a simple pressure plate, spring, and strip of metal to reinforce the wooden jaws. Step on it and it bites you.

In short order I had five of them on the table, and now I’d have to figure out where to put them. They’d only be effective if the goblins were coming fast enough that their nose couldn’t sniff it out before stepping on it. Which meant by then we’d probably be fighting for our lives, so they'd have to be close to the cabin.

Hand in my pocket, fiddling with the Essence of Willow, pacing around the room, I realized what I was doing and that I had made the decision and was just wasting time now. I should be preparing, not worrying, and if I wasn’t going to be working on another skill I should just get this over with.

Before I could second guess it, I slammed the door behind me and went to the house. Shrya blinked sleepily from the bed in the corner where she was meditating.

“What is happening?”

“There’s something I need you to do for me.” I doublechecked the baskets of food, we should have enough. I popped the cork and downed the potion, almost immediately my whole body went numb and I wobbled a bit now that I couldn’t really feel the floor. I stripped off my armour and clothes, no point damaging it.

Shrya was up now, having retreated halfway up the wall and staring at me in confusion.

“That was a potion to reduce pain. I need you to hurt me as much as you can without killing me.” I grabbed a chunk of meat out of the basket and starting biting pieces off.

“Why?”

“I can’t get more health without being hurt, it’s my weakest stat. A single arrow would likely kill me. We have enough food for me to heal several times. Now come down here and hit me!”

I activated [Beastial Rage] and pulled her off the wall. Her claws scratched across my arms leaving bloody tracks but I could barely feel it.

“Let go!” She shrieked and thrashed.

“We both need to get stronger so we don’t get killed in this stupid war. Hit me.” I dragged her close again, not hurting her, but not letting her go either.

Her claws raked across my chest as she tried to escape my grapple, the pain dull and distant.

“I need you to do this. You’re the only one I trust.”

She slowed, and then stopped struggling.

“Please. The potion will last a few hours, I need to lose and then heal as much health as possible before it ends. I will heal fast when I eat. This will make us stronger.”

She stayed quiet, slowly wrapping her arms around me in a hug. Then she bit my shoulder. I felt that one, and stumbled against the wall. Her claws dug into my back and she bit deeper. Even with the pain reduction it still felt having a bunch of long fangs. The debuff had drained most of my stamina and I fell to a knee, and then onto my back as I lost the ability to move. Shrya leaned over me, looking lost and afraid. My health was still above 30%.

“More.” Her needle teeth coming in again was the last thing I remember clearly.

I drifted in a nightmare, trapped, unable to move as claws tore at my flesh. Shrya shouted something and I screamed, tasting meat and blood, unsure if I was telling her to stop or not.

Time lost meaning, I thrashed and wailed as a memory rushed into me. I was a boy again, gasping and clawing for the air as the water closed around me. The current dragged me away from the bridge as the people stared on in horror. Sharp rocks slammed into me as I tumbled past them, hands and feet slipping off them and sending me tumbling into deeper spots. Water filled my nose as I fell forwards, one foot in the mud. My flailing hand caught a thin branch hanging over the river, and I got one breath of air before it broke and I plunged back in.

Someone was shouting my name, and as I tumbled I saw a shape dive into the river after me. My fingernails tore and cracked as I clawed at the slippery rocks and fell into another deep section. I couldn’t reach the bottom, and the current was pushing me down. My lungs burned, muddy water blinded me, and then something touched my hand and I grabbed it.

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I jerked awake, gasping, panicking. I wasn’t drowning, I was on the floor, Shrya crouched beside me, eyes wide and wet. It was her hand in mine. Blood on both of us.

The potion had worn off, and I ached horribly. Bite marks ran a track down both my arms, making me look like some junkie. My mana was gone, stamina only barely regenerating, health at 5% but slowly climbing. Everything hurt and itched and I moaned as I curled up.

The cabin was a mess, the baskets of food torn apart and broken. Shrya pressed her head against my chin.

“Idiot.” She hissed quietly.

“I’m sorry. I should have talked to you first.” We laid there for a while more, until I lost my food buff and stopped healing quickly.

I glanced up, it was just before 6pm, the sun would be setting soon. My maximum health had nearly doubled, increasing to 225, Stamina to 315, and Mana to 105. The worst of my wounds had healed, but I was just over half healed. I would need more food, or a lot of rest.

It was an odd sensation, I still had uncomfortable injuries but now was very nearly at the same health I had been earlier. Was I actually more healthy now, could I survive a broadhead arrow in the lung? I wasn't looking forward to finding out.

“Want to come hunting? I’m starving.”

DAY 48 18:07

Abe still had not returned with my cart, and I was now worried. Shrya and I had waited until sunset to head out. I was wearing my new reinforced armour, and both of us had a skin of poison. I had a few arrows treated with it, and Shrya had her spear, belt, knife, and a few of the iron darts she had asked me to craft her. As we went we hid my traps around the area.

Ready for war, we set out on full alert. Being much stealthier, Shrya ranged ahead of me as I kept an arrow nocked. We had both improved a lot recently, stronger, faster, tougher, but we both knew full well how fast that could change in an ambush. If the blues had won, we might not know until the first spear hit one of us.

Many new scent trails crossed the area. Only a short distance into the woods we found evidence of skirmishes, most stopped short of bloodshed, but the scent of fear and anger lingered. A few escalated, leaving blood or corpses behind. For the most part it seemed like both sides would flee if they didn’t outnumber the other, but over the course of a few nights the number of blue goblins had increased noticeably.

Shrya paused, so I stopped. Her ears flicked left, and I drew my arrow while turning. A blue painted goblin was halfway out of the bushes, heading for me. My arrow caught him in the chest and he tumbled as another scrambled over the corpse, stone spear raised high to throw. I nocked an arrow but had to dash to the side as the spear flew past me. My arrow got him in the upper arm, a minor wound, but within a moment he was flailing and screaming as the poison took hold. Shrya bounded off a tree and landed on top of a goblin, teeth sinking into his neck. I drew an unpoisoned arrow and put it into the head of the wounded goblin to stop his thrashing.

Three on two wasn’t much of an advantage, especially since they could see I was clearly older and stronger than they, with much better equipment. Even if they hadn’t known Shrya was there, three on one were thin odds. They were getting bold, or desperate.

I leaned close and sniffed them, confirming my suspicions. They were only a week or two old. Scrawny, weak. Smelling of fear and hunger, the same scent that blew in on north winds was clinging to them. They had travelled fast. Or they were being spawned closer than previously. I retrieved my arrows as Shrya ripped chunks of meat off the corpses.

As we neared the camp I told Shrya to stay close to me. I didn’t want her getting ambushed by the white tribe if they didn’t realize she was with me. We proceeded cautiously, not sure if we were headed for allies or enemies.

The wind shifted, and I could smell death. Battles had been more common here, bodies left to rot where they dropped. We detoured around several such sites. Rot was a strong scent, and I didn’t trust my nose to tell me if any of the bodies were lying in ambush.

“Fighting ahead.” Ears twitching, she perked up. I could just barely hear growling and barking ahead.

We eased around and saw the carnage. About two dozen dead goblins lay around the entrance of the cave, most wore blue paint, but four or five were not. It was a bit hard to tell with all the pieces. A trail of gore lead into the cave, several bodies having been dragged inside. The oldest of them seemed to be a few days old, with the blues apparently laying siege.

Fighting was still happening inside from the sound of it. We eased close, each taking a side. With a nod we pivoted in, my arrow sinking into a blue painted back. Shrya leapt forwards, spear sinking into the spine of another and dropping him. The third spun around, momentarily shocked. What I thought was another corpse lurched forwards from under a pile of corpses and sank teeth into his leg, biting the foot clean off, and then Shrya finished him off.

The survivor hauled himself out of the pile, barely recognizable under the gore.

“Abe!” I rushed forwards and reached for his arm, but it came off in my hand. I stared at it, his right arm had been hanging by just a string of flesh, and was now severed completely. He fell onto the corpse in an exhausted frenzy, biting chunks of flesh off. I shuddered and dropped the limb. Shrya scampered up the wall, out of reach.

As he crawled out of the pile I saw that he was hurt even more severely. Two spears were impaled through his torso, various chunks of flesh had been bitten and clawed away. His left hand was in tatters, all four fingers gone, and his left leg was missing just above the ankle. It was actually surprising he was still alive, and my skin crawled in sympathetic pain.

From the looks of it, he had held the entrance against eleven others, many of them muscular warriors. There were no others of our tribe here. Had they really been reduced to so few?

“Abe, what happened? Where are the others?”

“Dead. Ate.” He flopped over onto his back as much as the protruding spear allowed, wincing.

“Did they get ambushed out in the forest?”

“No. Grob.” He ripped the spears out, and then pointed into the cave.

I warily ventured in, keeping an arrow nocked.

“Hear anything in there?” I whispered. Shrya shook her head, crawling soundlessly across the ceiling. My nose was overwhelmed by the smell of rot and blood, which was actually stronger deeper into the cave.

The central cavern was a butcher’s nightmare, rotting flesh and filth spread everywhere, piled around Grob’s throne. He was even larger, grown to truly ogreish proportions, his corpse bloated and twisted. The limb proportions were all wrong, caricature of a gorilla body. Bony protrusions and growths covered much of his body. A spear had been driven through his eye, the iron tip jutting out through the back of his skull. It looked like the spear I had given Abe. From the spots where the witches had sat tendrils of corrupted growths and bulging pods spread. More than just rot, this smell was vile, evil, and vaguely familiar. I wished I could crawl up the wall and not have this squishing under my feet. It was the same smell of the parasitic worms.

We turned around and went back. I suspected I already knew what it was. The Old Ones had taken over, and Grob’s hunger had driven him to cannibalize almost the entire tribe as the remainder was corrupted and controlled.

Abe was leaning against the wall, looking slightly recovered. There was a distant, glazed look in his eyes. The first traces of corruption showing on him. He muttered and twitched a little.

“Abe, don’t listen to them.”

His eyes turned to me, unfocused, and They turned their attention to me.

“Little One. We see you now.” a chorus of whispered voices spoke through him.

“Get out of his head.”

He was starting to growl and lean closer, shuddering as he resisted. He was still in there, fighting them. It wasn’t too late. I knelt closer, looking him right in the eye.

“Abe. Come back. Fight them!”

“Kill you.” It was half his voice, half the whispers.

“Abe, focus. You can beat them. We can beat them. Come with me.”

“No!” He groaned and spasmed. I grabbed his face and looked in his eyes, seeing those twisted, evil, things in the holes they had been driven into. Their whispers touched my mind, and when they did I grabbed them back. I was stronger now, and this was my mind.

“Mine!” I roared, and seized Abe back from them, dragging him back. An afterimage of a red starburst floating in my eyes as I did something. Not possessing him, but that was the closest frame of reference I had as their connection to him was pinched off.

“Karl?” He asked weakly, warily. I could feel more of their tendrils reaching for him, wearing him down. He was exhausted, betrayed, crippled. I pulled my ring off and shoved it on his finger. The Veil weaved around him, their reach sliding off him like oil.

“Come with me.” Their prickly influence started creeping into the back of my mind, and I mentally bit off the tendrils they extended.

“What?” Abe’s eyes cleared.

“Come home.” I reached for his remaining arm.

“I will Follow.”

I could feel the link between us snap into place, locking out their influence on him but also strengthening my resistance to them. They weren’t going to push me around any more.

A notification appeared, [Follower gained.] and an entry for Abe appeared on the list under Shrya. His Affinity for me was much higher, at 65. A pair of debuff icons pulsed angry red on his status bar, Crippled. One showing a hand, another showing a missing foot, reducing agility and strength by -25% each, with an infinity symbol for the duration.

Abe relaxed, and then fell over and started convulsing. His skin crawled, and a fresh gout of blood emerged from his wounds as a small horde of parasitic worms crawled out. I jumped back in alarm, not wanting them to touch my bare feet, and started stabbing them. When I was sure they were all dead I relaxed a bit.

“Wait here for a bit. There’s something I need to do.”

I opened the Follower menu and switched the Command Binding settings to their minimum for him, like I had done for Shrya. Then I went back into the cavern, hands digging into my spear. The growths exploded with ichor as I stabbed them. Small, twisted, things fell out like tadpoles. Corrupted goblins, or they would be if I let them grow. Stabbing and slashing I made my way through them all, destroying everything I could see. When Grob was the only thing left, I carved out his Greater Goblinoid core, which had veins of corruption running through it, and retrieved Abe’s spear. I wasn't even a little tempted to try eating this core, with the taint on it.

When I couldn’t see any more I went back, helped Abe to stand and lean on my shoulder, and took him home.

“Cart broke.” he wheezed quietly.

“That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re alive. You're more important than a cart."