The shaman stepped on the net, disrupted the twig’s trigger. The bended birch snapped, sent the net flying – magical gremlin included. According to the plan, the bundle wobbled through another rope which let lose the hung trunk. Tied at both ends, the huge mass of wood, sharpened to a fine point, swung at, and into, the tribe’s spirit leader.
It died on impact. The familiar catchy tune played. The pixels came. Level up. The gremlins, those left standing, or half standing, howled again. Brute down. Shaman down. Anyone left to oppose him?
His audience loved to criticize but usually acknowledged results, grudgingly. Enoch looked at the chat.
“Good job on the shaman.” Tip | 7.00$
“Sweet kill.”
Good. Although it emphasized that he needed result. With luck, it would turn his audience from harsh critics to devoted fans. One could hope.
He zig-zagged between the trees, glided over the broken terrain. Broke his quarterstaff on a damaged gremlin, took its spear, continued the deed. All dead. Except the archers?
“Say Choo, you saw one of them with the bows?” asked Enoch.
An arrow penetrated his thigh. [-15 Health]. Enoch jerked behind a tree. That was close. Almost dead. The shaft had a downward angle. They must have climbed up a tree. How do they still have ammo?
“I believe they have climbed up a tree,” said Choo. An arrow broke on his stone, ripping some moss. He pivoted. “There, there and there.” Purple tendrils extended from the core, pointing at the dense canopy.
Enoch took a peek, spotted them clinging to three different trunks, basket of weaved straw hung in nearby branches, full of arrows. Some late gremlins must have brought it for them. Enoch hadn’t seen the shaman come in. After all, the path from the lair was completely hidden from this ridge. Had to be it.
“Choo, drop the rock and take this,” said Enoch, offering his rusted dagger. “Cut them down.”
“Choo Choo,” cheered the golem core.
The first target swung at the animated dagger with its bow. Ineffective. The poor thing couldn’t do anything. The golem core slashed then stabbed. The monster fell. Didn’t get up.
“Choo Choo,” cheered the jolly artifact.
The last two went down. The synthcore musical ambiance geared down with long, prolonged notes. Enoch took a deep breath, got up, sprung two untouched traps with his quarterstaff and switched to looting.
Achievement unlocked | Trap Enthusiast
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
You evened the odds with an unreasonable amount of traps.
Reward | 200 XP
“Choo Choo,” said Choo Choo. He flew down, made a couple of loops.
Enoch raised his hand, worried about the dancing blade, said, “Yeah! Great job, now drop the blade. Switch to that shield over there.”
“Ah, yes. But, how? How can I hurt our enemy with a shield?”
“Why focus on violence? What’s wrong with defending me instead?”
“Hum, nothing Master.”
The golem core slowly glided to the round shield, carved from a single piece of wood. Purple light latched to the item and it took flight with a deflated mood.
Choo flew around without purpose as Enoch looted. Five daggers, one mallet, one decent spear and three shields.
Jagged Stone Spear | Weapon | Rarity 2
+ 10% to critical hits.
Damage 2 | Reach 3
Type Pierce
He disassembled the weaker spears, kept their stone heads. He took the shaman’s bling.
“Say, Master, can I add a few weapons to that shield?”
Enoch looked at him, surprised, he hadn’t thought about it. “Sure, why not.”
The core cheered, buzzed around, tendrils of lights grabbed about. Two hardy sticks. Several feet of cords. Four daggers. A second shield.
The crafty little core turned the daggers into a wooden cross. Four pointy ends sandwiched between two shields. Choo tested it. He could spin it around and stab nearby trees with decent force. The whole thing stuck together. Enoch, the chat, his family, and probably the commentator, all agreed for once. Impressive stuff.
“Woot, our boy took them all, commando style.” Tip | 4.20$.
“Traps and stones did break their bones.”
“Do you have to kill everything every time?” Tag | Mom.
Yes mom. I do have to kill them all. That’s the whole point
All the way down, when the chat calmed down, “Dork lord and his flying turtle.” Tag | Little bro.
***
He skipped the level up, went for the lair. Cautious. He expected some weaklings left behind, laying in ambush. Didn’t fancy a backstab, especially with his current health. Had only regained a few points since the beginning of the fight, now at [54/120 Health]. The music started again, a hint of tempo, a wisp of tension.
Right once more. He spotted them easily. Two frail gremlins. One hidden under a giant root, the other sprawled over a ledge. Enoch send his death turtle to disturb them, then closed in at high speed with the brute’s spear. Two stabs and it was over.
Nothing else lived there. The game had no enemy children. One of the compromises between realism, ethic, and age ratings.
He had to whole place to himself. It stank. Walls of woven twigs formed domes under the biggest roots.
Perception was a lousy attribute for combat, but it did wonder for loot. He found a cellar, loads of dried meat, flasks of mead. A golden bowl laying in the open. Several hidden piles of semi-precious stones and a magical idol [unidentified] under their altar, dedicated to a unicorn wolf.
Enoch took a few bites and a long gulp. The devs had done an amazing job with the tastes. Too bad about the quality of the food.
He downed a piece of ill-fitted armor. Wood and leather, it “protected” his torso but left his guts wide open.
“Sir Choo, can you do something about this. Sew something together?”
Turned out he could. Enoch ended up with a thick poncho, lousy greaves and sturdy bracers. He complemented the kit with their best hat, a straw cone with a leather strap tucked under his chin. The whole thing gave him Damage Resist 1 conditional on where the hit landed. No penalty to movement, a slight drain to Stamina that he could easily take with his Endurance 2.