As Bob left the Goblin Village he decided to continue exploring the forest, and he noticed something strange. The land around him was starting to decay, the trees were starting to rot, and the grass shriveled and turned to dust. Everything was changing rapidly, the once vibrant forest teeming with life, was now reduced to a barren wasteland. He trekked on hoping to stumble upon other discoveries that might give him an edge over the challenges to come.

He discovered another village about half a day's walk away from the previous village. Bob went from door to door seeing if anyone still lived in this village. All he found were desiccated corpses and land quickly turning into wastelands. Luckily for Bob, he found some supplies that were still consumable. He stored some rations of mystery meat and a couple of water skins in his inventory. He also found some sort of portable cooking device that seemed to have no power source.

Upon further examination, Bob saw an inscription on the front of it. Magitech... Hmm from its name it seems to be technology that runs on magic. Well isn't that handy, I'll be taking this. Might be nice to have a hot meal while I'm exploring. He didn't find anything else worth taking in the village so he continued on his way.

Bob stumbled through the barren landscape, his feet blistered and sore. He had been walking for days, searching for any signs of civilization or even just a source of water. But all he saw was endless stretches of sand and rocks, with the scorching sun beating down on him relentlessly.

Just as Bob was about to collapse from exhaustion, he saw a figure in the distance. It was small and hunched over, but as it drew closer, Bob could make out the form of a goblin riding on a white donkey. The goblin's eyes glowed a sickly green, and he carried a bow and quiver of arrows on his back. He was garbed in a white tunic that was stained with the dried remains of puss.

"Who are you?" Bob asked, his voice hoarse from dehydration.

The goblin cackled, it's voice high-pitched and grating. "I am Pestilence, the First Horseman of the Apocalypse. And who are you who dares question me, Mortal?"

Bob recoiled at the mention of the Horseman of the Apocalypse. He had heard tales of the four horsemen - Death, War, Famine, and Pestilence - who were said to bring about the end of the world.

"I'm just a traveler," Bob said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm just passing through, trying to get off this floor."

Pestilence grinned, revealing sharp teeth stained with ichor. "Passing through? Trying to get to the next floor? Oh, no that will not do. I am here to spread disease and pestilence, to bring about the downfall of this realm. As a current resident of this realm, you aren't going anywhere."

Bob backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to get away from this creature before it was too late. But as he turned to run, he felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over him. He doubled over in pain, retching uncontrollably, as an arrow slammed into his shoulder, the green mist flowing off the arrow into Bob's body.

As Bob lay on the ground, writhing in pain, he realized he was infected with some terrible disease. His skin was covered in boils and sores, and he could feel his strength ebbing away with every passing moment.

Pestilence cackled again, his bow at the ready. "Fear not, mortal. Your suffering will soon be over. For you are but the first victim in my blighting of the world."

With that, Pestilence spurred his donkey forward, disappearing into the distance. Bob lay on the ground, his body racked with pain, as the realization set in that he might not survive this encounter.

As Bob lay there, the sun beating down on him mercilessly, he knew that he had to do something to fight the disease that was ravaging his body. He struggled to stand, his legs weak and wobbly, but he managed to prop himself up against a nearby rock. Delirious from the poison ravaging his body, and the dehydration, Bob's mind started to wonder. I just got my ass kicked by a Goblin on a White Donkey. I hate this damn Tower.

Bob looked over and saw that a similar arrow had pierced Snowball's flank. NO! Snowball, I'm so sorry. Bob whistled and called out to Snowball, who in turn whined softly before crawling toward Bob pitifully. He placed his hand on Snowball and desperately depleted his mana using Gentle Touch, to try to heal his best friend as well as he could.

Exhausted from his mana expenditure, and his struggle with the poison coursing through his veins, he fell back into the rock. With shaking hands, Bob reached into his backpack and pulled out one of the water skins, and quenched his parched throat. He pulled another one out and helped Snowball drink from it. He was concerned for both of them. Bob didn't have a way to stop the poison, and they were miles away from anyone that could help them.

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Bob and Snowball were lying on the ground, battered and bruised from Pestilence's attack. They had lost all hope, feeling like they were about to take their last breaths, when suddenly they heard the sound of dry leaves and dead twigs snapping underfoot. To their surprise, they saw a group of goblins approaching them, led by the old priest. The goblins gently lifted Bob and Snowball onto stretchers and carried them back to their village.

The journey was slow and arduous, with the goblins taking turns carrying the stretchers, but finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the village. The villagers gathered around, their faces filled with concern as they saw Bob and Snowball lying on the stretchers. The Priest took charge, ordering the villagers to make room in their huts for Bob and Snowball to rest. The goblins carried the stretchers to one of the huts and gently placed Bob and Snowball on makeshift beds covered in fluffy blankets.

The Priest then began to tend to their wounds, using his herbal medicines and magic to heal their injuries. For a full day, the Priest worked tirelessly, his gnarled hands moving in a fluid motion over Bob and Snowball's bodies. The goblins watched in awe as the Priest's magic worked its way into their friends' bodies, cleansing poisons and healing the devastation that they left.

Finally, after another day of rest, Bob and Snowball woke up feeling like their old selves. They were grateful to be alive, and even more grateful to have met the Goblin Priest, who had saved their lives. Bob was lying on a makeshift bed, his body aching and his head spinning. He couldn't remember much of what had happened, only flashes of Pestilence's attack and the sound of his donkey's hooves pounding on the ground.

He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy, and he realized he was covered in cold damp rags from head to toe. As he opened his eyes, he saw the Goblin Priest sitting next to him, his gnarled hands clasped together. The Priest had a stern expression on his face, but his eyes were filled with compassion.

"Ah, you're awake," the Priest said, his voice soothing. "How do you feel?"

Bob groaned, trying to sit up, but the Priest gently pushed him back down.

"Rest, my friend. You've been through a lot. I've cleansed the poisons from both you and Snowball, but you still need to recover. The healing took a lot out of your body. Let me tend to you while you recover."

Bob watched as the Priest took out a small pouch from his pocket and sprinkled some powder into a bowl. He then began to chant in a language Bob didn't understand, his hands moving in a fluid motion over the bowl. He then added a few more ingredients he seemed to be pulling out of random pockets in his robe. After adding the ingredients, the Priest grabbed a pestle and started grinding the ingredients together.

After a while, the Priest was satisfied with the results and added hot water to the bowl. He then stirred the contents while uttering a few more words Bob didn't understand. The Priest poured some of the liquid into a separate bowl and placed it in front of Snowball. He then handed the other one to Bob and told them both to drink. They both drank it quickly, their bodies still dying for any liquids. Bob felt a warm sensation spreading through his veins, and the pain in his body started to subside.

Snowball sloppily drank the bowl, licked up the liquid that spilled out of the bowl, and then promptly went to sleep. Bob sat back and relaxed, letting the magic-infused potion do its work. Before he could say a word, Bob was snoring. The Goblin Priest chuckled and called out to one of the goblins in the room.

"Nurse Bristle Bandages, can you watch over these patients for me? I have other patients that still need to be seen and cleansed."

"Of course, Doctor Grobbit."

Bob opened his eyes several hours later and sat up. He was feeling much better and wanted to stretch his legs. He was walking outside in the darkness of night when he heard footsteps coming his way.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

A figure emerged from the shadows, and Bob recognized him as the goblin priest who healed him. "Greetings, Human. It's good to see you're feeling better."

"Yeah, I am, and thank you for that. Also since we got interrupted last time, I thought it best we finally have a proper introduction. Hi, my name is Bob. Thank you for saving my life and the life of Snowball."

"Hello, Bob. It's nice to finally have a name to put to your face. I am Grobbit, Doctor Grobbit. No thanks are necessary, although they are appreciated. I'm glad I could save you and Snowball. It was a close call and we have already lost a few to the plagues Pestilence unleashed. Some of them passed simply because their body, already racked with a number of ills, couldn't take the healing process. Mostly the old and the infirm, but a loss of life is tragic no matter who it belonged to."

"That is true, we need to come up with a plan to defeat this Horseman. But how are we supposed to kill a mythical figure meant to be a part of the group that literally ends worlds?"

"I'm not sure, but we will have to figure it out. My old heart can't take any more loss of life. But if we don't defeat the Horsemen then all is lost."

Both Bob and Grobbit sat in silence for a while, trying to come up with a plan. Before Bob could even begin to think about a plan, he was interrupted by a message.

*Hey, Bob-o. So I'm glad to see you survive a run-in with Pestilence. He's a mean bugger, no matter what form he takes. He's a big old jerk.*

You seem awfully familiar with Pestilence, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Care to give me any answers about that particular subject?

*Well, of course, I, a legendary sentient artifact of great and glorious power would know of the Horsemen of Apocalypse. Do you think I merely exist in this world? Come on, Bob. You are smarter than that. I am an artifact that has existed for Untold Milennia. I know each of the Horseman, intimately.*

Ok, first off Eww. I don't want the image of you and the Horsemen being intimate in my head.

*Not like that you silly goose, I know them very well. We've met on multiple occasions. Across many worlds. So be quiet now, and listen.*