~Back on the road again~
A plume of vapor exited Damon's mouth, the flavor making him remember home as the sense of relaxation began to spread through his body, teasing out a smile. He'd finally managed to get the old vaporizer working again when he gave it a long pull out of sheer boredom; turns out enough intent allowed for his Mana to recharge the battery directly.
Except there are no longer roads.
Damon felt the fresh breeze brush through his hair on one side, while a tiny goblin hung on to the other. She held a hand out to get a hit but he ignored her, resulting in an indignant sniff.
They were trudging a northern route from the goblin village, trying to steer clear of any exposed sight lines, which wasn't easy out here. All that could be seen ahead was an empty landscape of rolling, green hills, ones that looked similar to- but far more rugged than the california grasslands in Damon's old desktop wallpaper.
Compared to the south and west, rather than constant peaks and valleys to navigate in between, you had to consider a far more stretched out vista in these parts. As a result, running into packs of predators was more rare out here. They preferred the more ambush-friendly regions. But you couldn't afford to ever dismiss the risk fully, since starving beasts would range further and further whenever hunts failed and their hunger went unsatiated, meaning a desperate pack could still come running along at the worst possible time.
Yet another thing to watch out for was the dreaded Firehawk Raptor, which was a bird whose hunting method consisted of lighting small twigs on fire using its flintstone beak, only to then pick them up and drop the flaming stick at your feet, often while you were in a particularly dry area; and looking to use the resulting conflagration to have a cooked meal. It hadn't sounded that dangerous, until Blåberry made it clear how the damn things hunted in packs. If they caught you standing out near an unknown oil seep for instance, you'd be toast.
There was a trick however, since the birds were smarter than they looked; if you brought a bribe, they'd leave you alone.
Damon learned all this from the small but experienced dwarf goblin, who was pointing out their route whilst providing a constant nature documentary-style commentary from his shoulder along the way. So far Damon didn't mind, but it was becoming more and more clear how they were gonna have to resolve some trust issues first and foremost, because Berry kept warning of things that he'd clearly be able to notice and deal with on his own, and being rather condescending about it.
Which was why, as Blåberry pointed out yet another firehawk flying overhead, Damon deliberately started looking the other way, and feeling rather smug about it, up until she fisted his ear hole, making him reflexively cringe and shudder. "Ow. Hey, stop that!"
"Then pay attention, I don't enjoy having to repeat myself!" She yelled out in her squeaky voice.
Damon felt like he needed to establish some boundaries, or this whole relationship risked going sideways early.
"But you are repeating yourself, you've told me about the firehawks twice already," he pointed out reasonably.
Blåberry looked deeply into his face, then at the Firehawk, then back at his face again. "That one's a female. They've got purple coloring beneath the wings, besides the red tail feathers characteristic of both genders, and if you steal one of their eggs, then no bribe in the world will save you," she finished, giving him a pointed look.
Damon realized that was indeed useful to know, considering his foraging habits.
Sigh. "Alright, fine, go on."
She smacked the side of his face again. "Good lad."
Damon wasn't trying to be an asshole, but he was very used to being treated like a dummy because of his looks. Not his actual looks, but how he tended to look distracted while people were explaining things, making them feel like they had to repeat themselves, when the reality was just that Damon was busy internally relativising the new information and putting it into context with other stuff he knew of already. It was how he remembered things, by chaining them together into extensive, webbed patterns, ones that he could then pick up any thread of to help recall the rest of that section in the web.
When people started repeating themselves it could be quite jarring to his process, so he'd made it a rule to act out whenever it happened more than once. But then again, behaving that way with a 14-year old who was just trying to be helpful quickly made him feel ridiculous, so Damon renewed his efforts to pay attention for real.
Although there weren't that many dangers out here that they were not prepared to deal with. Even running into that pack of Motley Ridgeback's was not a very scary prospect any longer. Damon was certain he could match them blow for blow for quite a while by this point, and then make it away to safety. Blåberry's explanations had made it clear how the hounds were one of the larger roaming packs in the area. Considering that he'd been improving by leaps and bounds and getting used to his new powers since the last fight, not the mention with the help of his new Dao Skill, by now Damon felt sure he'd be able to fight off most predators around their own levels.
The worst thing you had to watch out for were the territories of any local Rex predators, but those mostly stayed put within their natural boundaries, with very few roaming exceptions. If you were unlucky enough to run into one of those, then you ran away as fast as you could. There was no better advice available, and Blåberry made it clear you weren’t running to escape, but to pawn off the role of prey onto someone else. As soon as you were picked out, the only chance was to make the giant beast somehow pick something else to eat—so run until you’ve expanded the dinner table, run fast and look for tastier options.
The sun climbed slowly across Damon's shoulders and went low as evening arrived, eventually even resulting in Blåberry running out of pertinent things to add, which left a rather intriguing question from the earlier meeting hanging in the air.
"So, uh—"
…
She'd clearly heard him, but was pretending not to.
So, Damon waited her out, passing the time with some of his slowly improving whistling, up until he heard the tiniest sighing in his ear.
Sigh. "You big d— Alright, fine. Fine. When I said we grow in reverse, I meant as in we keep getting more and more adult, but we also keep getting smaller. I was once a perfectly normal-sized baby Goblin, who shrunk and turned into a half-sized toddler, and am now nearly adult, and will be shrinking for a few more years yet. It's no big deal."
She explained it so casually, but it sounded completely unbelievable, and Damon would've had even more questions about how that was even biologically possible, if he wasn't looking at such clear evidence standing right before his very eyes, which made those types of questions feel way too rude. But he still felt compelled to ask one more, about a particularly relevant area, since he happened to have some expertise; with the answer about to be vital for their chances of survival. "Can you really still be a fighter?"
Blåberry seemed to consider ignoring the question, and it wasn't hard to see why. Every maturing warrior had been questioned at one point or another, and you quickly learned to let your fighting speak for itself when people doubted you.
But Damon did not shy away, making it clear that it was an honest question about her methods, rather than a questioning of her character.
"Yes, you tall twat. Despite my stature, we are no more fragile than any other goblin, only smaller. I'm disproportionately sturdy in fact, but still move like a whizzer, making it very difficult for larger, clumsier foes to ever land a solid blow.”
That all seemed fair enough to Damon, but it was the next line that truly convinced him to show some faith. "As for me causing damage? Watch."
She jabbed his eardrum.
----------------------------------------
When they arrived in Doc Forrest it was to the familiar greetings of the System exploration message, yet the lush location looked strangely out of place among the rest of these grassy hills.
[Welcome Explorer, to the Doc Forrest]
The forest itself was nestled against the only local hill that looked rocky enough to be granted the title of mountain had it been larger, and yet it was the main structure in the middle that naturally drew all eyes. The large building would have looked like a regular old world lumber mill, but it was more like seven of them had been stacked all together, haphazardly placed smack-dab amongst the trees and left in neglect by workers who should have finished clearing the area long ago, before any additional mills needed to be added besides the original one.
Clearly they hadn’t been placed here in any sort of natural progression, but rather by an unthinking mind looking to create a perfect environment for—something.
“Alright, where to?” Damon knew Blåberry needed to spend her time collecting this bark, even if he wasn’t clear on how exactly she was planning to carry it home. Guessing she’s gonna make me do it, but I would appreciate being asked, is that too much? Should she really just assume? … yeah, she's six inches, she should probably get to go ahead and just assume.
While Damon was distracted Blåberry had some time to consider their approach, and come up with a plan. “Let’s check out the smaller buildings, take a gander at what we’re dealing with, then I’ll find some of this medicinal bark crap that the seniors need for their aching bunions, and whatnot. Then we can head up to the main house and check if this weirdo guardian creature will accept an ancient Human as worthy of taking on the Pylon challenge, hopefully he can get out of our damn way. Otherwise I reckon we’ll back off and reassess, that sound good? Ok, on three. Hut hut.”
Damon just stood there.
“Move, twat.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “All I needed is them magic words…” He said, the accent he put on making Berry giggle.
He started heading off towards the trees, and on the way a familiar scent reached his nostrils. “Is that frickin’ cinnamon?”
It turns out that it was. When they got closer the sweet, potent smell only increased, and it was with a bright smile that Damon entered the forest taken straight out of a baker’s dream. “Is this really the bark you need? If you make it into a powder, that stuff’s delicious.”
He walked into the first mill, and it seemed Blåberry was too busy scouting to hear him talk, which was lucky. She’d have never caught the bats lunging in for Damon’s face in time otherwise, but this way she managed to calmly exclaim: “Duck.” Before taking a step behind his neck to let the big brute do his job and get targeted.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Damon reacted in time thanks to the warning, having just stepped through the entryway a bit too boldly. Too close for comfort, Damon not only ducked but hopped and front flipped, successfully landing a webster axe kick on the incoming bat—crushing its skull—and feeling his companion tumbling around for a bit in the back of his hood.
When Damon landed, three more bats were trying to swarm him, but only being half his size and with their ambush failed, not a single one managed to bite onto his face. Damon kept juking them out, the fight only requiring a slight bit of footwork between the wooden posts holding the roof up, a few twists, turns and pivots all it took to keep foiling their attacks, as Damon drew both his daggers.
Still dodging, he fired off an [Identify].
[Weaverbat - Level 25]
Easy pickings. It felt strange fighting with a Goblin hanging on to the back of your head, but the 10 pound weight probably improved his posture if anything. Within a minute Damon had baited their lunges and driven a dagger through each skull, despite having a hard time at first with their awkward, flapping movements. He was moving too fast by this point. But despite dispatching the occupants with relative ease, Damon also got a sense that these were normal animals and not mere minions like the orchard spiders; the slight surge after each kill appearing much more rewarding despite the same significant disparity in levels.
“I guess this is what we’re dealing with, is there any point to clearing them all out?”
“Doubtful. Maybe it’s part of the challenge later, but we might as well confirm first if that's the case and not risk wasting our time.”
“What even is a Pylon challenge anyway, what is challenging who?”
“Shh, the bats can hear you…”
...
That sounded like a cheap excuse, and she seemed to realize it from Damon’s judgmental silence. “If I knew more then I’d have told you on the way, now shut yer trap.”
And like that they made their way out from among the lumber mills and into the nearby forest. Once they found a thicket that seemed safer, they took a break while Blåberry decided which trees she wanted to work on. After a while she asked to have Damon walk around for a bit. Perhaps to try and determine if any specific tree appeared to have especially exquisite bark? She wasn’t a particularly keen communicator of her stream of consciousness, but Damon didn’t mind and simply trudged along obliviously.
Once they’d walked further into the forest for a bit, Berry seemed to find a tree she really liked, because she suddenly asked for a lift up into its branches. “I’ll stake my claim on this one, you go and check if the approach to the main house is clear from here. I'll be ready to go in just a few hours, but we’re probably gonna end up having to stay the night.”
The sun was already setting, and they only had an hour or so remaining of dusk.
“Unless you report back having already done it all. Wouldn’t that be something, the stubborn lunatic in there just letting you inside with open arms, and the challenge being easy peasy, you being you?”
Damon shook his head amusedly while walking off, happy that at least one part of his skillset was sort of respected. “Sounds like a plan, shout if you get into trouble.”
“You too.”
Heh.
Damon knew he would probably need to fight something much tougher soon, but he was getting used to the feeling. The bats proving so easy to take out was a reminder of how far he’d come, and a great indicator of his progress. He’d been down for the count for a while there after him and Billy made it out of the orchard, but with being able to recover so quickly due to the help of those healing sponges which the Goblins seemed to have access to, it was a godsend that was gonna allow him to push much harder than if he had to rely on his rather weak natural recovery. Whatever this challenge was, if he got this done then with any luck the challenge itself would turn out to be quite rewarding as well. Damon was starting to feel more and more confident that they’d be taking down the shadowy Rootmother in no time, despite the triple digits of her hidden levels. Hopefully without any losses too, or that’s gonna be rough. I’m starting to like these green, little Gobbos.
The way towards the main mill was marked by a deer trail and Damon started whistling again as he made his approach, hoping the action might provoke any lurking weaverbats ahead of time, rather than risk having them spot him late and come swooping in from behind. So far they didn't seem overly aggressive but rather just territorial, but he wasn’t sure if they all stuck to the houses or if some might still be hiding out amongst the treetops.
It was while watching for such divers that Damon spotted a subtle but clear movement among the branches ahead, making it seem like one of actual branches had suddenly decided to switch positions. Is it Dryads? A wood nymph? Maybe a Sprite?
Despite his speculation, Damon decided to stay safe rather than be sorry. He’d spotted the movement in a more distant tree, then lost sight of whatever it was. But if there was movement over there, and something that could hide so well?
I might have missed something a lot closer. Damon suddenly stood stock still, having barely made it half of the way to the mill; stopped from nothing but a sudden sense of trepidation—a mere suspicion of possible danger.
He studied the closest branches, ruling them out one by one, until one looked back at him, right in his face, with its slitted, beady little eyes. Damon let his eyes travel right over them, pretending he didn’t see in order to keep the thing from reacting, only to fire off an [Identify] when he just barely spotted the contour of the thing’s camouflaged body hanging up above it.
[Weaverbat Boomslang Slime - Level 33]
What the fuck is that? That’s no bat, what’s a goddamn boomslang!?
He found out when it lunged—
Not the one he was staring at, but the one behind him.
With his cloak down, Damon only barely felt the passing wind of the strike in time to spin, but it still nicked him with its dripping fangs, slicing right through his ear.
Once the predator's fangs went past his face, Damon grabbed the neck and squeezed for dear life, only to find he was squishing a sheer liquid. The slime viper’s higher level body somehow retained shape and flowed past his digits. Damon's ear was starting to throb, but he wasted no time, just as the creature nearly slipped through his fingers he felt a small pebble which his fingers grasped desperately, luckily halting the creature's passage as it tried to desperately escape his grasp. Damon refused to let go of the only solid part of the creature, and started wielding the slime viper like a whip to strike its lunging mate in front out of the air. It landed hard and Damon ran up to stomp on it like an ostrich with his boots, causing the strange, liquid creature to crack and spill to the floor, before he finally bent the one in his hands too many ways for the pebble to keep up with. The mounting pressure suddenly made its innards buckle, causing the death throes to suddenly cease.
Damon looked around nervously for more, as he pulled his twin daggers and prepared to parry. I can't start hopping around, they could be anywhere.
The boomslangs were extremely hard to see before they moved, each one slightly different in its green coloration, yet perfectly suited for hiding among the treetops where they must be awaiting unsuspecting prey.
Over the course of the next few minutes, twenty four more lunged for him, and Damon barely dodged out of the way each time, slowly killing them all and gaining a level in the process—but also failing to stop the last one from nicking his wrist. Luckily it missed the artery, but his wounds were already swelling up and gaining an alarming, leafy color. It’s alright. My Mana can deal with this, I’m pretty sure it only got me a little.
That's when one of those he'd stomped on earlier bit onto his ankle. No, what. There's no way, I finished that one for sure?
He turned and smoothly used [Unexpected Stab] to send a ghostly fist to ground level and stab through its pebble directly. But all around the slime vipers were beginning to glow with a brightly green, toxic energy, before emerging from the light looking as good as new. Not all of them, thank the heavens, and they didn't all go back on the attack. But enough to make him fear their numbers were as endless as the spiders, and with Damon already feeling woozy.
He focused up and stayed disciplined for the rest of the fight, but his heart was racing by the time he finished them off.
As he felt at the bleeding from the side of his head, his thoughts started drifting. Actually, it reminds me of back during the Shuffle, heh. Although these do seem venomous, there’s no way they can get me if I avoid any deep bites, they’ll have to pierce me fully and inject the venom directly. Like I'd let them. Bats and spiders, this whole place is a cakewalk. We’ll be baking cinnabons when we get back, hehehe.
That’s when he remembered how he’d just left his only companion alone up in the trees, and he still hadn’t heard a shout. Wait. Don’t tell me her one true bane is camouflage!?
He rushed back for the tree crown where he’d just left Blåberry all alone against predators ten times her weight, stumbling into trees along the way, thoughts beginning to turn cloudy, but a thunderous one fully occupying his mind.
Berry’s in trouble.