They'd only been away for a few days, but during their approach it became clear some big changes had been taking place while they were gone. Trees transported from the orchard were being chopped on by enthusiastically practicing whitecaps, while Pipan was teaching battle songs at the cookery hearth, and Skalle appeared to have cleared a big grassy field of rocks for some sparring.
Once Damon was spotted limping into the busy village, a crowd quickly gathered to hear the news of the mission. He'd sagged down in exhaustion by that point, but while lying down he still managed to explain what had happened, including what it took for the two of them to make it back home. Somewhat gratifyingly, there’d been some proper outrage on his behalf at first when he explained his side of things, and long discussions over several minutes about how out of line Blåberry's actions were. Albeit with some barely concealed high-fiving amongst the younger crowd. But, in the end, Damon was forced to accept that Berry had acted on her own, with the seniors explaining how she'd been refusing to reveal the details of her full Class even to them, proffering the excuse that none of it was real until she leveled, and got the confirmation from the System, which was apparently tradition. Wily little…
Then every goblin turned towards a sudden piercing whistle, as all the attention was swiftly distracted by Berry hauling in the enchanted weave along with the hoard of bark, which she'd carefully squirreled away as Damon made his approach—then revealed, right as he was finally beginning to grow coherent in explaining his indignation.
Every Goblin in sight cheered the mission having been accomplished with such gusto. At least Lila and the seniors sincerely promised Damon to look out for a solution, each one agreeing that such a relationship should never begin under false duress. Which ultimately left them free to go marvel over the amount of bark Berry had brought in once Damon had no further complaints to voice, leaving the solo Human to sit and pout alone with his Billy.
Meanwhile, the village celebrated.
Damon had wanted more than distrait assurances, he just didn't know what else they could do. His mind was still struggling to even stay awake. In the end he gave up and simply collapsed in the magnificent fur of his white-maned Billy, taking the rare opportunity for some true rest.
Once Damon was fast asleep, the lion-goat-chimera bleated in disappointment that his Human'd passed out before providing the customary massage which the proud beast had been missing out on for the past few days. Billy had swiftly grown accustomed to the treatment—to that feeling of a full body relaxation, at the end of a long day—and had slept rather fitfully for the past few nights as a result.
least he's back.
So, Billy settled for chewing on his bangs, for now.
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Damon awoke on a cot under the careful ministrations of a Läker looking pleased as punch with a creepy smile on, and it wasn't hard to figure out why; for once Damon wasn't running a fever.
He looked around the room smartly while taking careful note of his body's condition, then checked in with the expert while he started stretching. "How long was I out?"
Läker must've been too occupied to notice his eyes opening, because she flinched and turned away while responding, clearly schooling her expression now that he was up. "Ahem."
When she came back around it was with her usual head physician's nonchalance. "14 hours, quite standard after some proper battle, with no fitful dreaming. Your body handled a second round of sponges quite admirably, even better than the first round in fact, despite the proximity of the sessions. Though beware, now is usually when complications begin to manifest, if yer an unlucky Gobbo. Any phantom pains thus far?"
Woah, it feels like I've been healing for a week. Awesome. Only his leg was still feeling stiff, which was to be expected after what he’d put it through. "None so far, uh, ma'am."
She gave him a queer look. "What's a ma'am? Don't you call me mum, you tall bastard. If I'd pushed one out by the size of yous, my body woulda remembered, even had my mind done me the favor and forgotten."
"Heh, sorry. It's just meant to be a title. You're pretty high level, huh?"
Damon felt around the skin flap that had been hanging over his eye yesterday, finding it reattached and feeling fully restored.
Läker was already waddling her way outside and only turned around for a flash, to say: "Plenty higher than you."
Damon watched her go with a fond smile, as he started thinking. Her tag certainly appeared to confirm the claim, with her exact level remaining out of his reach. But Damon still figured he stood a good shot at catching up—given enough time—considering her ripe, old age and how she still wasn't in the triple digits. In fact the whole village—other than the children who hadn't yet gone past level 10—with a few exceptions like Berry, they all showed the exact same tag whenever Damon thought to inspect someone.
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[Redcap Goblin - Level ??]
It's a wonder they're able to survive out here, in a world full of Rex, and possibly even higher levels. I guess all it takes is pluck and knowhow.
Damon went to find Billy, which didn't take him long since the chimera was parked right outside the healing tent, then the two of them explored the village in search of breakfast.
Apparently it was noon and far too late for any breakfast, but they were given some preserved rations to munch on while they waited around for dinner. Dry mushrooms—mmmh, lovely—with the odd last season's fruit baked in.
Preparations for the fight ahead were fully underway all around, except it was hard to tell precisely what sort of preparations the goblins were up to.
One group of yellow caps was busy raking the ground, making what looked like crop circles in one of the fields right outside the village. Meanwhile a group of mostly white caps but with some purple borders, were busy fishing in the deep pond using long, thin poles, under the watchful eye of Läker.
Damon went to wash up in the pond, wisely choosing to do so at the other end from Läker's business at Billy's urging—who acted suspiciously like he'd been taught a harsh lesson in that regard—and while they were both soaking, they spotted Lila coming back into the village with a squad of fellow shortbow-wielding goblins, all wearing green caps just a shade darker than their skin. The hunters were carrying cuts of meat on their backs, as well as the antlered head of a large, dark-furred yet admittedly tasty-looking rodent creature, which they held up overhead and carried over to the yellow caps. Huh, maybe they're doing some sort of ritual?
Skalle meanwhile was looking over a group of goblins who were live sparring with their real weapons, black caps crowning the whole bunch—except the caps on the younger goblin's mostly just looked ashy gray and dirty. They had a motley assortment of weaponry, including forked spears, hatchets, cracking clubs with hooks on the backend, and even some smaller blades—ones equal in size to Damon's daggers, which were being wielded as shortswords.
There were more cap colors, but the group who stood out to Damon was on the grass just outside Skalle's training grounds. That one appeared newly formed—consisting mostly of white caps so far, although there was a slightly older blackcap among them too, as well as a blue, green and a few other colors amidst the dozen or so little Goblings.
They were doing Taekwondo.
Well, a rudimentary version of it anyway.
‘Oh hell yeah, those spiders don't stand a chance!’ Is what Damon badly wished to be able to say, but they were all making fundamental mistakes, trying to jump directly to moving exactly like Damon had, which was a big mistake. Damon was someone who'd honed his style in accordance with his body type for years, learning to compensate for all its strengths and weaknesses. These goblins were about as far from that body type as you could come, and if they didn’t train hard to compensate for their personal shortcomings, then they’d start messing up badly once they tired, which may well happen all the sooner, when their style was so ineffective.
Damon kept watching for a minute, hoping to see if anyone in the group managed to figure out a way of overcoming their bottlenecks on their own. Despite having to fight uphill because of their stature, they were moving surprisingly well—able to get a lot more air-time than Damon would have expected out of a group who’d been at it for a week at the most. You couldn't disregard their levels—their spinning back kick especially, was quite impressive—even if they were better off relying on their usual weapons for the upcoming fight. That was fine, it seemed they were very much treating the exercise as a fitness routine.
The relatively huge Damon was looking far from subtle, riding up to the field on top of Billy, and so was soon spotted; causing the jumping and kicking to immediately triple. Every goblin in sight kept turning their heads to see where he was watching, one and all acting with tremendous eagerness, while also trying to show the utmost reverence, as if the dojo's master had just stepped onto the sparring fields.
It was frankly nostalgic, reminiscent of the children's classes he'd sometimes helped teach back home—which he teasingly let the Goblins know—but with a lot more expletives and toothy smiling in return. Naturally Damon couldn't help but spend the next six hours correcting every little mistake they'd made, and kept making.
He loved every second.