Zeke eyed up the 70 or so goblins that were hunting along the rapid stream. The small groups averaged numbers of 8 to 18, they were hunting bogs and chasing rabbits. One larger was patrolling up and down the hunting parties, securing the perimeter from impending threats. The 10 goblins that Zeke annihilated moments ago went unchecked by the remaining forces, which was good for Zeke, he still held the element of surprise.
The only issue was that these hunters were more tight-knit then the now dead unit, they never once moved beyond the sight of another group. No matter how much surprise Zeke had, he wasn't going to catch every single goblin off guard.
The now bona-fide goblin slayer impatiently stalked his prey among the dense treeline, seeking any windows of engagement. A whole hour passed without even a moment of opportunity presenting itself, this deflated Zeke previously held vigor. His legs were sore from ducking and crouching, his arms craved battle.
But the observation was not for naught, as among the many goblins that comprised the patrol unit, a particular goblin stood above. This goblin literally stood a head above the others and donned it's own custom bog leather armour, also wielding an intricate dark brown wooden staff. The wooden staff was easily twice the length of the owner and the top of it branched into three wooden prongs that then rejoined at the tip. Inside the 3 prong cage floated a thin red gem, it flickered with violent amber light, clearly visible even while in the direct sunlight. It looked like fun and Zeke wanted it.
Zeke was no idiot, that goblin was superior to the rest of the gutless bunch and mostly likely a mage, a fire mage at that. A dangerous threat to be sure. The presence of a mage gave insight to how vast the goblin population must be in this forest. After all, if they had the power to spare mages for a hunting party, the main base must be quite formidable. This was ok for Zeke, just more outlets for his completely-justified-anger.
Zeke was no idiot, but he was getting bored. He could only tolerate sulking around for so long before it was time for some action. Against his better judgement he trekked his way to the closest goblin group, a group of 12, 4 archers, 3 spear'ers, 5 dagger'ers. They weren't in battle, just following a pack of three bogs, waiting for one isolate itself.
With a stiff gait Zeke made his way to the back line with club in hand. He guess he'd be able to remove the 12 here, before the main body could reach his position, once they did Zeke would just leg it back home with his higher agility and endurance.
As he reached close of the group's back line, the archers jolted around at the sound of his running.
Three swift clubbings and three archers down. The fourth one narrowly survived with just glancing blow to the arm as it scrambled at it's allies, screaming at the top of it's lungs.
The whole group was now aware of the man who had attacked them and after a series of snarls, rapidly organised themselves into a flimsy formation that half circled the goblin slayer. The green-skinned gremlins mostly just growled and spat at Zeke's imposing figure, he looked like a deranged cave-man with murder in his eyes, which was actually not too far from the truth.
None of them actually ran in, mostly because they were too scared to be the first one facing that club wieldling nightmare. Zeke however held no reservations and pounced on one of the daggered gobs that got too close, reducing their numbers to just 8.
With the first move made (or really the second move, techniquely speaking) the bloody brawl began.
Four daggers traced their way to Zeke's back and one spear flew in from the front. With a graceful twist Zeke avoided the spear's path and battered the offending attacker's face, not before suffering two slices to the back. Grunting in pain Zeke rolled forward to gain some distance from the rogue-like goblins, a quick swing of the club snapped a rogue's leg mid-roll as he bounced back up.
Zeke tripped over his feet when a crude arrow whizzed by his ear. It was the archer he had landed a glancing hit on. Turns out that damaging a goblin's arm can actually improve their accuracy.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Just several more to go though. Strutting briskly Zeke trounced upon the remaining forces, hoping to end the fight before any reinforcements notice the scuffle and joined in. There was no time to think, just act.
Swinging wildly Zeke bashed at arms, legs, torsos, and when lucky the odd head or two. He gritted his teeth as rogue daggers sliced up his legs and lower chest, one a lucky spear thrust impaled his left forearm. It wasn't too bad though, they had to get with his own attack range in order to hit him.
In the midst of the fight a mental notifcation pulled him from a murderous trance.
Level Up!
You've reached level 7
+3 Attribute Points
The once 12 manned party became 2.
The archer cowered behind the last remaining spear-gob who quaked under Zeke's intimidating advance. The archer had used all their ammunition, without even once hitting it's mark, expect for a few arrows that protruded from its own allies. Unbeknownst to the doomed goblins, their reinforcements were already running to help from afar, they lined the crest of the hill like a howling... stumbling tidal wave. Zeke saw this and hurried to the end the gobs.
Zeke raised the club above his head and launched the sturdy stick at the spear wielder. Unable to dodge in time, the gob just raised it's spear in a futile effort to block the incoming projectile, the spear snapped in two, doing little to protect the gob's face behind it.
Now without a goblin-shaped sheild blocking the way, the last crippled archer ran like a bat out of hell. Zeke just watched it go, 11 kills out of 12 was pretty good, plus, no bogs had taken his kills either. Zeke went to work Avarice'ing the strewn about corpses, he forewent looting as there was an angry mob of green-skinned bastards that were getting rather close.
+1 Intelligence (43)
+2 Endurance (35)
+1 Agility (26)
+ Spearman Class obtained
Spearman is Level 1
"Ohhh, that's new." Zeke exclaimed as he sprinted through a huge purple fern.
Apparently Avarice could do more than just take attributes, it could even take classes too! Avarice was even more unfair then he originally thought.
Special explanation: (Classes are kind of like jobs, they level up independently from one's main level. Gaining experience by performing actions related to the Class. In the case of Spearman, using spears. If Zeke continued to fight using his club he'd soon earn the class of Bludgeoner, or Rogue in the case of his daggers.)
Zeke pondered weather or not creating a spear from his materials from home would be worthwhile as he navigated the unforgiving forest from a small army of goblins. He wasn't concerned that they'd actually catch up, he was just wanted to gain extra distance so that his cave's location remained hidden.
Because he had gotten the class without doing anything, he could immediately gain the bonuses associated with class leveling. The only problem was that no spear he created would be able to match the ferocity of his wooden club or a well placed stone dagger.
He ultimately decided to resign himself to just his club and daggers, maybe occasionally thrusting his club as a faux-spear and seeing if that counted as Spearman experience.
Zeke zig-zagged his way through the forest for the better part of an hour, and as he got closer to the cave he took extra measures to cover his footprints and preserve the nature around him, lest he tip off his hiding place. He wasn't sure if the army was still following him, but one can never be too careful.
The goblin slayer made it home with a fair amount of daylight remaining, confident his tracks had been properly obscured. He set down the backpack of goblin loot and started to prepare. Prepare for what? Obviously, preparing weapons of mass-goblin destruction. They were more numerous than originally thought as well as tough, Zeke suffered a few more cuts and bruises then he hoped from the small 12-gob detachment. An army of 80 was a little out of reach for the time being and Zeke wanted to create some tools to even the playing field.
Before, as he was running through the forest, he was struck with a flash of inspiration, something that he could easily build and would allow him to utilise his new Spearman class.
The primary weapon he would make were spears. Not the stabby kind, well... they were for stabbing, but for stabbing from afar with a trained arm. Javelins counted as spears right?
He opted against a bow, as a bow was quite large and cumbersome, it also didn't offer much utility when in melee range or without arrows. Javelins on the other hand could eliminate any nasties at distance while offering at least a little defence in close proximity, and with any luck, throwing them may count as experience for the Spearman class.
Now that he thought about it... in a way the javelin was the arrow and his body was the bow, maybe he'd earn the Archer class too? Probably not.
Zeke also roughly sewed together an assortment of his loincloths with the fibre belts to make an extra-large javelin-quiver that could be fastened over his back and hold 3 throwing 'spears'.
Now Zeke really looked like an archer, but with super-sized arrows and no bow.
With dusk fast approaching, Zeke wandered the forest for a bog dinner, one was easily found and easily dispatched with his original face-to-tree method he invented days ago. Zeke left his javelins at home, they probably wouldn't even pierce the prey's hide, they would really shine against softer creatures, like goblins, or maybe the countless birds that dominated the trees, if he got good.
Zeke severed off the bog's leg with a practiced haste and rushed to his abode, positively starving. He left the rest of the carcass as a present to forest gods.
Zeke scoffed down the meat, a little disappointed that it wasn't as tasty as the lizard, it was very tough and had a foul odour, but tasted good enough. With another massacre under his belt, or loincloth in this case, Zeke slept while dreaming of mowing down hordes of goblins with fireballs from a familiar dark brown staff. A dream he wanted realise, sometime soon would be nice too.