He had woken again in ‘the witches’ cabin, the light of the morning sun, pierced his eyes through the windows. He had briefly spoken to her in the middle of the night, and it was only then that he realized that he occupied her only bed. He assumed she had rested on a chair the whole night, or perhaps she hadn't rested at all.

This unexpected generosity made him wearily uncomfortable and at ease. He felt like an idiot and a heavy burden. Knowing that his shadowy stalker had a role to play here, he could force himself to put it off and make proper amends later.

One way or another, he would properly repay this woman, Cidonia, whom he believed her name was. A sense of duty stirs his heart toward her, perhaps it’s because he never experienced proper motherly love both past and present. His early Earth days was spent in away from his family, in a closed off institution. He could draw some parallels to grub’s life and his own. Even later his mother had been distant.

The medicine she provided, had worked miraculous wonders. Even the wound from where he had been pierced, was completely reconstructed. However, there were marks there that implied surgery had been performed. He’d rather not inquire and open a sore spot.

He dressed in what little rags he had, there wasn’t much of his gear brought with him. From the collapsing palace building, but he had a rusty short blade with him. He was surprised that she openly kept it for him. If she wanted he could have been gone in his sleep.

“You trust me too much, for your own safety Lady Cidonia.”

She raised her brows, her eyes moving along, despite being blindfolded.

“Come again.”

“You shouldn’t trust a strange individual openly with a weapon of this choice.”

“You were and are still not a treat, I merely respected you, as I hope you will treat me in the future. Of course, 'he' also vouched for you.”

He nodded. Attempting to leave the cabin, it was time to meet 'him'.

“Are you sure you want to leave now? I could prepare more herbs and medicine to improve your bodily state.” she bopped her head to the side. "You could also wait until the dust settles. Or perhaps you want something to eat.”

“No, i’m okay, I have to go now,” he answered. “I don’t know what the future holds, and there’s a question I’d like answered today if it was possible. Thank you, once again for your generosity.”

He turned his back ready to march out of the cabin. Then he could feel her putting her hands around his arm. She moved with paranormal grace, no way she was able to move from one end of the room to the other. There was some trickery involved here.

“Try not anger, ‘him’. He is older than the earth that rests beneath our feet. If he wanted to, he could sweep us all away, I pay my tithe to him.”

'tithe'. he was a tax collector?

He tried his best not to panic by her sudden actions. Laughing it off, scratching his head. He slowly walks off.

“No promises…” He giggled awkwardly, walking off into the outside world.

"Be safe," she told him.

He still couldn't comprehend why she would look out for him, was it because of her allegiance to goblin kind, or was she really fond of them?

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As he left the cabin. The very first thing that greeted him was the cold morning wind. He couldn’t say how long it had been since he had been able to walk somewhere freely early morning. At the seapoint penal institution, he’d either be conducting drills or prep for an upcoming retrieval mission. As a petty goblin, he’d be forced to labor early in the mines.

The Cabin had been situated in a forestry area not too far from the dying stronghold. Even from here under an umbrella of stretched branches and leafs he could see, smouldering fire emanating from the stronghold. The largest building, which was a massive watch tower, lay broken and stretched across the urban landscape.

He wondered how many goblins, were alive and how many didn’t resort to madness she spoke of. Were Wynald and Ratchet still alive?

Why did he remotely care about them? They were hardly 'his' friends.

The ‘witch’ had come out of her cabin to see him walking off, he waved to her awkwardly, but she didn’t wave back. Her talking crow, had briefly followed him deeper into the forest, mocking him and hurling insults.

“Green as grass, smell like ass. Caw!”

It was nothing a flying rock or two wouldn’t solve. But he refrained from doing anything to strain his relationship.

"Sod of you malformed chicken."

"Caw!!!"

He didn't like that bird one bit, but he could tolerate it.

North of here, is where the cave was situated, she had told him that it was a few kilometers away. The deeper he went into the forest, the quieter it had become. A sense of dread starting building in side of him.

There were all animals around, bar the occasional critter. Blue squirrels and small spiders as large as a human foot. It was probably best not to linger around who knew if something bigger was eyeing him for a meal?

“Heeeellllp me!!!” a voice called out deeper, not too far from where he had been.

Garrick froze his instincts told him not to interfere with whatever was happening. Yet his sense of curiosity is driving him towards to event.

What if it was a trap? What if someone was really in need of help? He could ignore it, make sure he lives another day, or–

He snaps out of his thoughts, his crude blade in his hands, and rushes towards the scene of the crime. What he saw made him sick.

There were two goblins in front of him, one gurgling in his own blood, the other repeatedly stabbing the other with a dagger. Over and over. He can see from his eyes, that the perpetrator had looked mad, deranged even.

“Hey stop that!”

The frenzied lunatic turned his attention towards Garrick, his– no its eyes were wild with mania, and there was a glow in his pupils, like a burning fire. He lunges.

Throwing himself forward without a sound, Garrick barely manages to dodge the mad goblin’s frenzied attacks, forcing himself to roll out its assault. Garrick lands on the dirt, scraping his arms. He gets up preparing for the unrelenting attack to start again. A stab and then a slash, the mad thing got faster with each strike.

Garrick’s mind started racing, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it for long. He was almost driven to his exhaustion limit. The goblin was a wild beast. What Garrick had noticed from the senior soldiers, was that everyone to some extent, imbued mana into their attacks. The mad goblin had nothing. Probably didn't know how to use it.

Running away for a bit, the beast followed him blindly. He recalled his past few experiences with using mana. He concentrates it into his fist, and by extension into his short blade, spinning around he heads straight for the incoming marauder. His blade crackling like sharp lighting, and he drives it into the chest of the mad goblin.

His attacker fell to the ground and stood up again. Not stopping, before crumpling to the ground. Garrick stood over the thing, It had still tried to stab him. Unable to reach him, Its dagger lodged into the ground, stabbing deeper and deeper, and deeper until it lost the strength to pull it out. Its body stiffened.

Garrick caught his breath. He hears the victim of the assault gurgle. And runs over.

“Hel–”

“What can I do.” He had no idea how to perform medical procedures but his first thought was to make the blood stop.

He tore a piece of his rag off and tried to close the wounds, multiple stab wounds protruding from the chest of the victim.

“Stop…too late. Th–”

He stopped breathing and Garrick sighed. It seemed that this was just the start of the madness. He closed the eyes of the dead goblin. At least his pain had subsided, the mad one would hurt no one again.

A dirty thought crossed his mind, he should check if they had any valuable belongings. It was immoral, but his survival was important.

He had checked both their bodies, they had nothing of value, only a few bits of raw minerals and rare rocks–those were remnants of his very recent life as a miner. These two were miner’s just like him. It was funny to Garrick, at the end of their lives, the one thing they had spent doing for an eternity meant nothing. What was once a source of their life sustenance.

Could not prepare them for this.

Garrick felt the need to bury them, both of them even if the crazed one, was the source of the chaos. Goblins weren't misunderstood, they were horribly raised. He wondered how their behaviors would change, now that their Hob-goblin masters have lost control. He pocketed one shiny piece of ore as a memento.

Without proper tools, he would have to build a mound, not too deep in the ground, maybe with some rocks covering it. He chose a thick tree near him to start this.

Reflecting on what just happened, his heart still pounding, he realizes from this point forward he need a steeled heart. The curse was eating at him, and the mad goblins attack would linger in his mind.

He had just committed his first kill, murder even if you could call it that. He felt nothing really. He just needed to move forward.