Ascension

by B F Rockriver

  “Oh, and you have the crafting, mercantile, and diplomatic classes as well, but I don’t know much about those. That type of thing never tickled my fancy. Couldn’t see myself hammering away at a hunk of metal and sweating my balls off in a forge, or manning a shop,” he tapped a finger on the top of his bald head, trying to coax more information out. “But I think that’s about it, I mean we could talk about this stuff for days and not cover everything. You should take a look at the manual or consult your guide.”

  “Smart man. You should listen to him.” Aida chimed in, breaking his concentration.

  Eli nodded, understanding the basics of it and already thinking about how he wanted to remake himself. He was already a decent archer and good with an axe, with those two skill sets he could deal out some damage at range, then switch to melee when necessary. Versatility, mobility, and the thought of not being on the front lines unless needed sounded like a decent option to him. It was similar to what he did as a scout in the military.

  The only problem is that when he brought the idea up with Don, he said that, while doable, it could be a very stat-intensive build. There was the option of going down the route of a hunter who used bows and melee weapons. Later, if he worked on training animals, he could tame a pet to help him out. The thought made him more than a little excited. He had always wanted a dog, and the thought of having a massive hunting dog by his side sounded awesome at that moment. He would have to train his strength, agility, and endurance. If he wanted to learn nature magic and become a fully-fledged Ranger, he would have to train those while also pumping any spare points into spirit. While a good fit and exciting, he just didn’t know if he had time to lag behind while he trained up nearly every one of his attributes. As they were now, they were severely outclassed by most of the monsters they would fight at the temple.

  Other options were always available. He had also trained with a sword and shield while in the military, but he never made it far with that fighting style. Most of what he knew was simple defensive forms. He was decent with his counter-attack, but that alone wouldn’t win him a fight if caught out alone. While he knew that someone who could occupy an enemy was a necessary role in an extended combat situation, he was hesitant to sit around getting the shit kicked out of himself regularly. According to Don, a lot of players chose that fighting style because of its supposed simplicity and the theoretical protections that armor provided.

  No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, it would be a good fit; he just didn’t want to be a punching bag for whatever it was; they would be fighting. He winced, imagining himself taking a blow from the massive player that Kata fought in the clearing. That route was out of the picture. Nope.

  An intriguing thought came to his mind, one of fiery death. “What about magic?” he asked Don, snapping him back into the conversation. “You mentioned wizards and sorcerers. I could do that.”

  “Yeah, man, magic fucking rules,” He said, not really getting the question.

  “No, I mean for me. What’s stopping me from dumping all of my points into intelligence and spirit?” A wild look flashed over his eyes, “I could be a wizard.”

  Eli jumped, startled by an eruption of laughter from his friend, “HAHAHA, no man. Not if you want to be useful now,” his chuckling said, as he continued, “Where are you going to learn magic out here? Some wandering wizard in grey robes going to come by and teach you the ancient ways?” He stopped a few paces in front of Eli, waiting for him to catch up, “Look, man, no offense, and I’m sorry for poking fun. It’s just that you don’t need to decide right now.” He stopped Eli and looked at him with a cold seriousness, unusual to his character, “What you need to focus on right now is getting used to watching your bars, checking your notifications, and staying alive. I mean, it would probably be best to bankroll those points until you have a better idea of what you actually want to do, anyway. Train your stats up by doing things, find your rhythm, then work out your role in the party.” The Turta slowed to Eli’s side and slapped him on the butt before setting off again, “Besides, you’re not going to stumble into a class trainer out here, and you sure as hell won’t find some scroll teaching you magic in the middle of the woods.”

  Shelving his class choices, and his hopes of burning his enemies in torrents of magical flames, Eli frowned. Don was right; he had to focus on the task at hand. The noon-day sun was now shining over-head, and the trees were becoming less dense, causing them both to sweat from the warmth and nearly five hours of walking. Sounds of trickling water could be heard in the distance. They were almost to the stream. He bumped Don as he passed him on the narrow trail picking up the pace.

  Another half-hour flew by uneventfully until the sound of rushing water grew louder with every step. Before Eli could ask questions, he stopped moving. Don, who was now breathing heavily and struggling to keep up, slammed into Eli’s back with enough force to wind himself even further.

  The monk looked up to shout at his companion, a look of annoyance on his face. “Hey, man, what’s the big-”

  Eli stopped him mid-sentence. His strong hands, tipped with sharp claws, clapped Don’s mouth shut, causing the startled Turta’s lips to bleed. Looking into his friend’s eyes with deadly seriousness, Eli held a finger in front of his lips in the universal sign for silence.

  Eli’s voice was so quiet that Don could barely hear him, the words he spoke froze them both to the core, “Goblins.”

  Chapter 23

  Eli peered at his friend with frigid intent, motioning at the ground with his eyes. Several sets of adolescent human-sized footprints sunk into the dense, slightly damp soil. Each of the hastily covered tracks had five humanoid toes ending in sharp claws. Goblins had kicked loose dirt over some. Leaves and branches covered some others. Most of the sets lead to the river that Eli and Don were rapidly approaching. Others led east, towards the city of Dawnport. As he went over the tracks, a notification flashed at the bottom of his vision.

  *Congratulations! Your tracking skill has increased to level 13.*

  *Congratulations! your perception skill has increased to level 9.*

  Eli’s vision immediately became slightly more clear. Far off noises became more distinct, and he could smell a strange odor, like unbathed skin and rancid potatoes, coming from the direction of the stream. While his improved senses startled him, it was the sight of the dozen, or more, sets of goblin tracks before him that gave him pause.

  He knew that Goblins had been seen on the Island of Scorn, and the Godsfall Archipelago. On rare occasions over the past fifty years, they made their way past the clutches, where roaming bands of scouts or parties of adventurers would kill them. There were countless stories of their failed attempt to inhabit the inhospitable reaches of Scorn, and their eventual retreat back to the mainland. Each one told of the many orcs, ogres, goblins, and trolls that died when the Stonekin Empire failed to establish a small military fort on the northeastern coast. Supposedly, most had been killed by the vicious beasts and monsters that inhabit the area; others starved because of the lack of resources. The thought of the Stonekin returning to threaten him or the people of Dawnport angered him while he inspected the out-of-place prints. No one had seen goblins this far south since the founding of the nearby Human settlements.

  Kneeling to touch the tracks, Eli could smell a lingering stench similar to the one he had when his senses improved. His hands ran across the bottom of the prints, searching for any sign of how old the tracks might be. He could feel moisture trickling into the indent where the sole of the creature's feet had dug into the earth, forming a tiny pool. The moist layer of topsoil had leveled out slowly. In less than an hour, all signs of the goblins would vanish. These tracks were fresh, and the small humanoids were close.

  As Eli gathered information, he thought about what he should do. He knew that the Stonekin races were not inherently violent; most sentient creatures weren’t. Goblins, however, had a reputation for ambushing people in search of loot or food. Orcs and Ogres val
ued strength above all else. Theirs was a might-makes-right mentality. Eli frowned upon attacking sentient beings, unless absolutely necessary. If he was correct and the tracts belonged to a band of goblin players, their actions would be unpredictable. He knew he only had two options; attack or try to sneak around them. If they were players, he would feel slightly more okay about attacking them. Players came back. They had settings that would allow them not to feel pain.

  Eli remembered Don trying to explain things from his world and how he had read about quests to rebuild the evacuated Stonekin fortress on Scorn in something called a forum. According to other players, the location housed one of twelve altars, and it was yet to be seized. So far there the quest had few takers, as the amount of danger involved was far greater than the average player, or even guild could muster. Don had also informed him that the estimated level of the enemies in that area ranged from twenty-five to thirty-five. The estimated average for players was level ten.

  It seemed possible that some dedicated players may have landed near Dawnport, then skirted around the city, which would be hostile to them. From there, they could enter through the woods, leveling up enough to take on the dungeon. This approach would take a long time, but it would allow players to increase their strength rapidly and find some loot. Going by what Don said, Eli knew that the game rewarded players with experience bonuses while hunting in hostile territory. It was also possible that they could have heard about a lost temple of Aeryntorr and went to find it. Either way, he had to stop them.

  Lost in thought, Eli failed to notice Don as he walked closer to nudge him back down the path. After retracing their steps for roughly a mile, Eli spoke. “There’s a group of Goblins or Goblinoid creatures somewhere near the river. At least six or seven, maybe more. I don’t know why they are here, what they are doing, or where they came from, but that does not matter. We need to scout out what is happening and decide our best course of action,” he said, with a worried look on his face. “If these things seem remotely hostile, we take them out. They are only two days from Dawnport and a day from my old cabin. We can’t risk them reaching either.”

  Don lifted his hand as if waiting to be called on in class, before Eli nodded for him to speak, “Couldn’t we just, you know, talk to them? I mean, they could just be lost. Or hunting for food or something. Not all of this island is as abundant as these woods.”

  “Do you speak Goblin? Are you familiar with their social structure, or how they operate?” Eli asked before Don shook his head, lowering it slightly as if he knew where this conversation was going. “No? Well, neither do I. The only thing I’ve ever learned about goblins and other Stonekin was in the Three Factions War; How to kill them. What I do know is what will happen if a scouting party of Stonekin finds a party of adventurers or NPCs in the woods. They will try to take them captive and ransom them off or kill them outright if they pose a threat.” His eyes softened, taking on a little shame for his near-instantaneous decision for violence, “Look, I don’t want to kill them, hell I don’t care that they are on Scorn. But, I have to do whatever I can to protect those villagers. If some of their hunters come out this far, these Goblins will ambush them, especially if there’s an Ogre or Orc involved.”

  “Let’s just see what we can before we do anything,” Don whispered to his friend, hoping to prevent what he knew was about to happen. To his surprise, Eli paused, nodded in agreement, then continued towards the river.

  After hiking to the edge of the woods, Eli found himself sitting on a branch, with his bow in hand. He was roughly three hundred feet from a pack of thirteen Goblins. Each held a club, crossbow, or daggers while building what looked to be a small watchtower or defensive building. They were working on digging a foundation on the far banks of the shallow river, but the dirt seemed to fill back in on itself with each scoop of their crude shovels. Other than the sounds of rushing water and tools, there was nothing. Only an eerie silence, as each goblin worked soundlessly, without complaint. Eli knew little about Goblin society, but he knew that this was odd for Goblins. They usually chirped and bickered with each other constantly. Turning in Don's direction, he saw his friend, who had stayed back another fifty feet, on lookout duty. With a contemplative look on his face, the Turta nodded and gave a wave of his hand. The signal that everything was clear.

  As Eli watched the goblins more closely, he noticed something strange about their appearance. Their skin was an unusually dark color, nearly black. Putrid looking boils covered the body of the goblin closest to him. While the small creature picked up a stone and dragged it to where the others were digging, Eli stared in confusion. It reminded him of the wolves he fought earlier, yet somehow different. They didn’t have the movements or behavior of the undead, or the rabid look of the blighted, and the air was free of rotting flesh. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it was. So, he sat for nearly an hour, motionless in the tree, watching their movements. No more came, and none left other than to fetch building materials from a nearby stockpile of rocks, timber, and crude rope. None of the strange-looking creatures took a break, ate, or made a sound. They just worked quietly.

  After gathering as much information as possible, Eli slowly, quietly, climbed down from his vantage point and walked back to his companion. A few moments later, he reported his findings to Don. He told him of the Goblins’ strange behavior and explained his intentions. They would try to skirt the river unseen before crossing downstream. He wanted to avoid the situation altogether. If they were discovered, they would attack immediately, without hesitation.

  For a moment, Don and Eli argued in whispers with the Turta growing frustrated, “Look, man, I’ll go and try to talk to them. You just watch my back. I’m not going to slaughter these people because you think something is off. They haven’t done anything wrong. They may even have information on the temple or the blight. They might be helpful. Besides, you and I both know that I suck at the sneaky stuff.”

  “That’s not happening. Something is off, and you could get yourself killed,” Eli whispered at his friend, his tone serious. “Try to remember what happens if you die while you still have that debuff. What if they have traps?”

  Don’s voice lost its tone of resignation, growing more determined with every word, “What’s the problem? If I die, it’s on me; hopefully I’ll just respawn back in Dawnport. If not, then I start a new character, and I come to help you out. Just be sure to grab whatever I drop and hold onto it for me. I can’t just walk up there and start killing them without at least trying to see what they’re doing. I can’t do it, I’ve seen too much of that shit already,” Without another word, Don strode off towards where Eli had pointed out the Goblin construction site, barely trying to hide his movement.

  Eli stood by in cover, as Don breached the treeline opposite of the haphazard construction site. Before him, ten Goblins labored away on whatever it was they were building. When his friend grew closer, they turned their heads to greet the intruder, their eyes landing on Don in unison. With their eyes focused on the approaching Turta, each of the four-foot-tall beings went motionless, dropping whatever they carried. Slowly one made the slightest of movements, turning its head to point upstream as if listening for something. Nine sets of eyes stared at the leathery-skinned monk with emotionless, blank faces. There was nothing to see behind their eyes, no signs of life in their pupils, no worried movements, or hints of fear—just black, cold looking orbs.

  “Uh, hello. My name is Don. I mean you no harm,” Don said, raising his hands in a show of peace, his voice cracking slightly. “I was just wondering if you guys have any spare food, or some gear we could trade for, maybe some information. Do you speak common?”

  The head of the one looking into the distance snapped towards Don mechanically, the same eerie empty expression covering his face. A moment later, the same Goblin that Eli assumed was their leader, shook its head robotically and motioned for Don to approach, releasing a slight grunt. Visibly creeped out, Don walked forward. Eli, who was a m
ere ten feet behind his friend, hidden from view by an overgrown bush, nocked an arrow and watched.

  His friend strolled up to the group of strange-looking Goblins trying to negotiate with them, with his palms spread. As Don attempted to be kind, Eli prepared for what he knew would happen. He never enjoyed taking lives, but he was good at it, and anger clouded his every thought. Memories of his family flickered in and out of his mind, reminders of what he had lost. While sitting quietly, the flames of pain and grief flared within him. Part of him begged for violence and death. He waited for the moment he would rain down retribution on anything that made itself his enemy. Things had changed, he had changed, and he needed to vent his frustrations.

  As he scanned the area for movement, his hand twitching in anticipation, he noticed every goblin stop what they were doing and stare. Each set of eyes pointing in his friend’s direction. They moved as one, like puppets sharing a string. The image was haunting. Suddenly, he noticed two Goblins appear from the treeline opposite from him, one with a crossbow in hand, aimed directly at his friend. The other held a vicious-looking black dagger. Focusing on them, he triggered Scan bringing forward two bright red name tags.