Day Two. Night.

After I reclaimed my swords from the rhomodillo’s corpse, I stood guard while Cecilia’s party looted the bodies of their dead. They took their time, storing their companions’ possession in their backpacks with care—to pass onto them later, I supposed.

While I waited, I reflected on my new companions. Ultack was likable enough, and Cecilia didn’t seem that bad either. As for the rest, I already knew I disliked Jorge, but I hadn’t spent much time considering the others, and I analyzed each in turn again.

The target is Ultack, a level 30 half-orc.

The target is Jorge, a level 26 human.

The target is Luriel, a level 27 elf.

The target is Fogbear, a level 26 dwarf.

The target is Mist, a level 28 lizardman.

Like Cecilia, the others had gained a level from the skirmish with the rhomodillo, and all were surprisingly high-leveled. But then there was nothing to say any of them was a new player like me, and I already knew they hadn’t come from the dungeon.

So, where have they come from, and more importantly, what are they doing in this out-of-the-way sector?

I wondered too at my urge to help them. I had felt no similar inclination with the bounty hunters. What had prompted me to act this time?

Maybe I’m just a sucker for damsels in distress, I thought wryly, my gaze drifting towards Cecilia. The elven mage was certainly attractive, but her beauty was of the cold, haughty kind. Not my type at all. I snorted. Not that I could remember what my type was, or even if I had one.

Perhaps it was only self-interest that had spurred me to intervene. The writ of safe passage was valuable, and if the Howlers were indeed blocking entry into the safe zone, it had even more uses than I had initially foreseen.

Will Cecilia keep her word? I wondered. Or will her party betray me once they reach safety?

My eyes darted to Ultack. Intuition told me I could depend on him. I pursed my lips. There it was again: an instinct within me prompting my actions. Despite the disquieting strangeness of the sensation, I felt myself inexplicably trusting it. I could not recall ever experiencing such a feeling before, and I found myself wondering what had given birth to it now.

Is this something of the Wolf?

I wasn’t sure, but it felt like it might be. I bit the inside of my cheek. It was beginning to feel like there was much more to my supposed wolven heritage than I’d originally assumed, and it left me wondering what I was becoming.

~~~

Once the others were done, we headed south.

I forsook my treetop highway to join them on the forest floor. For one, I preferred to keep my means of traveling the forest a secret, and for another, I was curious about the party’s origins.

Sadly, I managed to pry very little out of my new companions. They were tightlipped and alert, eyes constantly roving across the encroaching trees to scan for danger. But while I found the group’s discipline admirable, I was less than impressed by their powers of observation.

Time and again, it fell to me to warn the party of the approaching predators they failed to spot and to steer them clear of creature dens they somehow missed. Eventually, of course, they noticed my usual perceptiveness.

“How are you doing that?” Jorge asked, the irritation in his voice undisguised.

“Doing what?” I asked innocently.

The human fighter scowled at me. From his gear, I took him to be a damage dealer. “Don’t play stupid,” he snapped. He peered at me suspiciously. “Are you drawing the beasts to us?”

I laughed. “What? You mean the forest isn’t dangerous enough already?”

He glared at me but didn’t retort as he turned away to futilely study the surroundings. From beside me, Ultack chuckled. “You shouldn’t toy with Jorge like that.”

I glanced up at him. “Why? Because he is such a pleasant and helpful chap?”

The half-orc only laughed louder. “No,” he said when his mirth subsided. “Because you’re distracting him.”

I eyed him sideways. “I notice you haven’t asked how I’m managing to spot what the rest of you aren’t.”

Ultack shrugged. “It’s obvious. You’re a scout or rogue of some sort.”

I nodded, not bothering to correct him. “How far to the safe zone?” I asked, changing the topic.

“We should get there before dawn,” the half-orc replied. He paused. “Assuming nothing ambushes us.”

I smiled. “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

~~~

We reached our destination without any major incidents, mostly due to my own efforts. We were attacked once by a pair of forest cats—but they were easily fended off—and twice more by a pack of hyenas. The ugly creatures were more persistent than the cats, but after Cecilia killed a half-dozen with a single casting, they saw reason and troubled us no more.

Just as Ultack predicted, we reached the southern edge of the valley as the sky brightened. Emerging from the treeline we found ourselves standing at the foot of a rocky slope. I stumbled to a halt at the sight that greeted us: goblin fortifications.

Sitting tall and undisguised on the mountainside.

The Howlers encampment was many times larger than the Long Fangs, and truthfully it was not a camp but a fort, complete with guard towers, mud-brick walls, ramparts, and wooden gates.

There was an abundance of guards everywhere. Goblins in chainmail armor and wielding long spears marched atop the walls, manned the ballistae place on the towers, and stood guard before the gates.

I whistled appreciatively, glad it wasn’t the Howlers I had been tasked to deal with. It was clear now that the size and strength of the goblin delegations in the valley were unequal, and by comparison to the Howlers, the Long Fangs were primitive.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Cecilia said.

I glanced at the elf standing beside me. “Quite,” I murmured. “How long have they been here?” And are the Red Rats this strong too?

The mage shrugged. “I’ve no idea. The Howlers got here long before we did and seem intent on staying.”

It certainly looked that way. I ran my gaze over the fortifications again, picking out as many details as possible. The goblin stronghold was built on the side of the steeply rising mountainside, making its insides clearly visible. Within the outer wall was an inner wall, and within it was a village.

The settlement consisted of a group of log cabins. From the difference in their design and the lack of goblins inside the space, I took the village to be the safe zone.

So, Ultack and Cecilia have not lied. The Howlers really do have control of the safe zone. To get to it, we would have to pass through both the goblin fort’s outer and inner walls.

“Come on,” Ultack said. “They’ve seen us already.”

Taking point, the half-orc led the party up the slope and towards the fort’s entrance. A dozen goblins carrying halberds and dressed in chainmail waited there. The guards raised their weapons threateningly as we drew closer, though they didn’t appear concerned. Still unsure about my companions and their own intentions, I let my hands stray towards my blades.

Ultack had told me that goblins despised players and oftentimes would attack on sight. The situation in the valley, however, was unusual. The goblins had been tempted here by Erebus’ offer, and while the negotiations with the Power were ongoing, the three delegations had agreed to honor the writs of safe passage.

When we reached the gate Cecilia stepped forward and waved the writ in the air.

“Approach,” the goblin squad leader grunted, lowering his weapon.

“Just how many goblins are in this fort?” I asked Ultack in a low voice while we waited for the guards to examine Cecilia’s writ.

“The shaman leading the Howler’s delegation has an escort of one thousand goblin warriors, all elite warriors from their tribe,” he answered. The half-orc eyed me carefully. “Make sure you behave. Writ or no, they will attack if we break the peace.”

“I won’t do anything to provoke them,” I promised.

Ultack grunted in acknowledgment.

After a few minutes of inspecting the writ, the goblin squad leader waved us through. I followed in the party’s wake, hands still hovering close to my blades.

The inside of the fort was just as orderly and heavily patrolled as the outer defenses. Long rectangular buildings—barracks I supposed—were arranged in militarily precise rows. Looming over them, was a central keep.

That must be where the shaman is, I guessed. The keep itself was at least three stories high and topped with towers and crenellations of its own. It loomed high over the inner wall and would be clearly visible everywhere in the safe zone, which I guessed was by design.

Clearly, the Howlers wished the players within to be reminded of their presence.

We marched through the camp unmolested, down a central isle that cut straight from the fort’s northern gate to the inner one leading to the safe zone. I swiveled my head left and right. Goblins watched us from every direction, but none approached.

Picking out goblins at random, I analyzed them.

The target is a level 59 goblin elite warrior.

The target is a level 62 goblin elite warrior.

Elites are at the pinnacle of the goblin warrior caste, stronger, faster, and more deadly than other goblins. Every elite is equipped with the best available goblin gear and has undergone rigorous training at group tactics. Individually, they are a match for most players, but group-fighting is where they truly excel. Working in tandem, goblin elites can take down even the strongest players.

Damn. Every goblin I examined was an elite, and all were almost twice my level. That left me wondering about the shaman himself.

“Will we see the shaman?” I asked.

Ultack snorted, “Unlikely. The Howlers’ shaman doesn’t deal with the likes of us. Besides, we have a writ already. We will head straight for the safe zone.”

I nodded thoughtfully and spent the rest of the short trip in silence. Presently we came to the gate set in the inner wall. Wordlessly, the guards there let us through, and we exited the fort.

A game message dropped in my mind.

You have entered a safe zone.

I exhaled, some of my tension dissipating. We had made it in safely.

Now to find out what else awaits me in this sector.

And, more importantly, how I escape.