“At the end of the day, it’s all bullshit. Cores and Classes mean fuck all. We’re just people trying to kill each other with whatever tools that’re available. That’s the truth of it.”

-Anonymous [General]

-

In a small village, where the towering Dungeon was a speck on the horizon instead of a dominating fixture, smoke rose from communal fires. It was almost lunch, and so several iron pots hung over the fires. They bubbled with a mixture of last night’s dinner and some fresh ingredients fetched from the forest this morning by the tribe’s [Gatherers] and [Foragers]. The palisade surrounding the village did little to hide the rising smoke, nor the mouth-watering smell of lunch.

Two goblins—they were both perched on the small platforms on the palisade overlooking the gates leading into the village-- were quite aware of just how distracting the aromatics were. They kept glancing back toward the source of the rising smoke. Not that Snowflake could blame them. He smelled fresh bread and a hearty stew. His stomach rumbled.

Snowflake was crouched in the bushes outside of the clear-cut area surrounding the palisade. Although lunch was on his mind, thoughts of hunger were driven from his mind when he remembered what he was there to do. At least the goblin [Guards] weren’t his problem. They were Ra’hel’s. At his side Nevasca lay with her haunches half-raised. Her long, feathered tail lashed back and forth in a slow and sinuous motion. It made her butt wiggle. In other circumstances it would be adorable. He tangled a hand in the feathers running down her spine, sending her thoughts of patience through their bond. It wasn’t time. Not yet.

Ahead of them, the goblin outpost was situated against a tall cliff. The semi-circle of natural stone may have made for ideal shelter and a decent windbreak, but it also had the fortunate effect of boxing the village in. From Quinn’s plan Snowflake knew that he was on the far-right side of their formation. Ra’hel was in the middle and Bonehammer was taking the left. Quinn herself was, at this very moment, positioning herself on top of the cliff. All the better to observe and judge their competence, Snowflake supposed.

When she was ready, she would use her [Phantom Image] to summon a ghostly army to surround and attack the village. That was their signal to attack. They would be three very real threats mixed in with the illusions. Hidden and waiting were three Guild [Assassins], to take out the goblin Chieftain, Shaman, and Champion. Those weren’t their Classes, per se. They were social positions. According to Quinn, every goblin tribe needed the bare minimum of those three positions filled to properly act as a tribe. On average, goblins tier 3 or higher usually took on those responsibilities. Or, hobgoblins, to be more accurate. Upon obtaining their first Aspect, goblins evolved into hobs.

It made Snowflake wonder if he would evolve too. His Class and Core would change him to some extent, of that he had no doubt. Would he be happy with who he would become?

Snowflake double checked his equipment and reviewed his plan. He had his flanged mace at his side and his tear drop shaped shield in his hand. At his waist hung a pouch of elongated metal spheres. Bullets. Those, combined with his protective vest of woven metal, made him feel heavy, but in a way that felt safe and powerful. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he supposed it was a similar feeling to wading into battle with an enchanted robe and powerful artifacts. Wait, no. It was more like the heavy comfort his cloak used to bring him. The weight of it had reminded him that he was alive and here, in the moment. That, and an air of impending violence. The cloak had been a constant reminder of the strife he had endured and the vengeance to come.

But that was then. The cloak was gone. Everything was gone. He was a so called ‘Native’ playing at being an ‘Awakened’ in a strange world.

Snowflake shook his head and thrust those thoughts into the flame, letting them burn away.

Beside him, Nevasca stiffened, sending feelings of urgency and eagerness for the hunt through their bond. Her muscles bunched and tensed, preparing to pounce. Snowflake refocused on the task at hand. Quinn had used her [Phantom Image]. Dark shapes stalked from the forest around them. Obscured beings of fang and claw stalked across the open ground, their intent clear.

From atop their post, the goblin [Guards] blew horns. The gates began to close, but it was too late. Ra’hel was already among them. Snowflake didn’t see her move from her hiding spot in the forest, but there she was. There was a goblin wrapped in her lower body, screaming and struggling to break free. Another was caught in her grasp, her fangs sunk into its neck.

Nearby, an arrow blasted through a [Phantom Image], leaving a crater where it would have stood if it was anything more than a trick of the light and Source. Taking that as his cue, Snowflake bounded forward, using [Explosive Step] to cross the space in a flash. Wary of more Skill fueled arrows, he tucked his shoulder and head beneath his shield, which he angled up to catch any falling projectiles.

With his raised shield obscuring his vision and his unfamiliar high-speed movements, Snowflake found himself slamming against the palisade. The impact caused the wooden wall to shake. He bounced off of it and went tumbling to the ground. As luck would have it, no arrow found his throat for those precious few seconds while he lay stunned on the ground.

He scrambled to his feet. In the back of his mind he noted that the collision had left a crack in the wood, but his [Sturdy Bones] held. His arm and shoulder were numb despite being unbroken. Perhaps it was a combination of [Sturdy Bones] and [Lesser Toughness] that let him shrug off his reckless use of [Explosive Step]. Perhaps not. He considered trying to smash through the wall with [Power Strike] but opted to stick with his original plan. Another reckless use of [Explosive Step].

Snowflake took a deep breath and gathered himself, sinking into a squat. He pushed off the ground, funneling Source through his legs to the bottom of his feet in a double [Explosive Step] aimed straight up. If the System gave him a Skill for this movement it would probably be [Explosive Leap], because that is exactly what he did.

He flew through the air, his knees tucked to his chest to help him clear the wall. The landing was less than graceful, but there was no one there to see it. Turns out that maneuvering in midair was difficult, and Snowflake had no practice. Not bothering to brush the dirt and dust off, Snowflake once again hauled himself to his feet and began to stalk the streets in search of goblins.

The first one he found was rushing down a dirt path between wooden huts toward the gates. In the distance, a strangled horn cut short. The goblin was a muscular little thing, less than five feet tall by far but with corded muscles tensing and moving beneath the bare skin of its arms. It had green skin, long pointed ears, and red eyes. He—it was obviously male-- was wearing what appeared to be leather pants held up by suspenders over a dirty cotton shirt.

From between two huts, Snowflake watched the goblin run past. Nevasca radiated her intentions to pounce on it, but he stilled her with a hand on her head. With a light clearing of his throat, Snowflake stepped out from the shadows and hefted his mace. The goblin whipped around at the sound hefting a… pickaxe? An odd choice of weapon for an invasive pest.

The goblin yelled out a warcry, revealing rows of sharp, serrated teeth. It made as if to charge forward. Snowflake dropped into a defensive stance in response. Instead of charging, the goblin stomped the ground with a single foot, sending out a rippling vibration which shook the earth beneath Snowflake’s feet. Off-balance as he was, Snowflake was not quick enough to deflect or dodge the goblin’s first attack.

He lashed out with his pickaxe, hooking the weapon over the edge of Snowflake’s shield and wrenching it from his grasp. The little bastard was a lot stronger than he looked. However, the action left him wide open for a counterattack. Snowflake swung his mace, intent on capitalizing on the opening.

The goblin danced away, lashing out with the pickaxe. It struck Snowflake on the shoulder. The goblin tried to yank it out, but it was stuck fast in bone. With a strong front-kick, Snowflake pushed the goblin back. The goblin bared his teeth and flexed his claws. He stomped down once again and charged at Snowflake. The ground rumbled loud enough to shake Snowflake’s bones.

Snowflake’s flanged mace took him in the face and the rumbling stopped. The second strike crushed the goblin’s skull.

The splash of blood across his face made Snowflake feel nauseous, but he pushed that feeling down. Killing enemies from this close was a far cry from the years he spent levelling battlefields with bolts of lightning. That, and the Emperor’s twisted abominations never looked so much like… people. If he didn’t know better, Snowflake would suspect that this goblin was nothing more than a [Miner] rushing to defend his home.

With a chemical energy enhanced burst of effort, Snowflake ripped the pickaxe from his shoulder. [Rapid Recovery] worked overtime, causing the hole in his shoulder to shrink fast enough that he could track the progress with his naked eye. It was odd though. He expected the injury to hurt more.

Snowflake made his way down the dirt paths toward the back of the village, where Quinn had assured them the goblins would assemble if under attack. With care, he skirted around a cooking fire with a large pot hanging over it. The last thing he wanted was for some enterprising goblin to tip over the pot and splash him with the boiling contents. Catching a whiff of the pot’s contents, he slowed to peak inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement he would have missed if had not slowed.

Snowflake wheeled to face the threat, his shield raised and ready to defend against another attempt to pull it from his hands. He locked eyes with another goblin. This one stood in front of the entrance to one of the huts, its knife raised. Snowflake began to advance, wary of another distracting Skill or spell. A second goblin rushed from the hut, a bundle in its arms. It tugged on the knife wielding goblin’s arms, but that goblin shrugged the other off. It shifted position to stand in the middle of the dirt path, blocking Snowflake’s way.

The goblin with the bundle let out a small cry, then turned to run with its package clutched with both arms. To go get reinforcements, no doubt. Snowflake would have to end this quickly. Nevasca pounced on the running goblin from her perch on top of one of the huts. There was a sickening crunch and the goblin stopped moving. Snowflake breathed an inward sigh of relief. At least he didn’t need to worry so much about being flanked by reinforcements.

The first goblin turned to see Nevasca behind him, her face covered in blood. It screamed a bloody war cry that wrenched at Snowflake’s heart. The result of a Skill, no doubt. It charged at Nevasca; knife raised. Before it could reach her, Snowflake was behind it with his mace already in motion. Three solid strikes and it stopped moving.

Snowflake suppressed the feeling in his gut and moved on. He averted his gaze from the corpses. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. It was nasty work, but it had to be done. These small green creatures were dangerous, Native or not. He exhaled and was surprised to find that he was shaking. Adrenaline. It had to be. He grit his teeth and carried on, toward the sounds of rallying cries.

Snowflake was surprised to find that he was the first of his peers to arrive at the goblin’s fallback point. Two hobgoblins were organizing a line of small goblins wielding wooden spears. They looked more like javelins used for hunting than they did spears made for war. The hobgoblins, each Snowflake’s height or taller, glanced up at his approach. Snowflake noticed a third hob, a feminine creature clothed in furs and feathers, ushering a larger group of goblins down a hole in the cliffside. A mine?

“Human,” one of the hobs said, stepping forward. This one was at least six feet tall, bare chested, and covered in swirling red warpaint. It had a great shield held in one hand and a heavy axe in the other. With a casual wave of its axe, its crescent blade sparkled in the sun, it gestured toward the goblins arranged behind it. “Why attack? Peaceful.”

Nevasca positioned herself on Snowflake’s left, guarding his flank.

Snowflake struggled to find an answer for the painted hob. What was he supposed to say? ‘I am here to exterminate your people to prove to the Guild that I’m useful.’ No. NO. He was attacking to remove a threat. There was no need to reason with people he was sent to kill…. Right?

The armored hob spat on the ground.

“Silent coward,” the other male hob said from his position with the line of smaller goblins. “Champion. Kill puppet. Real threat coming.”

The painted hob, the Champion, began to walk forward. His pace was unhurried. With each step he clashed his axe and shield together. The goblins behind him stomped in time. A few stepped out to start to form a circle but the other hob, the Chieftain most likely, smacked a few on the back of the head and they returned to their formation. When the Champion was a mere 10 feet away, he stopped.

“I, [Guardian] of Findstone Tribe [Challenge] you, Human.”

Something in the air changed. It was as if this was a precipice. The Champion had issued a [Challenge]. Nervous energy burned in Snowflake’s chest. Quinn had said time and time again that hobs were tier 3 or above, and that none of them were a match for one. Snowflake could see that this hob had eyes that glowed a deeper red and teeth that were even sharper than the other goblins he had seen. Did he have a monster Core, like Snowflake?

Snowflake gave his anxiety to the flame and steeled himself. There should be an [Assassin] around here, somewhere, just waiting for a chance to strike. He didn’t have to win, just create an opening. Besides, taking on impossible challenges was the way people levelled their Classes.

The nervous energy kept coming as fast as Snowflake could burn it away. He couldn’t back down from this fight, even if it was one that he couldn’t possibly win. In Snowflake’s mind, Robert’s face flashed over the [Guardian’s] for the briefest of moments, merging with it.

“I accept.” Snowflake heard a voice say. His.

The [Guardian] grinned, a wicked thing with too many teeth. In that moment, Snowflake was able to believe what Quinn said about the tribe being s dangerous pest, if only for a moment. The feeling of a looming change in the air clicked into place. Snowflake tried to take a step back but found he couldn’t. A flickering pillar rose behind him. No. All around them. Between the pillars, a barrier of wind whipped up dust. An [Arena] for a [Challenge].

For a moment, Snowflake wondered why the hob would waste Source on using a Skill like this when there was such a clear disparity of power between them. But only a moment, because he knew the answer. It was a show of force. Just not for his benefit.

***

Quinn watched the unfolding scenes from her perch atop the cliff overlooking the goblin village. She twisted a small patch of air to refract light in a way that made it act like a magnifying lens. Although she was cloaked in [Invisibility], she still felt the need to glance around behind her into the forest crowding the clifftop. [Assassins] always made her nervous. Their ability to find hidden things was uncanny.

She looked for several seconds but found nothing hidden in the deep shadows. It was times like this when she missed having Angosin around. He could see anything, no matter how well hidden it might be. She turned back to examine how her charges were handling themselves.

The battle was going more or less how she expected. Ra’hel was fighting off the majority of the goblins who responded to the warning horns. The snake woman was crushing and poisoning goblins at a rapid pace, often leaving them broken but alive. At one point, she was surrounded and backed into a corner, but escaped by some unseen method, just to ambush her pursuers. Quinn was impressed.

Bonehammer was also doing quite well. They dismantled a section of the wall and strode right in. Unlike the other two, the dryad had taken the time to master the [Bullet] spell. They were searching each building and making quick work of each goblin they found. Soon they would flank Ra’hel’s attackers and help the snake wipe out the defenders.

Snowflake was doing better than she had hoped, despite facing few enemies. He had surprised Quinn with his quick movements across the field surrounding the village and again when he jumped over the wall. Then he surprised her again by shrugging off a heavy blow from a [Miner] that looked like they specialized in clearing paths through solid stone. After that, he dispatched what looked like a male goblin buying time for a female to run away. Neither made it very far.

With such light resistance, Snowflake made it to the goblin’s fallback point far before the others. It was odd that they fell back so fast instead of rushing to defend the walls, but Quinn chalked it up to the unusual behavior of goblin kind. Seeing Snowflake approach the three hobs, Quinn manipulated sound energy and sent a [Message] to each of the waiting [Assassins], telling them to be prepared.

When the heavily armed Champion issued a [Challenge], Quinn could feel the shift in atmosphere even from her distant hiding place. She suppressed the urge to send another [Message]. The Guild [Assassins] were high-level professionals, each at least tier 3 and nearing level 30. [Assassins] were in high demand with the Guildmaster, allowing for a lot of opportunities to level.

As a phantom arena sprung into place around Snowflake and the Champion, the Champion spread his arms, reared back his head, and roared. He spun as if showing off to a crowded coliseum, unafraid of his opponent unleashing a surprise strike. It was an act of arrogance Quinn hoped he would die regretting.

Behind him, a shape flickered into existence as if emerging from his shadow. One of the [Assassins]. The [Assassin] reached up with two blades. One to slit the Champion’s throat and the other poised to go through his eye. Instead, an arrow pierced the [Assassin’s] skull, nailing it to the ground.

From beside Quinn the sharp sound of displaced air resonated out. A small blast washed over her, causing her to flinch back in alarm. A grinning hob emerged from a deep shadow along the forested edge of the clifftop, close enough that Quinn could almost reach out to touch them with one of her wings. They held a longbow, already notched with another arrow. Looking deeper into the shadows, Quinn could see more emerging shapes.

It was a trap, baited just for them.