“Hello friend,” the Ranger-Marshal, Gustav H. Fenwalker said. The man looked up from where he was attempting to calm his horse by the side of the Lucky Dragon, as the half-elf marched straight up toward him.

“I’ll take it,” Connor said with a reckless grin.

“Take what?” The Ranger-Marshal did little more than just frown at him, before a look of recognition crossed his face.

“Ah, I remember you now,” the man in the heavy waxed leather cloak said. “Just a couple of days ago. You said that you didn’t want any of my help at all, if I remember rightly.”

“Well, now I want a job. Any job, doesn’t really matter, but the more dangerous the better, if you get my drift,” Connor said, already bouncing back and forth from anxiously.

“I see now.” The Ranger-Marshal appeared to ignore his urgency and turned back to his coal black steed and once again dipped his head down just a little, making a calming, hushing noise.

“She’s frightened,” he said, in a broad accent that Connor was coming to associate with this wilder side of the Mourn Mountains.

“Something in the air’s spooked her,” he looked up suspiciously, even raising his head to sniff at the air himself a little.

“You haven’t heard of anything strange happening in the last few days since we met?”

Connor fidgeted nervously, certain that the Ranger-Marshal was going to accuse him of breaking into the Tower of the Aviatrix.

That’s ridiculous, the half-elf told himself. Impossible, in fact. How would this backwater roads marshal know about what had happened all the way in distant Union City?

“I even heard there’s been trouble at the Lack,” Gustav said with a heavy sigh.

“The Lack?” Connor echoed, his thoughts stumbling toward the conclusion at the same time as the Ranger-Marshal told him.

“You know, where the Mourn Wilds ends, and then Union City plateau. The Lack’s been there since the world was created, or so they reckon. Some say there are entire lands down there, other countries, other people even. All I know is that if anyone is stupid enough to investigate it, they never come back.”

“What kind of trouble?” Connor asked, despite himself.

“Some elves, I think,” Gustav’s eyes flickered toward him. “There’s talk that a band of elves have risen up and started attacking outposts along the way. Maybe that’s what my girl here senses…”

He turned back to the steed and shushed it once more, infuriatingly taking way too much time as far as Connor was concerned.

“It’ll be bad news if there’s another war…” Gustav muttered heavily. Connor wondered if there was a note of accusation in the sheriff’s voice, aimed at him, for being at least part elf?

“I don’t know about any of that. Just point me at a monster, I need the reward,” Connor said, truthfully, and earning for himself a surprised chuckle from the Ranger-Marshal.

“Well, you know what you’re about, at least,” the Ranger-Marshal said wryly. “You’re looking for a reward, huh? Well, I could do with some eyes up on Heartbreak Ridge. That’s straight up toward the mountains there,” he nodded up, toward the forest, and the distant peaks that looked like ogre’s teeth.

“I have a friend who lives on the edge of Black Birch—a Healer. She said that a group of goblins has come down from the mountains and started to cause trouble around the village. I need to know if that’s true,” he said, taking a small, but full coin pouch from a side pocket.

“I’m not asking for any heroics, but if you find sign of goblins, report back to me. That way I can get a head for how many numbers we need to root them out,” the Ranger Marshal said. “Do that, and this is yours.”

“Straight up that a-way, you say?” Connor asked, pointing past the small houses, pretty much in the same direction as the shortcut that he had taken before.

Maybe that was some of those same goblins that I met before, Connor considered. But, seeing how this quest was still active, it must mean that there were more of the little beasts up there, still.

“I got it, I’ll get it sorted,” Connor grinned, even giving the Ranger-Marshal a thumb’s up.

Quest: Find the Goblins

You have been offered a quest to find goblins of Heartbreak Ridge

Reward: Unknown

Accept: Yes / No

Connor immediately accepted the quest and turned to leave.

“Hey, wait a minute, son!” the Ranger-Marshal called out, his voice alarmed.

“You’re going to head up there like that? You’re not even armed!” The older man sounded shocked, and signaled for Connor to closer as he started tugging something from the packs of his skittish steed.

Why do I need a weapon? I’m only doing this to get myself killed! Connor laughed.

“Here, you’ll catch your death otherwise.” Gustav threw a heavy, fur-lined cloak at him. It was a deep green, with white fur around the neck.

You have received Warm Winter Cloak.

Effect: Reduces Vitality loss to cold.

“Look, really,” Connor protested, about to give the cloak back, when Gustav cut him off.

“Never let it be said that anyone working for me goes out unprepared, now,” the man started pulling at one leather covering and then another, before finally turning around with what appeared to be a small hand-ax. It was pretty much the same size as Connor’s old ax.

“I remember you being an ax-man when I last saw you. Seems you lost it now, but I noted it before, because not many choose to wield axes, and certainly not too many of the elvish-folk,” Gustave nodded, presenting it to him.

You have received a Hand-ax.

Name: Hand-ax

Condition: Excellent

Damage: 6–8 Health points

Requirements:

Strength: 6 or higher

Attack Cost: 2 Vitality points

How hard is it to get myself killed in this game! Connor could have cried from frustration, but he accepted both items just the same.

“Now, you must remember to go quiet, stay out of sight . . .” Gustav was trying to give him advice, but Connor finally managed to break free.

“It’s alright, thanks!” Connor laughed out loud, before turning and heading up the side street that led out of Woodville. When he reached the edge of town, he started to climb the meadows upward.

Toward his death.

***

“Okay, so maybe the cloak was a good idea,” Connor had to admit. He shrugged it tighter over his shoulders as he headed toward the path, and the rise in the wooded hill where he had last battled the goblins.

He was cold, and even though his current focus was fairly morbid, he didn’t particularly want to slowly freeze to death.

“I can’t wait for that!” he mumbled impatiently, thinking about how annoyed Mr. Grey was going to be, and just what he had to say in order to sell the idea that he had to be given more time (and more money) to get the Ring back.

“Who were those guys, anyway?” Connor shook his head, still confused over the black-garbed elves that had attacked him. They had been serious. And also seriously invested in stealing the Ring of Tantor.

And what was that talk about a takeover? he wondered, also remembering what the Ranger-Marshal had said.

“Trouble with elvish folk all along the Lack,” Connor repeated. Perhaps the Ring of Tantor was a part of something much bigger. An elvish plot to retake the First Realm, maybe.

There was a sudden hiss and a scurry from up ahead of him on the path, and Connor’s sighed with relief.

“Hey!” he called out loudly. “Hey, I know that you’re out there, Gobbo’s. Stop playing around and let’s get this over with!”

The sudden scuffles completely stopped, replaced by a silence that was too unnatural under the dark Birch trees.

“Come on, do I have to do everything myself around here?” Connor groaned, picking up his feet and starting to jog forward.

“Hsst! Half-elf Scum!” There was a sudden snarl as Connor crested the rise, and there, caught as if in shock, were two goblins. They jumped up from a makeshift camp that was little more than an empty fire pit and a scrap of tarp they had apparently used for shelter. Neither of them had a weapon in hand, and Connor realized that this would have been a perfect time to dispatch them—if that was what he was there for.

“Am I glad to see you lot!” Connor said, not drawing his ax as he raised his arms out wide to encompass the scene.

“Look fella’s, you’d be really doing me a favor if you can grab those rather pointy spears and that rusty sword over there. Otherwise, this just might take forever, and I’ve got places to be.”

The goblins slowly rose from their log seats but made no move toward their weapons at the side of the camp. In fact, they appeared to be entirely confused by the crazy Half-elf who wasn’t trying to decapitate them at the nearest opportunity.

“It’s mad!” one of the goblins cringed in disgust. “The half-elf is crazed. We shouldn’t eat mad meat, Fisko.”

“Still meat,” the one called Fisko responded, starting to edge toward where they had left their weapons.

“That’s it, one hundred percent organic, prime of my life half-elf meat,” Connor said with a laugh, even flexing his bicep as if to prove it as he walked toward them.

“Now come on, I’m trying to negotiate a very substantial four-digit sum,” he said, “and I just need you to kill me so I can do that.”

“Eeek! It is mad! Either that, or it’s a trap!” The second goblin, Fisko, looked around the clearing and then at Connor, suddenly suspiciously. “How many are there with you? Who’ve you got?”

“Yeah!” the first goblin said, almost tripping over its seat in its haste to get away.

“Hey, come back! Where are you going?!” Connor said, astonished and outraged in equal measures.

“Come on! You’re goblins, I’m a half-elf. This shouldn’t be rocket science, guys!” Connor said, taking another step toward them.

“Eeek!” Fisko nearly jumped out of their green skin, stumbling back over the campfire in an effort to stay away from Connor.

You have inspired Fear in Goblin Bandit.

Effect: 100% increase in attack damage.

“Wait! Stop!” Connor cried out.

“GOBLINS! Prepare to meet whatever foul god birthed you!”

There was a sudden roar as a small, stocky shape leaped out from the tangle of rocks and overgrown bushes, swinging a war hammer straight into the head of the first, reluctant goblin. The creature crumbled to the ground.

Your group has been awarded 100 Experience Points for slaying Goblin Bandit.

Experience points will be divided amongst all participants.

“Yaaas!” yelled the stocky shape that Connor could now see was a dwarf. He was broader than the goblins, and even broader than Connor, too. The dwarf had a mane of fiery red hair tied back over a stiff leather and ring mail jerkin, and a fierce red beard on its face. He wielded a large, two-handed hammer.

Fikso, the second goblin shrieked, scrambling on its feet as it fell to the ground, slipping in the leaves and starting back toward Connor. The creature looked up and saw it was heading straight toward the half-elf and hissed, its feet sliding out from under it again as it tried to turn back.

You have Surprised Goblin Bandit.

Effect: 200% increase in attack damage.

Really! I’m not trying to scare you! Connor complained to himself.

The dwarf was immediately upon them, leaping forward to finish the goblin with one powerful down-swing of his hammer.

Your group has been awarded 100 Experience Points for slaying Goblin Bandit.

Experience points will be divided amongst all participants.

“There,” the dwarf grinned, looking up at the shocked—and quite frankly annoyed—Connor.

“I am forever at your service, if it wasn’t for your distraction, then that might have been a tricky fight!” the dwarf said out loud, striding forward, stepping over the bits of dead goblin. He extend a hand out toward Connor.

“Dargan Fire-brow,” the dwarf said with a wide grin. “And you are, my friend?”

“Not dead,” Connor groaned. I didn’t even WANT an extra 100 experience points.

The dwarf missed the sarcasm. “I can see that, and you didn’t even raise a weapon against them! You are made of strong stuff, I see. Now, let’s take word of this to my friend the Ranger-Marshal, and claim our prize!”

“Alright. Might as well collect our reward,” Connor said grudgingly, looking at the fading scene of destruction at his feet, and sighing heavily.

“Hey, do you want to split the loot?” Dargan said cheerfully. “They won’t have a lot, but you earned your share being the perfect distraction.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Connor groaned, turning to look ahead, then up, to where the trees were shrouded in gloom and shadow. There’s got to be monsters up that way.

“Two silver bits a piece!” Dargan said happily, pocketing the change.

“Hmph,” Connor groaned. He was clearly not making any progress here on getting killed by goblins. The first time he had fought them had been a close call, but now it seemed like they weren’t even eager to attack an unarmed half-elf! Why couldn’t they just be like, regular homicidal goblins?

“Have you heard about some trolls up in the Mountains of Mourn? Any idea how far from here?” Connor asked, eyeing the forest ahead skeptically. He had no idea how far that was likely to be, or even if the rumor was true.

“A Troll? Really?” Dargan laughed. “You have some stones I see, Half-elf! No wonder the Ranger-Marshal set you on this quest, too. But no, I think a troll would be far past our skills. But the Ranger-Marshal might be able to help.”

I don’t want to see the Ranger Marshal again! He groaned to himself, but, reluctantly, he admitted that the dwarf was right, unless…

Log-out disabled.

Connor growled in frustration. The log-out function was still not working. His conversation with Mr. Grey would have to wait for at least a little bit longer still.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s get back to the Ranger-Marshal, then.”

And then, I’ll find out what he knows about this troll, Connor promised himself.