The crisp new morning shepherded in a gloomy overcast with sporadic showers.

Zeke sheltered in his cave, trying to fashion a target-board for his javelins from the cloth, sticks and dead leaves laid about.

It turned out a little wobbly and not very durable, but he would just make a better one once this one broke. Zeke smeared a bright red circle in the centre with some crushed berry paste. He also spent an hour on simple magic practice just before he went out for another bout of gob-grinding. Unfortunately, no new secrets or skills were unlocked from the practice.

+1 Mana (25/42)

Of course he'd leave enough mana to maintain his Mana Concealment.

Zeke donned his spear quiver, tucked in a few daggers and hefted his club over his shoulder, fully locked and loaded.

He ducked out of his shelter into a just-arriving drizzle. He traced the carved tree triangles while trying to avoid all the creepy crawlies that popped out of their hidy-holes to soak up the rain.

The rain had cleaned the air and carried a sweet, damp freshness that filled his lungs and freed his thinking.

Such a shame that the soon to occur gob-culling would ruin the atmosphere, it was messy work, but some one had to do it Zeke thought with an exasperated sigh.

Zeke's plans had reached a minor hiccup as he came to the halfway mark of the path. Well, maybe it was more like a major hiccup, but since Zeke had discovered 'it' before 'it' discovered him, the threat was minor hiccup level. The hiccup in question was a small squad of 8 goblin fighters that shuffled through the dreary forest with gruff snarls and killing intent.

Like a practiced owl, Zeke ghosted parallel to the cluster of goblins and analyzed the walking bags of exp. These gobs were well equiped, not a single dagger could be seen, they had all been replaced with stone swords and a couple of brown metal swords that matched his metal dagger. The typical goblin loincloth had also been upgraded into an almost full bog leather armour, one gob in particular had a vest made of slizard scales and scouted ahead of the group, probably the leader.

The Scaley-gob bounded around, ceaselessly darting his head at the wet foliage, searching for any markings or tells. Ahhh! another one! A pair of stacked triangles marked a nearby tree's bark. This particular squad had been scanning the forest since the crack of dawn, hunting down the man who had been ambushing their hunting parties. The 'elite sword unit' will make him pay! With a new direction to follow, the scaley goblin surged onwards with renewed confidence.

From within the bowels of a giant yellow fern, Zeke stroked the scruffy stubble that covered his chin in contemplation. It was clear that his home would be discovered in the matter of days, hours even. The markings he left were a double-edged sword. He wasn't the only one who could use them.

Zeke cursed his own clumsiness, he lamented all the wasted time he had spent covering his footprints. The markings had slipped his mind.

The Goblin leader just found another marking too! and rushed ahead of the rest. Zeke couldn't allow them to continue.

Zeke raised his hand to his back and clutched his fingers a javelin, slowly drawing the weapon without a peep. He hadn't actually practiced yet but there was no time like the present. Raising the opposite hand he took aim at one of the sword-gobs that lined the middle of the formation.

WIth a sudden thought he applied his 3 free attribute points he had ignored untill now. Every little edge helped after all.

+2 Agility (28)

+1 Strength (43)

Twisting violently the Zeke poured every ounce of his 43 strength and 28 agility into the throw. It flew in a deadly arc to the back-turned targets.

Zeke wasn't surprised when the spear wildly flew over his target, missing entirely and putting the all the goblins on high alert. Fortunately for Zeke however, the gob behind of his target was subjected to the poorly aimed spear, it embedded itself in it's shoulder, effectively removing one warrior from the brewing battlefield.

The small unit of 6 huddled up into a tight circle facing outward, the scale-clad leader ducked to the forest floor and escaped from Zeke's sight.

A tense few seconds passed without a single human or goblin muscle twitching. The drizzling seemed to pick up to a proper rain and the wind built up to drawn out howl, setting the scene for a gruesome battle.

As slowly and as soundless as possible, Zeke drew the second spear from his back.

The huddled fighters were standing at about 20 meters from his position, he would be able to throw both spears before they reached him. Also, the target he was aiming for was bigger, so he felt confident that at least one more goblin would be leaving the fight before it even started.

Abandoning his yellow fern, Zeke leaped out and let loose his javelin, pulling the third one out and throwing before he even saw the result of the one still mid-air. The first one hit, right in the groin of the unlucky recipient, the second was narrowly deflected by a deftly swung stone sword. Now, with Zeke in view, the bloodbath began.

"KIHL MANSZ" screamed the five goblins in unison as they trodded the emerald forest.

Goblin met club and club met goblin.

The 5 elite sword gobs went unhinged, disgusting smirks curled up their wretched faces as they hacked and slashed with swords and claws at the goblin slayer. Zeke too gave in to a primal rage as he swatted them away with his trusty club.

+ Bludgeoner Class Earned

Bludgeoner is level 1

Bout time!

The bog skin armour the goblins wore lived up to the bog's natural defence. Zeke was unfamiliar with smacking a goblin more than once, these tough buggers seemed to get more ferocious with each hit, right up untill the died.

Zeke had only managed to smashed down three of goblins in the brief scramble and had taken roughly half of his health in the form of cuts and stabs.

Thankfully, there were only two left in fighting condition. Both parties stared each other down in a vicious stalemate. Even though it was two on one, Zeke would be able to pull through.

"Blood Regeneration" Zeke repeated a few times in the short lull. The effects of blood regeneration weren't instantaneous, but as the fight goes on, an increase in healing could mean the difference between life and death he thought.

The scale vested goblin, who had been absent since the very first javelin throw, chose this moment to make his apearance.

"KHIL MANSZZzz" echoed from every direction.

It burst from the treetops above with a bloodcurdling warcry, it's sword replaced by a pair of twin metal daggers that gleamed threatenly.

Zeke was too slow to dodge and the airborne-gob slashed down his exposed back with all it's momentum and performed a quick, clean roll as it hit the ground.

Zeke shrieked in pain as he was dropped to the blood-stained floor.

The 3 man-group of goblins pounced upon the downed man with a maniacal laughter.

"KEKEEEKAKAAA"

Zeke flopped to his back and held his club at the centre with one hand as an impromptu shield whilst his free hand formed a fist that soon met a warty green nose. His club had managed to block one of the incoming sword strikes, another strike left a huge gash in Zeke's blocking forearm, bleeding it into the crimson grass. Zeke's health had plummeted to around 20% in the space of a few seconds.

He was in a bad state but the fight wasn't over.

Zeke hoped that his blood regeneration would pull him through the blood loss and cuts that had accumulated.

He gave the club a wide swing and flung it at the closest foe, using the small window to roll to his feet and equip two stone daggers. Blood dripped freely from Zeke's arm and back, the plants below seemed to move towards him, greedily absorbing the precious liquid.

A storm of daggers and swords ensued. Pale goblin blood and darker human blood in equal part was whipped across the forest canvas, the verdant landscape took the form of a bloody hell, heavy rain unable to wash away the horrors occuring.

Two more goblins joined the corpses, their faces coated with cuts from a dagger. It was now a one-on-one. Only the scaled goblin remained, it's own body covered in fresh deep wounds, identical to Zeke.

The goblin leader was hunched over and gasping, desperately trying to fill it's empty lungs. With a final huge gasp it floundered towards the drunkenly-swaying man. The 'elite sword unit' had overestimated themselves, the opponent was far stronger than they thought, but at this point, it was already too late to flee.

So it made a last stand with it's dying breathe.

Zeke watched the drenched goblin weakly stumbling as it moved towards him, Zeke just stood there without moving. A darkness chipped away at the outskirts of his vision, the rain had gone silent and his arms were too heavy to lift. But he would not fall, to fall is to die, goblins didn't have the right to kill him, he would not fall, he would not die, not today, and certainly not here.

The goblin was just a few steps away from him. It croaked out something that went unheard and gave a weak thrust with it's dagger. Zeke did not move, he couldn't.

Time slowed as death approached. Zeke could only watch the dagger with his vacant eyes.......... the goblin's feeble thrust connected, it harmlessly scraped along Zeke's stomach and the goblin collapsed and crumbled to the goblin slayer's feet, dead

"Blood Regeneration" exhaled Zeke as he too fell to his knees.

He was done.

He faceplanted on top of the goblin's dead body and closed his eyes. The rain above poured harder, once again reaching torrential. The wind screamed like an ancient banshee, but to Zeke there was nothing but silence.

An unknowable amount of time passed and Zeke awoke.

The rains had passed and even the air had stilled, the forest however, was devoid of it's usual life.

Zeke had never seen the night sky before, it was as incomprehensibly brilliant as it was cruel. Had the stars stolen this world's beauty? It seemed like it.

His many blood regenerations had run their course and Zeke was once again able to move.

He gingerly pushed himself off the adversary below him, he pried off the goblin's slizard vest with a dead-eyed indifference then used his Avarice.

Nothing.

Too tired to complain, he groaned to his feet and went about taking the rest of the spoils. He didn't want to stick around too long, he didn't even want to be in this blood thirsty forest anymore.

A few of the goblins were weakly holding on to their lives, barely breathing with their faces pressed into the dirt. They took their last breath as Zeke crushed their heads underfoot.

Level Up!

You've reached level 8

+3 attribute points

He stuffed his backpack with the blood-stained bog leather and scavenged the few metal swords and daggers that littered the recently established open-cemetary. His Avarice only attained gains from two of the many dead bodies.

+2 Intelligence (45)

+2 Strength (45)

Finished with necessities, he trudged past the forest trees in a solemn reflection. He too had overestimated himself, these goblin fighters were in a different league. He was also willing to bet that there were stronger goblin variants, lurking from whatever deep, dark, decrepid ditch they dredged their disgraceful dickfaced existence from.

The weight to his backpack gave him a meager reassurance, for every goblin he killed, the next one got just that much easier to crush.

He would put this experience to good use.

None will survive.

A promise, no longer an idle threat.