When goblins hunt, they hunt in packs, because they are individually weak and stupid, possessing no more strength then a strong child, and in some rarer cases, a weak adult. But what they lack in strength, they excel in numbers and ruthlessness. An army of goblins could effortlessly raise entire small villages if left unchecked, their savage absence of any morals can make them a fearful foe to the unprepared and those who underestimate them.

There is a saying. "The only good goblin is one with a sword sticking out of it". No one knew when it came into the commonplace, but everyone agrees with the underlining message... the world is better off without them.

Zeke was just doing his part, contributing to the decline of goblin-kind and then some, to some he would be a nameless hero, to others, an indomitable machine of murder. Whichever side of the fence they stood on, one thing was for certain, Zeke was the Herald of Blood, the Harbinger of Purgatory and the Omen of Death, feared and respected by all who saw the destruction in his wake.

However, such a story is for another day, as for now...

With furrowed brows Zeke waded through the knee height stream, golden fish circled at his ankles and nipped playfully at his skin as he trudged through. Zeke made a mental note to try to catch a few for dinner if he got the chance, they looked nice and fat and had an all round 'tasty' vibe going on. It was a wonder why he'd never seen a goblin fishing before, not even spear fishing, maybe they were poisonous? or plain old disgusting to the point when goblins wouldn't eat it? He vowed to find out sooner or later.

His hungry thoughts were interrupted by the worried snarls and cries of the 30-odd goblins on the opposite side of the fast running waters. He originally intended to kill the goblins discreetly, leaving no survivors, of course it was just his luck that he'd need to cross the stream to get to them. There was no stealthy way over making it to the other side unnoticed so he opted for the direct route and b-lined the distance without an ounce of grace.

As he exited the shallow water he noticed that three of the gobs were already sprinting down the water bank in full retreat. The remaining hunters grouped up to presumably stall time and secure their escape. Seemed like Zeke had made a name for himself among the small-fry hunters, the thought only served to stroke his ego.

The group of 25 goblins tightened their grip on their many weapons as the goblin slayer marched forward. They knew that the man capable of defeating the revered squadrons of elite sword goblins and controlling the Evil Tree had them overpowered in every sense. Their only hope was to delay him and protect the messengers, they were the fastest in the group. Once they reached home they would send in our best soldiers, the hobgoblins! Or even Big Brother. No human is a match for Big Brother. They only need to stall for a few more minutes and then they could enact revenge!

The 4 archers at the back shoot their first volley at his slim figure. Each shot either falling short or missing widely, a combination of terrible aim, pathetic bows and crude arrows.

Zeke drew out a javelin once he was 15 meters away, a long shot but it should at least hit something. He let loose the projectile with a small 3 step run-up and unsheathed his dust-metal sword in one hand, club in the other. He'd never dual wielded anything but daggers before, the current situation was as good as a chance to try something new.

"Harden" He chanted into the club as a second volley whizzed by.

"Looks like you still remember me, hey boys!" Zeke jeered with a too jovial voice as the terrified faces wavered.

Zeke was in his element, the heat of battle where all of his previous trials and hardships floated to the surface of his soul, to sharpen his wits and decimate his foes. He used the longer weapons and his longer reach to barrage the poorly armed enemies. The sword in his right hand wasn't being used to it's full potential, more like a second club, but it still stole life like the tool of war it was.

Stone daggers that were more akin to glorified sharp rocks scraped almost harmlessly on the thick bog and slizard hide armour. Where his skin was exposed on his upper legs and arms suffered only shallow cuts and some purple bruising, they weren't even capable of mortally wounding him. Zeke's utter win was an inevitability.

A third volley of arrows pelted into the fight at a near point blank range. Each of the arrows hit a combatant, three bounced off Zeke's slizard hide guarded back and the fourth hit an unlucky goblin in the hand, flinging the weapon from it's grip.

Zeke grunted as the arrows pelted his shoulders, he spun around to glare at the offending archers and take the opportunity to run his sword through a goblin that suddenly dropped their dagger. He grinned maliciously when his glare caused all three archers to fumble their arrows, the evil smile only caused them to blunder further. He had them domintated.

Zeke took a quick moment to batter away four goblins as he hastily jumped away from the centre of the fight. He used the short window of time to sheath his bloodied sword and launch a fireball at the place he was standing. For a brief moment all witnesses store agape at the brilliant fire as it hurtled from Zeke's hand, he used the temporary infatuation to circle around to the archers at the back while a silent pyre of flames lit up the already brightly illuminated stream.

'Harden" Zeke spoke again as he systematically bashed the goblin archers admits the wailing screams beside him. He wasn't sure of the exact time limit on his harden, but it was better safe than sorry, even if it consumed the last of his limited mana.

With the pesky stick shooters dealt with he charged back into the fray of silent flames and burning goblins.

The fight ended not too long after, without any ranged threat Zeke was able to attack a lot more recklessly. The fireball had also hit a majority of the fighters, not enough to kill any, but enough to injure and distract them so that they could be cleaned up soon after.

The blood drenched victor wiped at his sweaty forehead as he relished the exhaustion of a long fight. The blood on his arm mixed with the sweat on his head and created a uncomfortable, sticky metallic-smelling face paint. With an audible 'blahh' Zeke ran to the stream and plunged his fluid-covered body into the cleansing flow. The golden fish swam up to nibble on the bits of flesh and blood that got washed away.

"FUCK!" He shouted in a jolt as he sprung from the water.

"Oh shit, oh shit"

With a scrambling crawl he prostrated himself by the stream's bank.

"Please don't make another Scarlet Ent here please, O gods of the forest or whoever's in charge around here!" Zeke pleaded with his forehead to the soft grass.

"I think one of those is enough and I also need this water to live you know!"

Zeke remained praying to whatever god-like being that might've been listening for a good three minutes before he recovered the courage to resume his personal quest. He scanned down the length of the stream, the few that retreated were no where to be seen. If he had to guess, the were running towards their base, or cave or town or whatever they lived in, there was no chance of Zeke catching up to the deserters.

The pursuit had gone cold, but the tracks remained hot. The evidence of hundreds of little green feet were rampant on the ground, it wouldn't require a skilled tracker to follow this obvious trail. The only thing stopping Zeke from continuing was his near depleted mana and his health that had lowered to around 60%.

He decided to leave the tracking for another day, who knows, maybe the goblin mage would return tomorrow? If another Ent didn't spring up in the meantime. With the conflicting thoughts in mind Zeke started the process of stealing the fallen goblin's power, 25 in total the biggest haul yet.

+2 Strength

+2 Agility

+1 Intelligence

+ Class Earned: Swordsman

+ Class Earned: Archer

A bit shitty on the attribute side, but the classes are always welcome!

Well classes were a bit useless untill they provided a skill, the attribute points they gave were meaningless to Zeke. The Swordsman shouldn't be too much of a hassle to work towards, but Archer wasn't feasible at the moment, bows were not effective when outnumbered and in such close quarters.

In terms of loot there wasn't much worth mentioning, no metal weapons or other curios. The only things Zeke bothered to take were the fibre belts which he crammed into the two small leather pouches on his vest.

Zeke waded back through the wide stream, leaving the small pile of dead to the animals. It was time to find something to eat and call it a day. At that point he remebered the tasty looking fish that swam by. He licked his lips as he drew a javelin from it's quiver and spent a few embarrasing minutes trying to (and eventually suceeding) to stab the elusive morsels. Now dinner was sorted.