It was a few days later before anything particularly interesting happened. Arin had become my mealtime companion, and had happily taken the role of gardener in my place. It seemed that the nymph had a proclivity towards plants, and was gifted with a much greener thumb than I.

The little ent had been bestowed the name Baum, and now responded to it with whatever glee the non-sentient thing could muster. I had tasked it with taking care of my lawn, as well as doing some general outdoorsy chores. I found quickly that he tracked in mud and dirt if I brought the construct inside, so he was limited to the outside and my garage, where I let him stay at night. I offered Arin my guest bedroom downstairs, but she declined claiming she much preferred to sleep outside in the grass. I supposed that much made sense, but it still left a bad taste in my mouth to have a nice warm bed while a pretty lady was sleeping on the dirt outside.

The nymph had warned me to be cautious of roving gangs of goblins and orcs now that she wasn't in the valley making sure they stayed away. This had certainly frightened me, especially as she said the ent wasn't a particularly good fighter, but I had a small collection of firearms and as such felt much safer.

I had five weapons, three I inherited and two I purchased myself. Those gifted through a will were my Springfield 1903; a relic from the first world war, a Browning Auto 5 .12 gauge shotgun, and a Colt Single Action Army Clone chambered in .357 magnum with a 7 ½ inch barrel, while those which I had acquired through my own poor decisions were a Ruger 10/22 and a Mini 14. Out of caution I kept the Mini 14 slung or at the very least nearby whenever I was outside, and always had the Colt revolver on my belt.

Arin had taken interest in the firearms, but even though I had a few hundred rounds for each (many more for the .22) I hesitated to fire any off for fear of wasting ammo. I told her I hoped not to have to use them, and that she shouldn't touch them without memorizing the four rules of gun safety. I put it on a mental checklist to show her how to shoot when I felt more settled in.

The nymph was incredibly easy on the eyes, and had quite the charming, polite, demeanor, making her very pleasant company. She acted as though she’d known me for years, which she may as well have considering she had all the “memories” of my childhood favorite tree.

It was while I was pondering this over a cigar on my front porch when I noticed smoke that wasn't mine in the distance. It was probably about seven hundred yards through the woods that I saw the spindly gray plume, which was too close for comfort considering I had no idea what or who it was.

“Hey, Arin!” I called from the porch and pointed, “You see that over there?”

She looked up to see what I gestured to, and then faced her attention towards the smoke. It took her a moment but she spotted the wisps.

“Yeah!” She called up to me. “That’s where my old territory used to be.”

“Should I go check it out?” I asked her.

“I don't know…” The nymph hesitated. Apparently it was very important to stopping the dungeon that I not die.

“Could we send Baum to check it out?”

“He won't make it that far outside the house’s magic field.” She shook her head.

“Then I should go.” I stood up. “If it’s someone friendly I’d like to talk to them, and if not I have my guns.”

She looked as though she wanted to protest, but decided against it.

“Just be careful…” She said weakly.

Similarly to Baum, Arin would grow weaker the further she got from her territory. She could have made the seven hundred yard trip, but would have been almost anemic by the end of it.

I nodded to her and stepped inside. I changed into some better hiking boots and an old army jacket with pockets big enough to hold a few extra magazines for my Mini 14, and set off.

Guns were not really a thing in this world, so I hoped their strange appearance would make me look less threatening. If they were friendly, it would leave them not guarded, while if they weren’t it would help them to show their true colors quicker.

I had yet to actually leave my home territory by more than a few yards, so it was nice to have a change of scenery, as beautiful as it was. The treeline started about a hundred yards from the edge of my land, so I mentally set in the direction I needed to travel and started quietly down a game trail that led in that direction.

I had spent much of my childhood and teenage years hunting with my grandfather, and was no stranger to moving with at least some silence through the woods. The trees here were quite similar to the pines of home, which made the walk almost nostalgic, despite the butterflies in my stomach. I supposed I just had to trust the 30 freedom seeds inside my gun to carry me through.

Eventually I started hearing noise coming from the forest ahead of me, so I slowed my pace and started to walk as silently as I could. No matter what it was, I wanted to see them before they saw me.

Once the makeshift campsite came into view, I knew its owners were no strangers to roughing it. The tents I could see were made of matted hides crudely stitched together and were supported by what looked to be five foot long rib bones. I hoped I wouldn't meet whatever creature they had belonged to. I had to skirt a small growth of bushes to see anything other than the back of the tent, and once I did I finally made contact with the… things that made the camp.

I could see three tiny green men dressed in dirty loincloths. The tallest- about three inches above the others, was probably four foot tall. They all had an awful slouch, and long droopy noses. Their ears were pointed but rather normal size, and the big one had a single long canine poking up from his bottom lip.

Two of the three were hunched over what looked to be a small hog, ripping it apart with curved daggers. I had skinned animals before and knew there was an art to it, but clearly these guys did not, as the scene looked like the pig had been sent through a jet turbine.

The other, bigger one was tending to the fire and scratching under his loincloth, which moved aside to reveal a rather nasty dangly bit that I averted my eyes from as quickly as I could. There was something awful of a stench that I couldn't tell if had come from the… goblins I guessed, or the mutilated hog.

Based on my knowledge of goblins from fantasy stories I’d read and seen, I guessed these guys were likely hostile. They certainly looked it, but I didn't want to base my speculation on appearance alone. Rather, it was the small pile of humanoid skulls at the edge of their campsite that led to that conclusion.

Looking around further I also noticed a few nicer leather bags that surely didn't match the rough gear of the goblins, as well as two quivers filled with crudely hewn arrows hung from one of the tent posts.

My final conclusion was that these little guys were bastards. Mostly as no one who could be described as amicable kept still blood stained skulls with them on camping trips. But, so as not to jump the gun, I decided it would be wise to head back to the house and consult with Arin before I made any further action.

I was about fifteen yards from their camp, so I crept backwards as quietly as I could. I didn't want to turn my back to the buggers, but nor did I want to snap a twig, so my backtrack was quite slow. Apparently too slow, so it would seem.

One of the pig-carvers happened to glance in my direction, and his eyes caught on me in a heartbeat. We both froze for a second, staring at each other, before he made a loud guttural screech that sounded something like “intruder.” The others both looked at me almost instantly, and a fourth popped out from inside the tent. The new one had a hook for a hand, interestingly enough.

“Dammit.” I said to myself as they grabbed the nearest weapon and rushed me. The two hob-butchers just charged with their knives, so I figured they were the most pressing threat.

I shouldered my rifle off of pure muscle memory, flipped the safety in the trigger guard forward and put a bead on the closest one, all in one movement. I had never fought for my life before so my hands were shaking like mad, but the goblins were close enough that it didn't matter.

My rifle boomed and dropped one of the running bastards instantly, blowing out his chest and likely parts of his spine. The sound of the gunshot caused my ears to ring, and momentarily stunned the remaining goblins. Even the runner slowed down, if only slightly.

But he did keep going, so I put a round through his gut. It didn't quite seem to register at first, so I kindly reminded him to stop with one to the forehead. He took heed as his brains ornamented the trees above him.

The other two would be a little more tricky however, as the big one had grabbed a shortbow and the pirate wanna be had pulled a crossbow from who knows where. The shortbow shot first, but went wide by a good three feet. Fortunately too, because that was likely their best chance of killing me.

Since the bowman still had to nock another, I killed the crossbow user first, who shot his weapon into the air with a satisfying twang on his way to the ground, leaving the bolt stuck in a tree about ten feet away. The fourth and final goblin froze with his little clawed hand halfway to an arrow. We locked eyes for a long moment while he decided what to do. It seemed he was a brave one in the end, as he tried to finish his draw, but I prevented the noble action with a bullet to the knee.

He screamed and fell to the ground, clutching what was now a stump of a leg. The .223s I was shooting really aren't that powerful, but as I cautiously walked the rest of the way to the camp I noticed just how thin the dead goblins were.

The injured goblin was spewing what sounded vaguely like the curses I knew from home at me as I approached, and tried to throw his knife. The throw was incredibly weak, and the short blade thudded into the ground a few feet in front of me without even sticking.

The closer I got, the more I doubted the last goblin would live, even with medical attention. I cringed at the wound, but in all honesty the gore from the destroyed pig was more cringeworthy than the goblin’s wound. The beast was growing pale and its curses sounded weaker now though, so I drew my revolver and took aim at its head. I had more .357 than .223, so thought it wise to conserve my good ammo.

I wanted to feel bad shooting the little guy, but they were truthfully… quite nasty. I didn't feel particularly bad killing them, which was probably in equal parts due to the skulls on the ground and the amount I’d slaughtered in video games growing up. The goblin’s smell didn't help their case either.

“Sorry pal.” I frowned as I pulled the trigger. The revolver bucked in my hand and the cursing stopped. My ears were ringing something fierce from shooting without earpro, and I mentally berated myself for not at least bringing some earplugs along with me as I holstered the Colt.

I didn't want to stick around to see whatever the gunshots had attracted, but I was curious to inspect the contents of the goblin camp. Inside the nicer leather bags were various baubles of little interest to me, some of which were bloody, but hanging off of one was a small sack with probably a pound of coins of various types inside. I hung it from my belt.

The goblins also had a few pieces of armor obviously too big for them sitting around, as well as a small hand pulled cart sitting behind the tent. The cart was crude and made of bone, like the tent, which was odd considering we were inside of a forest plentiful of wood.

I left everything else as I found it, but put out the fire in the center of the camp using some waterskins sitting in the cart. I wasn't able to douse it to a certain hat wearing bear standards, so I kicked dirt over it to be safe, before I started my trek back to my house. That directional sense I had gotten when I’d first stepped across into the valley had kept with me even out of sight, so I knew exactly where to go.

I hoped the goblins had no reinforcements on my way back, but decided that if there were any other camps nearby I likely would have seen smoke coming from them as well. I chose not to worry about it as my rifle had done a number on the poor green gremlins.

When I broke the treeline to come into sight of my house, I saw Arin barreling down the hill, followed closely by Braum. A pit instantly formed in my stomach as I guessed her urgency meant emergency, but when she just jumped on me to pass on a hug I assumed everything was alright.

Arin broke away from the quick embrace and stepped back to do a once-over on my condition, before going back into the hug. I had no reason to complain, being hugged by the pretty nymph, but did hope she hadn’t been too worried.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She sighed, “There were these terribly loud noises, and then the smoke went out. Are you okay? Who was over there?”

“I'm fine.” I smiled, “I think they were goblins. About yay high with long noses and green skin. They rushed me when they caught sight of me, but I killed all four of them.”

“Oh dear.” She put a hand to her forehead, “I never expected any to move into the valley so soon.”

“Is that worrisome?” I asked.

“Likely not. Goblins are quite cowardly, and if you killed a few it will likely keep others from following for a little while.” She said.

“Hopefully.” I agreed, “They were easy to kill, but that doesn't discount the chance of one getting lucky.”

She paused to think for a moment, and I was reminded of the bag of coins.

“I also found these.” I handed her the little sack.

“Oh! This is a surprising amount. I’m not exactly sure how much it’s worth, but a traveler one time told me the gold ones were worth quite a lot.” She pointed inside the bag.

Just by sifting through the bag I counted three little gold coins, and an unknown but about even number of silver and copper ones.

“Is there a town or something around here?” I asked her.

“About ten miles north of here is the one I know, Livartown.” She said, “I’ve never been because it’s too far out of my territory, but occasionally a hunter would pass through and I’d hear about it.”

“I see,” I thought for a moment, “I’d probably like to think about meeting them sometime soon then. They could be helpful for doing a few of the tasks on my territory expansion list.”

“True, but it might be dangerous to make the journey. Their patrols stop about two miles from here.”

“It’d still be worth it though… How about I plan on it in three days?”

“If you say so…” She hesitated.

I hoped the townsfolk would be friendly, and if not, I was happy to just keep to myself. But company normally was better, and I was excited for the possibility of a meal I hadn’t cooked.

……..

It seemed that my encounter with the townsfolk would come sooner than I anticipated. In the late morning the day after I had killed the goblins, a knock on my front door interrupted my after-breakfast coffee. I knew it wasn't Arin because she had come to just let herself inside if she needed me, so I cocked my revolver and held it just behind the door, out of sight.

On my porch were two armor clad individuals. One stood about a foot taller than the other and had a bushy black mustache and sunken blue eyes. The other had a light beard and deep wrinkles in his forehead. Though they were both armed with shortswords, they didn't seem hostile.

“Morning.” I nodded, “What can I do you for?”

“My name is Durson, and this is my partner Baccer.” The tall one pointed to his companion, “We’re with the Livartown guard.”

“I- I see.” I nodded.

“We were patrolling to investigate some strange noises heard yesterday and came across this house. None of us knew it was here, so our captain sent us to check it out.” The tall man sounded quite tired as he explained. I looked around, but whoever else was with them was either out of view or not there.

“Anyway,” he continued, “We don’t mean to take much of your time, but if you could answer a few of our questions this won’t take long at all.”

I agreed and invited them inside. The two guardsmen looked around my house in awe at what must have been quite unusual interior decoration. I couldn't decide whether to comment on it or not, so I just led them to a couple of chairs around a coffee table. I also offered the men a glass of water each, and they accepted.

“This is quite the dwelling.” The short one, Baccer said after I handed him his drink.

“Indeed.” Durson said, “Are you a wizard, sir?”

“Uh… kind of?” I hesitated. They both tilted their heads at me, but didn't press any farther. I would have loved to have made them coffee, but didn't think it wise to introduce something that could be seen as so new. There was plenty of natural light pouring into the house in the late morning, so none of my lights were on inside the foyer.

“So what did you need to ask me?” I sat down across from the two. They had taken their swords off their belts and laid them next to the chairs.

“First of all, what’s your name, sir?”

“I’m Tom Cutter.” I introduced myself.

“Well Mr. Cutter, did you happen to hear a series of cracking noises around midafternoon yesterday?” Baccer asked. He didn't seem at all accusatory, which was nice.

“That might have been me actually.” I scratched my head. “Four goblins decided to make camp not far from my house, so I went and dealt with them.”

Both of their eyebrows raised.

“Where was the camp?” Durson asked with a concerned voice.

“About seven hundred yards…” I stood from my chair and pointed out the window, “That way.”

“Hmm…” He twisted the ends of his mustache.

The guards seemed amicable enough, and frankly weren’t at all suspicious of me for any reason, not that I was doing anything wrong. I wasn’t sure where Arin was, but would go grab her for assistance if the conversation required it.

“We’ll need to go check the camp for ourselves…, but those goblins may be the culprits of the attacks lately.”

“There was a pile of skulls there, and a few bags that definitely didn't look like they belonged to the goblins. And this.” I walked across the room to where the small bag of coins was sitting on an end table, and tossed it to Durson.

He took a peek inside, before passing it back to me.

“Those were minted recently.” He frowned, “It’s probably from that merchant band that left a little while back.”

“You don’t need these?” I asked, “As evidence or something?”

“What?” He blinked, “No. You killed them, any loot is yours.”

“O-oh. Sounds good.” I set the bag back down. There was an awkward silence for a few moments that was interrupted when Arin unceremoniously walked inside.

“He- Oh. Hello.” She saw the soldiers and paused. “I didn’t know there were guests.”

“Can’t you sense- nevermind.” I cut myself off. I wasn't sure if her being able to sense the territory was a weird skill or not, and didn't want to raise many questions.

“Miss.” Both of the guards echoed as they stood. I guessed it to be the respectful thing to do when someone walked into a room.

“I think we’ve taken enough of your time, Mr. Cutter.” Durson asked after a few moments of awkward silence. “Our patrol will go survey the goblin camp, and if you did in fact kill them all someone will be by with the reward in the next day or two.”

“There’s a reward?” I asked, slightly more excited.

“For every goblin killed the city offers a bounty of one silver.” He explained.

“Well, I’ll happily take it.” I nodded, “But wouldn't that be the kind of thing I’d need to go to an adventurer’s guild or something to get…”

“I'm not sure what an ‘adventurer’s guild’ is, but no. The city posts all the bounties both for monsters and bandits.”

The other part that surprised me was that they’d deliver it, but I didn’t want to sound any more of an ignoramus through more basic questions. Regardless of what the guards thought of my common sense, they politely exchanged farewells and left. The fellows reminded me of anything other than the stereotypical fantasy guardsmen, and for that I was thankful.

“So what was that about?” Arin asked curiously after they had left.

“Those guys were town guards apparently.” I answered, “They came to investigate the gunshots yesterday from me killing the goblins, so now apparently I get a reward. I guess.”

“Oh, splendid!” She grinned, “If they bring more coins, the territory will expand more.”

I nodded. When I had returned and checked the core book after killing the goblins, I had gotten it to quantify the magical increases per each task I had done and found that both killing the green gremlins and bringing their money home had slightly increased the gain.

The boundaries of my land were still pretty far from the tree line surrounding my hill, but according to Arin when I reached them the available magic would increase greatly. I could also begin to fell some of them to build things if I wanted, with the assistance of baum to help.

“Is there any way to know how far the dungeon’s territory goes?” I asked after a moment. As much as I wanted to just hang out around my house and garden, I was worried about my supposed task to do in this world.

“Not that I’m aware of,” The nymph said apologetically. “If you were to actually cross the threshold, you’d know it, but I really don't think it would be wise to venture towards the mountains yourself…”

“I agree.” I nodded. “Those goblins weren’t much more than targets, but I have no idea what’s out there.”

She nodded in understanding. I had heard vague tale of orcs and goblins from my nymph helper, but in her words she only knew about those creatures because they would occasionally try to encroach on her valley. I was incredibly grateful for Arin’s help so far, but was aware that I would definitely need more information if I was to continue growing to counter the dungeon. It was true that I didn’t technically have to fight per say, but that was just the dungeon directly. Many of my means to growth were through killing monsters and dungeon spawn, so the more I knew about them the better. I really wanted to get to town.

“So Arin, could you not sense the guards when they came on the property?” I asked her.

“I couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I can sense things with a significant magical or malicious energy, but they had neither. A mage or a goblin I would sense though.”

“I see.” I scratched my chin. “They were quite pleasant, but if possible I’d like a way to know who’s coming up to the house before they get to the door. Any ideas?”

We both thought for a moment. The hard part in this world I’d found, was that thing’s I previously would have written off as impossible were now quite real, so my common sense regarding where to stop my imagination was lacking.

“I guess it's okay for now.” I said finally. I didn't want to stress too much, “We have the retention wall, so anything coming up will have to take the front steps or the driveway.”

“And I can sense anything nasty.” She said.

Arin’s sensing ability would be far more useful than any modern tool I had. Fine details she could see allowed me to even monitor the growth of my tiny lettuce crop, despite them still being inside the ground. All in all, I was really thankful for my new friend.