Once again, editing was done is a sleep deprived state, but I think it's alright grammatically (SP?)

Anyways, enjoy!

Deciding it was time to head back to the camp, Andrew and his two companions said their goodbyes for the time being.

“Bye, bye love ~ Feel free to come back whenever and if you can get that fledgling camp to be somewhat less… well, pitiful let me know and then I’ll reconsider your offer. Though for now my children won’t hunt your kind to extinction anymore.”

“That was the plan? Well, whatever it isn’t like it’s my problem really. Regardless, tell them to keep hunting the little green midgets, but any goblin with a crossed swords type scar or charcoal mark on their left arm -“

“If you are refering to me, make it right because that way you won’t have to cut me again.” grumbled the goblin, waving his scarred forearm as close Andrew’s face as possible, though he still was a bit too short.

“Fine, right, though for Taryk it has to be his left,” teased Andrew as he swung his sword jokingly - a hair’s breadth away from the face of the goblin to rid himself of the goblin who was standing too close to him.

“Either works, crossed mark on their forearms, correct? Well, I’ll tell the children, though some are out right now so they may not be very welcoming,” sighed Sharlin as she saw the interaction between the two, feeling somewhat jealous about the familiarity between the three.

“If they’re your abominations wouldn’t they smell your scent on me after last night?” Muttered Andrew as he pointed his blade in her direction now.

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty. They may, but actually I have a better idea.” Within a split second she slipped past his sword, planting her lips on his. While he reacted indifferently at first considering he was lost for a moment, he soon pushed her away and immediately regretted not stabbing the blade through her neck this morning.

Following the kiss, throbbing pain erupted in his skull as new information tore through his brain cells as they forcibly inserted themselves within his mind. As his body spasmed he slashed his sword wildly while rolling on the ground.

Congratulations, Sharlin the Den Mother bestowed his knowledge of the Beast language on to you. Current progress is as follows:

Skill:

Language Comprehension: (Intermediate) English,

(Intermediate) Elvish {Farwynd Dialect}

(Intermediate) Demi-Human {Goblin Dialect}

(Beginner) Beast {Mutated Wolf Tribe}

When it the pain finally subsided to a dull migraine, Andrew opened his eyes to see Sharlin holding a severed leg to the stump of what used to be her calf before slowly mending and reattaching it with a spell. This was, of course, due to his pain induced frenzy and the fact she decided to push for another kiss when he was in pain.

‘Fucking bitch, I wish her leg would be gone for good,’ thought Andrew with a agitated smirk on his face, seeing the grisly scene brought some relief, however, the pain reduced the joy that he would have normally received from seeing karma get the best of her. Without waiting for Sharlin to fully recover he tossed a poisoned pebble at the still open wound before turning away to leave.

Ignoring the cry of agony in the background, he briskly walked away from the little enclave in the woods. Taryk nudged the horrified Lisia, getting no response, he spoke, “Elf, your boyfriend is leaving, shall we?”

“MY NAM- AH! WAIT!” Lisia ran forward to catch up with the agitated man with rosy cheeks ignoring the first part which woke her up from her stupor.

Sighing lightly, Taryk muttered, “now I can see why you do that race thing with her. It’s almost the only thing that’ll get through her thick skull. But, two of them, Boss really does have a few tricks I’ll need to pick up on.” He used his spear as a walking stick, walking leisurely, not even bothering to catch up to the two ahead of him.

Exiting the central area they passed through the curious eyes of the wolves, a few even tried to sniff them directly, but any who got within arms reach of Andrew was promptly kicked square in the chest. A few cries were heard but it seemed the wolves got the message and no longer bothered Andrew and his group.

One wolf cub, however, did trail them all the way out of the near impassable fort entrance. Emitting a slight bloodlust that didn’t even cause the group to bat an eye at the creature.

When it started growling and barking at the group, Andrew finally paid attention.

“You want to avenge your father? That is cute, kid, come back when you’re a little bigger, ‘kay?” As Andrew said, the wolf cub was only about a feet and a half tall, essentially a newborn for the massive species.

“NO - FATHER - WEAK - ME -STRONGER - GET- HELP,” through his newfound knowledge with the language he understood the broken conversation. Clearly, as a youth his ability to converse was hardly anything to write home about, however, it was enough to get across.

“Hmm, Taryk, typically most of your clan was weaker than you were in the beginning, hey?”

Shouldering his walking spear, Taryk shrugged casually, “pretty much, let’s just say I’m in about the top five percent or so, combat wise.”

With a fiendish spark in his eyes, Andrew inquired further, “say, would Grok be against… a combat instructor? Little bastard is already at your original level so training hand-to-hand and evasive techniques wouldn’t be impossible for the common folk. So long as we forbid weapons and do a slightly, ‘interesting’ course the pup should be fine. The goblins on the other hand... “

Catching his drift, Taryk smiled insidiously as well, leaving only the slightly annoyed Lisia to act as a voice of reason. “Hey, do you realise you’ll probably kill more goblins in the pit than you would save in battle?”

Waving her off, Andrew continued, “we’ll feed the little bastard something else besides goblins, so are you game Runt?”

With a loud “awwhoooo,” Andrew translated for the other two, “he says, ‘basically leave them alive, while learning to fight people? Sounds good,’ albeit in a much more broken and nearing a brain damaged speech pattern,” to which the wolf howled, in an attempt to defiantely say he was, in fact, not brain damaged in either head. Taryk laughed without even understanding the wolf’s reply, Lisia sighed loudly in exasperation, and Andrew shrugged and started walking once more.

With the new tag-along, they headed back towards the goblin camp. Although they already cut through a trail, it seemed as though the trees, thistles, and tall grasses regrew in the span of the hours. Andrew employed his new canine ‘pet’ to scout out the areas for an easier trail, but the animal seemed to consistently lead them into more and more dense terrain.

Finally they managed to get out of the brush only to be greeted by angry snarls directed at them. Entirely not in the mood for diplomacy, Andrew slashed four throats before the little pup could even intervene. Although Lisia tried to console it in the beginning, but the pup seemed to look at Andrew in admiration.

“Wolfie, move your ass along. Your big bro’s were in the way,” with a light pat, two wolves disappeared.

“Rar, arrrh rufffe,” cried the wolf, where Andrew simply wave his hands causally speaking, “Yeah, vanishing wolves, so interesting, move it or your next, brat.”

As they walked into the camp, every goblin was on high alert. Clearly, the wolf pup brought along traumas for the tiny people, though it could have been attributed to Grok’s ‘invention,’ the Wolf Pit. Punishment for unruly goblin boys and girls, in which the subject is thrown into a pit outside of town and curious patrolling wolves ‘play’ with the creature. Should someone survive for a full day any transgression they committed will be forgiven, but few are courageous enough to tempt fate again thus decreasing crime in the tribe.

Most goblins simply screamed in terror when they saw the wolf. Even though it was a child, it was still just short of half their height, after all. As most of the were fleeing rapidly, Andrew ordered the wolf cub, “Tackle and restrain one of the slower ones.”

With rather impressive mobility for such a young wolf, the wolf ended up tackling an elder goblin who promptly passed out in fright, “another.” Finally after three more goblins, one younger one remained conscious - although tears and snot were being poured out at an alarming rate.

Andrew, twirling his short sword, simply asked, “the Chief?”

With the comparatively heavy paws on his chest the goblin stuttered, “I-I- I DON’T KNOW! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!”

Lisia, seeing this display, felt a small sense of pity for the creature. Though many things have happened in the past couple of days, she realised the goblins themselves weren’t inherently horrible. Speaking softly she asked the goblin once more, “Do you by chance know where we can find the Chief, this is not an interrogation, though my friend here my be a bit rough, you will not be harmed whatsoever. You have my word.”

“GODDESS! YOU SAVED ME, HE - He -he was at the stone mason’s place ordering more arrows for a hunt. Goddess, please marry me!” With every passing word the fear turned into devotion towards the supposed ‘Goddess.’

While she was quite embarrassed she still maintained a gentle face, “thank you. For you to hold onto yourself in the face of such a beast, you will truly become a valiant warrior.”

Andrew and Taryk were both snickering in the background, “Ah, praise be to the Goddess of the Elves, El- ahem, Lisia.” spoke Andrew with a toothy grin on his face.

Walking away, Andrew looked over his shoulder towards the young goblin. He seemed to be shouting loudly proclaiming his new found faith and already started running towards the trembling goblins giving a pseudo sermon about his ‘deity.’

Catching bits and pieces of the sermon, Lisia got progressively more embarrassed, though it was only shown with a pinkish hue appearing on her face whenever she glanced to see Andrew’s reaction. Her reaction calmed down significantly as soon as they left ear shot of the congregation and approached the direction in which the young goblin pointed them to.

“Stone Mason Gob’, Grok?” called Andrew as he ducked into a tight building that looked marginally more sturdy than the mud and twig huts placed around the village. Even though the building was larger than the others, Andrew still had to crouch to keep from hitting the ceiling.

“Ah human, and Taryk what a pleasant surprise, I assumed you died on your hunt. Well, so be it, what have you come here for?” Called a deep voice in the back of the building. Evidently, the Chief too, needed to crouch in this place. More so out of concern of the uneven ceiling where he could potentially hit a spot or two if he wasn’t careful.

“Andrew,” called Taryk slightly apprehensively.

“Yes? Oh yeah, being tall isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, hey?”

“How’d you know? Oh well, hopefully we can build better places in the future. Chief, we got the pelts and then some. Also try not to hunt the wolves.”

“Really? Even I could have killed this human the other day, how’d you manage that? It takes me a bit to even kill one of them. And getting taller? The fuck is with you guys?” Muttered Grok as he played around with a stone arrow.

“Hey Taryk, shouldn’t I be the one reporting?” Glancing at the goblin who simply shrugged it off, he continued, “anyways, Gob Chief, if we, and by that I mean I, assimilate the other clan and just generally fuck up the others in the area the wolves will create an alliance with us.”

“Wait. Our nemesis, the bane of our existence, would agree to that? Instead of playing around with our corpses?” Replied Grok absolutely flabbergasted.

“Yep, this guy slept with the Den Mother so we have an in, also we already have a, hmm, ‘lets not fuck each other up,’ kind of treaty?” Said Taryk in his usual blunt manner.

“Non-aggression pact? That what you were thinking of?” Seeing a confused look, but a nod nonetheless, “Yeah, anyways with a bit of self-mutilation you guys are free to wander around. Well, give it a few days so word can spread. And I did not slept with her. She took advantage of me when I was asleep - big difference. Oh, and hopefully there is no conflict, but your little clansman here decided to court the daughter… Shapeshifting slut, or some such non-sense.”

Still seemingly confused, Lisia supplemented from the outside. “basically, cross styled scar or mark and wolves won’t kill you. Unless you irritate them like Andrew here. Apparently he is the only one allowed to attack the Den Mother… or her children.”

“Y-you attacked the Den Mother?!” Cried out the Chief in alarm.

“Sword drawing blood on her throat and severed her leg,” reflected Andrew lost in thought for a moment.

At this point Grok, the muscular, intimidating leader of the goblin tribe fainted. Andrew being annoyed at the supposed leader’s reaction asked Taryk to drag him outside of the tiny building. Basically crawling out of the low doorway the group left the stonemason’s shop and Taryk guided them to the Chief’s residence, with the goblin leader being dragged behind him.

‘Word sure travels fast.’ thought Andrew as they made their way towards the residence. Dragging the Chieftain certainly shouldn’t have improved the people’s perception of them, but each goblin, that wasn’t scared witless, gave a look of admiration towards Andrew and Taryk. Lisia, of course, had her own fans which seemed to be quickly building a religion based on her beauty and benevolence.

Entering the residence which as only a couple feet taller than the others, but made of rickety wood and stone as compared to mud and twigs, as if it was his own to begin with, Andrew closed the wooden door to block out the gathering crowds line of sight. Nudging, slapping, and calling out didn’t work so Andrew decided to pull out another pebble.

Just before he was about to throw it the Goblin woke up complaining, “Son of a - OW! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” Attempting to draw the blade on his back, only to realise it was removed beforehand, he cursed to himself under his breath before looking around.

“Took you long enough, now tell me something, where are these bandits you spoke of earlier? And here.” Although he kept four of the uncommon hides for himself he dropped the remainder along with the two normal ones. “And I have two more corpses that you guys can help skin and fuck around with. Too much work and, well, disgusting even though this one seemed to enjoy it.” nodding his head towards Taryk, which he couldn’t help but cringe slightly when he remembered the bloody nest the goblin claimed for himself before.

“...” With wide eyes and face that seemed to be loosing color again, Andrew spoke up: “Faint and I’ll send another rock your way.”

“Who do you think I am? I’m a leader of this tribe you can’t threaten me! And I would never faint over such a trivial matter,” started Grok, signalling the start of a rant.

Before he had a chance to continue, Andrew cut in, “then get this, one of my companions has started a cult in your tribe, it’ll only take a few more days before they usurp you to crown their Goddess.”

Feeling anger, shock, dismay, and a multitude of other emotions pushed him near the edge - as soon as twenty wolf heads appeared out of thin air surrounding him, staring at him with dead eyes whilst being suspended in the air, however, he fainted again.

This time even Lisia was snickering whereas the wolf cub finally pawed at the door, indicating it wanted to see what was going on, as most puppies do. When he saw the carnage on the floor and the goblin laid down underneath a mountain of wolf skulls he looked at Andrew in a new light. While the pup was marginally upset at its kin being dead, he was still impressionable enough to move past it for his goal of becoming the strongest grey wolf in the area.

As a small shadow darted from Andrew’s hand the Goblin Chief woke up again, this time buried underneath the wolf heads. Crying miserably, the chief begged, “no more! I give, just get them away! Bastard! Why do you do this to me?!”

Andrew sighed, and started piling the wolf skulls into a corner of the rather spacious room. While the goblin was grumbling looking at the pile of skull indignantly, he noticed one was moving. Curious, the goblin neared the pile.

With a sudden pounce, the pup managed to clear the pile it was hiding in and landed directly on the goblin’s chest.

As the Chief was screaming in terror at the little, unexpected beast, the trio were laughing uncontrollably. When he finally came to, Grok started swinging wildly at the beast, yet, every strike missed marvelously. This, in turn, caused the trio to laugh even more and even a few gasps from behind came before a chorus erupted.

As it would seem, Taryk decided against closing the door, opting for a public viewing mostly because he thought it would be interested at the time. Though it wasn’t as he had expected initially, in the end it surpassed his expectations significantly.

“Taryk,” came a slightly composed voice and the door closing, before continuing, “that actually wasn’t planned at all, not going to lie, but it will make my suggestion more appealing to you.”

“ *Cough* Wh-what did you have in mind?” wheezed the Chief as he laid on the ground trying to catch his breath after his ordeal.

“Combat lessons for the common folk!” spoke Andrew excitedly.

“It’s not like you to be happy over something like that, boy..” eyed Grok suspiciously.

Laughing somewhat awkwardly Andrew tried once more, “let me rephrase that, let this little guy terrorize your people for our - well, mostly my entertainment. Call it training, physically or mentally. But more importantly, as more people fail miserably against this runt, your image will return back to normal. Ah, also armor would be nice.”

Though he understood the whole idea and for that matter was actually somewhat enthusiastic about it, he still was vexed about being forced into this decision. “Blackmail or…?”

“Nah, I brought a fair amount of animal parts here, I figured you’d be able to do something or another about them for when I fight the bandits,” shrugged Andrew as he jokingly lifted up a wolf head from the pile.

Twitching slightly from both nervousness and anger, Grok took a long breath to calm his nerves before speaking, “Fine, give me a day. I gotta do it myself, ya know, but now I have to send that little devil out to harass the kids or else people will start to question my orders. You just said ‘mark,’ correct? Bastards need to take a knife to their own arms. No charcoal shit will do now.” Shaking his head, he followed up with the information Andrew actually wanted to hear, “southeast about three hours or so on foot? Been awhile.”

“Just mimic the one I gave to Taryk, anyways, Runt stay with the Grok, the big scary, Goblin Chief,” receiving a disinterested snort and turned head in response, Andrew sighed. “Fine, you do what you want for most of the day, but the more you harass the little green men the better you’ll get at it. Do you know what that means Runt?”

“Awaroowhorrro?” growled the wolf questioningly, to which Andrew responded, “yes, the more you harass the little green men the better you’ll get at it. And then - the next time you want to rip out someone’s throat you’ll be better prepared! Not mine though, okay?” Receiving a dubious wag of the wolf’s tail and silence, Andrew opted to not think about it for the time being.

Even Taryk paled slightly at the conversation, seemingly not as resistant to the wolves threat as he thought prior, but he quickly got over it pledging, ‘if that’s how the Boss does things, then why not raise a miniature war machine? I still have so much to learn! I need to study him more intently from now on!’

In comparison, the goblin chief seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, whereas Lisia simply put her hand over her face and exhaled loudly.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly. Although a few horde of noisy goblins appeared, interrupting Andrew’s nap, trying to get a glimpse at the strange domineering man, the goblin who dragged around their leader, or the beauty whom the entire male camp now prayed to. Andrew simply took it as target practise and unleashed a flurry of rocks that downed all but the most agile of goblins. Which, in itself, made him a little proud of his growing skills.

As night came and past, the trio woke up from their secluded camp. While many goblins hid in the shadows awaiting the arrival of the newest sensation in their camp the three ate their dinner calmly, while a few pebbles being thrown at the more obvious of stalkers.

After this day Grok implemented a special division of his trained goblins to wear white clothing and tall (for their size) board shields to drag unconscious members away from the party. Even then, they too were sometimes targeted depending on the man’s mood at the time. But that is a story of another day. Advertisement Support "Ephemeral Cycle" PayPal Patreon Previous

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Chapter RSS About the author 3 Fictions 65 Posts 2 Threads Ambush Follow Author Monday, December 28, 2015 9:10:37 AM Monday, December 28, 2015 9:13:53 AM Canada Shy Penguin

Bio: Chronic Inability to Finish Stories; CIFS for short. A major affliction that has gripped me in its steely maw for weeks, months, and (shivers) shows no sign of stopping.

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