1 The Northern Greatwood

Neto and Peter couldn't look away from the corpse. Its hair was still wet, matted with sweat, and its belly opened from one end to the other.

"I watched my mother make sausage once." Peter swallowed the back of his tongue.

His eyes locked onto the pile of steaming entrails before him. "She made it in front of the other sheep. They just stared silently. I wonder if they felt like this..."

"You could've done without saying that." Neto grimaced, shifting his weight.

"What do you think he was doing all the way out here?"

"Probably heading to the city, same as us."

"H-he looks older, no? And his clothes... I don't think any small townie would wear something that fancy."

"Either way, we should leave."

Peter tore his eyes away from the body and gave Neto a curt nod.

"Where?"

Neto pointed to a thick-trunk with low-hanging branches.

"These woods are too thick to see through. We should get a better view for now."

The two sped to the base of the tree and began climbing.

"Hey Neto, you see that?"

"What?"

"Shhh.. Over there. I think I see something moving."

The pair hadn't made it past the fifth branch when a guttural shriek shook the air.

"Shit! Climb faster!"

WHOOSH!

Without a hint of warning, a pillar of flame erupted above Neto. The shock from the blast shattered the branch he was holding, and his stomach twisted as his body became weightless.

WHRRR! CRACK!

"P-th." Neto's mouth flooded with iron-tasting ichor.

His body twisted as he pushed off the ground, but his vision shattered into a web of static. It took all he had to keep his knees from buckling. "Ptheter? Ptheter are you okay?"

Peter's scream tore through the buzzing in Neto's ears.

Schk!

The tip of a throwing knife split through his left palm, and his vision collapsed to a single point.

A strange yet familiar feeling took hold of Neto. An injection of adrenaline so powerful that anything was possible for a brief slice of time. It wouldn't last long. He had to make his move.

Neto drew the knife from his hand.

Thump, Thump, Thump

He heard only the violent drumming of his heart. But he could see the situation now.

One unicycle-sized goblin faced him. Its yellow-green claws gripped a gore-drenched scimitar. Peter lay below it, his face bleached white, and his eyes empty.

Two more emerged from the dense foliage. Bone-white hair, gold-slit eyes, and wrinkled faces that shone with cruelty.

Neto had never seen a goblin before, but he was sure of one thing.

'They're laughing.'

Neto whitened his knuckles around the hilt of the blade.

"Yal'ra, un fila..."

A guttural incantation broke the standoff.

WHOOSH!

A roaring ball of condensed flame shot over Neto's head. A wave of searing heat followed, singing the top of his head. One of the goblins, a shrewd looking mage, leaned on a staff of twisted wood. Neto realized in an instant that he would've been dead if the goblin had aimed at him directly. No, he was already dead. That was meant to break his spirit.

The goblin with the scimitar jeered at him and began to approach. The other two smiled and looked on.

The fog was beginning to close in on Neto's thoughts. Soon it would suffocate him and everything would be over. Neto split his inner lip between his teeth.

"One on one?" Neto croaked. "You might regret this."

His opponent cracked its neck and lowered its head. Its thick leg muscles rippled with tension. Its companions cheered.

For a moment, Neto thought he was seeing double, but his brain quickly realized that he was looking at an afterimage. Every muscle in his body tightened as he whipped the knife in front of the deadly arc aimed at his neck.

CLANG!

A leaping slash!! The force of the impact would've lopped his head clean off his body. He was surprised that his last-minute attempt was enough to deflect the blow. To his surprise, the other goblins were cheering even louder.

'I can do this. Focus.'

Neto refused to look away from his opponent. The goblin looked at him for a baffling moment, and then its ugly face twisted into a grimace.

Without a sliver of hesitation, Neto brought his knife up again, this time with a plan. His opponent wasted no opportunity to attack. The goblin used the momentum from Neto's parry to lunge again. However, all the grace from the first attack was gone. Perhaps it had thought that Neto wouldn't have survived the first attack. Neto stared into the alien eyes of his opponent and grinned.

It flew at him like a streak of ugly lightning. A wild swing with little strategy.

Neto caught the scimitar with the hilt of his dagger. The force of the blow sent a shattering tremor up his arms, and his elbow buckled under the tremendous weight of the attack. However, Neto expected as much. He had already begun twisting his wrist, and the momentum was enough to wrench the scimitar out of the goblins hands.

"Atcha!" The goblin cursed.

Unburdened by the weight of its blade, the creature became too fast for Neto to follow. It pounced one last time.

Before he knew it, the goblins legs were wrapping around his torso. Its body was surprisingly heavy, knocking Neto to the muddy earth. It pressed its thumbs into his eyes and sawed at his neck with its teeth. He tried desperately to free himself, but his opponent had ridiculously strong leg muscles.

"Fuck off!" Neto cursed.

CHOMP!

Throbs of pain grew louder with each bite.

CHOMP!

Warm ichor dripped down the nape of his neck, and his eyes felt like they would burst at any moment. The fog of death began closing in fast.

"aaaaAAAAAAHH"

Neto let out a blood-curdling cry, mustering every miniscule amount of energy from wherever he could in his body.

SLAM!

His forehead smashed into the small yet extraordinary skull of the goblin. For a moment, the torture stopped. Neto lifted himself and the creature a few feet off the ground and belly-flopped onto a rough patch of ground.

SNAP!

A sickening crunch followed their impact, and the goblins body instantly went slack. A wave of sickly-sweet relief washed over him.

Neto freed himself from the lifeless limbs of the goblin. His vision blurred and his ears rang like sirens.

Through the thick veil covering his senses he heard the remaining goblins making noise. Were they talking to each other? Mourning their lost friend? They could've killed him at any moment during that fight, he thought.

'Maybe they'll let me liv-'

Four inches of cold steel interrupted Neto's last thought. Far above him stood the mage, and closer yet was the third goblin, grinning from ear to ear. It whispered something into his ear and pushed the blade further into his neck.