Go your own way. Part 1.

Laxe crouched silently up near the crown of her chosen hunting perch, on a branch as thick around as her waist, in a tree surrounded by thousands of others that were just the same.

Her eyes were a bit more...refined than the average human. But then again, Laxe was far from the average human. Half-Elf by design, and half of the firstly mentioned in fact. Her sight, hearing, balance, speed, agility, and even her sense of taste were at least 3 times that of any human at their healthiest peak.

Her lifespan was also thus. She was 64 sun cycles old at this point of her life, yes but with her mixed blood, that was very nearly just the flowering of her youth. Laxe was a Ranger by trade. By lifestyle more so than by choice even. Being an Elf/Human hybrid had its pros and cons...

Boons in the form of all of the aforementioned boost to her natural senses, and a couple of other "natural gifts" that the intermingling of these two types of blood can bring.

Banes in the form of constant ostracization on either end of the Fae/ Homosapien spectrum. Being of both worlds but not considered good enough for either was an ever-present weight on her shoulders. One that she was not likely to ever lose or lessen unless she kept on the move. Laxe left. She always did. This above all else she was very good at. And proud of it.

If she would never be fully accepted anywhere she went, then she would never stay anywhere long enough to let that ostracization even begin to take effect.

Simple.

A win-win for her.

A wanderer.

A sojourner.

"Reisiger"

Some of the locals had begun to call her. Their word for "Traveler"

This she didn't mind. In truth, she wasn't one to linger for more than several days perhaps, before she inevitably gathered her things and was on her way.

Many villages knew her. Or at least OF her. All in a positive light though. She was lauded and praised even as not only a skilled hunter but also as some sort of local guardian. Children slept more soundly at night in the wilder, less settled plains and forest of the Northern Cape, and the adults felt far more at ease when word of Laxe's arrival in their stretch of the wood would find its way to their village.

One particular settlement in this area was a far bit larger still. Being more of a dorpie or "small town" or what have you.

Kabuterval.

("Goblin's Fall" was a rough translation in common tongue.)

Was all abuzz with word of Laxe being spotted just east of their main gates. The Chieftain would welcome her as he always did. A good tenday or two always followed in Laxe's wake. Safe tendays.

Laxe yawned softly then threw her hands behind her tangle of mustard-colored hair and leaned back against the great tree's shaft.

"A quick nap then."

She said to herself in a hazy whisper as she felt the heat of the early morning sun settle over her body from the waist down. She crossed her slender legs and allowed sleep to take her, with plans to scout a bit around noon and then be back to the nearby dorpie for lunch. An easy day. A simple day. Unbeknownst to her, it would not go just as such.

Just as the sands of sleep began to coat her consciousness a sharp cry rang out up to her from the forest floor far below and to her right.

"G..g...g goblins!"

Ripton Skuttlebottom screamed, the unmistakable urgency rising with each bounding step that the shaken border guard took toward the still-slumbering dorpie. Skuttlebottom was known for his swiftness of foot, not particularly for his exaggerations. This was exactly why he had been chosen, trained, and known as the quickest forward scout and newsman in all of Kabuterval.

"Mud-bugs not a dozen meters after me self and closing fast m'lady!"

He shouted in an accurate yet rushed report, and with that being said, he was off to warn and rouse his fellow guards at the gate. Skuttlebottom knew that Laxe had heard him without fail. She always did. He made his way along, confident that his flank would be adequately kept safe. That so too would his precious dorpie. Laxe knew that this was no cry wolf. She was wide awake. Her chosen tree was well over a mile from the gates of Kabuterval, and goblins this close to the settlement were uncommon without reason.

With goblins, there was rarely a "good reason" when it came to humanity.

She curled into a ball on her back, her knees to her chin. And with her hands still behind her head, she snapped the muscles in her back and threw her legs forward springing lightly, graciously, but most importantly, quietly to her feet. She reached up and unhooked her bow from the short branch that she had hung it from just within reach, and gripping it comfortably in her left hand, her right shot up to her forehead to shield her eyes from the light of the steadily rising sun.

"GOBLINS!"

Skuttlebottom shouted as he came within a quarter mile of the great iron wroth gates of Kabuterval.

"Mud-bugs on patrol!"

Came his following cry. His voice echoed over the distance with ease. The greater area around the dorpie had been cleared of trees long ago, and magically flattened to a near perfectly flat surface by a group of eight powerful druids. This was a very well-thought-out tactic implemented by the 3rd Eldest of Elders many decades ago when the relatively new dorpie had been developed. The immaculately kept flat lands were made this way for several reasons, all of which were of great importance to the dorpie and its ever-growing population. Every foot of ground from the trees line just over three-quarters of a mile off in the distance, all the way to the foot of the walls of Kabuterval itself could easily be viewed from atop said walls, and from any one of the eight tall, strong watch towers that connected the surrounding parapets and partisans.

This allowed the pinpoint accurate archers of Kabuterval every possible advantage over any advancing party, be it in the brightest of days, or the darkest of nights. The ground itself had the innate ability to either amplify or negate voices and other sounds and funnel these sounds (or lack thereof) directly to the trained and wary ears of every guard on duty at any given time. Skuttlebottom was oft eager to utilize this ability since the occasion of its need was so verily rare.

To those very same guards, the alarm was crystal clear. If the goblins made for the gates, they would fall swiftly. IF that is, they either managed or were in number enough to make it past the infallible sentry that was Laxe. This was the way of "Goblins Fall." it always had been and would always be thus.

Skuttlebottom had done his job. The next part was for Laxe and Laxe alone.

She had chosen Kabuterval as her latest haunt. They gave her shelter and food.

She gave them aid in whatever manner she could offer.

Goblin slaying was among her many, many offerable skills.

Laxe stretched and yawned loudly, caring little for such interruptions in her loose schedule. She was nearly fifty feet above the ground, and her cursory glance had told her that the band of Mud-bugs was at least twice that distance from the base of her tree still.

"A bit of work to do then."

She said as her hand gently grasped at an arrow that sat among many in the slender, beautiful Elvish quiver she kept strapped to her right hip. In that same second, she changed her mind and slipped her bow up and over her head, letting it rest across her back with its string tight yet not uncomfortably snugly against her chest.

She could make out the small group approaching. Armed, disorganized, and no more than five in total. In the light of the morning sun, she could quite easily and clearly make out the scruffy little Mudbugs.

"Hill Goblins."

She huffed in a tight breath. The diminutive, orange-skinned creatures were not an uncommon sight this time of year up in the mountains that bordered Kabuterval to its distant east. It was in their character and very nature to hunt about the forest that lined the mountain base, it was less in their nature to get close to, let alone attack human settlements.

There were not THOSE types of goblins.

"Mud-bugs" as they were colloquially known (due to their muddy orange skin and the hundreds of dark brown patchy, nettle-like hairs that covered their short yet muscular forearms and shins) were fairly communal and were far more inclined to insect farming in the dank caves than human hunting mid-morning.

Something was off here. Laxe decided that it was time to get a closer look. Gagging the distance between the lead Mud-bug and the base of her tree, she casually stepped from her branch and plummeted, drawing from her belt what appeared to be a small wooden stick as she did so. In the split second that it took her to rapidly descend, the powerful enchantment within the stick took effect at her will, and very suddenly, the stick was a stick no more. Its form twisted and grew nearly six times its original size. A six-foot long, brilliantly carved, snake-themed knobkerrie appeared in her hands.

Hers was a special weapon.

A gift from a tribe of Acifans she had both encountered and saved in one go from an angry mother wyrm whose nest they had accidentally ventured to close to some half a year ago. The extended knobkerrie was fashioned after a Boomslang snake. A creature both loved and feared in their region as both a bane to rats and a boon to the many villages that suffered from their infestations. It's knobbed "head" was carved in the reptiles likeness, and it's long slender

"body" served as the weapon's shaft.

It held many a surprise for any who named themselves among Laxe's enemies, and over the course of the many tendays since she had been given it, she had practiced well. She took to it with a strange ease that seemed to emanate from her very bones. It's many tricks, she had mastered all of them.

But this bout was to be kept simple. As her current foes were woefully thus.

In her fall, Laxe had raised the powerful "Bomkerrie" (as she had affectionately named it) above her head and snapped it down and forward with just a fraction of her strength. The added velocity of her fall did more than enough to aid in the preservation of her own.

The snake-headed club end smashed into the top and backmost part of the forward-most goblin's head.

The sudden, powerful impact snapped the creature's head back and down, with such force that its tongue flew out of its mouth, being forced to do so by the jutting out of the goblin's spine from its agape mouth. The creature was dead before Laxe's feet hit the ground behind it.

The power behind her blow, combined with the Mud-bugs own forward momentum sent the corps into a rather comedic back-flipping action. The dead thing spun through the air several times before landing face first with a wet crunch as sickening as had been the sound emitted from the first slightly-misjudged-yet-still-fatal blow.

"One then."

Laxe said as she straightened and stretched leisurely. The remaining four Mud-bugs skid to a halt. Their crudely forged hunting tools jumped to the ready in their trembling hands.

"Trembling?" Laxe noted internally with a bit of curiosity. Fear was no trait of a Mud-bug. The "insects" that were their normal hunting target were oft larger still than a fully grown adult male, with exoskeleton-like armor plating that seemed to similarly mimic that of the make and model that a knight would wear. No easy hunt to say little more. And even still, Mudbugs were not hostile nor generally kind to the human race and most other humanoid species. They did not "fear" humans so much as they were wary of them.

Laxe let her breath ease as she felt the kinetic energy from the blow to the Mud-bug, and the corresponding landing faded from her hands, feet, and burning calves in the form of a barely perceptible vibration. Heightened durability was one of the multitude of side effects that she had inherited through her mixed lineage. It made her verily able to take a punch, metaphorically speaking. It did not conversely make said punch hurt any less. She was invulnerable to many things, but far from invincible. It took her a short moment to readjust her balance as the throbbing in the souls of her feet subsided.

The shock and bewilderment shared among the remaining Mud-bugs had also bought her some time, and best you believe she used it well.

Laxe closed the two-meter gap between her and the first of the pair of goblins with a single leap. Her muscles tingled as a slight wave of adrenaline flowed through her veins further enhancing her already formidable abilities and reflexes. She flew through the air and landed neatly between the pair, their reactions seemed to be in slow motion as she shot her head from one to the other nodding to them in two separate acknowledgments.

"Good morning then."

She spoke in the flat, rumbling goblin tongue native to the creatures, further startling the two. They recovered quickly, but not near quick enough. In an unusual display of synergy, the Mud-bugs managed to slice their hunting pikes over each other, a pair of wildly inaccurate attempts to rend their new adversary in half at the waist. They were considerably shorter than this one, a fact that they had realized somewhere within the first few seconds of this interaction. Three feet flat they were, in comparison to Laxe's rather statuesque five foot six inches.

The blows were not only misguided but to ill effect for they both struck nothing but empty air. Laxe ducked expertly forward and let the momentum carry her into a roll. less than a yard away, and just a second into that roll, she recalled her Bomkerrie to its normal size, tucking it daftly back within the folds of her waistband, and unhooked her bow from over her mid-section admiring its weight and balance as it slid into and conformed to her left hand. She was up and past the two, spinning a quick half-circle to face them before they could complete their entire rotation to give chase. Two soft thrums sang out and two black-shafted arrows found their mark. The pair, still gripping their weapons, fell away in unison. Each with a gleaming arrow protruding from their left and right temples, receptively.

Laxe knew that this was no time to admire her work (as she always did) for the remaining two creatures were now at her back and would be upon her within seconds. She came down just as quickly as she had shot up from the roll, and let her heels dig into the gravel not bothering to slow. The immediate stop allowed her to push off with both feet and spring into a tight back flip just in time to avoid the second pair of swing pikes. Laxe's keen eye found the back of both Mudbug's heads while she was in the second backward flip, and by the third, both goblins sported matching arrows, erect from the backs of their heads.

All four of the remaining Mudbugs hit the ground at the same time.

"Done and done then." she beamed. Her words fluffed in accomplishment.

She turned to head in the direction from which this band had come. Such a small group was surely nothing to worry about, but mayhap they were just a forward party? If this was the case, Laxe would be sure to find out.

For more hunting?

She was always ready.

For the corresponding report that would need to be submitted to the Chief of Kabuterval?

well, she had much less enthusiasm for that part.

As she completed her turn, she never got the chance to complete her thought. An unseen item slammed into her chest.

The air was blasted from her lungs by a massive, muscled fist. But Laxe could not see this, thus she could not know. The blow sent her flying backward, four or more yards through the air. Before she could gather her baring enough to discern right-side up from upside-down, she landed unceremoniously on her back, tumbling several times over before bouncing unstably to her feet. Her bow had not left her hand, and she was quick to notch in two lethal arrows (her signature shooting style)

But there was nothing there.

At least it would have appeared that way to the untrained and unassisted eye. Both of which Laxe's eyes most definitely were not. She sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, settling her mind to allow her inherent ability to see living auras manifest a bit more keenly. She did not like what she had come to see...

The creature's aura blazed a hot, bleeding shade of red. It was hulking in size, nearly nine feet tall, and its silhouette seemed to be of nothing but bulging muscles. Laxe could smell the foul thing as it got closer, but it must have been further enchanted outside of this invisibility, for she could not pick up a single sound. No matter that though, Laxe knew what it was, and knew further that she would not be able to best the thing alone, even with her considerable skill.

"A...Troll...then."

She said quietly and slowly as she deftly slipped the two arrows back into her quiver and enacted a bit of magic of her own. She may not be able to best it, but mayhap she could hurt and bewilder it enough to divert its course for Kabuterval.

"A troll then."

She said with a bit more conviction as her magics took effect.