1 Chapter 1: Freakin Goblins Man

'I'm too weak, but hell if stabbing those bastards in the head wouldn't feel good.'

Thinking thus, Ryth, a young man of about 17 years, sighed under his breath, sitting in the branches of a tree while observing the goblin group below.

'So there's four... no five... of the green humanoid rat-mutts, and I got a oversized kitchen knife...'

'Plus with my stats... Yay for tiny amounts of mana with really fast regeneration.'

'Not to mention the fact that I can only purify poison properly with how much of a novice I am, having no idea how my Arcane is used, and have marginal abilities to actually, y'know, HEAL. I should've asked to join those guys but... gah they were assholes!'

Ryth checked his grip on his knife, which couldn't even be called a dagger, and resolved to at least get one kill today, even if it was just a mutant rat or something equally pathetic.

He started to walk along the branches, taking advantage of his light, wiry build to cause as little noise as possible.

'Thank god for childhood tree-climbing.'

His plan was simple: catch something on its own and ambush it. Simple right?

Suddenly he felt the weight settle under him as he put too much weight on a dry branch. Normally it wouldn't matter much... but...

*Crack*

"Aw sh*t."

Dark orbs of malice swung to regard the intruder atop the trees, as purple tongues stuck out in hooting laughter.

"Hee-hee-hee!" Screamed the goblins below, as they pulled the sharpened sticks and hatchets (probably taken from farmers or such they've killed, the bloodstains on the blades doesn't look exactly FRESH) from beside them, and began to run under him.

Once below, they seemed to realize they couldn't exactly reach him. Unsurprisingly, cause the lords of the 7 hells know that goblins ain't exactly genius's, one decided to throw the makeshift spear. This led to it merely falling down a few steps away, but the goblin picked it up and repeated this, as all the others joined in.

Really It should come as no surprise when one of the sticks landed in a goblins eye. (Boontho that wasn't very smart.) It didn't even have enough force to puncture the eye, but you'd think it was stabbed straight through from how loud it screamed.

"Aw shut up you dumb*ss! You got yourself stabbed, don't be a b*tch!"

Ryth sighed to himself, sheltered in his current position by the net of branches below.

"Freakin goblins man..."

Ryth was aware that all the noise might summon some more, let's say, unfortunate foes. So he needed to ditch the noise makers, and fast. But it's kinda hard to move with hatchets, rocks, and annoyingly sharp sticks being thrown up at you through the branches you're currently crouched on. A gleam caught his eye as a knife flew past him as well.

'One of the goblins had a knife? Hm... curved, made more for slashing... yes please!'

Perhaps you'd call Ryth an idiot for reaching to catch a falling knife (which was a proper dagger unlike his current oversized carrot-cutter!) but hey, good, or in this case, acceptable gear is hard to get as a solo adventurer with literally no fighting based abilities.

Naturally, he cut his hand catching it, but he didn't mind too much as he had enough mana and skill to at least heal such a scratch, and it would literally only take a minute to recover it all, what with this ridiculous wisdom stat.

Healing his hand almost unconsciously (the amount of wounds and scrapes he's healed of his own for practice is too much to count. In fact all his current EXP is basically from said practice) he looked at his new dagger and smiled a bit.

The golden misty glow reminiscent of sunlight around the wound slowly faded into the skin as it knit closed. He began to cautiously creep through the branches of the forest, followed below by the goblins, with occasional cries of pain from the idiots who dropped their own weapons on themselves.

The amount of scratches from the hatches hitting off the goblins and from whatever else (ouch Boontho just took a rock to the face!) was kinda accumulating, and Ryth was looking forward to being free of these annoying green pests. (Ouch, never drop a hatchet on your foot. Well, Boontho has one less toe now.)

Snarling erupted in the woods as a flash of grey fur streaked from the bushes, striking one of the knee-high devils, and disappearing out the other side of the clearing with its prey(Boontho no!)

More sounds erupted as the other four goblins raced after their comrade, and more ruckus could be heard as the grey-streak's snarls and the goblins cries warred against one another.

A tree prevented Ryth from seeing what was going on, but getting the hell away seemed more important. So he dropped down to the forest floor where he could at least run with SOME stealth, and raced away, keeping an ear out for other predators as he returned to the small trail he and many other adventurers would use to enter the forest of Maevair.

As he walked back, once again without a single kill, the lonesome healer sighed in irritation.

"Said it once and I'll say it again. Freakin goblins man."