Walking down to the water, I was feeling a lot less nervous about the big things in the deeper parts of the lake; for almost a month now I’ve been making weekly trips to the shore to refill my stocks and I’ve not really seen any trouble.

It turns out most of the aquatic monsters will just leave you alone if you aren’t throwing explosives at them, who knew?

Still, not gonna go swimming again anytime soon.

Things were moving along as smoothly as could be expected and I considered quietly that if I didn’t factor in the giant boar attack, this little island was effectively a paradise.

“... why the hell did the people here leave, I’m assuming anyone strong enough to build here wouldn’t have trouble with giant pigs.”

My contemplation was cut short by a faint tingling at the back of my neck and I shut up real quick.

Something was watching me.

My mind raced as I scanned my surroundings, it was like playing hot or cold trying to spot

Okay, so either my instincts are just a lot better now, or my passive abilities still work just a little bit; that’s gonna need more testing… now, what the fuck is that.

My answer came in the form of a green speck in the branches of an evergreen tree.

When I focused in on it, I was shocked by its appearance.

I could only barely tell that it was a goblin, it was almost nothing like the red eyed cackling monsters that chased me through the forest on my first day here; it was small and shivering. 

It looked like those pictures of emaciated children from telethon drives in the 90’s; even so I had to believe it was dangerous.

I couldn’t leave without filling up the rest of my bottles and jars, fresh water is a necessity; but I didn’t break eye contact the entire time.

I might not want to kill something that… small, but I wasn’t about to give it a clear shot at my back.

It didn’t move a muscle as I filled the last of my containers with water and backed into the woods.

---

Deep within the Ficklewood was a goblin camp.

No, perhaps that is inaccurate; it was a place where goblins lived, but it was not a goblin camp. 

Goblin camps are joyous gatherings of families and friends brought together by shared goals and connections in the pursuit of mutual benefit; this was something else, a prison.

Sobrak the traitor, Sobrak the coward, Sobrak the ‘king’ had made this place into a sort of forced breeding camp for his mindless soldiers.

Three generations had come and passed since his rise to power and now only the eldest of goblins remembered the whelp king’s betrayal and few dared mention the specifics for fear that it would reach his ears and they would be selected to join the ranks of the hollowed.

It was a terrible state of affairs, several tribes held in the grip of fear and pressed into service at the point of a knife; their own kin made into savage and vicious mockeries of goblins and used to torment them and further the traitor king’s goals.

A [Goblin Scavenger] sat hidden amongst the high boughs of a tree considering this state of affairs. He had no name, as the camp had no shamans to bestow them, they were the first to be slain by Sobrak; but then he never really needed one.

No one had need of him specifically so long as he did his part, he was interchangeable, disposable.

His purpose was the same as every [Goblin Scavenger]’s gather food and medicine and stay out of trouble; perhaps breed if he was called to, though he found that distasteful.

His worldview however had been shifted recently by a close encounter with a deadly monster; it stood twice as tall as the tallest goblin and even a bit bigger than a hobgoblin, it commanded fire and thunder and carried death and perhaps even had the favor of the [Lake Guardian] if the rumors were true.

He had sighted it moving like the wind through a burning grove of tallowwood trees, wreathed in flames and surrounded by destruction. If goblins had gods, he might’ve made the comparison to a god of death or war or perhaps more simply fire; unfortunately they had none and he had nothing to measure the terrible figure up against.

It lived in the center of the lake of death and consistently summoned fire and thunder as if to announce its presence as a challenge to every beast in the forest; already a beast had risen to the challenge.

A week ago the [Goblin Trackers] observed a dominant male [Blink Hog] entering it’s domain.

The sounds of the battle echoed through the Ficklewood; what can only have been it’s conclusion sounded like nothing they’d ever heard before and lit the evening sky in a light like midday.

Suffice it to say, the [Blink Hog] didn’t come out.

The [Goblin Scavenger] was curious, perhaps too curious for his own good; he felt it necessary to find out why despite the demands of Sobrak to keep well away from the monster’s den.

He’d asked the few remaining elders to share what the knew about the terror, but got few details; only after offering the highest quality sweetgrass he could find did one of them let something slip.

These monsters were called “Ad-ven-tur-ers”; something the original clans that made up this group has fled for many years before taking refuge in the relative safety of the Ficklewood.

Adventurer, a most certainly un-goblin word that was difficult to form on the tongue.

The secrets surrounding the adventurer made the terror and intrigue even more tantalizing for the bored young scavenger and he simply couldn’t resist.

Crossing the lake was of course out of the question, but sitting high in the branches and watching with [Farsight] was technically not against the rules. He could almost believe that excuse himself, so it’d surely work if he needed to explain away his actions later.

This was his third secret visit to the lake’s edge; not once had he seen the terrible monster but he held out hope.

Today, those hopes were answered, the adventurer appeared.

It stumbled awkwardly down to the shore to gather water, unadorned in the brown hide he’d seen it wearing on the day the grove burnt; this was strange as he thought that thick hide to be it’s skin.

The thing was injured, and badly at that; as the wind changed he could smell the blood and rot off of it and his perception didn’t fail him in showing that it now lacked one of its hands.

It fumbled carefully with a glass jar, dipping it into the murky lake and finding difficulty in keeping it stable while closing it.

This was strange, what use could it have with water so laden in sickness?

Only the heartiest or most foolish goblins drank the from the lake, and that was even discounting the risk of the denizens within moving to attack.

He was entranced by the sight, the adventurer looked… soft and strangely pink, like a newborn goblin before their skin hardened and gained its distinctive hue.

Whatever it was, he understood now that it was not blessed as goblins are with tough skin and perhaps wore other skins to make up for it. His sharp eyes allowed him to see that it lacked claws or sharp teeth, it had no horns or fur to speak of.

In that moment, he felt something confusing… pity? From this distance and in this light it looked so fragile, it didn’t belong here and frankly it didn’t look like it belonged much of anywhere.

How could this be a monster worth fleeing?

He couldn’t help but stare, then, he froze.

It looked up suddenly and stared back at him.

Somehow the adventurer had seen him and now he was certain that death would follow; the eyes he saw now were full of the same terrible fury as the fire that had consumed the tallowwood grove.

Beneath that withering gaze he could do nothing but cower, he dared not look away or blink for fear that he would be consumed in an inferno in that second… but the moment never came; death did not claim him and the adventurer returned to its business, never breaking eye contact.

It filled multiple containers with the water of the lake and then returned to whence it came, into the foliage of the island and past even the range of his sharp vision, not once looking away as it did.

He was left confused regarding the nature of the creature he’d observed.

It was somehow weak and terrifying all at once; brutal and yet not without mercy.

Perhaps it was simply tired, or found him beneath it’s notice, but it let him leave after seeing him; any goblin worth their salt wouldn’t make the same mistake upon encountering a rival, it just didn’t make sense.

There was a saying amongst goblins, “Ulfjrn kad nal kulan” or roughly translated “The only good enemy is a dead one, and the only kind better than that is one that is delicious as well.”

Even if it opposed common wisdom, he was happy to get out of the situation alive and opted not to return… at least not for some time.

As he left the scene of his brush with death he found he was unable to categorize the adventurer as a monster any longer; enemy didn’t seem to fit either, but it definitely wasn’t Goblin.

There wasn’t a category outside of those three in his mind before now, so lacking any real direction he created a fourth one that he simply titled ‘different’ and moved on with his day.

He was feeling very hungry, and if he didn’t return with good forage or trap some game he’d find himself turned away from the communal pot when the time for dinner came; not that it would make much difference, the mindless creatures serving Sobrak consumed the bulk of it anyway and when divided amongst the rest it barely left a thimbleful for each.

---

“... that was weird, he didn’t move an inch the whole time; whatever, he was probably a scout or something, I’m sure I pissed them off something fierce.”

I could only guess it was a scout watching for me, either that or the whole encounter could’ve been a coincidence, shit has been weird since I came here.

I put it out of my mind as I packed everything I would need for my potentially deadly and completely dumb as hell mission to find honey of all things; it was a bad plan and I knew it, but it was the only one I had. 

The next morning, I considered my chances of coming back alive as I scanned over the final preparations, some part of me felt… oddly confident.

“Sure, it nearly killed me, but I did win against that giant boar and maybe the next time I fight I can keep my head about me.”

Packing was made a bit challenging by my lack of an inventory screen, but I’ve planned for road trips on the back of a bar napkin and come out okay.

Here’s my list:

The old leather armor (cleaned and softened in warm but not boiling water)

Plenty of food (Close to 60kg on it’s own accounting for my increased appetite)

An entire magic bag dedicated to water (for cleaning wounds and drinking)

All the medicinal herbs I could gather (hopefully enough to keep me from dying of sepsis)

Feybound Cowl (tested and with uses restored if I have the days right; still useable even with fucked mana circuits)

Dagger (tied to the stump of my right arm as sturdily as I can manage, always ready but don’t try and scratch chin)

Bandolier (Loaded with alchemical bombs, smoke bombs, and flashstones, always ready)

Crossbow (Preloaded with a bolt, always ready)

Camouflage pigments (Applied to face and slathered on armor)

Flint and Steel (For starting fires)

150g of Blast Putty (Handle with care)

15.6m Hempen Rope (I dunno, probably useful? Already used some to strap a dagger where my hand used to be.

Quiver (Full of crossbow bolts)

Cast Iron Frying Pan (Cooking tool and blunt weapon, two for one)

Potion Sling (For throwing alchemical bombs; assuming I can use it one handed)

Boar Pelt (Okay, so hear me out, it smells like a boar and it might go sour but as long as I cover my wounds I can wear it and maybe fool some weak stuff into turning tail and running. It’s also really hard to puncture.)

Blink Hog Skull (Boiled clean, looks intimidating when I wear it on my head and protects some vitals; possibly enough to again scare something off.)

Canvas Oilcloth (Can be used for shelter from the rain or as ground cover)

Satisfied with my gear selection for the most part, I stuffed a few other random bits and bobs in to fill out the weight limit on the bags; I didn’t write them down or anything, but maybe they’ll help me out of a bind later.

I didn’t bring it up earlier, but I did some more testing with the Feybound Cowl and I think I understand how Feywalk works now; the spell creates a gate linked to a location you can see or imagine as long as it’s a natural locale.

It’s range seems to be limited to about 4Km give or take, which was just fine for me, it was far enough for me to get across the lake without having to get a single hair wet or get closer to the giant monsters swimming in there than absolutely necessary.

I will have to be more careful about being stealthy on arrival; thankfully I confirmed it doesn’t count a charge as “used” unless I go through the portal, so I might just have a nifty way of spying on a few key locations if the portal is invisible like I think it is.

I picked the north tip of the island to depart from, just a short walk away from the battlefield where I lost my hand and gained a very unnecessary hole in my chest.

Now, on what I think is my 30th day in this new world Aonus, I stood on the beach and prepared myself to leave the relative safety of my tiny island; not at all how I’d hoped and definitely not in line with what I’d planned.

I'd made every preparation I could think of, packed my shit and left an extra big offering to Ikenia along with a prayer; but still I couldn't help but feel nervous.

“Jesus shit, I really hope that boar wasn’t the average around here… fuck it, I’ve got explosives and a goddamn knife hand; at least if I die, it’s gonna kick ass.”

With a fluttering in my stomach, I used feywalk and crossed over to the mainland with three steps.

The other shore was quiet, birds chirped in the distance and insects went about their industrious work producing a night imperceptible skittering sound.

I stood silently in the shadow of a massive evergreen, observing my surroundings before I dared take a breath.

When no monster coalesced from the brush to claw my face off I heaved a sigh of relief and gave my plan some more thought.

I marked the massive tree’s trunk with a crude ‘X’ using my handy dagger-hand.

I figured that if I could jump back to memorable points, leaving landmarks would be a good idea, at the worst I might be able to find my way back on foot in a pinch.

Silly thought really, I was counting on luck to find something; it didn’t escape my notice that the system never specified that my Titles were offline. Status, skills, abilities, perks, achievements, healing, stamina regen, and mana regen were all busted, but not titles.

I was banking on my first ever title, Fearless Explorer.

“When this title is equipped, you’ll never truly be lost… that better be true or this plan is a whole lot dumber than I thought.”

Without much in the way of specific direction I headed north, constantly scanning for danger.

---

I know it’s anticlimactic, but my first day of travel was entirely uneventful;  not that I’m complaining, uneventful is about the best thing I can ask for in my current circumstances.

Sure, I had to stop every few hours to make sure my bandages didn’t slip and I had to find a place to rest well before the sun went down or else I’d be in trouble, but it was easy going.

My biggest challenge was setting up camp one handed and deciding how to even go about it; I weighed the pros and cons of sleeping on the ground vs trying to climb a tree one handed and the threat of monsters was enough to convince me that the arboreal life was for me.

In the end, I picked a good sturdy tree with a trunk wider around than I was tall; I wasn’t about to be caught with my pants down again if I could help it.

“Lets see a pig knock this one down… now, how do I get up there?”

It took a while, but I came upon a solution, I tied my rope around my waist like a belt as tightly as I could and then looped the loose end over a branch by using a rock as a counterweight.

Then I spent close to half an hour trying to pully myself up with a combination of my non dominant hand and my teeth; just in case anyone was wondering, hemp rope doesn’t taste good.

I’m ninety-nine percent certain I never would’ve been able to pull that off without the strength I’ve gained since arriving here.

After that it was a balancing act until I tied the rope to the branch as a safety line without much excess slack, if I fell I’d be suspended about a meter beneath my resting place, but I’d never really had an issue with tossing and turning.

All said and done, I settled in for a night of somewhat uneasy sleep in the boughs of a tree, glad to have my crossbow cradled in my arms and a my dagger tied tightly to the stump of my wrist.

“Well… nighty-night utterly terrifying forest.”