Kieth was jolted awake in the dead of night. His pulse quickened, every nerve in his body tingling with alarm. There was something out there—a presence so powerful that it seeped into his reinforced shelter, chilling the air. The sounds of heavy, deliberate footsteps approached, crushing twigs and rustling through the underbrush. Whatever it was, it was getting closer, and Kieth knew his shelter wouldn't hold.
Grabbing his pack with trembling hands, Kieth moved quickly. He stuffed essentials inside: the small stash of dried berries he'd foraged, a crude map he had sketched of the forest's layout, and most importantly, the daggers he had taken from Specter. Their cool, sharp edges reassured him as he sheathed them. His heart pounded in his chest, but he fought to keep his movements precise and efficient. He extinguished the fire with a handful of dirt, pulled his hood over his silver hair, and slipped into the forest shadows, leaving his shelter behind.
He hadn't gone far when a piercing, ear-splitting screech erupted from the shelter's direction. Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a hulking figure, shrouded in darkness, demolishing his refuge with ease. Only the faint moonlight illuminated a set of eyes, glowing a menacing red that seemed to scan the forest for him. He held his breath and backed away, retreating into the dense trees. He could feel the creature's intent—its instinct to hunt, to destroy. But it hadn't seen him, not yet. It was time to move on and find a place where he could lay low for a while. He wasn't strong enough for a confrontation with such a beast.
For hours, Kieth navigated the forest floor in silence, putting as much distance between himself and the monster as possible. Dawn began to break through the treetops, casting dappled light onto the forest floor, when he stumbled upon something unexpected: a small settlement of goblins, nestled in a secluded clearing.
Kieth crouched behind a thick trunk and observed. Goblin huts, built from tangled branches and tattered hides, were clustered around a fire pit in the center of the camp. A few goblins lay sprawled out, snoring in heaps of hay, while others stood on guard, muttering to each other in guttural tones. They clutched crude spears and clubs, weapons that could inflict real harm in close quarters.
Kieth scanned the camp, noticing a few significant figures. In the largest hut, his eyes landed on a massive, brawny figure clad in makeshift armor—a goblin king. Unlike the others, he had a crown of twisted metal perched on his head, adorned with crude gemstones. His hands clutched a scepter topped with a chipped emerald, and a thick scar stretched across his cheek, marking him as a seasoned warrior. Beside him was a pile of treasures: coins, small trinkets, and a few gleaming objects Kieth couldn't quite make out.
Off to one side, a goblin mage was hunched over a worn wooden staff, chanting in a low, gravelly tone. This staff wasn't ordinary; it was the Windcaller's Staff, a gnarled, dark wood staff with twisted branches near the top that held a glowing green crystal. The crystal swirled with energy, and every so often, a faint breeze would emanate from it, ruffling the goblin mage's robes. Kieth's instincts told him the staff was enchanted to control wind, allowing the mage to create gusts strong enough to knock an enemy off their feet or even cut through flesh like a blade. Its power intrigued him, but he knew better than to underestimate the mage's abilities.
Kieth studied the goblins' movements, formulating a plan. He could lure them one by one into traps he set around the perimeter of the camp. The ordinary goblins would be easy enough to dispatch, but the hobgoblins were another matter. Taller and more muscular than the average goblin, hobgoblins had keener senses and intelligence to match, making them formidable opponents. And then there was the goblin king, whose sheer size and battle-worn look suggested he'd be a challenge even on a good day.
But Kieth was fatigued, his muscles aching from lack of sleep. For now, he decided to retreat to a nearby tree—one that was thicker and taller than the others. Its branches sprawled wide, offering both cover and a vantage point over the goblin settlement. He climbed up, settling on a branch just broad enough to support his weight. From here, he could watch, rest, and wait.
The goblin camp was a busy place even at night. While some goblins grunted and pointed toward the forest, likely spotting disturbances or investigating sounds, others sharpened their weapons or huddled together for warmth. Kieth took note of the supplies they had stockpiled: bundles of furs, sacks of provisions, and a few animal hides that had been stretched and hung to dry. A small group of goblins was busy roasting meat over the central fire, and Kieth's stomach growled at the smell. He hadn't eaten anything substantial since he'd been exiled.
He sat back, drawing his cloak tighter around himself, and fixed his gaze on the goblin king's treasure pile. Amid the clinking coins and sparkling trinkets, he could see a shimmering amulet, likely magical in nature. It sat close to the king, nestled among bones and a broken blade. But his focus kept returning to the mage and that intriguing Windcaller's Staff.
Watching the goblin camp, Kieth began to calculate. He would need to rest and regain his strength before making a move. If he managed to separate the mage and perhaps take out a few guards quietly, he could work his way towards the king himself. But it was risky—there were too many unknowns. For now, he would wait. The sun was setting, and the cover of darkness would be his ally.
As Kieth settled in to rest, his mind worked tirelessly. He knew he had to face these goblins sooner or later. And with the Windcaller's Staff and whatever treasures the goblin king guarded, he might just gain the edge he needed to survive in this unforgiving wilderness.
After resting for a while, Kieth knew it was time to gather food. He couldn't rely on berries and small game forever; he needed something substantial, something that would keep him energized for the challenges he knew were coming. The faint sounds of rustling nearby had alerted him to a herd of wild boars, and he decided to pursue them. Wild boar meat was known to be delicious and hearty, a perfect meal after days of fatigue and constant vigilance.
Carefully, Kieth crouched low and stalked his way through the underbrush, keeping his footsteps as light as possible. He spotted the boars by a shallow stream, where they rooted through the soft earth for food. He took a moment to assess their movements, noting the biggest among them and calculating his approach. Wild boars could be dangerous if threatened, and he couldn't afford to be reckless.
Kieth gripped one of his daggers tightly, slipping through the brush until he was close enough for a clear shot. He crouched and readied himself, mentally mapping out his move. With practiced precision, he hurled a small stone to the left, catching the attention of the largest boar. The animal's head snapped in the direction of the sound, ears perked, giving Kieth the opportunity he needed. In one swift motion, he lunged forward, driving his dagger into the side of the boar. The beast let out a loud squeal, but Kieth quickly followed up with a second, deeper stab, hitting its heart. The boar thrashed briefly, and then its body stilled.
Kieth wiped the sweat from his brow and set to work preparing his catch. He used his dagger to carve into the boar, cutting away the hide and carefully portioning the meat. He gathered firewood and kindling, arranging the sticks into a compact structure, and used a stone to strike sparks onto dry leaves. Within minutes, he had a fire going, its warm glow contrasting against the shadowed forest around him. He skewered the boar meat on a spit, turning it over the fire, letting the fat drip and sizzle. The aroma filled the air, making his mouth water with anticipation.
As the meat roasted, Kieth's mind wandered. He thought about the taste, about the satisfaction that came with a meal earned by his own hands. The golden, crispy skin and the tender, juicy flesh were a result of his labor, and he knew it would taste better because of it. When the meat was finally cooked, he tore into it with gusto, savoring each bite. The flavor was rich, earthy, and slightly sweet, intensified by the smoky taste of the fire. It was the best meal he'd had in days, and he relished every mouthful. For a moment, he forgot his troubles and simply enjoyed the taste of his hard-won food.
Once he was finished, he left the bones and a few scraps behind, satisfied and filled with new resolve. Unbeknownst to him, as he moved away, a mysterious beast crept up to the fire's remnants, its dark fur blending into the shadows. The creature sniffed the air, drawn to the scent of the leftover meat, and began to feed on what Kieth had left. Its eyes, glinting faintly in the firelight, held a dangerous intelligence, as if it knew that someone else had been there.
After Kieth's meal, he made his way back to the goblin encampment. He observed them from his concealed vantage point, watching as the goblins moved about in their nightly routines. Some goblins patrolled the perimeter of the camp, their eyes scanning the forest with a wary alertness. Others lounged by the fire, sharing food and muttering in their guttural language. Near the back of the camp, the goblin mage and king sat together, deep in conversation. The king held his scepter loosely, occasionally barking orders at nearby goblins.
Kieth took note of the goblin guards' patterns, the timing of their shifts, and the locations where they were stationed. He could see the hobgoblins—a bit taller and more muscular than the others—patrolling alongside the regular goblins. They moved in pairs, carrying crude but effective weapons. He watched for nearly an hour, memorizing their routines, looking for gaps in their defenses. Once he had a clear idea of their movements, he began to set his traps.
Kieth moved silently, positioning himself around the perimeter of the camp. He dug shallow pits and lined them with sharpened wooden spikes he had prepared earlier, covering each trap with leaves and branches to disguise them. He also set trip wires, rigged to release a series of swinging logs or weighted branches, which would strike with lethal force when triggered. With meticulous care, he adjusted the tension on each trap, ensuring they would activate at just the right moment. He also tied several logs with sharpened spikes to tree branches, ready to drop down at the precise angle to strike when needed.
Once his traps were in place, Kieth returned to the camp's edge, ready to lure the guards and hobgoblins into his ambush. He picked up a small stone and threw it at a goblin guard, hitting him squarely on the back. The goblin grunted, looking around in confusion, and then snarled, spotting Kieth in the shadows. The guard bellowed, alerting the others, and soon three more goblins and two hobgoblins were pursuing him into the forest.
Kieth ran, his movements calculated, leading the goblins toward the first pitfall. He leaped over the trap, landing lightly on the other side, while the goblins charged blindly after him. The ground gave way beneath them, and the goblins tumbled into the pit, impaled on the sharpened stakes below. The hobgoblins halted, wary, and then gave a guttural roar, ordering the remaining goblins to follow.
As they advanced, Kieth reached the second trap. He grabbed a branch overhead, pulling it just enough to trigger the release. A spiked log swung down from a tree, striking the first hobgoblin in the chest with a sickening thud. It staggered, and blood sprayed as it collapsed to the ground. The remaining hobgoblin snarled in rage, charging at Kieth with surprising speed. But Kieth was already moving, weaving through the trees, drawing the hobgoblin closer to the final trap.
He dashed around a tree, dodging to the side as the hobgoblin pursued him. Just as the creature was about to reach him, Kieth kicked a hidden trip wire, and a massive, spiked log swung down, piercing the hobgoblin through the side. It let out a final, agonized scream before collapsing, blood pooling around it.
Kieth paused, catching his breath as he surveyed the aftermath. His traps had worked perfectly, eliminating the goblin guards and hobgoblins in one swift series of moves. But he knew the battle was far from over. The commotion had drawn the attention of the goblin king and mage. The goblin king let out a furious roar, standing from his seat and pointing his scepter at Kieth.
"Kill him!" the goblin king bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. The remaining goblins and hobgoblins rallied to his call, their eyes filled with bloodlust as they charged toward Kieth. The goblin mage raised his staff—the Windcaller's Staff—and with a powerful incantation, summoned a gust of wind that tore through the forest, flattening trees and sending a spray of leaves into the air.
Kieth braced himself, his eyes locked onto his two formidable foes: the goblin king, with his twisted crown and scarred visage, and the mage, clutching the staff that swirled with ominous energy. He could feel the weight of the moment, the gravity of the battle that lay ahead. This was the confrontation he had been preparing for, and he knew it would test every ounce of his strength and cunning.