//------------------------------// // Welcome to the Everfree part one: A Wooden Reception // Story: The Warbringer’s Companion // by Pony Paradox //------------------------------// So... where was I again? Oh, right. Fwoosh. It was all over rather fast, to be completely honest. One moment, we were standing at the bottom of a small cliff, and the next, we were in some kind of dark forest. The trees were thick all around us, and the canopy way above us only allowed for a faint trickle of sunlight... which was kind of disturbing, since it was getting on late evening just a moment ago. The ground was littered with fallen detritus from the branches above, and there was no clear path or direction through the mossy trunks. Description like that helps the reader visualize the setting, you see. Not to underplay what happened, but the act of traveling to a different world was depressingly uninteresting. Oh sure, suddenly we were somewhere new, and there was daylight where it used to be dark, but there was no light show! No rushing wind, no sparks, no... anything! It was just us, standing somewhere new. I didn’t even feel dizzy. I mean, even that little teleportation to the bottom of the hill had a bright flash! I was expecting to be hurled through some kind of swirling vortex, or to fall out of the sky, or something. This was more like... blinking. Somehow the lack of magical pazazz made even the transportation to an entirely new world totally mundane. Oh well, we were there. Might as well make the best of it. “So... different world, huh?” I might as well try to spark some conversation. “Yes.” Oh, right. Almost forgot who I was talking to. Suddenly, my stomach rumbled. Thinking back, we were just preparing our supper when we were so rudely interrupted by the God of Frightening Death, and we never got a chance to eat. Clearly, hopping from one world to another did nothing at all for an empty stomach. I also noted that, although it was daytime now, we never actually had a chance to rest before coming here. Clearly, it was Gruumsh’s divine plan for us to die from exhaustion and starvation. Alright, so I may be laying it on a bit thick, but I was hungry and still a bit put off about being ignored earlier. Well... standing around here wasn’t going to solve any of our problems. First thing to do: get us fed. Whatever kind of world this was, these woods didn’t really look too special, and in fact, looking around, I could recognize some of the local flora. Combine that with the sound on insects in the air, and I was fairly certain these woods had to contain some kind of game animals. “So, Grunt, buddy. Think you could get Ruska to rustle up some grub? I’m starved, and Gruumsh didn’t exactly let us take our dinner with us.” I shut up as soon as I saw Grunt and Ruska, and realized yet another problem... Grunt was still injured. Bad. There was deep bruising all across his torso, not to mention the nasty looking cut on his abdomen, and his shoulder was still out of place. His face was turning slightly blue, as well, and I really don’t think that’s a good sign. Although she was no longer injured, Ruska looked kind of out of it herself, and I remembered something Gruumsh had said about her. “Her pain will be your pain, and your pain, hers.” Did that mean that she could literally feel his pain? Wow, was I glad he didn’t do that for me. Well... before we could do anything else, we needed to take care of Grunt’s injuries. If only we had some kind of cleric with us. Or maybe even some kind of, I dunno. Magical healing potion? Too bad neither of us knows how to make one of those. Aww, come on, I’m just kidding. I didn’t talk at length about being an alchemist on the previous chapter for no reason, you know! My kit, unfortunately, was not with us when we made the journey, leaving me somewhat short on materials, but I’m a clever little goblin... I’ll be able to make due, it’ll just take a bit more time than usual. Besides, I can’t just pump Grunt full of healing potions and expect him to be fine... despite popular belief, healing magic doesn’t actually work like that. If I didn’t set that shoulder first, it would heal all wonky, even with the potion. “Sorry big guy... this won’t feel good.” I started to take hold of Grunts arm, intending to wrench his shoulder back into the proper place, but with a grunt, he simply pushed me away. Taking hold of his shoulder with his good hand, he gave it a sharp twist, and I heard it pop back into the proper alignment. His face was stoic, but a low whine from Ruska betrayed both of their pain. “Show off.” I mumbled to myself as I took inventory of my personal stock. Being an adventuring alchemist means that you can’t simply keep all of your active ingredients and catalysts in a separate container... you never know when you have to work on your toes. Lets see... bull fur, sulfur, a jar of potentially dangerous pickled peppers, a vial of Ruska’s saliva, a mixture of lavender and cotton leaf... ah, here we go! Poppy extract! Just what I needed! now, I just needed some vanilla extract, marshmallow, and my own secret ingredient. What? if I told you what it was, it wouldn’t be a secret! Now would be an ideal time to explain a bit more about how my potion making works. Generally, I can make two kinds of potions. The first kind is your typical potion: a vial of nasty tasting liquid which has some kind of magical effect on the drinker. These things require a great deal of concentration to create, and generally a bit of monetary investment, as well. The other kind of potions I can make are called extracts. Extracts have the same effects as a potion, but are simpler in their creation, and have a shorter lifespan. Extracts are cool, because I can make them out of almost anything, most of the time. All I have to do is give them a little bit of a charge from my own life energy (not nearly as bad as it sounds, I assure you) and they’re good for twenty-four hours. Give or take a minute or so. The downside is that I can’t just give my extracts away... the moment they leave my possession, they lose their charge and become inert. With a bit of ingenuity, I have learned how to administer my extracts to my friends, but I have to do it through a direct blood transfusion. Not exactly pleasant, nor ideal in the heat of battle. Lucky for us, this wasn’t the heat of battle. Throwing all the ingredients together, I gave the vial a little shake. Then I let a tiny portion of my energy flow into the mixture, causing it to glow with a faint but reassuring blue light. With the extract complete, I quickly tossed the vial into the injector (made that myself, thank you very much) and jabbed it into Grunts arm. Immediately, I could see the potion taking effect. The swelling in his shoulder went down, the gash on his abdomen closed into a thin scar, and colour began to return to his face. I can’t say that I managed to heal all the damage he’d taken, or even most of it, really, but both he and Ruska were looking better. His ribs were probably still a mess, but for now, at least he was in one piece. I suppose I could make him another potion, but my energy reserves are limited; I can only make extracts like that a few times each day. Another reason why real potions are better, I suppose. Well, that’s one problem taken care of. As long as nothing too exciting happens in the meantime, Grunt should be fine to move around and stuff. Im my wisdom, I decided to share that very feeling with him. I don’t know if you know this, but the universe hates it when you speak your confidence. If you say something like “Well, that’s the worst of it!” you are sure to bring disaster to yourself and your loved ones. The same goes for saying something like “As long as nothing exciting happens, you should be fine!” As if on cue, a piercing howl filled the air around us. First, it was simply a single note, Resounding between the trees which surrounded us. Then, it was joined by a second note, and a third. There was something distinctly alien about that sound. I’ve seen my share of wolves (and this certainly sounded like wolves to me), but I have never heard a howl quite like this. Soon, a cacophony of lurid howls filled the air all around us. Grunt grunted, gripping his new weapon in his good hand, and Ruska took a battle-ready stance, pawing the ground and growling. I was ready as well, with a bomb in each hand, but I was not particularly looking forward to this. I knew Grunt wouldn’t be at his best without some proper rest, especially after exhausting his rage while fighting Gruumsh. Rage is a powerful tool, but it leaves a warrior winded if they’re not careful. Grunt would still be formidable, but too much exertion and he could really hurt himself. It was then that the first creature jumped out of the foliage. At the time, I had never seen a creature like it, though I now know that it is called a ‘Timber Wolf.’ (funny thing I would learn about this world? Whatever gods were responsible for its creation really liked puns. Seriously.) What I saw was some kind of hybrid between a tree and a wolf. It was clearly lupine in shape, but instead of fur and flesh, this monstrosity was covered in jagged wooden outcroppings. It’s eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, and its snarling maw was filled with sharp, splinter-like teeth. It circled around us, it’s low growl reminding me of the sound of a saw mill, and a saw cutting through lumber. (See? Puns. Get it? ‘Timber’ Wolf? Literally a wolf made of timber? Okay, I’ll stop now. At the time, I didn’t appreciate the joke anyway.) As it took us in, several more lupine shadows began to stalk around us as well, all just outside the range of our vision, darting behind boulders, trees or bushes, always just in the corner of our eyes. Standard wolf-pack tactics. Likely, they were hoping that I, the smallest of the group, would run, so that they could chase me down. Instead, I threw a bomb in the leaders face. I know what your thinking. “Fizzle, that was a bit rash, don’t you think? For all you know, they were perfectly sentient, and perfectly harmless!” To which I respond: Screw that! You ever take on a pack of wolves before? They don’t circle their ‘happy new friends,’ they circle their prey! And these things weren’t just wolves, either... they were some kind of freaky wooden construct, made to look and act like wolves, or some kind of fey aberration, or maybe something else really scary. I wasn’t going to let it strike first, that’s all! Also, didn’t you know that Goblins hate wolves? Creepy things. Especially the wooden kind. The bomb connected squarely with the things face, it’s porcelain shell cracking, the reactants... well, reacting while the catalyst sped the process with explosive results. With a burst of splinters, the wooden monstrosity was fully engulfed by flames, howling with what I assume was the dying lament of a wood creature burning in an agony of fire and pain. “Hah! didn’t like that, did you, Fido?” There are few things more satisfying then a good fire, and I was pumped. Surely, with their alpha engulfed, the other’s would flee! After all, wolves are creatures of instinct, and are natural cowards once their pack-tactics fail. Stupid, stupid me! never, EVER assume something is easy! Against every rule I ever thought I knew about wolves, the rest of the pack attacked! One even leapt directly over the flaming remains of his friend, landing directly on top of me, while others took turns snapping at Grunt and Ruska. With a strained heave of his sword, Grunt swatted away my new friend, but this left him open to the wolf at his side. It took the opening and immediately tore a small chunk from his thigh. Ruska was faring better for the time being, but the majority of the wolf’s were on her, taking turns snapping at her as she swatted at them. Grunt angrily grasped his attacker by the throat, lifting it easily and tossing it aside, but the one he attacked earlier was recovering before my eyes. Another quick bomb took care of that, but I only had so many of those. “Grunt, buddy, I know you like to see these things through, but I think now might be a good time to exercise plan B!” I was really hoping he would ask what plan B was, but of course he didn’t, the spoil sport. “Err... plan B is get the hells out of here!” You might have figured by now that Grunt is not a runner. He was a warrior, through and through, and would see almost any fight through to victory. Right now, though, we were outnumbered and low on steam, and these wolves were relentless. Who knew how many there actually were of them? I figured our best bet for now would be to run, but convincing Grunt of this would be tough work. Two more wolves lept out of the shadows at that moment, confirming my fears that there were more of them. One of them sank his teeth into Grunts sword arm, while the other was swatted easily away with a swing of his Warbringer. Meanwhile, another of the wolves had found it’s way onto Ruska’s back, and was repeatedly gnawing on the back of her neck while she tried to shake it loose. Grunt shoved his remaining opponent away, charging toward Ruska’s side, but was instantly surrounded by three more of the beasties. With a mighty cleave, he reduced all three into splintered husks, but the attack came at a cost; the strain on his recently injured arm was just a tad too much, and with a sickening pop, dislocated a second time. Still, he trudged forward, tearing the wolf from Ruska’s back and slamming it to the ground, reducing it to lumber. Still more of the creatures were pouring out of the woods toward us. Two of them charged directly at me, and one of them went down with a fiery crack. The other was slightly scorched by the bomb, but still managed to chomp down on my shoulder, which hurt like hell, by the way. I was bowled over again as wooden teeth rent my flesh. In a panic, I reached into my pack, and withdrew a small hypodermic device, which I then jabbed into my own thigh. Pain erupted across my body as muscles bulged, skin tightened, and bones snapped and popped to deal with the abnormal mutations to my form. Thick, uneven patches of hair erupted from my arms, and my abs and arms doubled in size. A cloud began to settle over my mind as the mutagen took effect, increasing my strength but mudding my intellect in the process. I really hate using these things, but I can’t deny that they’re effective at what they do. Now, I was certainly no Grunt, even after the mutagens effects, but the burst of strength was certainly what I needed at the time. “Get. Off!” snarled a voice much deeper than my own, as I pried the wolves jaw open and pulled my arm free. Still holding the wolf’s mouth wide, I shoved one of my bombs into its throat and lit a fuse. With a kick, I sent the creature sprawling and choking to the ground, where it exploded, showering the area with burning kindling. See? I keep telling people not to underestimate me, just because I’m usually the smallest in the group. But does anyone ever listen? Nope! Not until I pull something like that, anyway. “So, as I was saying,” I grunted with my mutated vocal cords, “Ready to go yet? ‘Cuz I’m ready to go.” “Can’t go, fighting!” As he shouted his reluctance, Grunt was in the process of crushing one of the wolves with another one of the wolves. I knew this was gonna be difficult. “Yeah yeah, I get it. Grunt make squish, and all that, but we're getting our butts kicked!” I pleaded, tossing a bomb at another wolf who had decided to join the party. “Tree doggies not kicking. Biting!” Was the matter-of-fact reply. Well, couldn’t really argue with that. “Goblin man run. Run like scaredy goblin! Grunt fight!” He had one of the wolves in a headlock, and punctuated every other word with a punch. Ugg... did it always have to be like this? There seemed to be no end to the monsters, and even Grunt only had so much stamina. Both he and Ruska had several fresh wounds, and the wolves were starting to wear them down. Time to dust off the old charisma. “How do you think Daddy Gruumsh would react if you were eaten by wolves, less than an hour after starting your new quest?” “Daddy Gruumsh want Grunt to fight! Not run like sissy goblin!” Another wolf tossed aside, a nasty gash in its side. “Okay, yes. But you know what Daddy Gruumsh wants more?” Grunt didn’t answer, so I continued. “Daddy Gruumsh wants a champion. If you fall here, who’s gonna make the world burn?” Grunt seemed to consider this for a moment, knocking away two more of the wolves. “But what about wood doggies?” I had to tuck and roll to avoid a pounce. One of the creatures had made a lunge for my face, and only with my temporary strength boost was I able to hold it back. “We can... Always... Come back... For them...” The wolves teeth were sharp, and cut deeply into my fingers as I tried to keep it at bay. Something you should know about me is that I’m not very strong. Even by the standards of my people, I was pretty weak. So when I tell you I enhanced my strength, I’m not really saying much. Even now, I was probably only slightly stronger then a sick human, and the Mutagen was starting to fail. Any second now, the wooden aberration would be at my throat, and I would be a goblin shaped dinner. I watched in horror as it drew ever closer, my ruined fingers dribbling blood into its splintery gullet. Suddenly, a powerful hand had wrapped itself around my neck, tearing me (painfully) away from the wooden monster. “Goblin man is right.” Grunt said as he plopped me down on his good shoulder, giving the blood smeared wolf a swift kick to the chops. “We make Squishy doggies later. Ruska! Come!” In fact, Ruska was already there, obeying the command before it was even given. Soon, he was mounted up, and we were making good speed through the unknown forest, an army of bizarre barking wolves hot on our heels, while I coughed and sputtered at Grunts rough handling. Ruska is fast. Something about the way Grunt had raised her made her much more fleet of foot then the average grizzly bear, but the wolves were keeping pace. One of them had managed to catch up to us, snapping at Ruska’s tail and receiving a mouth full of great sword for its trouble. Yet another leapt at us from a large boulder, but soon tumbled to the ground as a yelping ball of fire. Still, things weren’t looking good. We had no idea where we were going, and the wolves were much more familiar with the woods then we were. Any second, we could find ourselves drowning in a river, or leaping off a cliff... Or bounding into a clearing absolutely littered with pretty blue flowers. Kind of anticlimactic, if you ask me. The clearing was lined all the way round with huge boulders and dense foliage, effectively trapping us. Well... so much for running. Ruska skidded to a stop, an Grunt quickly spun her around in a one-eighty, all of us ready to make our final stand. None of the wolves entered the clearing. That was either really convenient, or really worrisome.