by Jake Daniel
“Yeah, why?” Isobel answered nonchalantly as she inspected the other weapons throughout the room.
I turned to Dahlia. “Remember that guy that I strangled with my vines?”
Dahlia furrowed her brow and then nodded. “You mean the one that almost gave us away when we got onto Striker’s ship?”
“Yes! Exactly. I’ve wondered how he survived. I saw him take a drink from a bottle or canteen right before I stabbed him. This had to be what he drank and why he survived.” I handed the bottle back to Isobel. “Let me know if you can salvage any of that. It could prove incredibly useful.”
The wolf-kin nodded and lined it up next to the other bottles as I turned back to the shelves along the wall. I searched the entire room for a set of armor and all I found was some tattered leather, and a long, sturdy length of red cloth. It was all we had left. I held the gear out to Isobel, and she held up one of the tattered pieces of leather. She handed it back to me and with a swift movement removed her thin cloth shirt with a quick tug revealing her perky breasts. They were a little smaller than Dahlia and Gwen’s but still looked great to me. What was that saying? More than a handful is...never mind, I love breasts; I don’t discriminate.
She picked the leather armor scraps up and to my surprise could cover most of her vital organs with what was there, and made it look damn good.
She slipped off her pants and my eyes dropped to her well-manicured patch of fur between her legs. Isobel looked up at me and scowled as she caught me staring and turned to the side slightly. She grabbed the pants and pulled my knife from its sheath. With a quick swipe she cut a ‘V’ into the back waistband and handed the knife back to me. Slipping them on, her tail rested neatly inside the V.
She wrapped the red cloth expertly over her breasts and behind her back, leaving a short length trailing behind her. She turned her body and craned her neck around to get a look at her new armor. “Doesn’t cover much, but it will do. Thank you.”
Images of her well-toned body danced in my head and I realized I hadn’t responded after several seconds. “Of course. If there’s anything else I can get you before we leave tomorrow, just let me know.”
She furrowed her brow and looked at me sternly. “Tomorrow? No, we don’t have time. We must leave now.”
Chapter Four
Obviously, I would not talk any sense into the wolf woman. I admired her determination, and I was getting a little antsy to leave, anyway. It was feeling like a night before a big hunt, anyway. Most times, I had to force myself to wait for morning to roll around before heading out.
We loaded our remaining gear into the cart and headed toward the gate before everyone had even left the tavern for the night. Wofferd stumbled out of the tavern and stopped as he spotted me atop the cart. “Logan West, you son of a bitch! Don’t forget your promise!” His words came out slightly slurred, and by the way he had to brace himself on a tree, it was apparent he was completely hammered.
I chuckled and nodded, giving him a two finger acknowledgement as the goblin guards opened the gate along with Brazz.
A small voice rose from behind us as we passed through. “Wait! Wait for me!”
I spun on the seat of the cart and faced backwards, only to see Fapplejack running as fast as his legs could take him toward us. I remembered what Fap’zak had said about the goblin wanting to enter the tournament. At that moment, I realized that Fap’zak intended for me to take him all along. “Get up here, Fapplejack. You’re cutting it close!”
I pulled back on the reins of the two large white horses leading the cart and they stopped with a huff. I leaned over the edge of the cart and held out a hand.
Fapplejack grunted as he jumped up off the ground and grabbed a hold of my arm. I lifted him up with ease and sat him in the cargo area of the cart. He popped back out and leaned forward, his long green ears wiggled excitedly atop his head. “Thank you Logan, sir. This is my dream. I can’t believe I’m finally going to show Aurilon what goblins are truly made of!”
“I hope you brought everything you need. We’re not turning back.” I gave him a quick nod.
“I’m set. Careful though, my primary weapons can go off at any second, without warning,” the goblin replied as he settled back into the cart.
I eyed him cautiously. “What weapons? Are you hiding something?”
He lifted his balled fists and held them defensively like a boxer. He gave the air a couple quick jabs and settled back down into his spot. “Like I said, they could go off at any second. Precious cargo.”
I shook my head and smiled. “Easy, save some for the tournament.”
Gwen laughed sweetly and rubbed the goblin’s head playfully as he straightened against the side of the cart. He nodded slowly and hardened his face. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been training my entire life for this.”
Fapplejack climbed into the back and slung his bag down next to the rest of our gear. I gave the reins a quick snap and the horses pulled forward. Gwen rode in the seat beside me while Dahlia agreed to ride in the back with Isobel and Fapplejack. Ultimately, I figured Dahlia had come to some sort of agreement with Gwen regarding Isobel. Also, Dahlia’s nature magic was a much better defensive spell than Gwen’s Sight. This way we’d be better prepared should the wolf girl force our hand.
I steered the horses out through the gate and turned back to Fapplejack. “I’m happy for you. Do you already have your strategy all planned out?”
“Um, strategy?” The goblin responded, a bit of apprehension rising in his voice.
“Hmm, let’s see,” I handed the reins to Gwen and rotated my body more to face him. “How about we start with what to expect with the trials?”
Without missing a beat, Isobel spoke up. “A bunch of over-hyped, uneducated, cocksuckers standing around in a giant circle, placing bets on their overpowered meat-bags and screaming for absolutely no reason,” she said flatly.
“Oh, I can’t wait. You make it sound even better than I’ve dreamed!” Fapplejack responded, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “I imagine it will be everything I hoped and more.”
Isobel rolled her eyes and turned to stare out the back of the cart.
The goblin’s confidence and excitement intrigued me. “Let’s say they put you up against something huge, like one of those bear-men back at the manor. What would your strategy be in that instance?”
“Oh, easy. I’m much faster than any bear-man. I only have to outrun him long enough to make him tired.”
“Okay, and when he’s tired, then what?” I prompted.
“I stab him in the heart.”
I nearly choked as his answer took me off guard and started laughing. “Alright, fair enough. What if you go up against someone with a ranged attack, whether it be magic or ammunition of some sort?”
“I dodge them long enough to make them run out of ammunition.”
“And then you stab them?”
“Exactly. Well, I punch them, and then stab them.” The goblin pulled out a small knife and showed a quick stab forward.
“Easy there, Jim Bowie. Put the knife away before you put an eye out.”
Fapplejack replaced his knife to its sheath and looked up at me curiously. “Jim Bowie?”
“Sorry, he was a famous knife fighter where I’m from. I just want you to prepare for anything. I’ll teach you a few things on the way to keep an eye out for, like one’s tells of certain attacks, or where to attack with your knife in order to inflict the maximum amount of damage.”
“Oh, Logan, sir, that sounds great. I have much to learn.”
I peered into the cart and spotted a short length of rope tied to the side of Isobel’s bag. “Isobel, may I borrow your rope there for a bit?”
She detached the rope from her bag and tossed it up front. She returned to staring out the back of the cart without a word.
I motioned for Fapplejack to come close. “Here, let me show you something.”
He crawled closer and leaned over the backrest of the seat to
get a better view. “What are you making?”
I quickly tied together a basic snare knot. One I’d used many times around my lodge back home to catch the occasional raccoon to keep it from getting into my trash. “Did you see how I did that?”
The goblin furrowed his brow and grabbed the rope. He inspected the knot and slipped his hand through the loop.
I smiled as he pulled the long end taut and tightened it around his arm. “There you go. Now, it’s your turn.”
Fapplejack pulled the rope off his arm and untied the knot. While he worked at trying to replicate the same knot, I spun back around and faced forward.
“Are you going to teach me how to tie that knot? It could prove… useful.” Gwen said with a sly smirk on her face.
I returned her smile. “Absolutely.”
I promptly taught Gwen how to tie several knots as we continued down the path toward Dunway, passing several other carts along the way. The sponsors were typically easy to spot. Most wore neatly pressed suits and bow ties and rode on the passenger side of their carts and carriages. In the cargo area of each of their carts was at least one hulking creature of some type or another, usually muscular males, many of which I’d never seen before. I easily recognized the bear-men, but there were a few that looked like lions, several with scales across their bodies, and a couple very brutish-looking ones with green scarred skin and long tusks.
Gwen filled me in on each creature as we passed and I learned that there were lion-men, dragonkin, and the ugly green bastards were orcs. Most of them were on foot, with a few carts mixed in. Each man we passed gave our cart an odd look as they spotted the three girls and the goblin riding along with me. I gave each of them a two fingered wave and continued along the path.
Everyone travelled in the same direction, north toward Kilney. When we reached Dunway, the city was bustling with activity. In front of the burned-out buildings, they had erected several tents with vendors selling a variety of wares at each one. I could feel the tension as we rolled through, with both human and non-human alike giving me uneasy glares. They stationed several guards throughout the town, although they didn’t seem too concerned with the random fights that were popping up as we passed through. As I watched them, I got the distinct feeling that none of them actually wanted to be there, or if the fighters took each other out before the tournament actually began.
“Logan, sir?” Fapplejack asked from the back. “Would it be okay if we stopped briefly?”
I noticed the goblin was holding his crotch and doing a small dance. “You know you could’ve just told me. Of course. Let’s get past a few of these tents and I’ll find a place to pull off.”
“Thank you! Oh and look...” he said excitedly.
I turned to see what he was talking about, and he held up the rope with a perfect snare knot tied into it. “Hey, there you go. Keep practicing. Once you master that one, I’ll show you a few harder ones.”
Dahlia shifted uncomfortably as we passed through town. I caught her eyes as we neared the bakery where the witch had held her hostage for years. She kept her focus on the half burned out building, her face emotionless as we approached.
I reached back and held my hand on her shoulder. She reached up and rested her hand on top of mine, moving her finger slowly. I waited until we were out of sight of the bakery and pulled the cart off the side of the road next to the frame of a burned out cottage.
Fapplejack jumped out of the cart, hurried out of sight, and relieved himself behind a small boulder. I held out my hand and helped Dahlia down. I moved toward the back to help Isobel but stopped as she stood and gave me a look that seemed to say, ‘If you don’t think I can get out of the cart by myself, I’ll kill you.’ She jumped out and landed gracefully on her feet a short distance away.
Gwen interlocked her arm with Dahlia’s and turned toward the vendors near the bakery. “We’re going to grab some food for the rest of our trip up to Kilney. Any requests?”
I held up my hand. “I’m coming with you. I don’t trust about 99% of the men we passed as we came into the city.”
Gwen reached down to her side and pulled out one of her knives. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
I shook my head and motioned the girls forward. I would not leave them alone even for two seconds with these men and monsters. I watched the women walk in front of me toward the tents, swinging wide of the bakery and staying on the opposite side of the road. Dahlia’s expressionless response to the shop on the way through told me pretty much everything I needed to know. She normally wore her expressions outright. I could read her much easier than either Gwen or Chloe, not to mention the dead giveaway of the shifting colors of her petals depending on her mood. Her reserved stare let me know that if she had the chance, she’d ensure that bakery would never come into existence again. Isobel remained quiet at my side as we neared the vendors and the gathered crowd. The sound of hurried footsteps pulled my attention behind us.
“Ah, am I too late? I was going to see if they could pick me up a few wormed pies,” Fapplejack said as he attempted to catch his breath.
Isobel’s face twisted in disgust. “Wormed pies? Why would anyone in their right mind want to eat that?”
Fapplejack’s expression dropped. “They’re my favorite. I used to eat them when I was younger, but I haven’t had one in nearly twenty years.”
I whipped my head toward the goblin and examined him. “Exactly how old are you?”
Fapplejack laughed and straightened. “Funny you should ask. Tomorrow is my name day. I’ll be thirty, sir.”
I paused and contemplated the world where I currently lived. From what I’d experienced until this point, the length of day was nearly identical to that of September on Earth. “Thirty years?”
“Yes, is something wrong?” The goblin responded as if it were completely normal.
“No, nothing’s wrong, I just expected you to be much...”
“Older?”
“Ye....no, I mean no, I thought you were younger.”
Fapplejack shrugged. “Must be all those wormed pies.”
I turned my attention to an enormous, lavish cart adorned with several golden cherubs at each corner. A skinny, almost frail man in a white suit with a bright pink bow tie pulled the cart in the middle of the gathered crowd. He tipped the brim of his obnoxiously huge white top hat. “Mornin’.”
Isobel meandered toward me and spoke under her breath as she neared. “This is a terrible man. Be careful.” In the back of the man’s cart was an enormous box or crate hidden underneath a velvety purple blanket, with a woman placed at each side. “Dragon-kin,” Isobel said, taking a couple of steps back.
The man pulled out a black cane with a shiny purple stone at the end. He looked like what I imagined Colonel Sanders would look like if he were a pimp.
He moved to the back side of the cart and flipped the rear down like a tailgate on a pickup truck. “Come on out, ladies.” He gave me a small smile as he helped each of the dragon women off the cart, kissing the backs of each of their hands as he lowered them.
The women lined up behind him, their huge tits nearly bursting out from their tight leather tops, touching him awkwardly like he was the lead singer in a bad 80s music video. He straightened his bow tie and pushed his slicked black hair back with one hand. He offered out his free hand toward me with a shit-eating grin. “The name’s Amos Moses, and you’re looking at the sponsor of this year’s tournament champion. And who may you be?”
Chapter Five
“Logan West,” I accepted his outstretched hand and gave it a shake. “Amos Moses, you said?” The name sounded familiar, and I realized it was the name of one of my favorite Jerry Reed songs.
The man nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” Amos wore thin white gloves, and his hands were small, almost feminine. I thought I was going to crush the bones in his hand as I shook it.
He pulled his hand back and rubbed it tenderly. “Well, Logan West, you’re quite the brute yourself.” He chu
ckled and cocked his head. “So, are you as excited as everyone else about my champion this year?”
“I’m sorry, should I know who your champion is?”
Amos laughed obnoxiously, playing up to the crowd. “What do you all think, should he know who this year’s champion is going to be?” He raised his arms into the sky as if he were the ringleader of a circus, trying to get the crowd to respond.
Several monsters and humans gathered around, most trying to get a view of Amos’s cart.
Fapplejack pushed through the crowd and appeared at my feet. “The only two that have a chance at winning this year’s tournament are Logan and me. You may as well pack it up now and save the theatrics.”
Amos stepped back as if taken off-guard and burst out into laughter. “A goblin as a champion?! Oh, that’s just too much.” He paused and looked me up and down for a second before shaking his head. “I appreciate your friend’s confidence, but once you see what I have in store, you are going to think twice about entering, I can promise you that.”
I stared at the man. He was obviously a good showman, but he reeked of desperation. “I’m confident in what I’m capable of. Good luck, though.”
I knew it wasn’t the response the man was looking for and it soon became obvious he wasn’t going to drop it. He stepped forward, away from his dragon women, and held his arms out to his sides. “Ladies and gentlemen, wait until you see what I have in store for you all this year!”
A sizeable crowd had gathered around his cart, curious what was under the large tarp.
Isobel shifted closer to me as Amos’s glance fell to her. He gave her a forced smile and quickly shifted his attention back to the gathered crowd. I felt her tug on my shirt slightly, as if trying to warn me of something. She didn’t need to though; I was already on guard. I didn’t trust this man.
Amos rubbed his hands together. “I’ll show you. Nymona, will you do the honors? Let’s show them our champion.”
