Chapter 1

The Blader set his great sword down and decided to make camp for the night. He had misjudged the size of this forest when he first entered, having hoped to reach the other side before nightfall, but the trees just seemed to go on and on, and the sun was sinking behind the horizon quickly. Highway men were said to roam these woods when the moon was high in the sky, but the Blader was not a small creature by humanoid standards, he even dwarfed a few monsters, so felt he had nothing to fear. Let them come, they would be in for a rude surprise.

After a few moments he had a nice fire built and stretched his hands to absorb the warmth. The flames danced. The air above it shivered and waved and distorted from the heat.

Sharp ears and trained senses alerted him to the distant snapping of twigs beneath clumsy footsteps. A highway man? A bandit? Or perhaps a fellow traveler, lost in the labyrinth of wood that stretched to the skies, nearly bloating out the moon's light. He stood and pulled his sword closer, resting the grip on his thigh. At a moment's warning he could spring to action to cut down any hostile. For how large the Blader was and how great his sword, speed was not lost to him. Not the speed of the ninja or the elves, but the speed of a trained swordsman, who could use his blade as dexterously as most could use their fingers.

He listened, the cackles of the fire accompanied by the clumsy steps that grew louder and louder, closer and closer. Most bandits sought stealth, to slit their victim's throat when they slept. And though most bandits failed miserably, they at least tried, yet these footsteps seemed blatant, as if the stranger wanted to be heard. Perhaps a highwayman then, but it didn't sound like the clip clop of hooves. Perhaps he was just being nervous, and it was just a fellow traveler.

The brush parted and a portly, green skinned gobliny fellow came stumbling in. He was quickly joined by four or five more, all aesthetically similar, each with their signature bloating and sagging stomach and beady eyes. They were identical save slight differences in height and battle wounds: scars and blemishes on their leathery skin, one was missing a red eye, another an ear.

The Blader watched them sharply, carefully, sizing their strength and grit: would they duel to the bitter end or flee the moment they realized he was not willing prey. He guessed the latter. Goblins were notoriously lazy and cowardly. They would swarm and attack when they commanded an advantage over their opponent, but if their foe was of greater strength they would flee like terrified mice.

"Your gold sir," the shortest goblin said in surprisingly good speech. Usually they used broken tongues, but some had brains between their ears, and were able to speak with some dictation.

"I have no gold," the Blader said. "All I have are my rations, my armor, and my blade, and you will not be having any of them."

"Oh, come now," the goblin said. Gesturing with his hand, his comrades spread out. They outnumbered the Blader, the poor bastards, for that gave them an unwarranted sense of strength. "Have a heart. We were ambushed by this bastard when we were sleeping, beat my men to a pulp. Morale is a little low, and I'm going to be needing a little something to keep my men happy."

The Blader swung, the thick, strong blade slicing through the lead goblin, so cleanly his heart beat four times before his top half slid wetly to the ground, a look of confusion spread across his pained features.

"Leave," the Blader said again.

The goblins stumbled and crawled over each other, each desperate to escape to the relative safety of the brush. He let them go, not bothering to chase after them. Even if he were to kill them, not much good would be done in the world. There were always more goblins, more bandits, more highwaymen, mor dragons. Kill them and another took their place. He cleaned the foul smelling blood off his blade and set it back down. The goblins actually smelled worse when alive than dead, but the corpse was still rank with rot. He threw the corpse of the goblin into the fire, watching it burn with mild interest before settling back down onto the log. The odor still lingered, but it was at least deadened by the flame's embrace.

The Blader slept lightly, something he had learned to do long ago. Deep enough that his eyes could rest and his mind could relax, but still alert enough that he would wake should anyone approach. If the goblins decided it would be wise to try again when he was asleep, they would be in for a rude surprise. This time he wouldn't settle on just a show of force.

There were people who could move with such stealth that even he wouldn't notice, so he was only mildly surprised when his eyes opened and he noticed the man sitting across from him. He wore heavy armor, similar to the Bladers, yet not quite as concealing. There were noticeable holes in the plate: at the joints, the inside thigh, the knuckles and wrist, the throat. He was armed with a duo of swords, one worn on his belt and another on his back, the latter significantly larger than the former.

The Blader casually took hold of his own sword and lifted it, resting it on his shoulder and standing to his full, impressive height. The victor would be determined by the skill of the two fighters, he knew that much, but any man who said that a being of greater stature didn't intimidate him in the slightest was a simple liar. "Good morning stranger."

The blonde man smiled. "Good morning, dragon slayer. You wouldn't have happened to see a bunch of goblins come by here, would you?"

"Yes, a little after sunset."

"You wouldn't have happened to kill any of them?"

"Just one."

"That means there are still five left. Pity, I doubt I'll be catching up to them. Goblins run faster than a steed when they're afraid. Where are you headed, dragon slayer?"

"The Hunting Grounds, to the north."

"Have some business with the Harpies?" the blonde man asked.

"You might say that. I've been looking for an old friend of mine; the Harpies should be able to aid me in my search."

The blonde man stood up. "Then good luck to you, dragon slayer. I'm sure you know, the Harpies can be quite disagreeable. Be careful, my friend." He stood and gave a slight bow, before starting off after his goblin quarry.