First Quest
The young boy walked through the increasingly familiar halls of the ancient fortification.
His first week here, he was allowed to acclimate himself to the keep. He had already familiarized himself with where the dining quarters and lodging were.
He was beginning to get used to the weight of the helmet that had been gifted to him.
The woman, who insisted to be referred to as his 'Founder' had been treating him well the past few weeks since his arrival. She had been ensuring that he had been fed and had begun to teach him a new language.
She had called it "Mando'a", the language of which her people, and by extension, his people, spoke throughout history.
Only recently, he had been given a set of weighted plates to wear around during the day. His mentor had called it 'ik'aad beskar'gam'. He could only guess that it probably meant armor, but he was uncertain at that.
When he was younger, he always talked to his friend about how he would be clad in full plate, and how it would be marked with battles past, but never once considered how much armor could truly weigh.
Upon reaching the doorway, he pushed the door and entered the room.
In the center of the room was a fire pit, and right in front of it was the familiar brass-gold helmet with small horns.
"You are late." Her voice echoed throughout the empty room.
"I am sorry Founder!" He quickly apologized, bowing towards her.
"I will not condemn tardiness, for it is sometimes unavoidable, however, I will not condone it either." She beckoned towards the mat directly across her, in front of the flame. "Now, come sit with me."
Obeying her invitation, he quickly made his way to the mat, matching the posture she had.
"Today I will part to you, the tenets of our people." She looked back at him. "The Resol'nare."
…
His mind wandered back to the present.
Just beyond the hill was the cave. Had it always been there? The inhabitants of the hamlet believed so, for none could remember a time where it hadn't existed, but at the same time, could not recall when it came into existence.
The Frontier was everchanging.
Such was the nature of this very world they lived in.
No one race from the fleeting Rheas to the enduring Elves could've mapped the entirety of the Four Corners.
Goblins had claimed the cave as their home. Were they around during the downfall of the Demon Lord or wild creatures?
He supposed it didn't matter.
The facts lay before him as follows: Goblins appeared, stolen crops and some livestock, and grew even bold enough to kidnap a woman whilst everyone slept.
A common tale. He thought.
He had arrived the previous evening and immediately asked for information regarding the guilds posting.
As he entered, young kids followed him, never having once seen an adventurer and many of the townsfolk skeptical of his being.
Who wouldn't be? After all, he was a stranger to this town on a job.
He spoke with the village elder of the incident, having been told where they had found footprints unlike any creature within the perimeter of the humble stead.
He asked to see the site, and so they let him.
Shreds of clothing strewn about, and quite clearly, a small scuffle before five sets of footprints dragging something with them.
When he asked how long ago this happened, the response was that this had occurred days prior.
And now here he was, watching the cave with rapt interest. He lay hidden amongst the undergrowth of the forest. The sun had long past its zenith, working its way towards the treeline. He had been here since the hours before the sun itself had risen.
Goblins had trickled in and out of their cave, sometimes to relieve their bowels, and sometimes to switch the guard.
One group of three returned with recently pilfered meats from somewhere. However, upon dropping said meat, the offending goblin was beaten to death.
As was to be expected from pillagers and despoilers.
The cave guard was as followed; two goblins at the mouth of the cave, their gear relatively shoddy and worn, the changing guard handing off their gear to the next. It seemed that these goblins cared little for guard duty, choosing to stand and sleep with their spears as rests.
Next to the spot where the goblins had relieved themselves stood a strange mound of bones, with the skull of a cow on top.
This was interesting, although he had no idea what it meant.
As time went by, it was clear that there always were two goblins at the mouth, and with every changing of the guard, the two had not noticed him and were not likely to anytime soon.
He recalled of what his sister had parted unto him. As a hunter, one would need to be skilled to hide in their surroundings, lest the hunted notice them and flee.
His father had been a great hunter, though he never got to see it firsthand.
Now the sun began to sink past the tree line, darkness beginning to take over the forest.
It's time.
He arose from the undergrowth, his body somewhat stiff from inaction. He quickly noticed that the two goblins were not at the mouth of the cave, perhaps they had finally grown tired of standing watch?
Regardless, it should make his entry easier.
After some movement, he felt ready to continue. Finalizing his equipment for this mission, he prepared to stash whatever he wasn't using in a tree.
He looked to the cave, and realized that he could barely see a few feet into it, and wondered whether or not he should use the lantern.
In darkness like this, his presence would easily be noticed if he was walking around with a source of light, but at the same time, he remembered on the day he learned the enemy he hunted could see in the dark.
It only mattered that he needed to see them.
Pulling out the lantern, he grabbed his fire starter and lit up the lantern. He attached it to his hip and tightened the shield to his left arm. The shield added slight weight to his left side, but nothing that he couldn't deal with.
He would need to adjust his fighting style to accommodate.
As he walked towards the cave, the darkness once covering the area was now visible.
Drawing his blade, he exhaled as he steeled himself for the unknown.
…
His helmet despite having a dral'miit inscribed in its cap to make it easier to see through the narrow visor and having the source of light hanging from his hip, the darkness around him was still a threat.
Te daworir. He mentally cursed.
Even the cave itself reeked, almost finding it too difficult to breathe. He should not be surprised that these creatures lived in their filth.
K'atini is probably what his Founder would tell him. The smell of decay and death was something a warrior would have to get accustomed to, Mandalorian or not.
Forcing himself to breathe through his nose, he nearly retched aloud. The sooner he got accustomed to it, the better.
Then he heard it: A shuffle, no louder than a whisper.
Sword at the ready, he slowly advanced, and it wasn't long before a goblin charged at him.
"GROBARB-!"
It cried out as the durasteel Beskad bisected the ugly thing from the waist.
"GROB!"
Another jumped at him, the monster gaining considerable air for its size. Without the proper time to prepare himself for another swing, he lifted his shield up.
"GROBGRAB!" It snarled as it attached itself to his shield, looking to stab him.
He fixed this problem by rushing into the nearest wall, and the goblin was caught completely by surprise.
"GRAA-!" The green menace chocked out as he drove the blade into its body.
His eyes stared directly into the dying goblins, the life fading from its yellow orbs.
They were at least aware I was here. He pulled his blade out, giving a quick flick, blood and viscera spilling on the floor. The light? No something else…
Within the silence, he could feel the wind behind his back. His eyes quickly widening in realization, soon looking down at his armor.
A rookie mistake. He mentally admonished himself. Hunting below ground truly was different than above. They must've smelt the metal… when these two don't report back, they'll be upon me.
Taking out a torch, he pushes it towards the flame of the lantern. Once lit, he tossed it forward, providing him with some more light.
Setting down his lantern behind him, he steeled himself for battle. He waited for his enemy to meet him in battle, his chance to strike back and kill those who had wronged him, his chance to avenge his sister.
Do not get ahead of yourself. He exhaled, looking down at his Beskad, most of the blood gone. You are here to do what you have been trained to do.
The sounds of footsteps and garbled speech could be heard echoing off in the distance. Looking back up down the tunnel, he could see what he believed to be a small horde.
To fight. To kill the goblins.
In this horde, was at least a dozen of the green monsters.
To any other warrior, this would undoubtedly prove challenging.
However, faced against a Mandalorian, this was simply a slaughter.
With precision strikes, he easily made quick work of the horde, arms, and legs flying as he pushed forth. His Beskad easily tore through the unarmored targets that attempted to bar his advance.
Another five goblins revealed themselves from the shadows, but upon seeing him and his blade covered in gore and viscera of their brothers, they moved to retreat deeper into the cave.
They are going to flee. He made a tactical assessment of the situation. I cannot allow that to happen.
He was about to give chase when he heard heavier footsteps moving his way. Once more preparing himself for a fight, he noticed a large silhouette in the shadows on the edges of where the light touched. Soon a few more little silhouettes followed right behind it.
A larger goblin?
Stepping into the light, revealed to him was a goblin taller than he was.
No. A hobgoblin. And more goblins
With their hordes bruiser having revealed himself with help, it seemed that these goblin's confidence bolstered tenfold, looking back at him with fury and hate.
Not a problem.
As the second group moved forward, he knew he could not take them all at once.
First, the hob dies!
Launching his sword over the heads of the goblins. There was a collective cackle of humor as they had believed he had missed them.
But it struck its desired target, the hit proving critical. The Beskad dug deep into the hobgoblin's throat.
The sounds of their wanderer choking on his blood broke the momentum recently afforded to them by his arrival and before they knew it, the intruder to their nest was before them.
Right arm outstretched; he spoke.
"Tracyn-Goorar."
The dral'miit inscribed on the piece of armor hummed to life and immediately a thin sheet of flames flew forth from his gauntlet.
This was a parting gift from his founder.
Whatever remaining goblins were present no longer posed any threat as they were consumed by the plume of magical fire.
Once the flames died down, to his frustration, it seemed that two of them were out of range and were running off.
Pulling out one of the recently bought daggers, he threw it at the closer of the two, managing to hit in the back. However, it seemed to be an ineffective hit, for it did not even slow it down as it retreated deeper into the tunnel.
This engagement is over. He looked to his gauntlet, where two lines remained. Two more uses, then it will need to recharge.
Stepping over the charred corpses of goblins, he made his way to the hobgoblin. With some effort, he managed to retrieve his Beskad from the corpse.
Looking down at his blade, he only realized the amount of grease and blood coating it.
Need to wipe it off. A blade in this condition was a liability.
Reaching for a rag from his pouch, he heard something rustle behind him.
His reaction time was too slow and soon he felt a blade pierce his right shoulder. Dropping his Beskad, pain exploded in his shoulder. It only took seconds after the initial stab for him to be coughing up blood.
"Wayii!"
The boy exclaimed through the pain as he attempted to punch the goblin off.
Having found joy in his suffering, the vile laughter and cackling soon echoed off the cave walls from the offender as it clung onto his back. The pain only got worse as it twisted the blade in his wounds.
Pain ever-increasing, he found it hard to think, even more so to formulate a proper plan, but he knew if he did not come up with something fast, death would be a certainty.
Bowing his head down, and using whatever strength he could muster, he whipped his head back up, violently hitting the goblin right in its head.
With a dazed grunt, it could no longer properly remain grappled and fell to the ground.
Turning to it, he could see it attempting to back away. The goblin itself was already wounded, and it attacking him now was an attempt of retaliation.
Using his shield, he began to pummel it, and it didn't take long to fully cave its skull in with said shield.
Must've been playing dead. He thought once he was sure it was dead. The wound on its chest must've not been too deep.
With a sigh of relief. He tried to use his right arm but soon learned that it would burst with pain if he tried to move it. For his left hand, using his shield as an improvised weapon had caused some discomfort, but nothing he couldn't handle.
Soon he felt weary and more fatigued than he should, collapsing against the wall. From the stab in his back, he could feel an increasing chill spread throughout his body as he slid to the ground. Freeing his left hand, his shield fell to the side as he reached over his right shoulder to remove the dagger.
Bringing it up to his visor, he could see an unidentifiable liquid coating the areas that had not dug into his back.
Poison.
Weary, he reached into the pouch he had purchased at the guild and grabbed first the antidote, not caring much for its bitter taste as he drank. The second was a health potion, which would help alleviate some of the damage done to him by that stab.
That's better. He thought as feeling returned to his right arm and the numbness slowly faded.
Slowly getting up, he looked around. Flexing his right arm, it felt a bit stiff, but it would certainly work if he needed to fight more now.
I need to be sure these goblins are dead.
Pulling out a dagger, he began to finish off whichever goblins which could reasonably be still alive. A quick stab through the forehead ensured their deaths, and only a couple of minutes later he looked deeper to the cave.
That ambush took a lot more out of me than I thought… I don't know how many more goblins there are…
Looking at the hobgoblins body, and an idea was formed.
…
The chieftain was rather angry, as he had been partaking in the spoils of raids prior when two of his minions had busted into his throne room to tell him something beneath him.
"Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!" They cried, snot and tears running down their faces.
If he wasn't planning on throwing them at his problems, he would've zapped them without another thought.
However, from what he could gather from their confusing and jumbled-up accounts, he quickly brought himself up to speed.
It seemed that an adventurer had burst into his nest to kill his minions — alone at that.
This adventurer was a fool, such a shame that it was a man-adventurer. But with fewer mouths to feed, this one should provide food long enough for him to replenish today's losses.
Gathering up the remaining forces, he figured he should reassert his superiority and dominance of this nest by handling the issue personally.
Six disposable minions and himself were all that was left.
Sitting upon the throne litter, he got to see a clear view of the destruction that this adventurer had wrought upon his perfect nest.
Charred corpses of goblins and it seemed that their wanderer had been killed too.
A pity, he was one of the reasons they had been prospering, but he would never openly admit it to the horde.
His minions complained about the burned smell of their brothers, but he knew they would care less when they feasted upon their remains later. This wasn't the first time a goblin was charred here.
The chieftain took a whiff of the air and he could smell what his minions could not; fresh blood followed by a potion. This intruder was wounded.
Wickedly smiling, victory was almost a certainty now. He could see the green moon's light shining upon from outside the cave, and this wounded thorn in his side would soon be dealt with.
If they hurried now, he could get back to business as if nothing had happened.
Gesturing with his staff, he ordered his minions to move out into the 'morning' light.
Without hesitation, three of the six moved forward to pursue and weaken him further so he may finish them off once and for all.
He could never expect what would happen now.
Their wanderer crashed from high above, killing those three charging out.
He curses his previous praise and decides to forever remember him as the troublesome wanderer he has always been.
Finally, he orders his remaining three to charge, a spell already brewing.
…
It seemed that his ambush had partial success, but the rest was now up to him.
Jumping down from his spot, he could see another three goblins charging directly at him.
Lifting his right arm, he once again recited the dral'miit inscribed on his gauntlet.
"Tracyn-Goorar"
A loud roar erupted as the flames engulfed the three goblins charging directly at him. It could be considered overkill, however, he needed to be certain they'd be dead.
Suddenly, he could feel his hairs standing up straight as if something was brewing. From the cave, a similar hum of energy that his gauntlets give off could be seen, and it didn't take another second for him to take cover behind the body of the wanderer.
With a crack, a thunderbolt shot forth, striking the corpse.
He would've never thought that goblins could harness the arcane, a mistake on his part. The spell is stronger than he anticipated and although the corpse took the brunt of the attack, the excess force landed on him, sending him flying a couple of feet.
He was still fine physically, however his right arm seemed worse for wear now, finding it more difficult to command it. He could feel the pain course through it, and it would find itself inflamed with more if he forced an action unto it.
A direct hit could outright kill me. He could already see it preparing for another spell. I need to end this fight fast.
He ran from his current spot, a dive roll allowing him to narrowly avoid the second shot. The spell flies off and hits a tree, singing it.
I don't know the specifics of his spells. Through the pain, he unstrapped his shield. I know what I need to do.
While running the goblin cast its spell once more, the thunderbolt seemingly going to land this time.
Halfway to its target, the warrior threw his shield at the thunderbolt, and an explosion of electricity occurred, throwing up dust and dirt everywhere.
Using this opportunity, he rushed straight for the goblin spellcaster, unsheathing his Kal.
With a leap, he clears the dust clouds, and before him, he recognizes the surprised and taken aback eyes of this creature.
It hastily attempts one final spell, but the distance between his Kal and the spellcaster is too close, and it penetrated straight through its chest.
The air being thrust out of the monster's lungs and blood beginning to pool at its wound, it weakly lifted its hand, a futile attempt to cast another spell.
So he pulls his Kal out of it and stabs again, this time between the eyes.
Once the life fades from its eyes, he takes a moment to catch his breath.
That should be all of them. He slowly rose, looking around. Should count them up…
And so, he walked through the battlefield, counting out how many goblins there were by their heads. He was sure to double and triple-check that they were indeed dead, piercing their skulls and throats, whatever to ensure they would not be getting back up.
He retrieved whatever gear he could, and counted overall twenty dead goblins. He was able to retrieve his daggers and lamp, but the shield wasn't going to see action again.
An unknown amount of time passed by the time he reached what was the deepest part of this cave.
He did not immediately understand its purpose, it simply being a large opening. The ceiling was high above, and he soon felt the wind blowing in and out. Was it a natural formation or created by the vermin? It did not matter at this point, but what did was a woman in the middle of it.
Despite his exhaustion, he rushed towards her side, his lamp's light shining onto her, bound by chains. As the light illuminated the area, he could see that she was covered in filth, bite marks, and other marks of unknown origin.
If he recalled the details correctly, this was the woman reported missing from a week prior.
"… Are you alive?"
For a moment, he feared the worst, but it soon became evident through the gentle movement of her chest up and down, she was still breathing. A sign of life if he had ever seen one.
She was now rescued, but her life was now in shambles like a bottle shattered.
"…"
He kneeled beside her and checked for any more wounds, anything needing immediate treatment. True, he was not that knowledgeable in the arts of healing, but if there was bleeding or an infection festering, he knew how to delay the worst.
After he was done, he knew that there was nothing left he could do for her. Would she have been happier if she died rather than rescued in this state? A foolish thought, how could being killed by goblins be a better outcome?
He could only hope that she would be able to recover from such a fate, but life is unpredictable.
Eyes scanning around the room, he made sure to look for any traces of goblins. Sure he believed to have killed them all, but it didn't mean that there were any left.
Then he approached an altar made of human bones. A pale imitation of something more regal, but he understood it was a status symbol. But maybe…
He then kicked it down, the bone construct tumbling into rubble, and behind it was a hole, most certainly goblin made.
Peaking in, he found his goblins.
They were small, huddle together, chittering in fear, tears in their eyes. Were they begging for their lives?
He gazed at them, cowering from him.
Tiny goblins. Children. Goblin children.
When all the other goblins left, they were probably told to hide here and wait. He could see it easily.
He cocked his head, his mind now caught on what he should do. He stood there for a long moment, completely enthralled by the conundrum before him.
The vast library at the mountain fortification had no clearly defined answer for a situation like this.
From what he was taught by his Founder was that by their Creed, he should not leave them to whatever fate awaited them, regardless of where they were found.
His eyes still on them, he could see them picking up rocks, taking an all too familiar stance. One of resistance.
He took a deep breath in, and then let it out. The increasingly familiar scents of this cave were already making themselves more prominent in his mind, mixed in with the more recent scents of rotting flesh and waste, and the earthy mud.
Then looking around once more, he could faintly hear the near-silent breathes of the village girl, who was robbed of everything but her life.
With a slow nod, he made his decision.
"Twenty-five"
A clean swing from his Beskad was all that was needed.
…
He had dropped off the village girl at the town and stayed an extra night at the cave to ensure that he had not forgotten any of the vermin.
Once certain that the cave was cleared, he began his travel back to the guild, along the all too familiar dirt roads.
As he walked, strangers parted, avoiding him entirely.
He wasn't entirely certain why, but his current appearance could be a reason. He hadn't had the time to properly wipe down his armor, and much of his equipment looked worse than they were.
On top of that, he carried himself with such an exhausted gait, one might assume him to be a walking corpse.
The boy was unaccustomed to the actual labors of a real quest than the training he had been put through on the mountain.
But at the end of the day, the quest was over, and goblins had been slain? This was a victory was it not, having survived and saved a life? Could it even be considered such a thing?
He had killed animals before, but he this new sensation of having taken twenty-five lives. It was an entirely different matter; one he probably wouldn't get used to.
So why did the hollowness in his chest not go away?
What did destroying this one nest get him?
Nothing.
Nothing had changed.
As if the destruction of one nest would've made things right in the world.
It was naïve for him to even think so.
His mind wandered back to the quest.
Although he completed it, there was so much that could be improved on.
For starters, his Beskad's effectiveness against goblins was proven. It was a short sword by all accounts and its increased weight made it perfect for more armored targets, however therein lies the issue; goblins were mostly unarmored, and the increased weight makes swinging more risk than reward.
His armor once again proved itself invaluable, however despite the increased protection it had, there were still a few openings these goblins could take advantage of. He would need something like fine chainmail.
And getting a shield against his better judgment had proven invaluable. He had been trained to fight with his Beskad in his dominant hand, and his Kal in his off-hand, but the added defense proved worth it.
And the reinforced pouch protected his potions when he had been ambushed, and while still on the topic, antidotes proved invaluable when goblins used poisons.
Strategy was also something he needed. This success was only possible due to some improvising, but now that he has a better idea of what he is really up against, he needed to take full advantage of tactics.
It was one Mandalorian against many goblins.
If he could kill them, he wouldn't be killed. An absolute truth of this task.
Think, plan, attack… and more training. He would have to adapt some of the lessons learned to cave fighting, as that is the preferred dwelling of his enemy.
There was no way that this would guarantee a flawless quest next time, but it would increase the likelihood of him leaving with fewer wounds. And it would contribute to the times after that.
It couldn't end with one or two nests. No, it couldn't
This was simply te nartimir. The Sol'yc nari. The beginning and the first step.
It was Skira akaan.
I am going to kill all of the goblins.
"I said wait!"
A familiar voice brought him back to the world around him. His head tilting up, he was unsure if it was directed towards him, but if it was.
He stopped moving, and a second later he felt a hand on his right arm.
Slowly, he turned around, and before him was a pink-haired girl.
He remembered her from a few days prior, she had a staff of sorts and was herding cows. She had frozen up when he had accepted her gratitude, but now she seemed like she wanted something?
But there was something more to her, wasn't there.
Her rosy eyes looked straight at his crimson, although he knew she could not see his face. She looked at him catching her breath as she seemed to have been chasing him. He did not break eye contact, and a tense moment of silence overcame them both. Her eyes were filled with a hint of longing, but there was something else there…
Hope?
"Er, um…" Her voice was shaky, nervous even, causing her to break eye contact.
From what he could tell, she was certainly out of her comfort zone, the meekness returning to her. He did not say anything as she tried to find her voice.
But just a moment ago, he felt a deep connection, one he hadn't expected from a stranger.
"Hey, you." She finally spoke, doubt and uncertainty lacing every word spoken. "You remember me… don't you?"
His eyes widened with recognition as he finally understood.
This was not a stranger, far from it.
This was her.
Translations (intention; literal meaning)
Beskad- Traditional mandalorian shortsword, 45 cm in length and to anyone unaccustomed to mandalorian culture, it could easily be mistaken for a machete.
ik'aad beskar'gam- child armor; lit. baby armor
dral'mitt- word of power; lit. power word
Te daworir- the stench; lit. the reek
K'atini- Suck it up; also mean 'It's only pain'
Traycn-goorar- Flame thrower; lit. fire throw
Wayii- A curse phrase, whichever one you think fits in best; lit. Good grief! General exclamation of surprise, good or bad.
te nartimir- the beginning; lit. start
Sol'yc nari- first step; lit. first move, step, action, act
Skira akaan- his crusade; settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal) + war
So here it is, the next chapter! Sorry for the delay, schools been busy and I've really needed to take more time to focus on that, so progress on stories has been minimal.
Responses to reviews:
B123: Yeah, I feel that. I do plan to have flashbacks to be the primary source of Mandalorian knowledge and all that. There will be changes to his interactions with people, but I'm considering keeping him relatively the same, but maybe be more receptive to change? Still havent decided tho. And I do look forward to writing interactions between GS and HEA, it will be glorious.
Radji: No, Grogu will not be here, however I have expressed a possible interest in making a one-shot about Din Djarin and Grogu interactions with Goblin Slayer.
Austin: He's still gonna be quite mechanical, but like I said in B123's response, its likely that he'll be more receptive to change like that. After all, he is still carrying that trauma. For Mandalorians? I haven't rightly decided, a big maybe on a single one aside from the Armorer, but for the most part, they tend not to be out there. If (and hopefully when) I write into the main series, then they'll be at least an arc with them.
Fourtyfourb: I haven't gone into the pairings too deeply, since Goblin Slayer is only 15 at this time, but the foundations for some pairings will be worked upon here.
MegaLegends29: I don't doubt it either, but guns aren't widespread (A bit of a spoiler past this point for the LN) and if I recall they're pretty much exclusive to the deserts in the east, so realistically he wouldn't be able to get his hands on it within year one.
Guest: Thank you! And to answer your questions, he will fight things other than goblins but not intentionally, and like in Austins comment, maybe one other in Year One, but it's up in the air for now.
That is all the responses to all the questions. I hope all you readers stay healthy!
If you haven't already, be sure to review and follow, favorite if you are so inclined, but other than that take care!
-Moonlight Talon of the Night