Tale Of A Berserk Healer

Two goblins stared each other down.

The rest of the pack moved apart, sensing a blood challenge.

Boontho was unarmed, but changed. The alpha was armed with a good sword(for a goblin), yet was unevolved.

Suddenly, as if by some hidden signal, both moved.

Charging at each other, the alpha drew his sword from its banged-up sheath, striking downwards. Boontho lurched to the side, avoiding the hit as best he could, and tumbling a bit on the ground, in an awkward spin.

Boontho came back up and charged at the alpha again, only for the sword to swing backhanded at Boontho.

He leaned back as his legs widened on the ground, the sword whistling past right before his momentum threw his body back up straight and forward, which he assisted by kicking off the ground.

The leader tried to wrench his hand back in time, but Boontho was faster than he though!

Boontho's teeth dug into the leaders face, and bloodily ripped off his nose!

As the leader screamed he dropped his sword, lifting his arms in defensive panic, and Boontho rolled away, grasping at the sword and fumbling it at first.

Slowly he readjusted his grip, going into a stance similar to the one the healer from before had used.

Memories of him... the reason he's been hurt. The one who'd killed his mate, his squad.

Hate. Hatred. Bestial RAGE at a Predator being played for a fool! Small or not, Goblins were hunters of humans, the weak ones at least, and for weak, lonely prey to play them so easily was WRONG.

Not quite thoughts raced.

'Feet. Widened. Move. Grip. Weapon. Danger. Fight. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL!'

Boontho roared, a scream high-pitched as a Goblins should be, but with hints of a deeper roar underneath, not quite there yet.

He charged, blade swung overhead, and chopped heavily into the leaders arms. It stuck in the bone, and Boontho wrenched it back out only to swing again...

And again... and again.

Long after the arms were a mess, he split that skull open like a watermelon of blood.

And Boontho threw aside the blade, uncaring.

He walked to another goblin, and it cowered.

He reached out... and took its hatchet, examining it before nodding.

He walked to the center of the circle, lifted up his hatchet, and roared in victory.

And the weak humanoids bowed to their new leader.

~ ~ ~

"Here it is."

Ryth gestured up at the tree with a small hole in it higher up.

Erakin's eyes flared yellow for a brief moment as he moved his mana to create some unknown effect.

He then turned and pointed off to the side; "found it!"

The swordsmen walked towards where he'd pointed, and found the corpse of the spider, legs gone and with part of its main body eaten... and a dead wolverine next to it, mouth covered in the blue of its blood, who appeared to have died of poisoning.

"...well at least we know the main body part is definitely poisonous. Damn that's big."

Herald shot a look at Ryth. "How big were it's legs?"

Ryth reaches into his pack and grabbed one of the legs, casually pulling it out and showing it.

The Lizardman stared, along with the rest of his party.

"...were you just... carrying those around?"

"Mm."

"...why?"

"Food. I ate them earlier, so I know their nonvenomous. However the smell is something else entirely."

Recalling that scent of burnt hair from before the Lizardman slowly nodded.

"A-Alright." Herald awkwardly said.

What the heck! You cut off a random spider's legs to eat? How bad is your financial situation?

Ryth simply put it back into his pack and walked over to the corpse, face blank as he wrestled with whatever emotion he felt in seeing how he looked.

Don't cry! It's okay!

"Sigh... yeah. I was climbing that tree, and it jumped at me partway up."

The swordsmen lifted an eye. "How did you... not...?" He drew a line across his neck.

"I fell off the tree and smacked my knife at it as it leapt at me. In all honesty, I was really freakin' lucky."

"..."

None of them had any response! This guy... what the heck? Why did his monotone way of describing his near death fill me with pity?! Also the spider legs thing! What is going on man?

"Ahaha... I'm a level 2 healer without a party so my income is a bit... in doubt..."

Silence reigned the clearing.

"Anyways..."

The swordsman shook off the atmosphere hanging heavy on the group, and walked up to the tree.

"So this was its home eh?" He idly kicker the trunk, amusing himself.

"CRACK!" His foot splintered right through the thin, rotting wood, and he hastily pulled it out, cobwebs trailing off of it.

And then a swarm of spiders flooded out.

"RUN YOU F.U.C.K.I.N.G IDIOOOOOOTS!"

So once again Ryth spent nearly the entire journey home sprinting.

~ ~ ~

The mutated goblin, Boontho, sat in the outpost, a series of hidden caves in a cliff face.

It wasn't thinking... not quite... but it was beginning to be able to remember.

Rather than instinct, now previous events were becoming memories, and time was now present.

Rather than knowing "danger" by instinct from a previous experience, it remembered the danger. And with memory, comes the concept of time... of patience.

And perhaps most concerning, the ability to grow.

He remembered previous battles. The ways that human adventurers placed their feet.

He remembered watching others battle as he and his fellows watched from the underbrush.

And he remembered that one.

And he stood, and set his feet apart.

He pulled up his hatchet, and prepared.

And he practiced.

And he remembered...

"Hey there's a goblin."

"Agh another one?"

"It's on its own! Isn't that a boon though? Cause free experience!"

A sense of self crystallized, remembering the finger pointing at himself.

"...boon...tho..." a rough voice grated out of a throat not made to speak words.

So came about a name.