Jexnog was the first of the Thumpers to wake up. For his hand had unfortunately wandered in his sleep and attempted to scratch upon his missing jewel, with the resulting ach from the phantom organ rousing the Hebdican from his fitful sleep in pain.

The first thing that Jexnog noticed was that has was sleeping on a mattress that was placed on the floor in a some sort of well-kept barn or unfurnished house. The dim orange light from the only window indicating to the boy that it was nearly evening, judging by the yellowish hue of the twin-light. Honestly, it was quite the step up for what he and his comrades have had to put up in their “adventuring” as of late.

Then panic kicked in as he sought to locate the rest of his crew. But the fear he felt quickly subsided as he noticed that the twins were sharing another mattress nearby with Metilda and Deitric sleeping on a mattress of their own not too far away. Then as he felt relief flood him the Hebdican finally noticed that there was another stranger in the room.

The tiny stranger was seated in small wooden chair that was the only real piece of furniture in the bare abode, with her face enigmatically hidden in the shadows cast by the dark corner she sat in.

“Morning princess,” spoke the little stranger before the goblin swung her legs forwards and hopped off the chair that slightly creaked in protest.

Jexnog first felt fear, which mixed with his immature survival instincts before the both of them drove the boy to get up and defend himself. But his limbs failed to respond to his commands as they feebly flopped about.

Frustrated, but seeing that he and his crew were definitely at the mercy of this foreign goblin woman who now revealed herself to be bound in hunting leathers, Jexnog kept his mouth shut and only grunted in frustration instead of shouting and possibly aggravating his captor.

“You got a good head on you kid, but I wouldn’t be’goin about and wriggling all over the place like that, it’s only going ta make the Delock poison go runnin through your systems all over again… hehe” warned the Goblin woman as she casually strutted over to the prone Hebdican youth. “Speaking of the fruit, who the fuck told you kids to go about eating random shit like that?”

A tiny spark of a irritatingly intangible memory flashed in his mind, as the Hebdican boy realized he had seen the goblin somewhere before. He grunted in frustration as he sought to recall the name of the woman he had somehow recognized, but his foggy memory eluded him at the very moment.

“Ahh remember me now do you? I’m Fissink of the Sundered Blades,” declared the goblin proudly as she came to a stop beside the mattress that Jexnog lied upon.

“Eurghhh..sorry..my lips, I don’t recall any of those names,” moaned the Hebdican boy as another throbbing pain began to blossom in his midriff.

Fissink sighed as she began fiddling with one of the many tiny leather pouches that hung from her belt. Her diminutive height made it so that she was barely taller than the prone Hebdican boy even as she was standing up and giving the boy a clear view of her hand as she extracted whatever she was trying to find.

“You heard of Dorian? Tall wood-elf? Handsome and friendly but thick as shit?” asked Fissink as she produced a few small dried leaves. Then upon seeing the look of realization come over the boy’s face, made her shake her head in annoyance for their crew used to be well renowned amongst the steel tiers of adventurers in Paulflint. But everyone only every remembered Dorian instead of their band name or anyone else in for that matter; with his ridiculous do-gooder personality, handsome face and fair skin along with his need to speak his mind in nearly every opportunity. It was as if he was destined for greatness. But Fessink just found him to be a great pain in the ass most of the time and funny sometimes.

“Here take these, don’t be making that face I’m no trying to poison you, you git, it’s just some purgatives… to help you pass out the brew fruits you all ate,” explained Fessink. But Seeing that the young Hebdican was still wary and shying away from the leaves that she offered freely, she decided to just drop the batch beside his head.

“Take it when you feel like ye got some strength in those slime-arms ye got there, and I’d recommend ye go out to the bushes to do ye business after cause the outhouse is pretty much belongs to my band now…” suggested Fissink with a sly grin that revealed her sharp pointed teeth.

“Eurghh.. why?” Jexnog struggled out before licking his dried cracked lips in some fruitless attempt to sooth his parched throat.

“Why am I helping ye, ye ask?” asked the goblin trapper in a half-turn as she strutted back to chair with lithe predatory steps. “Well it’s easy, cause it’s a chore given to me by someone from the village ye see.”

Seeing the look of confusion that added to his slightly pained face and creating a whole new look of pseudo-constipation left Fissink more annoyed as she rolled her eyes in frustration.

Why’d I have to deal with an idiot of all things? Couldn’t one of the other gobbo kids wake up first instead? She complained to herself before clicking her tongue.

“Well ye see, WE the Sundered Blades were also drifting about from place to place.. looking for levels and things to hunt up until a few weeks ago, just like you kiddos… if a bit less homeless lookin’ then you lot,” explained Fessink as she briefly paused before taking a backwards leap that sent her back up onto her comfortable perch on the chair.

“Then when we came upon this weird little village of Pancreedy, we first thought it was so funny how no other bands that came hunting round the Whiperwoods or passin by this way ever mentioned of it … but it made so much sense when you think about it,” she continued with an evil smile. “No adventuring hub, just a little town full of over-powered old timers and I betcha a whole gold one that the Gnorkling head will no doubt be sending his son over to give you a contract like ours.”

Seeing the Hebdican boy’s both left eyebrows raise in confusion, only caused the goblin woman to giggle maniacally to herself.

“Exactly what we thought, heeheee,” spoke Fissink half to herself. “Oh it’s weird alright and the pay’s absolute shite and seeing as ye kiddos are still prably, what? Still bronze .. am I right?”

Then upon seeing his reluctant nod she continued, “ Well then ye probly gonna be getting a stip-, stipur-, stuplation! Yeah that’s the word… anyways its going to be so that ye’re expected to go out with the hunters in the village and go bring back about three bronze beasties per week, free of charge for the village.”

Fissink then only smiled and nodded at the look of annoyed confusion on the boy’s face, for no self-respecting adventurer would ever be expected to risk their life and hunt a beast or monster of their own level, free of charge.

“Well that’s going to be the payment for the board and food.. yeah I know the headman’s a total scalper but here’s the catch, the blacksmith here takes care of ye gear, the silver ranked hunters do all the tracking and the heavy lifting, the guards do the hauling, whilst they cook and clean for ye, plus ye get to keep whatever else ye hunt for yeself AND that’s not even the best part,” explained Fissink as her smile grew wider and wider once she saw the realization starting to dawn on the face of the Hebdican.

“Not only is this a training paradise, but if ye go round doing some lame-ass chores for the villagers… then you get a chance to get some tips from some of the retired monsters about the place,” she continued with glee as she watch his two sets of eye grow in disbelief.

“Wha-eurgh-what ranks are... are they?” Jexnog struggled out as he was dying to know how large this treasure trove was.

Fessink only shrugged as she sat half hidden in the shadows before leaning forwards to expose her yellowed shiny teeth.

“Well that’s the thing, we don’t even know, but our defender Dunnock’s a steel whos nearly level fiftyand he said most of his skills leveled up just for spending an afternoon drilling about with the village boys under the Strongarm Leonid woman and all he had to do was some weeding along the roads into the village kid, WEEDING,” spoke Fessink as she tried to hide her growing excitement.

“But, but that’s impossible…” replied Jexnog. For even the young adventurer knew that the price of a gold-ranked trainer was so exorbitant that if he and his crew scrimped and saved for months, they would still not be able to procure such a service for themselves.

“Ye got that right kiddo, and the thing is.. these geezers are surely to be higher than gold, and what we’ve been able to find out is that there’s a defender, a huntress, and I’m sure the one-armed Pantherian is some short of blade class and a then there’s that Bearkin who’s some sort of axe wielder,” Fessink listed off the finger from one hand.

“But then the thing is…. there’s even of more of them monsters for production classes here, just littered about all over the place,” spoke Fissink with her voice laden with wonder. For she found it truly amazing how a village out in the middle of nowhere could be peppered with so many elite classers. “Well even now I’m sure that even ye can see why none of the other bands ever spoke a pip about this place, eh?”

With the Hebdican being slow to nod back in understanding for he was feeling a mixture of awe, happiness, pain and still quite groggy. But even as nauseous and slightly poisoned as he was, he knew that the Deitric Thumper’s fortunes have finally turned.

“Well saying that… I hope you can understand that if ye choose to upset the goodwill of the fine village-folk and ruin the reputation of other adventurers, such as my band the Sundered Blades then we might come to a little.. disagreement,” joked Fessink with the thinly veiled threat as she hopped of her chair before heading for the door. “ Now that I’ve done my part and giving you the heads up, mind to share the herbs with the rest of your lot when they wake up and remember, do ye business in the bushes and NOT in the outhouse cause we’ve painted it up all nice and good, and dug out all the old shite inside.”

The goblin trapper then gave a tiny little flick of her hand, as if in farewell as she stood in the doorway with the orange sunset outlining her tiny figure. She then closed the door behind her without even sparing a backwards glance back at the Hebdican boy on the bare mattress on the floor. With Jexnog smiling weirdly along with the constipated look on his face as more of his band started to rise from their fitful slumber.