The answer was pretty obvious once I thought about it. The hut probably has everything I need in one stop. There’s a chance it’s empty, but more than likely, someone who knows what they’re doing lives there. Maybe a human or a monster that can defend their claim. Hopefully, they’re willing to share, but I can likely escape a hostile homesteader with my Wolf Rush dash.
I scale the sandy hills of the beach until I reach the field. Tall grass stretches from the base of the Harpy Mountain to the edge of the Charlatan Forest and its brook. A check with my Harpy Sight allows me to spot several grass nests visible from here among the rocky craigs high above, but I can’t see their contents from this angle.
Wading through grass high as my chest doesn’t slow me much; my Lightweight mark has me almost floating from step to step. My Wolf Nose catches all sorts of interesting scents as I travel. This new sense lets me detect the dozens of invisible trails I cross in passing. I imagine second and third-tier noses would give me additional information, but what I have is already impressive.
The field is home to several monster types. There’s an immature species that’s the evolution base equivalent of a Doggin, Chicklin, or Bovine. I detect three mouse-type evolutions, a bunny-type, and something else. While the rodents come in male and female, the evolution I’m struggling to identify has an exclusively musty, masculine odor.
I stay away from the latter for now. As for the rodents… hunting prey is appealing, but I keep my goal in mind.
Heading in the hut’s general direction, I climb a gentle slope to the top of a small hill. Standing here gives me an excellent view of the surroundings with my Harpy Sight. The brook is long and meandering, forming several pools along its length. I see a slick shape disturb the water’s surface after a few minutes of observation.
Turning my gaze to the forest, I find the tree line disappointingly barren of edibles. However, my eyes can penetrate a few dozen yards before shade dims my sight. A plethora of tantalizing fruits, berries, and nuts dangle just out of reach within the forest’s confines. It’s almost as if the forest is tempting me to fully enter beneath its canopy.
A grey blur attracts my attention to the east. Focusing my Harpy Sight reveals the culprit to be a Dire Wolf. I crouch down on instinct, only to feel foolish a moment later. I’m miles away! This new vision is amazing at spotting threats before they’re remotely close.
The wolf is sniffing the ground, searching for something, and headed vaguely in my direction. Is this a routine hunt? No, the wolf is going at it with abnormal intensity. Maybe it’s one of the two that caught me yesterday, upset I got away. Why they would hold a grudge, I’m not sure. The lack of a bulge between her hind legs says she’s the female.
While the field is large, and I’m not afraid of being spotted at a distance, I know I should stay on the move. It’s a matter of time before I’m scented and hunted.
I put off worrying for now. The threat isn’t immediate, so I have time to make it to the hut and decide where to go from there.
Spotting my destination from the hilltop is easy. I orient myself and return to crossing the field. The next time I stumble across a trail, I stop to get a better whiff.
These pheromones are doing a number on my system. It’s a mature bunny. I smell a Y chromosome, but their personal aroma screams, ‘little bitch.’ There must be a little wolf in me now because I’m salivating at the thought of running down this delectable morsel. Their fear-scent is driving me wild.
No, I have a mission. Hut first. I’m not easily distracted!
Another few minutes of walking pass before I hear the screech of an avian predator. Scanning the sky, I spot a falling feathery missile. Someone screams as it lands, and then the voice cuts out.
Zooming in reveals a massive shape hunched over the grass. She has a vulture head, an enormous wingspan, and disgusting drooping granny tits. That has to be a monstrous Harpy evolution. I can’t imagine Gale turning into such a terrifying sky beast, and yet…
The evolved Harpy pecks at something, lifts her head, and swallows. I glimpse a pair of legs and a mouse tail before they disappear down her gullet. I shiver in horror.
Not even the field is safe.
Then I duck as the vulture’s head swings my way. I crouch in the tall grass for long minutes before I see the evolved Harpy ascend into the sky and fly away.
It takes me a bit to compose myself. This is my life. Monsters are everywhere. No place is safe. I got a few magical marks and almost forgot God Beasts exist. And that wasn’t even a God Beast! I’ll need a lot more power before I’m safe from Dire Wolves, let alone that evolved Harpy.
Fighting a third-tier toe-to-toe is a long way off.
My heart rate stabilizes. I stop fear-sweating. Shake it off!
Rising to my feet, I resolve to reach the hut without further sidetracks.
It’s a thankfully short trek to the hut at this point. I have my eye on the sky the whole way but don’t see another Harpy.
The grass parts before me, revealing a humble homestead. There’s a well and a small garden growing potatoes, tomatoes, beans, peppers, and carrots. Someone has to be here to keep it in order, and now I know they have food!
I sniff around the area to determine who lives here. I’m immediately struck with a powerful unpleasant odor that blocks my Wolf Nose! A quick inspection reveals the scent is coming from a strange mintlike plant growing in a circle around the hut.
Pinching my nose, I cross the line of plants to approach the front door. A test whiff shows the smell isn’t as strong here. My supernatural ability is disabled, but at least I can breathe.
Bonus win for me: I think whoever lives here uses the plants to prevent Dire Wolf Incursions! I can only imagine how bad the smell must be to a second-tier wolf’s nose.
Mustering my resolve, I knock on the door.
I hear shuffling inside. Good, someone is home! Then the door opens.
“Hello?” a messy Goblin asks. Her black hair is a disheveled mess, her smock has many mysterious stains, and she has a leather pouch desperately clutched in one powder-covered hand like a talisman.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at her with a finger wave.
She scans me from head to toe, her large yellow eyes getting wider by the second as her gaze lands on my naked breasts, groin, wolf legs, and tummy tattoo. She looks like a fisherman who landed the local legend. Her nostrils flare, and after gulping audibly, she… slams the door in my face???
I hear scrambling inside, some things spilling, others crashing. The door opens again.
“Welcome, human,” the Goblin greeting me in honeyed tones is like a different person from before.
Her short hair is finger-slicked back to leave her eyes and ears unimpeded. The dirty smock is gone, replaced with a rope-belted robe that hints at a knockout figure beneath. Her hands are damp as if freshly washed and shaken dry.
She has dark green skin and huge pointy ears that double the width of her face. A single golden hoop earring dangles on her left, and she’s wearing a pair of wire-rim spectacles with a cracked right lens.
Her finger and toenails are long and sharp, reminding me she’s a dangerous monster girl despite her diminutive size. The Goblin stands three feet tall, or as the guys in town say, dick-sucking height. In my case, pussy-eating height.
I think she reads what’s going through my head because her smile deepens as she steps back to unblock the door. “Come in.”
That voice again. Not the voice of a temptress, still high pitched and nasal like most Goblins, but lower and smoother than any of the species I recall. It tickles me in a fun way.
This Goblin is much prettier than Winny and miles cuter than Skish. She has confidence in her heavy-lidded yellow gaze that I’ve never seen in a Goblin before.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I say as I enter. It’s why I’m here, after all.
The hut is a mess. I wouldn’t have expected great housekeeping from a Goblin, but this is something else. I see papers yellow with age bestrewn over every surface, pouches coated in various powders, a cutting board, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, scattered cutlery, a cauldron in the fireplace, a wooden stool, animal bones tied together with twine, jars of pickled vegetables, wood-carved runes, a bucket of water, sacks of beans, and a grass-stuffed mattress. Atop a table stands a hodgepodge of kludged together parts, including a teakettle, a trumpet, mason jars, and a lamp, forming a strange device.
I belatedly realize this is a human-sized hut with human-sized furniture as the Goblin girl stands on the stool to clear a spot on the corner of the table. She bends over to grab an empty teapot, and I’m given a veiled view of the roundest, softest booty I’ve ever seen.
“Tea?”
I swallow and clear my throat. “Yes, please.”
The Goblin girl pours the bucket’s contents into the teapot and then sets the empty pail upended on the floor. She extends a hand to show I’m meant to take this as my chair. I sit on the overturned bucket as she fishes down some of the hanging herbs with a hook on a pole.
“My name is Alex.”
She freezes in place as she’s dumping the herbs in the teapot. “Gabby.”
Resuming motion, she sets the teapot on the table and scrounges around for two mismatched teacups.
“Gabby?” She hasn’t struck me as particularly talkative.
“It’s a long story.” She proceeds to tell me anyway. “Bruke always complained about how I talked his ear off about monster evolution requirements, lost history, the origin of monsters, and human inventions. None of the other Gobbos were interested, but I needed to talk it out with someone, right? Why we’re here, where we came from, what our purpose is? All that?”
She pours the tea.
“Anyway, that’s how I got the name.”
“I never really thought much about those things,” I say as I pick up my cup. “Growing up, I was sort of focused on becoming a Tamer.”
“A what?”
I sniff the beverage, though my superhuman senses are still muted. “Is this tea drugged?”
Bringing up my occupation reminds me of my Association training. I can’t help but question any food or drink offered to me by a monster girl.
“Oh my, yes.”
We both stare at one another. Me speechless; her as if I’ve stated the blatantly obvious.
The answer was pretty obvious once I thought about it. The hut probably has everything I need in one stop. There’s a chance it’s empty, but more than likely, someone who knows what they’re doing lives there. Maybe a human or a monster that can defend their claim. Hopefully, they’re willing to share, but I can likely escape a hostile homesteader with my Wolf Rush dash.
I scale the sandy hills of the beach until I reach the field. Tall grass stretches from the base of the Harpy Mountain to the edge of the Charlatan Forest and its brook. A check with my Harpy Sight allows me to spot several grass nests visible from here among the rocky craigs high above, but I can’t see their contents from this angle.
Wading through grass high as my chest doesn’t slow me much; my Lightweight mark has me almost floating from step to step. My Wolf Nose catches all sorts of interesting scents as I travel. This new sense lets me detect the dozens of invisible trails I cross in passing. I imagine second and third-tier noses would give me additional information, but what I have is already impressive.
The field is home to several monster types. There’s an immature species that’s the evolution base equivalent of a Doggin, Chicklin, or Bovine. I detect three mouse-type evolutions, a bunny-type, and something else. While the rodents come in male and female, the evolution I’m struggling to identify has an exclusively musty, masculine odor.
I stay away from the latter for now. As for the rodents… hunting prey is appealing, but I keep my goal in mind.
Heading in the hut’s general direction, I climb a gentle slope to the top of a small hill. Standing here gives me an excellent view of the surroundings with my Harpy Sight. The brook is long and meandering, forming several pools along its length. I see a slick shape disturb the water’s surface after a few minutes of observation.
Turning my gaze to the forest, I find the tree line disappointingly barren of edibles. However, my eyes can penetrate a few dozen yards before shade dims my sight. A plethora of tantalizing fruits, berries, and nuts dangle just out of reach within the forest’s confines. It’s almost as if the forest is tempting me to fully enter beneath its canopy.
A grey blur attracts my attention to the east. Focusing my Harpy Sight reveals the culprit to be a Dire Wolf. I crouch down on instinct, only to feel foolish a moment later. I’m miles away! This new vision is amazing at spotting threats before they’re remotely close.
The wolf is sniffing the ground, searching for something, and headed vaguely in my direction. Is this a routine hunt? No, the wolf is going at it with abnormal intensity. Maybe it’s one of the two that caught me yesterday, upset I got away. Why they would hold a grudge, I’m not sure. The lack of a bulge between her hind legs says she’s the female.
While the field is large, and I’m not afraid of being spotted at a distance, I know I should stay on the move. It’s a matter of time before I’m scented and hunted.
I put off worrying for now. The threat isn’t immediate, so I have time to make it to the hut and decide where to go from there.
Spotting my destination from the hilltop is easy. I orient myself and return to crossing the field. The next time I stumble across a trail, I stop to get a better whiff.
These pheromones are doing a number on my system. It’s a mature bunny. I smell a Y chromosome, but their personal aroma screams, ‘little bitch.’ There must be a little wolf in me now because I’m salivating at the thought of running down this delectable morsel. Their fear-scent is driving me wild.
No, I have a mission. Hut first. I’m not easily distracted!
Another few minutes of walking pass before I hear the screech of an avian predator. Scanning the sky, I spot a falling feathery missile. Someone screams as it lands, and then the voice cuts out.
Zooming in reveals a massive shape hunched over the grass. She has a vulture head, an enormous wingspan, and disgusting drooping granny tits. That has to be a monstrous Harpy evolution. I can’t imagine Gale turning into such a terrifying sky beast, and yet…
The evolved Harpy pecks at something, lifts her head, and swallows. I glimpse a pair of legs and a mouse tail before they disappear down her gullet. I shiver in horror.
Not even the field is safe.
Then I duck as the vulture’s head swings my way. I crouch in the tall grass for long minutes before I see the evolved Harpy ascend into the sky and fly away.
It takes me a bit to compose myself. This is my life. Monsters are everywhere. No place is safe. I got a few magical marks and almost forgot God Beasts exist. And that wasn’t even a God Beast! I’ll need a lot more power before I’m safe from Dire Wolves, let alone that evolved Harpy.
Fighting a third-tier toe-to-toe is a long way off.
My heart rate stabilizes. I stop fear-sweating. Shake it off!
Rising to my feet, I resolve to reach the hut without further sidetracks.
It’s a thankfully short trek to the hut at this point. I have my eye on the sky the whole way but don’t see another Harpy.
The grass parts before me, revealing a humble homestead. There’s a well and a small garden growing potatoes, tomatoes, beans, peppers, and carrots. Someone has to be here to keep it in order, and now I know they have food!
I sniff around the area to determine who lives here. I’m immediately struck with a powerful unpleasant odor that blocks my Wolf Nose! A quick inspection reveals the scent is coming from a strange mintlike plant growing in a circle around the hut.
Pinching my nose, I cross the line of plants to approach the front door. A test whiff shows the smell isn’t as strong here. My supernatural ability is disabled, but at least I can breathe.
Bonus win for me: I think whoever lives here uses the plants to prevent Dire Wolf Incursions! I can only imagine how bad the smell must be to a second-tier wolf’s nose.
Mustering my resolve, I knock on the door.
I hear shuffling inside. Good, someone is home! Then the door opens.
“Hello?” a messy Goblin asks. Her black hair is a disheveled mess, her smock has many mysterious stains, and she has a leather pouch desperately clutched in one powder-covered hand like a talisman.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at her with a finger wave.
She scans me from head to toe, her large yellow eyes getting wider by the second as her gaze lands on my naked breasts, groin, wolf legs, and tummy tattoo. She looks like a fisherman who landed the local legend. Her nostrils flare, and after gulping audibly, she… slams the door in my face???
I hear scrambling inside, some things spilling, others crashing. The door opens again.
“Welcome, human,” the Goblin greeting me in honeyed tones is like a different person from before.
Her short hair is finger-slicked back to leave her eyes and ears unimpeded. The dirty smock is gone, replaced with a rope-belted robe that hints at a knockout figure beneath. Her hands are damp as if freshly washed and shaken dry.
She has dark green skin and huge pointy ears that double the width of her face. A single golden hoop earring dangles on her left, and she’s wearing a pair of wire-rim spectacles with a cracked right lens.
Her finger and toenails are long and sharp, reminding me she’s a dangerous monster girl despite her diminutive size. The Goblin stands three feet tall, or as the guys in town say, dick-sucking height. In my case, pussy-eating height.
I think she reads what’s going through my head because her smile deepens as she steps back to unblock the door. “Come in.”
That voice again. Not the voice of a temptress, still high pitched and nasal like most Goblins, but lower and smoother than any of the species I recall. It tickles me in a fun way.
This Goblin is much prettier than Winny and miles cuter than Skish. She has confidence in her heavy-lidded yellow gaze that I’ve never seen in a Goblin before.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I say as I enter. It’s why I’m here, after all.
The hut is a mess. I wouldn’t have expected great housekeeping from a Goblin, but this is something else. I see papers yellow with age bestrewn over every surface, pouches coated in various powders, a cutting board, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, scattered cutlery, a cauldron in the fireplace, a wooden stool, animal bones tied together with twine, jars of pickled vegetables, wood-carved runes, a bucket of water, sacks of beans, and a grass-stuffed mattress. Atop a table stands a hodgepodge of kludged together parts, including a teakettle, a trumpet, mason jars, and a lamp, forming a strange device.
I belatedly realize this is a human-sized hut with human-sized furniture as the Goblin girl stands on the stool to clear a spot on the corner of the table. She bends over to grab an empty teapot, and I’m given a veiled view of the roundest, softest booty I’ve ever seen.
“Tea?”
I swallow and clear my throat. “Yes, please.”
The Goblin girl pours the bucket’s contents into the teapot and then sets the empty pail upended on the floor. She extends a hand to show I’m meant to take this as my chair. I sit on the overturned bucket as she fishes down some of the hanging herbs with a hook on a pole.
“My name is Alex.”
She freezes in place as she’s dumping the herbs in the teapot. “Gabby.”
Resuming motion, she sets the teapot on the table and scrounges around for two mismatched teacups.
“Gabby?” She hasn’t struck me as particularly talkative.
“It’s a long story.” She proceeds to tell me anyway. “Bruke always complained about how I talked his ear off about monster evolution requirements, lost history, the origin of monsters, and human inventions. None of the other Gobbos were interested, but I needed to talk it out with someone, right? Why we’re here, where we came from, what our purpose is? All that?”
She pours the tea.
“Anyway, that’s how I got the name.”
“I never really thought much about those things,” I say as I pick up my cup. “Growing up, I was sort of focused on becoming a Tamer.”
“A what?”
I sniff the beverage, though my superhuman senses are still muted. “Is this tea drugged?”
Bringing up my occupation reminds me of my Association training. I can’t help but question any food or drink offered to me by a monster girl.
“Oh my, yes.”
We both stare at one another. Me speechless; her as if I’ve stated the blatantly obvious.
