As soon as I reached the tree line, I activated Morph Form, shifting into my goblin guise. The transformation brought a strange sense of ease to my movements. The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves, the chattering of insects, and the occasional guttural squawks of feral goblins. I spotted a patrol within 100 meters of the settlement’s perimeter—a group of ten green-skinned creatures darting between the trees. They didn’t approach me, though; my "civilised" appearance and demeanour were enough to keep them at bay.

  I stumbled into a group of seven a short while later, and the moment they laid eyes on me, they bolted into the undergrowth. The feral ones were clearly terrified of their civilised counterparts. After that, my trek down the road was relatively uneventful. The hours passed, and eventually, the faint glow of lights appeared on the horizon.

  “Not far now,” I muttered to myself, trying to ignore the growing knot of anxiety in my stomach.

  As I continued, the atmosphere changed. The road became littered with bits of refuse—broken pieces of wood, discarded fabric, and the occasional shattered bottle. Ahead, a group of goblins dressed in absurd pinstripe clown outfits came into view. My heart thudded in my chest, and a cold sweat broke out over my body.

  There were four of them, led by a lanky figure dragging an oversized crossbow behind it. The weapon looked too large for any goblin to wield effectively, but it added to their menacing air. I forced myself to walk confidently, avoiding eye contact as I passed them. The goblins stopped to examine me, and I got about six feet past them before the leader’s gravelly voice broke the silence.

  “Oi, who are you? I don’t remember seeing someone dressed like you around here.”

  I turned slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady. The leader’s face looked like it had been smashed flat and smeared to one side, its mouth drooping diagonally, with jagged teeth spilling out the corner like an overstuffed suitcase.

  “I’m on business from the boss,” I replied in goblin speech, surprised at how natural it felt in this form. “I can’t keep them waiting.”

  The goblins exchanged sceptical glances but shrugged. Relief washed over me as they turned back to their patrol.

  An experience bar titled “deception” appeared, filled with the slimmest line imaginable.

  That’s new. I said to myself as is faded away.

  I took a few more steps down the road, ready to put the encounter behind me, when a sharp bark froze me in my tracks.

  “HEY! YOU!”

  I turned, forcing myself to move slowly. One of the underlings—a pug-faced goblin with squashed features and bloodshot eyes—was approaching, sniffing the air intently. My muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at me to be ready. If they figured out I wasn’t a real goblin, I’d have to drop the illusion and fight my way out.

  “What do we have here?” The pug-faced goblin’s eyes sparkled as it reached into my bandolier, pulling out one of my coprolite bombs. “Blue stuff! You’ve got blue stuff! Gimme it!”

  Before I could react, the goblin shoved the glowing lump into its mouth and began chewing frantically. I stepped back, avoiding its grubby hands as the other three goblins abandoned their weapons and rushed over, eyes wide with greed.

  “Hands off!” I snapped, forcing confidence into my voice. “I’ll make you a trade. Give me your clothes and weapons, and I’ll give you each one!”

  The leader snarled, slapping the pug-faced goblin across the head. “No fair! He already got one, he did!”

  I seized the opportunity, pointing an accusatory finger at the pug-faced goblin. “Oi, dog-face, you ate my merchandise. Pay up, or I’ll tell the boss you stole the blue stuff I was supposed to sell him.”

  The goblin shrieked and started undressing, tossing its clownish attire to the ground. The others quickly followed suit, shedding their striped outfits in a frenzy. I handed over a few more coprolite bombs, watching as they devoured the glowing lumps with the enthusiasm of starving children.

  The experience bar appeared again momentarily, although I couldn’t notice whatever experience I had gained.

  As they tore into their prize, I scooped up their discarded loot and slipped it into my inventory. Without looking back, I jogged down the road, my heart pounding.

  “That was unexpected,” I muttered under my breath..

  My interface buzzed, and I froze. It was a message from Milli. A cold dread settled over me.

  Milli:

  Hey, I’m in the bar downstairs. I can’t find you.

  Shit.

  I scrambled for a response, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

  Ryan:

  Yeah, sorry, I thought you guys were asleep. I’m at a different pub, it’s called ‘The Rogue’s Poison.’ I’ll be back late; I’m just meeting someone.

  It wasn’t great, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot. The thought of the inevitable conversation that would follow made my stomach churn, but it was better than her finding out where I really was.

  As I approached the goblin encampment, the forest began to change. The air grew thick with the stench of sweat, dirt, and something sweetly rancid. The first traps appeared subtly, glowing as my hazard hunter skill highlighted them—a disturbed patch of earth here, a suspicious pile of leaves there. But soon, the path turned into a winding maze of death. Bear traps with jagged iron teeth lay half-buried, punji pits gaped like silent mouths, and foot snares dangled from the low branches above.

  Each step was calculated, my breath shallow as I moved through the minefield. Shapes flitted at the edges of my vision—goblins perched in the shadows, arrows nocked and bows drawn, their beady eyes tracking my every movement. I could feel their anticipation, the collective twitch of fingers ready to let fly the moment I faltered.

  Somehow, I made it through unscathed.

  Ahead loomed a massive wooden arch, its splintered beams reaching into the sky. Crudely painted letters spelled out:

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Nobblehob’s Flying Circus

  My stomach tightened. Nobblehob. The potion vendor back in town. I knew that guy was shifty as hell, I thought, staring up at the monstrosity before me.

  A gigantic red, yellow, and blue tent towered over the encampment, its peaks stabbing into the night sky like spears. Each pointed apex bore a fluttering red flag, the fabric snapping in the faint breeze. The structure was enormous—at least 300 meters long and nearly 15 meters high. From this vantage point, it seemed endless, stretching back into the dark like a grotesque leviathan beached in the heart of the forest.

  The sight at its base turned my stomach.

  A writhing throng of goblins surged outside the tent, their mismatched forms a chaotic sea of green and brown. Hundreds of them, maybe more, churned in a frenzy, shoving and clawing at each other as they fought to reach rides, food stalls, and carnival games.

  A goblin atop a rickety cart tossed handfuls of popcorn into the air, cackling as the others scrambled and leaped for the snacks, biting and clawing at their fellows for a single kernel. Another goblin, perched on what could only be described as a firehose mounted to a giant Slurpee cup, blasted the crowd with jets of icy slush. The goblins shrieked and howled in delight, scooping the frosty sludge from the ground and shoving it into their mouths.

  The chaos was overwhelming. The sheer number of them, the speed with which they moved—it was impossible to count. My pulse quickened as I realised the precariousness of my situation.

  I slipped past a smashed ticket booth, its glass shattered and wood splintered. Beyond it, a set of rusted turnstiles stood guard, barring access to the chaotic mass. The metal bars groaned under the weight of goblins pushing and shoving against them, their snarling faces pressed between the gaps.

  From within the tent came the eerie sound of a calliope:

  “Ooommm bop bop Ommmmm bop bop…”

  The wheezing, off-key melody barely rose above the cacophony, but its haunting tones made my skin crawl. The music seemed to mock the chaos, a ghostly tune out of sync with the frenetic energy of the goblins outside.

  I craned my neck, trying to see into the tent. Its striped walls were a patchwork of faded colours, but the inside was hidden, its secrets obscured by the flickering shadows of the goblins pressing at the entrance. The tent’s scale was staggering. It looked like you could fit a fleet of buses—or something far worse—inside.

  I stayed well clear of the goblin mob. One wrong step, one shove, my illusion would fail, I’d be swallowed by the horde. The thought of wading into that writhing sea of madness sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t dare risk it.

  I circled the perimeter, keeping to the shadows. A chain-link fence stretched around the tent, its surface covered with fabric printed with a crude caricature of Nobblehob’s grinning face. The fence stood high, a makeshift barrier that felt more like a warning than a boundary.

  As I moved, I estimated the entire area to be about 500 meters in diameter. Near the base of the tent, a cluster of ramshackle buildings pressed against the fabric walls, connecting to the fence in uneven patches. I crouched near a tear in the fabric and peered through.

  Inside, a scene unlike anything I expected greeted me.

  A group of small goblins played together beneath the soft glow of fairy lights, the strands haphazardly wrapped around a leaning pole. Their laughter carried faintly on the air. Nearby, adult goblins moved with casual ease. Some stood in small clusters, chatting quietly. Others tended to babies in makeshift cribs fashioned from barrels and scrap wood. A few hung laundry on lines strung between poles, the damp fabric swaying gently in the night breeze.

  The smell of roasting meat wafted toward me, rich and smoky. My eyes followed the scent to a chimney poking out from the roof of one of the buildings pressed against the tent wall. Orange light flickered from within, casting faint shadows on the surrounding structures.

  This must be some kind of residential area—maybe for the performers? Did they even have performers? I wondered, my mind racing.

  The peaceful domesticity was unnerving. The goblins’ world felt almost… normal. But I couldn’t let myself get distracted.

  I continued my circuit around the perimeter, careful to stay quiet. When I reached the entrance again, the chaotic sounds of the goblin throng had lessened, though the occasional burst of laughter or screech pierced the quiet. I turned away from the tent and started my trek back toward the settlement, retracing my steps through the treacherous minefield of traps and hidden archers.

  The forest was eerily silent now, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Shadows stretched long and deep across the path, the moon’s pale light half-muted by a passing cloud. Each step felt heavier than the one before.

  I kept moving, carefully, my ears straining for any sign of pursuit.

  As I moved further from the glow of the tent, the oppressive darkness of the forest pressed in around me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold knot of dread twisted in my stomach. Something primal whispered that I wasn’t alone.

  I quickened my pace, breaking into a run. The settlement was only five minutes away. If I pushed myself, I could shave a minute off that time. My ears pricked at the faint, rhythmic sound of padded footfalls.

  They were close—barely five meters behind me.

  My pulse hammered in my chest. It was stalking me, waiting for me to tire. The steady pace of its steps told me everything: this wasn’t a desperate predator. It was confident. Calculating.

  I swallowed hard, forcing the rising tide of fear down. I skidded to a stop, spinning around as I pulled out Milli’s Multi-tool. The illusion around me dropped as I extended the spear to its full length, activating the blade with a soft, menacing hum. My knuckles whitened on the shaft as I braced myself.

  The beast emerged from the shadows.

  It stood nearly as tall as me, its legs thin but ending in paws larger than my hands. Its muscular frame rippled under a mottled pelt of grey and brown, hackles raised in jagged spikes. Bright yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, locking onto me with murderous intent. It snarled, lips curling back to reveal jagged teeth. The crack of its jaws snapping together echoed in the still night air.

  We stared each other down, every second stretching into an eternity.

  The wolf moved first, lunging at the tip of my spear with a flash of teeth. I jabbed at it, but my arms felt sluggish, my movements lacking the power I needed. Still, the strike was enough to keep it at bay. The beast circled me with fluid, predatory grace, its gaze unwavering.

  I couldn’t give it an opening. If I did, I wouldn’t survive.

  I held the staff in one hand, the other free, I reached for a coprolite bomb from my bandoleer, weighing the glowing stone in my palm. The wolf feinted left. I threw the bomb with all my strength, the projectile smacking into the side of its head with a sharp crack.

  The wolf yelped, jerking back as the glowing dust burst, momentarily blinding it on one side.

  I didn’t hesitate. Retracting the blade, I rushed in, gripping the staff with both hands and swinging with everything I had. The weapon connected with its ribs in a sickening crunch, the force of the blow staggering the beast.

  It let out a pained whine.

  Before it could recover, I pivoted, whipping the staff around and slamming it into its hind leg. The bone shattered with a brittle snap. The wolf collapsed, letting out a piercing yelp as it tried and failed to stand on its ruined limb.

  I jumped back, staff at the ready, watching the creature with heaving breaths.

  The wolf’s glowing yellow eyes burned into mine, but its hackles flattened against its body. Its chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, and it let out one final low growl—a warning, not a threat. Slowly, it turned, limping away into the darkness, its silhouette swallowed by the trees.

  I didn’t lower my weapon until the sound of its retreating footsteps faded completely.

  I stayed there and watched it disappear into the trees, the blue glow where it had been tagged by the coprolite the last thing to fade into the darkness. I withdrew my staff back into my inventory and started jogging down the road again, after my cooldown ended for my 'Morph Form' I retook my goblin shape. I only saw a few small groups of feral goblins hiding among the trees watching me warily as I passed by. I dropped the illusion as I approached the gate, pushing against it and the heavy door swung open with a loud creaking noise, I snapped the latch closed and hooked the broken lock into it's fastening.

  The notification for completing the quest buzzed, and I noticed I had another message from Milli but I pushed it aside. I felt invincible in that moment, I swaggered down the middle of the cobblestone streets, the lamplight glowing warmly, casting a hazy shadow as I walked under them. Not only had I completed the recon mission without being detected but I had also survived an encounter with a dire wolf without taking so much as a scratch. I made it to the tavern and ordered a drink from the Quokka tending the counter and savoured the taste as it ran down my throat, rich and sweet. I turned and rested my elbows on the counter looking over the lively scene of players celebrating, planning and arguing, it filled me with a sense of belonging. I finished my drink, tipped the Quokka five Crowns, twenty times more than the drink had cost, the creature squeaked in appreciation as I walked away.

  I went upstairs and opened the door, Sharla was sitting on the couch, arms folded. She got to her feet and jabbed me in the chest.

  "Where the fuck have you been!?"