Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair

"Anyway, this is the situation. We were robbed of everything. It would only be more and more dangerous if we stayed any longer," the old man said in a low voice. "So this morning, after receiving today's relief, my wife and I hurriedly left the town of Fromm and set off to go home."

"We are all too old. We can't eat or drink much. We collect some dew, catch some insects, pick some bark and grass stems... Even if life is a little harder, it is better than being beaten and scolded over there."

The old man said it bleakly, but this was also a forced choice. Who doesn't want to live a little better? It's just a forced choice.

"I'm sorry to hear this," Ron couldn't help but sigh after hearing the two old people's experience, "but I'm afraid the supplies we have on hand are not suitable for your appetite. Even if we want to help, we are willing but unable to do so."

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Raw plasma and roasted meat cubes are not suitable for normal elderly people, let alone people in such difficult times.

"No problem, no problem," the old man waved his hands repeatedly, "We didn't expect to meet anyone when we came back, we just wanted to spend the rest of our lives in the village. Now we can go back to our own home and have a good sleep, thank you already!"

The two elderly villagers walked to the next house with staggering steps, and Ron also let Driver take over his shift, and he also wanted to go back and sleep a little.

Although it was not a big deal for young people like him to stay up until one or two in the morning in his previous life, but he had to get up early tomorrow to travel, so it was better to rest early-unless they planned to rest in the wild tomorrow night.

Ivy in the house had also woken up. The ointment effect faded and the noise outside just now made her nervous and unable to sleep. It was not until Ron entered the house that she fell asleep again with peace of mind.

The next morning, Ron knocked on the old man's door. After getting the exact location of Fromm Town, he set off with Driver and Ivy.

The wilderness of this world is full of dangers, so the distance between settlements is usually not too far, and it can be reached in half a day or a day on foot. For the town of Fromm, where the old couple set out early in the morning and arrived at night, it would be much faster for Ron and his three companions to travel on foot.

The sun had just passed overhead, and Ron climbed a hill and looked down to see the town called Fromm.

From a distance, it is located on the bank of the river called the Leven River, surrounded by green hills. A three-meter-high neat stone wall was built on all sides. A magnificent two-story mansion was located in the center of the town, at the intersection of the streets. The red tiles on the building were shining in the sun.

Looking inside from the hill, you can also see shops, taverns and many pedestrians on the street. Although it is not as prosperous as the city where Ron lived in his previous life, it is a lively scene.

However, when Ron's eyes fell on the outside of the city, he saw a different picture.

It was a refugee camp, with simple fences and makeshift tents distinguishing it from the town of Flåm. Countless people from different villages and regions who had escaped the disaster gathered together, waiting for daily relief from the town.

When Ron and his friends approached the camp, they saw that the tents were crowded with homeless people, their clothes were tattered and their faces were haggard. In this temporary camp, lacking basic living facilities and clean conditions, people can only rely on the limited resources provided by the town to survive.

There were all kinds of smells in the refugee camp, with dirt and stench intertwined. Scarce water and inadequate sanitary facilities led to the spread of diseases and infectious diseases. Limited medical resources meant that people were at risk of illness and injury, but could not get timely treatment and care.

In this environment, a suffocating atmosphere permeated the camp, and people's eyes were full of helplessness and despair. Some people wandered aimlessly in the camp, looking for a glimmer of hope and help, while others sat quietly aside, silently enduring the suffering they had experienced. And there were some people who broke into tent after tent, crying and begging and cursing as they took away almost all the supplies inside.

"This is just like our nest." Driver wrinkled his nose. He was a goblin, but that didn't mean he liked the crowded, dirty and chaotic environment. If possible, he hoped that he could at least have a separate room like the boss, and have subordinates and servants to provide him with three meals a day and all his daily needs.

"Keep your voice down," Ivy warned in a low voice, "If they find out you are a goblin, we will be in trouble."

Driverdo rarely refuted the half-elf. This was no longer their goblin territory, and he was just alone.

"Yo! Look what this is!"

Although the camp was chaotic and disorderly, the arrival of Ron and the other two obviously attracted the attention of some people. Just as they were looking around, four or five strong men blocked their way.

These people were slightly different from other refugees here in terms of appearance and physique. Regardless of whether they were men or women, they were all over 1.8 meters tall, with broad shoulders and strong waists, and most of them only wore a leather coat made of thick animal skins.

In addition, their hair and beards were full of various braids tied with rubber bands.

The group of people who stopped Ron and his friends seemed to have just looted a tent. They were holding all kinds of daily necessities and food in their hands, and were looking at Ron and his friends with a bad face.

They came from the north.

Ron smelled the cold smell on them. Even though they had escaped so far from that icy hell, the smell still did not dissipate.

No wonder they dared to fight here. They were the strongest, most ruthless and fiercest guys who had survived the most extreme environment. Even when everyone was in a bad state, those ordinary farmers were simply unable to fight them.

"Are you new here?" The middle-aged man in the lead was probably two meters tall. He looked down at Ron and spoke in a very poor common language. "Do you know the rules here?"

"Rules?" Ron took a half step back cautiously. "If we want to talk about rules, I would rather talk to the manager here."

"Manager?" The man from the north laughed out loud, as if Ron's request was so ridiculous. "There is no manager here at all! I, Harlek from the northern wolf tribe, have the final say here!"

"Now, hand over everything you have, and then go to the relief officer of this town and give me all the food and water you can get! Otherwise, as long as you are still here, we will beat you three times a day!"

"Once in the morning, noon and evening!" A tribesman next to Harlek growled in agreement, and at the same time made all kinds of strange and terrifying expressions and movements.

The other tribesmen were even more excited, and it seemed that they were about to treat Ron as a teething stick.

Ron: "...Oh no, I met a real barbarian!"