Frank sat against a tree, checking his guns and silently saying a few prayers. He had kept up his pursuit for another hour of slow marching by the goblins and their captives, finally they were at their destination. Frank didn't have to walk inside to know it since the system popped up an update to his quest, checking off the sub-objective to find the fallen goblin's lair. Even if it hadn't done that, he could have done the math. They had gone inside one of the smaller sized burial mound-like structures. Frank could smell blood in the air with his enhanced perception, and could even faintly hear screaming every now and again.
The goblins were forbidden to go here according to the map he had stolen the other day, but apparently that didn't stop some of the goblins. They took the captives inside, some of them falling to their knees as they realized where they were going, unsure if they preferred to die before or after they got inside.
Frank made sure no other goblins were coming or going, then teleported to the ground. Rifle at the ready, he walked into the dark cavern that served as an entrance. He was hesitant to use [total invisibility] straight away if he didn't see an immediate threat. Inside, Frank found there was dull torch light. It wasn't terribly warm inside despite the fire, and when Frank took a moment to put his hand against the flames he realized they weren't even "flames" at all!
He could put his hand right up to and inside the torchlight and only feel a slight sensation like a weak static charge pushing the hairs on his wrist around. He quickly shook off the hand he was testing with and tried to grab hold of the strange flames to figure them out with [psychometry]. He had no such luck, realizing he couldn't actually grab the light, which made sense given he wouldn't be able to hold it if it were actually fire. He tried a different approach, this time touching the sconce itself. This time, it worked.
[Psychometry activated
Faerie Flame Torch: An item which pulls in spiritual energy and creates light in the form of a fire that does not burn. It is an efficient form of light used often by elves and dwarves, with very little maintenance or upkeep needed. This torch is steeped in varying traces of emotion from it's environment, from grief and sorrow, bravery and desperation, to terror and hatred.
Faerie flame enchantment: Active, half strength.
Rust cleanser enchantment: Dormant
Dungeon sensory alarm: Dormant, requires active dungeon]
'Oh my fucking God, torch alarms? This shit just gets weirder and weirder.' Frank thought to himself as he read through the description of the torch. So his guess was correct, this wasn't normal fire. Apparently it was an enchanted torch, and it confirmed that this place once belonged to the elves. But how bad of a state was this place in? The torch seemed okay, but Frank could make out bare streaks of rust all over the thing, which it had an enchantment specifically designed to prevent.
The most confusing, by far, was the last enchantment. [Dungeon sensory alarm], which put a bead of sweat down Frank's head at first until he read that it was dormant. If these torches were meant to be alarms, they didn't function that way now. They only had enough juice in them to keep their lights at half strength, so all the other enchantments must have run out of energy. Assuming that was how it even worked.
Frank wasn't even sure why the thing specified a dungeon. Surely, it meant the sort that was like a jail? Like a real life dungeon. It checked out, given that torture was often carried out in dungeons during the medieval era and in all sorts of media depicting that time period. On top of that, Frank had followed a bunch of sick, sadistic goblins and their captives here, so what else could it be but a dungeon?
But the System specifically mentioned it, and that made Frank uneasy. In video games, dungeons referred to all manner of different lairs inhabited by monsters and villains, made with the intention of fighting through a maze of difficult foes to gather treasure or achieve some sort of story objective. This was real life, not a video game. So why did Frank have a sick feeling in his stomach that he was once again in over his head?
Frank decided he shouldn't waste any more time and press on. He turned on the video camera on his chest before he continued, hoping there was still more space on the card inside. He rounded another corner and found a set of stairs. He slowly crept down them, rifle ready and safety off. If there were any goblins watching the door, they wouldn't get a very long look at him. Frank was lucky, at the bottom of the stairs there were no guards. It didn't feel right, none of this did. Frank peeked through the loose steel bars that made up a window on the door. There was enough of a view for him to see inside if he pressed his face up close, so he could teleport inside. First he activated [total invisibility] as a precaution, then jumped inside.
He looked around and found the room was well lit, candles supplemented the very dim faerie fire torches all around. From this light he noticed there were a few long tables and a group of benches, almost like picnic tables for the spookiest picnic one could hope to go on. There were also a selection of tables with comfy looking, quilted booth seats along the wall. If Frank didn't know better, and if he didn't see how many of them had large tears in them and patches sloppily sewn over, he would have thought he was in some sort of themed restaurant on Earth. One ready to be condemned by a health inspector. Frank turned around and found a bar, mostly barren save for a few half empty bottles and a group of clay pots and wine skins, still corked and wax sealed. Frank bet these were the party favors for whatever the goblins were doing down here since they were too new looking compared to the ancient, dusty look of everything else.
As if on cue, screaming issued out from an upstairs area. Frank saw the stairs that led up there beside the bar, but quickly turned around and unlatched the door he teleported through to get in here. He didn't want to have to press his face against the bars again to get out when every second counted during an escape. Rifle ready once again, he teleported upstairs through the wooden railing and began gently pressing on doors to see if one was open. He wasn't sure which one he heard the noise come from, and he wasn't sure if it would open readily when he found it.
A few doors down, he found a door that had candle light coming from under it, and it pushed open with little resistance. It wasn't locked. When Frank looked inside, he found a sight that made his blood run ice cold in his veins. A fallen goblin lay naked, straddling a tied down true goblin woman in her underwear. Her eyes were wide with terror and red from tears that ran freely down her face. Her whole body was crisscrossed with cuts, both shallow and deep. From head to toe, everywhere Frank could see, not a single part of the poor goblin had been spared. The sick monster sitting on top of her lapped at fresh cuts across her cheeks like some sort of hellish dog or monster mosquito. He whispered something to her in orgrauma that made her struggle against her bonds as Frank stood frozen. She protested back, crying and wailing as the fallen goblin held her face with one hand and began cutting a half of a "Chelsea Smile" slowly from her lip to her cheek. Frank's heart was pounding while the shrieking continued, the poor woman soon began coughing as her blood flowed from her wounds and down her throat.
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Frank couldn't take any more, he wasn't going to simply watch this woman be tortured! He stepped into the room, aimed so he would hit the cackling torturer without punching through into his victim, then fired. The powerful rifle round splattered the filthy green monster's head like a melon at close range. The bound true goblin watched with wide eyes, still struggling against her bonds and wild with pain as she tried to process what just happened. Frank wasn't going to give her any explanation, he just wanted to make sure she was out of harm's way. He took Gahnol's knife from it's sheathe and began to cut the thick cloth that bound her to the bed. She tugged her arms and legs to be sure she was free of the restraints, then curled up into a fetal position on the bed. She began sobbing and bleeding all over the sheets which seemed to already be brown with the blood of other victims, or perhaps she had been here for far longer than the new arrivals and this was all her blood.
Regardless, Frank had to give her a moment because there was now someone speaking loudly in orgrauma downstairs at the bar. Frank walked over to the railing to investigate, all but certain some goblins heard him fire and were coming to check on him. What he saw, however, perplexed him.
There was a true goblin, with a sword, shield, and a nasty look in his eye. Four fallen goblins faced him, weapons ready. Two of them had swords, and the other two had spears. One of the goblins with a sword who stood in the front turned to his friend, the other swordsman, and said something to him. The second swordsman nodded, and ran behind the spearmen and into a doorway off to the far side of the dining hall.
"Nashootow, Sanavrona na orikash. Kavit sha hobrask!" the true goblin shouted before he took a shot of some sort of liquid. Frank still had no clue what was going on, but something in his [supernatural sense] noticed a small, nearly imperceptible change in the true goblin. It was almost like his blood and muscle got stimulated by whatever was in the potion. Frank had no idea why he thought that, even as he saw a very dim glow in the area of the true goblin's stomach. Frank wasn't sure what the hell this guy was doing, but it couldn't hurt to take aim at the fallen goblins and see if he couldn't help the plucky bastard out.
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Dontil crept slowly along in the trees. He watched the traitors haul his people inside the old elven mounds, their spirits breaking before even entering the damned place. This was one of the places all the goblins were forbidden to go by the orcs. The orcs used to come here for some reason, but had long since deserted all but the biggest structure. Perhaps this was why the goblins took captives here? The orcs wouldn't think to look at a place they considered useless, or so the logic the traitors used probably went.
He watched the human appear from nowhere, his strange weapon in his hands. Just what was he doing here? Dontil had to make sure he wasn't seen by the human before he could be certain of his intentions. The lone goblin crept forward slowly, then once the human was out of view, he followed to the entrance. He stopped and listened. In the distance he heard a bird call out, then the flapping of wings. He knew this was a sign a bird had spotted something and was calling to its friends to leave, which they did with great haste. Dontil quickly made for the trees again, just in time for a lone fallen sentry to come back from his patrol around the mound. He was probably meant to be a lookout for the other fallen inside, but he had just missed the human and Dontil. Dontil wasn't sure how strong the human was, but it would be better to kill this traitor now and hide his body before he could sound any type of alarm.
With no hesitation and the practiced movements of a veteran warrior, Dontil waited for the sentry to pass by, quickly sprinted from the brush and put his blade through the heart of the sentry before his filthy yellow eyes could detect him. Dontil quickly dragged the body back to his previous hiding spot, then wiped his blade on the sentry's clothes. His final gesture to his victim was to spit on his bleeding corpse.
"May you find some peace in the mist, though you have taken all of ours in this life."
Dontil, his blood now boiling with anger and adrenaline in equal measure, walked to the entrance of the mound once again and stepped inside. The human was nowhere to be found, but torches were dimly lit all around. These torches were either the work of the traitors, or the elves who came before them and made this place. Dontil wasn't sure which, and he didn't care enough to puzzle over it. He had a daughter to save.
He proceeded down into the structure and found a set of stairs. He slowly crept down them and tried not to imagine the screams he was hearing were from Vinta. When he reached the doorway, he heard more screaming and then a loud bang.
'What was that?' He thought to himself
Before he could find something to boost himself up and peek into the window, he heard goblins running, weapons in hand.
"What was that noise? Have we got any unwelcome guests?" one of the fallen called out.
Dontil knew then that the human was inside and already stirring up trouble. He pressed on the door, his shield held high, knowing he would need to be ready to fight. Luckily, it was unlocked.
"I come bearing a message!" Dontil addressed the four goblins standing in front of him, who stared at him, unsure of what was happening.
The only thing Dontil heard other than his heart beating against his ribs like a madman in a cage was the sobbing coming from upstairs. What was this place anyway? Some sort of tavern?
The traitor leading this group turned to his ally and quickly spoke to him, "Tell the lads downstairs to start killing off the playthings, we've been found out." his ally turned to him with a confused look, but the sick smile on the traitor who issued the orders told his friend all he needed to know. He left immediately and the spearmen changed up their formation.
"Alright, filth. What is your message?" The goblin decided to play along with Dontil's opening bluff. This was fine with Dontil, who had his sword at the ready and the potion of rage ready in his shield hand.
"Traitors! Sanavrona would see you dead. Face her champion!" He quickly downed the foul smelling potion of rage, immediately he felt a burning sensation spread through his body and a surge of adrenaline bigger than any he felt before. He screamed and charged at the goblin with a sword, who struggled to react in time despite his "blessings" from the Lord of Blood.
"Don't just stand there, you fools! Help me!" the sword goblin called out while he used both of his hands to hold back Dontil with the flat of his blade. Whatever was in that potion was working, a little too well, in fact. Dontil had strength and speed on his side now, but he found it difficult to think through the haze of red anger that permeated his being. All he could think of was breaking this goblin's sword and carving him to pieces. He wanted blood, and nothing would stop him from spilling it!
The spear goblins got on either side of Dontil and made ready to begin stabbing him, but a loud bang issued out from the railing upstairs, followed quickly by another. 'What was that?' Dontil smelled blood, saw clumped shapes on either side of himself, but he still had an enemy before him.
Some sense returned to him and he realized he had a shield in his offhand. He started bashing the shield against the head of the goblin who was doing everything he could to hold back Dontil, his grip on his sword failing from the blows to his head. This wasn't how Dontil was trained to fight, but it felt good. He saw the blood on the side of the traitor's head and thrust his blade into the knife eared bastard's belly, once, twice, three times. He didn't need to, but he wanted to. Dontil screamed to the heavens and blindly charged through the door the fourth goblin had escaped through. There were more enemies that needed to be bled.
'Somewhere, Vinta has to be somewhere in here. Can't forget, Vinta.' Dontil tried to keep himself focused as the mad rush of adrenaline and anger engulfed his thoughts once again and another enemy stood before him, his blood begging to be spilled to the ground.