Corvayne could have sworn he had heard the caged goblin just speak. He looked over to Grunt, who was checking for neck pouches. Wick didn't seem to have noticed either. Well, this was a wrinkle.
The goblin with his own cage was watching them with a tired expression. Corvayne picked out a few key differences in it's appearance. Some of the monsters wore crude loincloths, and they did make tools. This one had armadillo skin pants and what looked like a fur-slug pelt as a shirt. He had posture, an expressive face, and his eyes were clear... if miserable. Corvayne walked up to the lone goblin.
“Oh great, hey hey! I'm not a monster! Don't stick me!” The goblin put his arms up. “Not a monster! See? I surrender.”
Corvayne looked at him. “You can talk?”
“... Holy shit you speak goblin!?” The little green man grabbed the bars. “Look, I don't know what happened but you GOTTA get me outta here. I'm not a monster! My name is Mosh Trickyclax. I went to bed in my nice apartment on my leather recliner, I woke up a week back and suddenly I'm naked on the dirt in the middle of a pack of feral goblins. Every time I tried to get away other goblin packs would start chasing me! Are you from the HAF?”
Wick looked at the goblin. Corvayne could see Wick was unhappy... perhaps she also felt guilty. “Corvayne... this one is trying to talk to us.”
“I understand him perfectly.” Corvayne looked back to the cage.
The goblin looked pleadingly at Corvayne. “Tell the lady I'm friendly. I'm harmless! I'm a nobody! Wait, no... I'm a big deal! I can pay you guys back if you help me get home!”
He turned to the group. “He's asking for help. Also, the others were 'feral' according to him.”
Grunt came over to look at the caged goblin. The goblin's ears dropped and his shoulders fell. It seemed to Corvayne that Grunt's huge form was universal in how it scared anyone smaller then him.
“Hey, tell the big guy I'm a good one? Please?” Mosh puts his hands up.
Corvayne held a hand up to let the goblin know he wanted to speak. “I will try to help you. First, I will free you from the cage. Just know if you attack us, it will likely end badly for you. Step back a moment.” Corvayne pulled a hatchet out and applied [Chop] two times then stepped back, giving Mosh time and space to come out.
“Oh thank you! Ah ha ha, it's been a nightmare... look. We gotta split, there's a big goblin that's been leading those guys you killed.”
Corvayne looked at his black spearhead, then back at the goblin speaking to him. “Is he intelligent?”
“I think so... but he's got a screw loose. There were humans that wandered in and he's been capturing and killing them.”
Corvayne looked to the others. “We are aware that people came in here and died. I removed the ambush at the entrance.”
Mosh nodded. “I think there's more then one ambush, err, entrance... you guys look more modern then the other group that got caught.”
Corvayne let Wick poke him then turned. “What's he saying?”
“There might be a group captured by a big goblin. The larger goblin is possibly sentient, but responsible for this in some way...” He gestured with his spear.
Mosh nodded. “Yeah, he showed up around when I did I think. I ended up the 'shaman' of this pack.”
“Have you spoken with him?”
“No, I tried! He was speaking a language but it was just gibberish to me, then I had to run when he sent a whole pack after me! Look, I'm just a handyman... I don't got money here but I'm well off! If you can get me to the HAF they'll pay...”
Corvayne shook his head. “I'm sort of lost too. We are in The Collective. You are the first non-human I've ever spoken to.”
Wick heard that and took out her Camera and took a picture. First, Mosh put his hands up. “Gun!? Oh, photo.” He struck a pose with both arms on his hips. “Take one where I'm ready!” Wick understood Mosh was posing and obliged.
Corvayne waited for them to finish their selfies before he made his call. “Ok. Here's what we are going to do. We're going to go find the big goblin and subdue him or kill him. If he's taking prisoners alive and they haven't been mistreated we do everything we can to do the former.”
The goblin starts to panic. “Look, he has two hundred goblins following him. He's like, 10 feet tall! How the hell are you going to fight that many? The big guy alone...”
Corvayne was a little offended. “Find a choke point. Hit one to get them blowing horns. Me and Grunt sit there mowing them down.”
“The big one is the problem. They listen to him and he's been clearly making plans...”
“We have Mister I and Wick. I'm not going to lose that much sleep over him dropping dead if he's capturing and killing people.” Corvayne stood up and talked to the others.
The goblin was rubbing his hands. “Well, wait... what do I do while you're fighting?”
“You can hide or help us. I understand you're not used to fighting. However, helping free prisoners or avenging them will carry weight with us in terms of figuring out how we can help you.” Corvayne took a side glance over to Wick as he spoke and saw her nodding. He smiled a little at that.
Mosh groaned. “Ok, but you understand I'm a craftsman right? I build really nice things for people's coffee tables. I don't even HAVE to do that, work is optional where I live.”
“I'm Corvayne by the way.” He offered his hand to the Goblin.
“Corvayne! Uhh... great name buddy! I love it!” He shook it.
“I appreciate you lying. Thank you.”
“Is he being sarcastic? I can't tell.” The goblin looked to Wick.
She shrugged then pointed at her ear. “I have no idea what you're saying.”
“Me too lady. Hey, She'd be pretty cute if she took those glasses off. You want me to make her a nicer pair?”
Yes. PLEASE. “Not now. We need you to lead us to their camp. Aside from that, you decide what you're going to do. Keep in mind I can't trust you entirely.”
“Oh hey no no no I get it! Trust, but verify, then thrust if it's a bust. I'll stay back! No problem!”
Corvayne thought about it. He should have the little Goblin tied up while they verify what he was telling them. It was possible everything he had said was a lie, and if he wasn't up at the front it put him where he could hurt Mister I or Wick before Corvayne could react.
“Lead the way.” Corvayne motioned.
The goblin had been smiling and nodding as he took a first step and then back, turned, ears down. “In... front?”
Corvayne folded his arms. “Were you watching us fight?”
“I saw the big guy clubbing goblins. What happens if his aim gets sloppy?” Mosh gestured to the tree trunk laying in the ruins of several goblins that met their end under it.
Corvayne shrugged. “He's got your back.”
Mosh looked at Grunt. Grunt grinned.
“Oh god. Hey, HEY! What's he eat? What do you feed him?!”
After a little (lot) of Corvayne insisting that Grunt was safe to be around, the goblin pointed out where the other goblins had hidden their shiny stone that turned out to be a large rough emerald. He then lead them across the cube to a root that curled in corkscrew downwards to the top of the next cube. The next cube had forest and brush covering most of the surface. Grunt immediately ripped up another tree and made a club out of it with a few sharp snaps. A little ahead of Grunt, Corvayne walked into the shade. Mosh was talking nervously while Corvayne kept his eyes on the trees to the sides and limbs over head. They were about fifty steps into the brush when he slowed Mosh down with a tap to the shoulder.
“This is where I'd ambush anyone if I was a goblin.”
Mosh held a hand up. “They get simple requests, but I couldn't get these guys to make weapons or give me stuff to craft better spears with. I only got these clothes because they don't care about the hide of baby armadillos, just the adult's for armor. Same with Furlugs.”
Corvayne gave Mosh a level look. “You are stating there's no ambush.”
“If there is, that would be double BAD because it means they are getting smarter. I saw the boss ordering em around, but besides getting them to camp somewhere, hold as long as he's there, or attack... that's what I've seen. They are not screaming and running at us. Plus, I have pretty good eyesight...” He took two steps forward and Corvayne sighed and tugged the little goblin backwards by his fur-slug shirt. That saved him, as two Goblins dropped, spears skewering right where Mosh was stepping a moment ago. So he either was lying and just got betrayed, or more likely he was so sure of what he said he would have gotten impaled.
The goblins that had been waiting in the tree might have been a little smarter or better directed then the feral packs, but they just yelled and charged after the ambush failed. Their spears had broken jumping, so Corvayne just skewered both of them. Mosh was shivering. “Oh god, I'm going to die!”
Corvayne didn't have time to reassure him. “If we fail, yes. So, help me spot more goblins.”
Wick pointed and a green orb flew out of her finger, knocking a spindly goblin out of a tree. One stood up and shouted, then slipped and fell twenty feet to the ground on it's head, neck broken. Moments later, more shouts and the underbrush started shaking as more forms started to push through it.
“We fall back to before the vine then fight our way forward. Mister I, please watch our guest.”
Mosh just turned and ran back for the path. Grunt and Corvayne back-pedaled, jabbing out as goblins came running at them in twos and threes. On the path ahead, they could see more massing. Corvayne stopped them on the rise meeting the vine. Enough room was behind them to step back, and there were no trees right above him to worry about getting dropped on.
Wick stepped out of Mosh's way. Mister I had his bow ready, stopping the goblin from going further. Mosh held his hands up and turned around. “Easy old guy! Mosh has enough holes in him! Oh god, this is a nightmare.”
Corvayne and Grunt took up a position before the root. If they couldn't hold they could step back onto the more dangerous but narrow way back. “Wick, pick off anything that tries to go around.”
“Right. I got it!!” She sounded nervous, but that was fine. They had picked a good spot.
“Grunt... here they come.”
Grunt nodded and smiled, grimly.
Previous fights were packs. Even when standing against twenty alone, they would come in waves of three or so. Before him was a wave crashing through the brush and scampering at him on the path. He wouldn't say he was completely calm: he had never fought so many enemies before. But having a formation helped.
The wave of green was steps away when Corvayne activated [Cross-Skill: Shield wall], the phantom arc of spears killing a dozen goblins in the two seconds he maintained it. It was worth the strain: The little goblins had to stumble over corpses in the way, and he and Grunt had more time to deal with the press of monsters. The large man swung his tree back and forth once, knocking the crowd backwards and stalling their momentum while also breaking limbs. Then, he grabbed the tree sideways, and heaved it into the mass, bowling monsters over and breaking goblins in a cacophony of horrible cracking noises. Corvayne stepped into the gap and activated [Cross-Skill: Circle of Death], shadows following his spear once again, absurdly cutting the monsters apart even with his haft. An arc of bloody parts scattered in his spear's wake, only slowing the waves of green screaming humaniods scampering at him.
Grunt activated a skill for the first time as Corvayne stabbed two on his side: Both baseball bats flashed out three times, killing six goblins. [Beatdown] could help thin out their numbers but Corvayne stuck with his spear, Jabbing and using [Cross-Skill: Sweep] to keep the goblins at least a few feet away when four or more would crowd in. He took a few jabs because he couldn't stab everywhere at once. The ones with the spears had enough reach that they could prod him from the line of bodies forming. Goblin arms were short and the crude weapons they had didn't help them slice too deeply. He grunted as an axe slashed his leg, and activated [Cross-Skill: Thresh]. His spear became shadowy as it raked the ground in a cone in front of him. He almost stopped fighting to gawk: shadows were clawing the goblins he had sliced, the little figures falling, bleeding, then dying as black limbs from the ground grabbed them and started twisting and clawing them.
No, it wasn't just the ground.
The shadow was coming from him, and it snapped back and he felt something weird: A third arm, materializing from his left side, darting out six feet like a spike to skewer a goblin in the neck. Then moving like smoke around to his right side to whip a spear away. He could feel the impact of each, but forced himself to focus on spear work. Could he use the hand? It was helping him...
He did a one-two stab, and two goblins were rushing him with spears. He had both hands on his spear, then the shadowy limb drew his fire-breathing dagger for him hilt first, letting him one hand jab with his spear, then jab the other monster in the neck and hose the goblins behind it in dragonfire as he gripped the pommel and willed it. Those first two crumpled over dead immediately, with him igniting a whole wave of them. The monsters didn't stop rushing him, just tried to go around the stream of fire. Corvayne didn't want to cripple himself so he let the effect fall after a few seconds of buying them space. His shadowy limb took the knife as he grabbed the spear with two hands, then sheathed it and faded back into him. No time to think about it, every goblin he killed another was right behind them. The flaming pile of dead monsters had goblins still leaping over it, howling with mad fury as he and Grunt stabbed and crushed. Grunt cracked a bat and threw it into the pack, knocking a monster down screaming and holding it's face. He just drew another one and kept his tempo, goblin blood and teeth flying as he slammed head after head. Corvayne was taking deep breaths, spear blade flashing out as he forced himself to not reach for his skills more then needed. He started to fall into his own tempo, the spear dance. Fire and smoke he ignored, just slaying anything that came running out of the flaming pile.
There was a huge goblin in the thinning crowd, holding a double bladed staff as it slashed away a smoking pile of burnt goblins. The monster was at least ten feet tall, it's frame muscular but lean. Ok, call it a hobgoblin maybe? It barked something and the goblins stopped rushing, spears held out and shouting and barking, but moving out of the way. Sometimes not fast enough, the huge creature knocked a few aside, almost certainly killing one that slammed into a tree. It might be intelligent but Corvayne's hope of perhaps reasoning with another goblin was diminishing fast.
“Well... well... well... little humans.” It snorted. “Good. Running out of fresh meat. Beg for your lives and I might make you my-”
“Thank you.” Corvayne interrupted, eyes locked on the monster's yellow sickly pupils.
“What?”
Corvayne had been tensing his legs while the monster strolled over. He sprung into a charging [Storm Thrust].
In a moment he closed the 20 feet and his spear surged forward. He was aware that, in many of the stories he had read, this is where the hero would fail. The clearly bigger and stronger monster would be too tough, or parry, or dodge, and suddenly the brave hero would be on the back foot. Corvayne, however, was not trained to have dramatic fights. If they happened, as was the case with the dragon who was a good match for Corvayne, so be it. But the big monster was open. It was like the big foot ambush: It probably could kill him if he stood still, but it was just slow and fragile for it's size and he somehow knew it was the right time to just alpha strike it before it had his measure. He saw his spear wedge itself into the huge green monster, blasting it off it's feet, spear driving through tough muscle into it's heart. He stepped back, blood pouring out of the wound he had made. The huge goblin was trying to process it.
“Impossible... no human...”
“I don't care what you think. You seem like a real piece of... work.”
The other goblins watched their leader slump and fall. Once he was dead, they sort of just turned to the group, started screaming, and ran at them. With about thirty left, Corvayne and Grunt finished most of them off, with some help from Wick. At the end of the fight there was silence, punctuated only by fires burning where he had torched bodies and a few goblins who were on their way out, weakly snarling.
Mister I, per their request, watched Mosh the entire time, bow held utterly still as the old monk hummed. “Oh, did you finish already?”
There were still goblins in the woods, so they moved carefully. Thankfully whatever command the leader had faded. Instead of waiting to spring ambushes, the small clumps of resistance would just attack mindlessly as soon as they saw anyone. Corvayne was testing his new arm: the shadowy limb was clumsy with swinging weapons, but could hold, slap, or skewer. He couldn't figure out how it made a patch of shadow, perhaps it was unique to [Thresh]? He then thought of the gate from the weird blue landscape. Was it a passenger he picked up from the gate? A gift? Or a curse? Well, it helped him stay out of a tangle of monsters. So far so good.
Corvayne felt the hand waving at something, and Wick was behind him. It... seemed to have it's own mind? It offered a hand with two fingers and a thumb to Wick, which she shook. He felt her hand and it's warmth through it.
“It's very soft... did you grow an ectoplasmic limb?”
“It just popped out when we were fighting...” He could give it specific directions, but if he just left it alone it sort of folded itself on his back. Grunt flexed near it, and the arm came out and imitated him. Mister I held out some jerky to the limb, and it took the meat, held it up, twisted it as if examining it, then handed it back to Mister I.
Mosh came over to see as well, and seeing the hand the goblin laughed. “Wow! I'm jealous! That's the kinda power I'd love! Can't tell you how many times I'd say 'I could use another hand! Sadly, all I got were duds”
“Powers? Duds?” Mosh and Wick were flanking him. He felt Wick doing something with the hand and turned. She scolded him. “Don't pay attention to me! Keep talking to the goblin, I want to see how well it responds when you're distracted.”
Corvayne felt he needed to speak up for their new green follower. “His name's Mosh. Mosh, Wick.”
Turning back to Mosh, the goblin looked a little confused and started making hand gestures. “You know, like breathing fire, being able to jump really far, shooting webs out of your palm... everyone gets three powers. Almost everyone. Some people are freaks with way more. ” Corvayne felt the hand gesturing out of his back as Mosh spoke and tried to not pay the shadow limb any mind.
“I can make weapons act like other weapons, but aside from the hand I've never seen anyone use powers.”
“Well, you used a fire breather power during the fight, right?” He was paying attention to Mosh but was also pretty sure Wick just licked his shadow hand. What the hell was wrong with her?
“I have an item that does that.”
“Well, the item has a power and you borrowed it. The weapons thing sounds right. But yeah, watch.”
Mosh held his palm out and something granular started to flow from his palm in an arc, landing 10 feet away and forming a white pile on the dirt. “I can shoot salt! Totally worthless!”
He put his palm on the ground. The dark blue soil started to bubble and became grayish blue mud. “I can boil minerals down into mud or clay. It's slower then a real mining ability and leaves crap you gotta haul away. Nearly useless.”
For his last trick, he put his hands together, and formed what looked like a soap bubble. “I can make a glass bubble. Any contact with it and it shatters outward. Given the shards, I've barely used it.”
“They all seem to have an earth theme. Perhaps there's some synergy to them you and I cannot see? Can you make a shield with the glass bubble? Or fling it at something then use the salt shot to shatter it...”
Mosh held up a hand. “I know you're a battle maniac but slow down. I'm a craftsman. I build things up, not tear em down. Also, with people who just fling lightning a dime a dozen, who wants to do some laborious set up to try to fling glass shards all over? It's faster to learn magic.”
Corvayne smiled at Mosh. “This all seems like magic to me.”
“No no no, magic is sort of like powers anyone can use as long as they understand the pathways. Like, your squeeze is using [Disrupt], woah weird, anyway, it's which is a solid mid-level time spell. I tried my hand at it, pretty much every kid does, but I could only do the basic spell: Curdle. All that does is make liquids and gasses run slightly thicker. Rashishina, I am not.”
Corvayne noted that his shadow hand was pointing at things now as he was waking. It was still a little distracting but he could ignore it. “You make it sound like everyone has magic where you're from.”
“You can learn it, but there's no reason for most people. It's like, most people will never need to throw a javelin. There's heroes who can blow up a planet or whatever tossing one. If I need to defend myself from a monster, I run and find the third person in the crowd who's 20,000 years old and can summon 6000 swords.”
Corvayne had to think about what it'd be like to just let someone else fight. “I lived in the desert. Almost everything you can see coming outruns you.”
“See? It works. You're the 20,000 year old guy I'm hiding behind.”
“I am 24... Maybe 25 or 26.” He had apparently walked from one planet to another. Or did he have help? He'd have to investigate that road he wound up on.
“Already losing track of your age? Hey, you're young like me! I'm only 30... meeting you I might live to 31. Progress!”
They arrived at the edge of the woods. There was a buffer of brush, then a few roots that crossed downwards over a ravine to a cube with a small and ruined looking goblin village not far inwards. A river from some unseen height was pouring down into a depressed lake that had eroded a large spherical area of the cube, then spilled off the edge to race down the ravine and pour off to the yellow void. With trees growing out of it and mist hovering at the bottom of the bowl it was kind of pretty. They checked the village but it looked like it had been picked through similar to how Mosh's village was.
Wick finally had had enough of playing with his shadow hand and tapped him on the shoulder. “If we find someone alive, what do we do? The gates sealed. We can't get them down and out.”
“Ok. We drag anyone alive up and out then. I'm confident in having a smoother run this time.” He inwardly winced at saying it aloud.
She frowned but nodded. “Sure but.. too many blabbermouths about this tower and us having super powers and we'll have to leave town though. Not that we won't help save anyone. Just... Tch...”
Corvayne almost tripped. “We? You'd... take me with you?”
“Yeah, duh.” She used her spear as a walking stick. “I'd offer to take Grunt too but he seems happy here. If this place exists, then others do.”
“I guess you're right.”
“I'm ALWAYS right. HA!” She took a look back. Grunt had taken more then a few scratches, but all of them were minor cuts with a slightly deep one on his forearm and his worst injury, a stray tooth shard that was lodged in his arm and required a lot of disinfectant, considering goblins probably ate... anything.
The main camp was on the next Cube over. There was a cluster of huts and a few goblins milling about that went into attack mode when the group neared them. Corvayne found he was getting sick of killing them. Fighting? Fine. But they just ran into his spear. Hunting at least there was some interaction between the intelligence and tools of a prey animal trying to hide and survive. There was no point to this, and talking to Mosh between stabbing sessions was making him feel guilty about endlessly skewering goblins. He was more then ready to move onto fighting the painted headless hounds on the next floor even if they were more dangerous per monster.
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The goblin village had something like streets and blocks, but otherwise was a mess of dwellings that were a mishmash of whatever materials the builders could get their hands on. Vine rope was used to keep everything together in the case of better built structures.
They heard screeching as they moved past crude tents and lean-tos. They followed the sound to a large house made of teal wood, lashed crudely together with vines and blue clay. Inside a trio of frustrated goblins were trying to reach through a wood stake cage ground into the floor to get at a woman bound to a post with her hands tied behind her back. She was filthy and she was desperately trying to kick their claws out of the cage, legs bloody with slashes.
Corvayne didn't hesitate, using [Flows-Like-Water] and killing all three goblins.
Grunt smashed the bars apart, and Wick crouched by the woman and helped undo her ropes, then helped her stand.
“Please... my friends.” Corvayne saw now that she had long ears. Oh, an elf. Well, check that off the list.
“We'll see if they are here. How many were in your group?” Corvayne gave her some space.
She was trying to get circulation back in her hands. “There were five of us in the party... we were not ready for...”
Wick frowned. “Are you not hearing gibberish?”
Corvayne nodded. “Yes, the same as Mosh... I understand her perfectly clear.”
“I don't get a word she says boss.”
Corvayne stopped on his way out the door. “...Boss?”
“It's a goblin thing.”
He tried it back. “Ok Boss.”
The little goblin's face instantly stormed over. “Don't do that. You're not a goblin.”
“Ok Mosh.” Corvayne said, chastised. To his credit, Mosh instantly looked sheepish about snapping at Corvayne.
Corvayne looked back at the woman as they lead her out of the dingy hovel. “My friends are going to keep you safe and handle your wounds, give you water, and food if you're hungry. I'm going to try to go find any survivors.” He turned to the Mosh. Well, since he had spoken up... “You wanna help me see if these guys are alive somewhere in here?”
“Odds ain't good but... yeah sure. Poor elf looks like hell.”
He gave the goblin a spare steel knife, and while obviously not enjoying it, Mosh helped Corvayne check some of the smaller caves and buildings in the village. He had to see if he could trust the Goblin: 4 more floors of forcing someone to watch him or tying him up... he didn't want to be that sort of adventurer. He also hadn't shown the goblin how he could sense attacks from behind. If the goblin was somehow both hostile and as skilled as the handful of villagers who had been able to sneak up on him... well then he'd have picked off Mister I then the rest of them during the fight. During the search of the village there were plenty of opportunities for Mosh to attack him, some of them intentional. Not once did Corvayne get a shred of the odd queasy feeling of danger.
Corvayne fought a few small stragglers but it seemed like the chief goblin had emptied out the village to go raid other cubes. The few stragglers would investigate noise then run at them, quickly dying to Corvayne's spear. They found a battered chest in shed locked by a old padlock. He frowned: he honestly had hoped they'd find living people inside instead. He did the usual checks for traps, setting off a spring that tossed a rusty knife out of the latch. A few more pokes and it opened, revealing a few weapons that looked mundane and had some rust from uncleaned blood. In the corner of the room was a quarterstaff, which Corvayne took, as well as a pair of maces, and a blood stained purple cloth robe that was at least cleaner then the elf's dress. The rest of the weapons would break on first swing or second. There was a cracked bow, a glass wand that had snapped in half, and a pair of bent knives. Aside from the robe... no signs of armor. Five sets of weapons if you counted the staff. Corvayne sighed, seeing Mosh doing the math in his head too and frowning up at Corvayne. He had a feeling he had just adopted an elf and a goblin. Well, Mosh seemed alright.
Coming back, they had taken the woman to sit down a little way out of the village. Mister I was checking for injury and disinfecting a wound on her shoulder that looked like a huge bite mark.
Corvayne showed her what he had taken from the chest. “I'm sorry, there's no signs of anyone. I found these and some other weapons in a chest. Did they belong to your allies?”
The woman saw the robe and maces and started sobbing.
Wick glared at him. Grunt gently patted the woman on the shoulder.
He didn't think they were alive. But he thought about how he'd feel if Wick had been captured. “I think I've had enough of this floor, to be quite honest. But... we are going to check the connected islands. We can't be sure they are not penned up somewhere else. Me and Mosh will keep looking.”
Grunt nodded. Wick took the woman and helped her up. “Lets find a stream. Legolas here reeks.”
Mister I coughed. “That's a woman, Wick.”
Wick rolled her eyes. “Yeah, so was Legolas. I saw those old movies too.”
Grunt slapped his head. He looked like he was about to start a fight over that comment for some reason.
Corvayne handed Wick the marginally cleaner robe then started on the trail out of the valley along the stream. The large rocks and pebbled bottom of the stream and the big cliffs reminded him of the mountains. Perhaps he should have waited for them to move as one... Splitting the party and all that... but he needed a moment away from everyone and only having one person along was a good compromise.
“Boss you sure you don't want me to help her? I can...”
“What did you have in mind Mosh? Remember: She's going to need time to deal with everything. I don't want to put you at risk of her lashing out.”
The little goblin man nodded and smiled. “Boss I didn't even think about that! I'll show you when we get back. You also want me out of her face because... I get it. The goblins here are monsters. That's why I've gotta help you out. If not for you, I'd be stew tonight. I really am grateful.”
Corvayne looked over to the goblin who was huffing to keep up with his longer stride, and then looked back to see they were out of sight. Corvayne slowed a little to let him keep up. “I like to think anyone who saw you trying to talk and wearing clothes would do the same as I did.”
The path through the valley wrapped upwards to another valley, A sort of vestigal half pipe of ground with a little brush on one side then yellow void. Like many of the ditches, water flowed in a few sheets out of the side of the cube, crashing to form a stream that ran down the second valley. The more turbulent stream of the pipe met the first one then poured off a little ring to the side of the conjoined cubes. Mosh kept looking all around, and his gawking proved useful when he pointed out a hole above their heads and under the waterfall.
“Can you lift me up? I got a hunch.”
Why not? Mosh was light enough that he could crouch facing the goblin and let him climb on his shoulders, then simply stand up. The goblin pulled himself over the top of the lip. “Yeah! There's a hidden cave here, and a chest!”
“Leave it for now. We'll grab it once we survey the next island.”
“You sure? Treasure Boss! Isn't that what you adventurer types always are looking for?” The goblin gestured to the unseen chest.
“Anything we find now is more stuff we gotta carry there and back. I'll be ready to head back to them in a bit.” He let the goblin step onto his shoulders then bent down so he could hop off.
Mosh picked up that Corvayne was tired, perhaps. “Hey, boss, what's going on?”
Corvayne waved the question away. He didn't want to admit that it felt crowded to him.
“Ok. What do I do if we start a fight?” Mosh
“If we find more then a few goblins, or a monster we don't know, we back off and gather the others. That horde would have been difficult alone but not impossible. No risks. Just checking if we can find where captives might be, then report back. Or hopefully we can get to them before feral goblins do, like the elf.”
Mosh nodded then followed. Corvayne found it weird that he was so trusting given his own reservations about having Mosh along. On the other hand, he found he had already made his decision: The goblin seemed trustworthy to him.
Corvayne had found a root that weaved in and out of the cliff wall leading them up. He walked slowly up the woody surface of the plant as he spoke. “Part of why I'm taking off for a bit is that I don't want to play telephone right now. So you and I are spares: Mister I is there to help with medical issues. Grunt is a professional guard. Perhaps Grunt should go scout so I could talk to her, but then he can't talk to his partner easily. Wick... well I figured it might give the wrong impression if I tried to help her get clean.”
He could practically hear Moshes eyebrows going up and down. “Or the RIGHT one BOSS! Eh Eh?”
“I'm not in the right mood. Maybe when we are a few floors up I'll feel like joking. I'm worried about you and her now: I'm not sure if there's another exit that leads to her world... or yours. I don't know what she has been through, especially since I don't think we are going to find anyone else. The hobgoblin said he was running out of meat... I think that means it was just her left. Still, we have to try. If we can find one companion of hers...”
“That's the idea boss, a two for one deal!” Mosh clapped, which made Corvayne wince a little. Even all the talking was something he'd not do if he thought there were things other then semi-suicidal goblins out there.
“As I was saying: There are no goblins or elves where we live. It's all humans. It might be that no one speaks either of your languages, so you'll be dependent on me to learn the language. The good news is, if we don't see an obvious way to help you leave... we can come back and start searching for other exits.”
“Thanks for the depressing reminder boss, but we hit the door and I bet you twenty kudos that my bracer perks up and I get my ass home in thirty minutes or it's free. No offense to uh, the hospitality of a world with only humans.”
Corvayne exited the hole that the twisted root had wound them through. The top of this cube looked down on the main goblin village from an edge, and otherwise had the usual dark blue packed dirt trails snaking through what looked like especially long teal grass. There were signs of feral goblins having lived on the cube: Grass had overgrown a few crude shelters. He could see damage and blood stains on the remains of a hide tent. They took a few minutes to check for goblins waiting in ambush, then strode to what looked like the center of the village. Most of the other buildings were arranged around a large cave at the bottom of a depression, dried blood and old bones the only signs of anything living on the outside.
Inside were more signs of violence: Broken stone weapons, dry blood, bodies that had been cleaved in two, bones. Corvayne assaulted by lingering scents of blood and death. Mosh seemed only mildly upset at it. Corvayne had to force himself to slow down, to check every cave up to the main chamber, where a wood throne sat, a dead goblin pinned to the chair by a handful of stone spears.
After a few seconds of looking and seeing no signs of living goblins, let alone a possible prisoner, Mosh asked “Can we go back?” and Corvayne nodded.
They returned to the waterfall. Corvayne wanted to grab the loot there, give out any equipment, and check the other islands out to quickly see if there was any hope of recoving the elf's friends. He helped Mosh up then just climbed up to the ledge himself.
“Damn, rock climber too... can you crouch down and do the trap thingy from here? Otherwise I can try it.”
Corvayne's spirits perked up. “Are you our rogue then?”
“Hell no, I told you, I'm a HANDY man.” He looked at Corvayne and looked sheepish. “Boss. Can you give it first poke?”
“Sure. Also, I'm not really anyone's boss. I just want to get people out of here alive.” Corvayne did so. No trap from shaking it.
Taking the dagger he was given, the little goblin crawled into the opening, checking the ground carefully before putting his hands down, and then crouched by the chest. He had watched Corvayne and did a pretty good job of imitating the same steps of looking for traps. All that effort and then green man tried to open it and the lid didn't budge. The goblin turned around.
“You got any wire?” The 'not a rogue' goblin asked him.
Corvayne crouched by the hole and set his pack down. He'd have to add some lock-picking stuff if these chests were going to come trapped and/or locked. Thankfully, the 'trade trinkets' he had tended to be weird odds and ends the village hadn't needed.
“Would a mithril flachette work?”
“Yeah, as long as it's thin.”
Corvayne had a handful of tiny white rods of the incredibly durable metal.
“Oh those are beauties. Who made em?”
“Mugs-Empty-Again and Spaces-Torn-Asunder.” The axe instructor had challenged the even-keeled Spaces to a contest to make flachettes out of exotic materials. Mugs made the white rods, perfectly crafted, able to survive being packed into a flachette round, fired, and retrieved. In theory. In practice, after discharging a full clip the pearly white rods were scattered out in the white sand desert behind and with the rock the rounds shredded. Nobody wanted to actually spend that much time finding slivers of mithril in the desert.
Nobody but Corvayne.
Handing one over, there was some jiggling and a satisfying click. Mosh wiggled his green fingers. “Oh my goddess, that noise... I think I get IT. The whole dungeon diving thing. It sent shivers up my spine!”
“Easy. Might still be trapped. Some of them trigger on opening...” He called to the goblin who quickly stepped back, then used his spear to open it with more rock cover.
Mosh ran over once it was safe and like an eager puppy put his whole upper body into the chest, then came out with a handful of stuff. A coin pouch, a pair of soft leather boots, a palm sized sundial made of wood, a fencing rapier and sheath, and one red and one green potion in simple flasks, as well as a worn backpack.
Corvayne felt it looked promising. “For now, we'll put the stuff in the pack. We will test and distribute it later.”
“Even the sword eh?” He looked like he wanted to draw it out.
“Finding out it has a curse is an annoying way to lose the use of a hand.” Corvayne remarked, which made Mosh much less enthusiastic to just try everything out.
Corvayne saw Grunt and Wick sitting with the elf by the stream. The elf wearing the dark purple robe that still had some black stains on it, and was gripping the quarterstaff that Corvanye had brought her. She was looking down at the water dribbling by as Mister I rubbed something on her leg, now sporting gauze. Mosh saw this and groaned. “What's his problem, is he outta mana?” The goblin came charging over and had to stop when Grunt reached for his club. “Woah woah easy! I'm a follower of Lythandies. Being a crafter and all that... I can Mend! Tell him!”
“Mosh I don't know what that means. Also the elf is terrified of you.”
Corvayne gestured at the woman and Mosh looked and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Tell em I'm going to heal her.”
Corvayne turned to the others. “The goblin says... he can heal her.”
Mosh, to his credit, held his hands up and approached slowly, speaking like one would to a wounded animal. “Easy. I'm going to fix your legs up.” Mister I stepped back. Corvayne felt some empathy to the goblin then: he had seen the way Mister I, Grunt, and the elf were looking at Mosh, and that was how the village treated him.
The little green man kept his hands where everyone could see them, the elf flinching for a moment. Mosh put his hands together. “Don't worry. I wont touch you even. Just gotta do the shtick.” He held his hands out at the elf. “Lythandies, mend that which is broken. Weave that which is hurt. Our flesh is clay. Help me build good things: life, health, joy. Knit her wounds into skin, kneed pain into comfort, and be her shield against sorrow.”
His hands glowed green, then the smell of sawdust and the forge came with a swirl of wind. A moment later, the woman had regained color. She touched her legs, then looked up at Mosh.
They stood suddenly. Mosh backed up. “Easy lady! It was a healing spell! Boss, if I get whacked on the head I'm not going to fix her again, tell her that!”
The woman calmed down. “I'm sorry, your companion looks like one of the monsters...” Her eyes were still red from crying but she had regained composure.
“No problem. I'm Corvayne.” He pointed to each of his friends as he named them. “You met Wick and Grunt and Mister I by now I'm sure. This here is Mosh.”
She hesitated, steadied herself, then nodded.
“I assume he's a priest or white mage, either way thank him on my behalf.” She bowed to the goblin. Corvayne noted she still was gripping her staff with white knuckles. Not one hundred percent OK but trying. She turned to face Corvayne. She was rather short and her features gave him the impression that she was younger then he was. Though, elves aged differently according to books. Part of him thought she was attractive, but he was stressing already how to discuss what measures they would take to look for her companions. He feared they were already dead.
“I should introduce myself. My name is Hari Silkbloom. I'm a Stillwater elf. I'm an investigator.”
Corvayne once again played telephone. “Everyone, meet Hari Silkbloom. I'm sorry that your companions fates are in question, can we walk and look together? I'd like to ask about them and how you got captured.”
“Let's go look at the bone pile in the village above.” Mister I added. “If they are there, then it's just a matter of laying them to rest in peace.”
Corvayne nodded and gestured for Hari to follow him as he went back up to the village. She started speaking as they made it up the path from the valley to the field around the goblin village.
“It was a group that my mentor had arranged for me to trial with. We went into Paltros investigating the section known for slimes and skeletons. The leader of the group, Khorkos, was part of the patrols to keep the dungeon from shedding.”
Corvayne wanted to stop her and ask a bunch of questions but instead let her continue speaking.
“Khorkos was a big half-elf who used the maces you brought back. He would patrol with his fiancee Floowine, who was our combat wizard, a human, and Sissl who was a Khitoran priest of the Veiled Root.”
This he had to get clarity on. “I don't know what a Khitoran is...”
Hari looked conflicted. “Some rudely call them ratmen...”
“That helps me know what to look for at least.” he stopped and turned to his friends. “Two of her companions were human, one may appear to be a rat-person. Rat man? Rat woman?”
Grunt held his hand up to his waist as if to say: this high? Then held his hand to his chest: Or this high? He then made a gesture of something like an elephant trunk, then floppy ears, then a questioning look: How rat we talking?
Hari was patient, stopping to listen as Corvayne relayed what Grunt was emoting. Perhaps she was also dreading returning to the village for any reason. “He was a rat-man. They have animal faces and many parts that resemble the animals, but more human hands and feet and stature... he was badly wounded and likely... perished. The final member was a Prihoff ranger, Grimspear. He was a blue skinned very tall man. I had been patrolling Paltros with them for a week.”
“Paltros is the ruins, correct? We came into this place from somewhere that only has humans. Does the scenery resemble your world at all?” He secretly felt extra bad for the ranger. How close had Corvayne to having an even more absurd name like Grimspear?
Hari looked around. “No. Everything is the wrong color. There's more trees here, the ruins I speak of are in a savanna.”
Corvayne nodded. “It's not the right colors for our world either.” Though, he sort of liked the dark red and blue trees with pastel leaves. Floor three was easily his favorite. For a number of reasons. “Sorry for interrupting, please continue.” They were back at the village now and Corvanye started skirting around the outside, looking for a garbage pit or pile.
Hari had moved up to follow right behind him. “We were carefully cleaning out a section of buildings and tunnels where a lone scout had reported monster buildups. So groups of five slimes, maybe three regular skeletons. There was a large group of thirty slimes that we had to spend a couple of hours splitting and killing. It was not very dangerous. I got a burn on my leg but an appeal to Veiled Root took care of it. I mainly was there in case the ruins grew locked doors and to cast unseen passage to sneak up to and take out any skeleton warriors from behind with my staff. We did not expect to find any treasure aside from cores from slimes.”
She's the Rogue. Corvayne thought about the cooler that cheekily told them to use protection... did the dungeon also know what kind of party he had always wanted? Well, the wires might have gotten crossed; she sounded like what he always expected a priestess to sound like, and the goblin seemed like the cowardly street smart type. Something like how the lemonade was in a fancy flask and the potions (which they discovered glowed in the dark a little) looked like sports drinks.
He went back to listening to Hari speak. “Well, we were exploring a section that was behind a freshly spawned locked door. It hadn't even gotten all the way out of the floor and was still a little slimy. I picked it, we go inside, and there's a stairway with light coming from it, deep in part of the cells. So we go in, thinking we found a shortcut to the surface. Suddenly we are facing a few goblins rushing us. No problem. Khorkos alone could beat them senseless. The problem is that as soon as we stepped in the door shut behind us. I couldn't open it with magic, it's just asking us to go up somewhere. Climbing up to the top of the cliff we heard a horn from somewhere and suddenly we are surrounded. The big one waited until we were busy then jumped in, Sissl I think got his arm chopped off, it was... I...”
“You don't have to push yourself to talk about everything.” Corvayne stopped and looked at the young woman. “I see bones. You can wait here or come closer. I'm not going to ask anyone to help me with this next part.”
Wick followed him. Suprising Corvayne.
“I thought you were squemish.”
“Oh there's no way I'm going to start going through remains, I just wanna ask what she said... and maybe why you are suddenly running all over for this elf?” She looked annoyed.
Corvayne looked back. Grunt, Mister I, and Mosh were having a three way pantomime conversation now.
“I think it's likely her friends are dead.” Corvanye spoke after gathering his thoughts. “It looked like the goblin leader was killing and subduing other villages. If that's the case, at the very least she'll need help to get to the 5th floor. I also feel like while I owe you a debt, I want to help other people who are lost.”
Wick used her spear like a walking stick. “Yeah. And what do you do when you find a rat skull and 3 human ones?”
He stopped.
“Wick. If you told me it would take me a week, I'd still want to take that week to look. I think my father's meanest act was not simply telling me my mother died. It was always that I'd never see her again. If he just said she was dead, it would have been better. So if I find them, I'll tell her what I found, then try to get her home. Imagine if she went back, and had to talk to people who knew them, and give them half formed answers. Your son is probably dead. Your Father might have gotten eaten. I didn't see a body. How would they feel?”
She scoffed. “You're too nice. What about the hikers who walked up the stairs and ended up dead?”
Corvayne felt a little frustration at Wick grilling him. “I don't know them. They didn't ask me for anything. If I could have saved them I'd do so.”
“Don't get angry at me, I more meant how are YOU going to break the news?”
“Like a naive killing machine raised on pulp novels.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Geh. Don't be such a little...” Wick stopped herself. Corvayne watched her reset. “Have some faith in me. I didn't know if YOU thought you could handle this. Just stay calm, show empathy for her losing her friends, offer to do a little funeral. Maybe that goblin knows last rites.”
He realised she had been trying to help him. “Sorry Wick. This has been a bad start to what was supposed to be a more relaxed patrol. Not looking forward to this myself.”
He stepped up to the bone pile. He offered to look, and now he offered to deliver the bad news. Another two for one deal.