Your instincts rear their head once more as the countdown nears 0 and you stumble.

This is untenable, you grumble. A mistake like that in combat could cost you the fight. You shake your head.

“Change of plans!” part of you dies inside as you conform to monster stereotypes, “Spread out... a little. Meeting them in the hall just makes us weak to mages and alchemists,” yeah, you feel better phasing it like that. It's a sound tactical decision, not rampant instincts.

“Feathers, take a few goblins to the village – ranged and harrying attacks, then retreat into the tunnels to the arena. If no one comes your way, meet up there anyway. Amanda, take the demons upstairs-”

She shakes her head. “It's not worth it yet. We don't have the attacks to take advantage of the defences. Keep them with you, I have a plan!”

Without another word, the albino turns on her heel and rushes towards the dark stairs to the jail.

You want to chase after her, but there's no time – the timer is down to twenty five.

“Fine! Charlemagne, take the other goblins to your kitchen, hide out of the way and then ambush the heroes once they've engaged with us in the arena.”

The goblin nods, jerking her head at the remaining greenskins to peel away with him.

“Sapphire -”

She speaks over you too. “The others will use the tunnels. Hit and run. They're not ready for a straight fight yet. Hyena is too big for them, so I will stay with you. A fighting retreat, but starting in the pool room. Let them have the entrance hall. They will be cocky. They may split the party.”

You nod at her. She's been training those kobolds, she knows them better than you do, and her other points are well made.

“OK. I trust you.”

Willow barks an order, and the kobolds melt away, scrambling up the walls on almost invisible ropes of spider silk and vanishing into the tunnel above the stalactites in hall's cave-like side chamber.

Mercy and, to your surprise, the Oread are next.

“Guard the stairs. The young ones are up there.”

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They both nod, Mercy's eyebrows raising as her own confusion spikes, and rush towards the deeper reaches.

Sith and Keth take point either side of the archway into the pool room. Sapphire dismounts, her beasts pulling back further as the shadows seem to bleed into her – her already tiny body almost invisible as she keeps an eye on the doorway.

Her voice is quieter than a breath.

“Three... two... one...”

The door opens with a creak, spilling sunlight into your lair. Voices fill the air and the sunlight is drowned by the overlapping lightshow of multiple buff spells activating at once.

Then a confused silence. Sapphire breaths again.

“Three people. Human barbarian. Elf artificer. Halfling Knight on... on a goose. All level seventeen.”

High level, the same as yours, but certainly in the range of your minions working together.

A new voice, gruff.

“Well that was a waste of a Rage. There's no one here.”

“You think Griff was lying?” comes a second voice. Soft and low, and faintly musical. Your money is on the elf.

“I told you!” the third voice is just... just annoying. Slimy. “I saw the footage. Mobbed by a small horde as soon as they opened the door. Never made it past the entrance.” Now it's whiny. “I don't like these new dungeons. They change too much.”

Something honks. Your money is on the goose, although it could be the elf. You can never tell.

The elf speaks again. “Whatever. Lets just press in. There's good gold in mapping a dungeon, and this one's pretty fresh. Mind the pit trap.”

Another honk. Probably the goose then.

You shake yourself. Inappropriate humour is inappropriate.

“The fuck is this? 'Warning. Bugs.'?”

Ah. The halfling has found your larder then.

“That's... oddly polite.”

“Who's scared of a few bugs?”

A beat of silence, and then the elf speaks. “Considering we fought a giant spider on our way here, just for that, you get to explore in there alone.”

Ping

The noise of a stone striking metal isn't loud.

“Ow!”

“What was that?”

“Who threw- Oh. That's the game.”

You want, so badly, to peak around the corner, but you hold yourself back.

“Hit and run, eh? Well, we know how to deal with-” the elf is cut off by another Ping.

“Mother fucker. Blitz it is. Gurg, you and Tony take the bugs. I'll take this cave to the left. Carrie, you go straight.”

A moment's silence.

“Well?”

“Dude, you know how he likes to play.”

“Ah shit. Sorry, Daxon. You know I struggle with Role- eh. History.”

The barbarian's voice is very quite when he responds. “You manage with Gurg.”

Despite yourself, you catch yourself hoping that no one will throw another stone. This sounds important. Like, for character development.

There's a nervous, musical laugh. “Yeah, but look at him. He looks like a Gurg. You look like a... Braxx the Destroyer or something.”

The barbarian speaks again, even quieter. “Yeah. Lets go kill some shit.”

Footsteps, one set approaching you, one fading away, and another interrupted by the creaking of an opening and closing door. Sounds like your cue.