Your mirth leaves you, empty and cold. The two goblin males who remain are skittish as they rummage through the lootbags. Feathers is slumped against a stalagmite, still breathing heavily and bleeding from a dozen wounds. Sapphire's hands are liberally coated with Hyena's blood.

You feel very tired. You can't keep going like this if every fight is going to lose you more than you gain. You open your fame menu again and despite the lure of mysterious perks that might hold some secret to victory, you have resolved to build a dungeon and that means workers. You select “Manifest Worker” once more, seeing the expected drop of 100 fame, only to be met by an unexpected Popup.

Manifested Workers recoverable. Recovering.

Everyone in the cave pauses as the two seemingly dead kobolds give hacking coughs and stand up. They bow to you, wounds zipping up mechanically, leaving no trace.

“Well,” you declare. “That certainly makes things more salvageable. Gross and weird, but salvageable.” It also explained why the kobolds had left corpses, because you certainly hadn't been planning on eating them. The kobolds do not respond, and with a gesture you send them away, trusting that whatever they do will be helpful until you give them more specific orders.

The goblins approach you, their hands laden with items. Several pouches of coins, two more soul crystals, and (with some disquiet) a bloody bag called “Body Parts (Misc)” all vanish into your stockpile with a nod of thanks. Of more interest however is a black, feathered cloak, sized for a human.

Bleakfeather's Cloak

Cloak, Rogue, Uncommon

This magical cloak, adorned with harpy feathers, allows it's user to fall softly and silently from any height.

The reason for it's unusual interest is that when you attempt to Stockpile it, an error floats up.

Treasure items cannot be stockpiled. Build a Treasure room.

“Put that somewhere safe for now,” you instruct the goblins, who bow away to do as instructed. You ready yourself for another day spent hitting walls and looking over your shoulder as you walk out into your entranceway.

Only to be greeted by pale moonlight. From the looks of things, it's barely midnight.

You walk over to one of the kobolds, working on what will be your cave larder.

“Keep watch tonight, between the two of you. Work in shifts.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Your reptilian servant nods in acceptance and stops working, taking up a position in the shadows of your entrance hall. You hope it will be enough, you don't want to bet the lives of your fellows on every adventurer being distracted by a sex crazed gobliness. You're not sure that the one you have will survive being stabbed again, and you're loath to waste healing supplies you don't have on her.

As you return to your bed, the gobliness in question is busy helping the two remaining males get over any lingering sadness they may feel. The room is filled once more with the echoes of wet flesh. The rhythmic sounds, while far from being traditionally soothing, do help you empty your mind and quickly fall asleep, curled up around Sapphire, enjoying her warmth to compliment that of your fires.

Your dreams are of hidden blades, black leathers and sudden pains.

You awake some indeterminable time later, to something, someone, moving nearby. Having no wish to be ambushed twice in one night, you rear up violently, shielding Sapphire as best as you can.

Instead of violently murderous adventurers however, you see Feathers, although something you can't put your claw on is subtly different about her, and it's not the twin tear tracks running down her face. Wordlessly, she clambers up the mound of stones that serves as your bed and settles down next to Sapphire. It's a slight squeeze, the gobliness is significantly larger than the kobold, but Sapphire sleepily wriggles closer to you, allowing space for the green skinned chiefteness to join you. While Sapphire seems to doze off again, neither you nor Feathers close your eyes. You stay alert and scanning the cave, looking back at Feathers every minute or so. Feathers, for her part, slowly begins to shake with tears.

Eventually, her jerking sobs quieten and you feel it is safe to talk.

“Did you know him well?” Your voice is soft, and her response is too, even roughened by tears.

“N-no. But he help, voting out the old chiefteness. Could trust him. And now...” her voice trails off but you're unsure if she will pick up again. You could sympathise, if not empathise, with her. You always spawned alone, in the same cave. For the more social, and more numerous, goblins there was no telling when or where the dead male was going to respawn. There was no realy way to know if enough of him would make it through to the next life with enough memory to really be considered 'him' either.

In a way, you supposed, you'd always been blessed, from your first spawn. You were the red drake of Imporne, and if you weren't anything more than a mob, you were a recognisable one. You'd obviously been placed here personally, rather than existing in some nebulous pool to draw from in any applicable zone.

“He trust me.” Her voice was a whisper. “Now he dead.”

“He was right to,” you say with certainty. “He trusted you to do the best you could, and you did. He trusted you to save the tribe, and we're getting there. Maybe he's spawned in the forest and will make his way back here. Maybe he's spawned a long way away with a new tribe. But either way, he'll remember you as a good leader. Someone who saw disaster looming and who knew something had to be done. You risked everything for your tribe, Feathers,” as you say it, you realise that may be the first time you've said that name to her face, but she doesn't react. “You risked it all because you knew that the only alternative was death. There's no shame in that.”

You're not sure where the words are coming from, but they seem to be having the desired effect. Feather's breathing evens out as she listens to your voice, and when you've finished you half think she's asleep until you look down at her to see her staring up at you with wide, needy eyes. You lean down to nuzzle her, but she catches your head in surprisingly strong hands and holds you, inches apart. While you're sure you could pull away if you needed to, you decide to wait and see where this goes.

Slowly, she closes the distance and kisses you. It different to the sneaked kisses of Sapphire, all nerves and speed. Feathers kisses like she's afraid you're going to vanish, and that she absolutely needs to experience you before you do. She kisses like a woman possessed.

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