Patrick laid still for what felt like an hour, until he was confident that the guards were not as intently focused on him anymore.

He slowly started rolling on his side, unfurling the leather restrain and leaving him with only the rope bindings. No sound was made by his captors as he did this.

Without being able to use his hands he tried to raise to his feet, when he suddenly loudly bonked his head on the ceiling. *Thwack!*

"Aaargh!" He exclaimed as he fell on his face.

"Huhm? What, are you escaping?" A goblin's voice asked groggily from the darkness.

"Apparently not." He said sardonically.

"Okay..." The goblin went back to sleep.

How... how did that work? His own guile surprised him. Now, if only I could get out of these bonds and see if I remember the candlelight spell. I can't see a thing. And if I can't see a thing, I can't escape.

He curled up and tried to kick off the rope with his feet, which nearly dislocated both his thumbs.

"Nnng." He groaned in pain.

The goblin angrily threw a pebble at him to stop him from making so much noise.

Patrick wriggled around on the floor to find a sharp edge, but surprisingly the cave was an unnatural hewn chamber and most of the floor was smooth. Eventually he bumped his head against a sharp corner and he spend the next hour rubbing his binding against it until it snapped.

When he hands finally came loose from the restricting rope he had to stifle a celebratory yelp.

He still raised his hands in triumph and waited for the goblin guard to respond. But the guard was fast asleep.

It's a good thing I payed attention in school. He thought to himself as he held his hands cupped in front of him. Even a regular joe like me is able to cast a spell like this.

With some concentration he conjured a flickering light emanating from between his hands. It illuminated the room, which seemed like a primitive sleeping quarter with a large fur object as a bed.

The goblin guard was fast asleep, cradling his crossbow weapon like a beloved plush.

That's obviously an orcen weapon. Patrick thought immediately. We've walked right into a trap.

He sneaked out of the room into a sloped hallway. It was better to run out than to kill the guard and risk alerting others.

There were multiple rooms connected to the hallway and a faint light could be detected coming from above, pale moonlight peeking between bricks and streaking into the dusty underground.

Somehow he felt a distinct unease letting his gaze fall onto the other direction of the tunnel, snaking downwards.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. He held his breath and extinguished the magical light.

Now that mere darkness hadn't been able hide him before he dove deeper into the depths.

After almost a minute he inhaled again, gasping for breath.

He hadn't been caught.

If the sound had come from a goblin he had ignored him. Then again. It could have been an echo from his own footsteps.

-

As he was lying on his stomach in the darkness it occurred to him that others of the bandits had been captured here.

If they were they had to have been in the other rooms. Either that or deeper into the cave.

He got up. I'm sorry friends, but I have to report this to the main group, I have to tell them not to come here.

With tears in his eyes he resolved to flee and made a light again.

He then noticed he was standing in front of three goblins, all holding metal implements, almost resembling mining tools.

He put up his hands to fight but one of them hurled a big rock at his head, knocking him down.

As he was losing consciousness he looked at the piece of unrefined ore next to his head. It almost seemed like... gold.

----------------------------------------

"So... it's late." Biter mentioned.

"I know." Scratch said.

They had walked around the smoldering campfire and into the forest and were no far away from the visitors enough to speak freely without having to whisper.

"You said you'd wake us up."

"I know."

"And you didn't."

"Biter. I know. I made a mistake and overslept. Now be silent about it."

The moon had passed the point where it had been for the rendezvous, so they were hurrying.

Dumb had been relieved and was now sleeping. Quiet was the new front guard. Scratch, Kicker and Biter were the ones meeting up with Teeth and Second for the briefing.

-

The two had been waiting patiently at the old town Horns had ruled. But there was a third goblin with them.

"Did you get held up?" Second asked.

"Never mind that. Who's your friend?"

"A survivor." Teeth said. "He knows their words."

"T-this is Runt." Second said, patting the other on the back.

"He knows their words?" Scratch echoed. "The orcs speak another language? Horns didn't."

Runt looked nervous, he tried to explain. "Orcs no say get food, orcs say *skreek kah*."

Scratch looked at him without expression.

"Uhm... Runt says the orcs killed his tribe for no reason." Second tried to steer the conversation back.

"Is that so?" Scratch raised an eyebrow. "I suppose they taught you their language in between the killings, did they?"

"Hey, yeah!" Kicker couldn't help but make a comment after realizing the discrepancy himself.

"N...no." Runt looked attacked and scared. "Orcs is make peace. Give things. Then one day come kill. Said is looking for..."

"Looking for what?"

"...word is *grug*."

"Of course it is." Scratch shook his head.

"Is he lying?" Teeth asked him, he drew his sword.

"I see no reason to assume he is. Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction." Scratch sighed.

"We've got nothing then." Second said.

"Did we waste our time doing this?" Kicker yawned.

"Not quite." Scratch said. "The orcs have an agenda, they're looking for something, and they're desperate enough to get it to kill off populations they've invested time and resources in."

"How does that help us?"

"All we need to do is get in the way between them and the *grug*. Makes sense, right?"

"We don't even know what the *grug* is."

"We'll figure it out. Let's meet up with them and negotiate for the humans. Runt will have to be our translator."

Runt was accustomed to large and complex language, so he knew exactly what they were saying. He didn't look happy about it.

----------------------------------------

【Careful. Careful...】Alpheba is very precariously transporting the feybloom from my adventurer's bag to her preservation case.

Alpheba is always cute, but when she's concentrating really hard she's extra cute!

【Done!" She wipes the sweat of her forehead, all satisfied.【Now it won't lose any more petals.】

【Well done Alpheba!】I hug her because I can and sniff her hair. 【Now we can go back and your master can brew that elixir!】

【Careful!】Alpheba yells.【I almost dropped it!】The case is wobbling on top of her hand.

I grab it with both hands.【Let's get going then.】

【Yes... let's... Hey, Beatrice?】

【What are you going to do about what the fairy queen said?】

Alpheba is worried about me! That makes me so happy!

【Weeelll...】I think about it.【I suppose that if it's my destiny it'll happen anyway. So I don't need to do anything.

Besides, I took a quest to escort you and I still need to escort you back.】

【But...】Alpheba is being shy.【...if you'll stop the orcs, that means there really are orcs near the Witchwood.】

I pat her head.【Don't worry. If we come across any, I'll keep you safe.】

And like that we make our way back. I am in a good mood and I all to easily start walking too fast so I have to make sure I'm not making Alpheba run to catch up.

【Beatrice?" She says eventually.【What made you want to become an adventurer? You're a highborn noble aren't you?】

【What made me want to become an adventurer?】I never really thought about it before. I suppose I felt it was the natural thing to do because of the setting we're in.【For the excitement... I think.】I give as my answer.【Oh, and to find other heroes.】I'm pretty sure all heroes are reincarnated Japanese like myself, I already met a viscount's son when we were both young, that spoke to me about his previous life, and one other adventurer here in Reddington.

With my last sentence Alpheba gets a mischievous grin on her face.【So you couldn't wait, huh?】

【Whhaaat?】Innocent little Alpheba said that?【I... it's true that nobles are expected to marry high-level adventurers. But... It's nothing like that!】

【You're looking for Laurus, the nightshade hero?】Alpheba continues to tease.【They say he's the dark, mysterious kind.】

【It's not like that, okay? I just... am curious about how people like us are born with so much potential.】

Alpheba is nonplussed.【Isn't that because you're a duke's daughter? A lot of potential is to be expected from someone of your birth, right?】

I thump my chest.【No way. I was called a prodigy you know? I was considered a D level adventurer when I was only your age.】

【Woow! No way! So you could fight off an orc when you were still small?】

【Yup. So you see, this prophecy, it's no big trouble for me. I can kill an orc warlord with one hand tied behind my back. Because I have the power of the rose hero!】

----------------------------------------

"Are you ready yet!?" Kubar bellowed impatiently.

"We're not." Groaned Grat. "Manshuu needs a sacrifice before he is willing to inform our mystics."

"Well. Get on with it then." Kubar ordered, as he continued to eat.

It'd be a lot easier if you didn't keep eating every animal we find. Grat thought to himself.

They had chased the wrong horse herd and now had to use the mystics again to track down their prey. This little extermination mission was turning into an excursion of multiple days, time they should have been spending looking for the core, according to Grat. Now Kubar was chewing on the entrails of the captured horse, when bleeding a large creature like that was exactly what would have been able to call down their god of bloodshed to possess a mystic.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Nobody else had a problem with Kubar's gluttony, they had accepted the situation and went out to capture another beast immediately. They wouldn't get far in this darkness.

It probably wouldn't be until tomorrow that a suitable sacrifice was captured, then they'd spend two days trying to catch up to the humans. Who knows how far they'd have gotten by that point. What if they had reached the fairy queen?

Naturally, Kubar didn't worry about stuff like that. He was completely focused on his food.

"Don't we have humanoid slaves here?" Kubar said suddenly, in-between chewing. "Use them."

"That... actually makes sense." Grat scratched his head. The goblins weren't slaves per se, but they trusted the orc tribe because they had given them weapons to subdue their rivals. It was their standard tactic for dealing with lesser intelligent beings.

"Of course it makes sense." Kubar said with his mouth full. "I was the one who thought of it, wasn't I?"

Grat ignored the comment. He set out immediately to capture a few plump goblins to bleed out with his fellow tribe members.

-

The grunts he took with him were Prakk and Horr. They were idiots but at least they listened to Grat when he conveyed Kubar's orders.

"There are some humanoids that way." He pointed in the general direction of the nest. "They don't run when they see orcs, so we'll just go in and take five of them with us. Do you guys understand?"

"Of course." Prakk said, while picking the snot out of his snout. "Go in, kill some humanoids. What's there not to get?"

"No. You absolute ape-brain. We capture them alive, to use in a blood ritual. Don't you harm a hair on their body yet."

Prakk looked angry, but he nodded.

"Horr. Did you hear?"

Horr nodded silently.

"Okay, let's go."

----------------------------------------

"What are we doing?" Teeth grunted angrily. First the crossbow had to be left at home and now he had been forced to ditch the sword he'd been so proud of.

"Disguising ourselves." Scratch said matter-of-factly while folding up his clothes. All six of them were now wearing loincloths.

It was a nostalgic sensation, but also a very chilly one.

By not wearing any self-made equipment, Scratch reasoned, and by visibly donning weapons meted out to goblin vassals, they would be able to disguise themselves as the vassals Runt had spoken of. That was a good position to do some information gathering.

"You three," he addressed Kicker, Biter and Second. "Stay at a distance. If our plan goes wrong you go running back."

"And then?" Said Second.

"Then you tell the rest how we died. I mean, there's not really a plan B, if this goes wrong everybody dies."

"In that case we're coming with you." Biter said.

Scratch put his hand over his forehead. "Biter, no. More people won't-"

"Can I not go?" Runt tried cautiously.

"You can't- I mean you have to- I mean... you're our translator, you're coming with."

Second opened his mouth. "I think that-"

"This is not a brainstorming session guys. I made a plan and we're sticking with it. That's what makes me the leader, now come."

-

They had picked up the weapons from dead goblins in the ruins. Each one of them was carrying some variation of a hacking knife or axe. They were more intimidating than practical and manufactured out of a completely black metal.

They not so accidentally looked like a raiding group of bloodthirsty goblins, wielding deadly weapons. They walked with purpose as they had learned the location of one of the orcs' largest vassals in the region from Runt. This was a tribe that had purposefully gone out of their way to avoid making contact with Teeth's trading caravan, but hadn't attacked them either.

When they did get there they walked around in circles a few times before discovering the group had made their nest underneath their feet, in-between the roots of an ancient dead tree. The roots of the tree held up the earth, forming an acceptable ceiling for the community.

They only really saw them when a guard wielding a war-axe that was too big for him climbed out from between two roots and swung at them threateningly. He made strange pig noises.

*Skreee.* *Gnog.*

"It seems like the orc way of speaking has taken over completely." Scratch commented. "Runt, tell them we're just looking for their... friends."

Nervously Runt made similar noises back, but the defender didn't at all seem open to a discussion, he swung the weapon some more, just to remind them that he had it. It didn't seem like he was actually aiming to hit any of them to anyone except Runt, who cringed at it cowardly.

It surprised Scratch how quickly he was picking up the language. The others had copied his own speech pattern almost immediately, but now he himself was experiencing the benefits of a goblin mind and perfect recollection.

The guard was accusing them of something, probably making up a story as an excuse to get close, while Runt just kept on repeating the same words.

"Stop." Scratch tried applying the noises he had heard in his own sentence. "We do not want...something... except for... the way there. Point us."

It wasn't an elegant sentence, but it was understood. The stranger pointed into the woods with a furious expression on his face.

They could have been forgiven for thinking the goblin had just pointed in a random direction to get rid of them, if there hadn't been a posse of three large creatures stomping towards them from that very direction at the moment.

What came towards them couldn't have been orcs. Scratch had formed a solid image of what orcs had to look like.

This world was obviously a created one, and the creatures that inhabited it had to be derived from popular fiction. As such, goblin was the term for small humanoid monster and orc for a larger version of that. It made sense with the concept of spontaneous evolution and the fantasy fiction of his home world that orc referred to the larger orange goblins like Horns.

What he saw here were upright-walking pigs. They had pig heads and their bodies were rotund and fat. They did wear black armor, and the had hands and a general skeleton that was similar to those of humans, but they didn't resemble any fantasy creature he had ever heard of.

As he stared incredulously the goblins poured out of the lair and crowded around the three pig creatures, they seemed happy to see their benefactors again.

For the so-manieth time the goblins reminded Scratch of playful children, this time ones that were greeting and bothering a long-absent father or adult relative.

One of the armored being grabbed one of the jumping tykes by the head and crushed his skull with his hand.

This greatly shocked the crowd and they started to flee from the visitors.

Another orc, slightly smaller than the murderer, smacked his comrade on the back of his head and yelled at him in pig noises. It went too fast to understand but there was a negative assertion in there somewhere, a 'not' word of some sort.

The goblins, of which there were close to twenty, scattered in all directions. Some fled into the forest, while others ducked into their underground lair. The guard they had spoken to didn't seem to want any of them following them for shelter.

The orcs were chasing the crowds, but being large and heavy creatures they didn't have the agility to get their hands on any others.

Teeth had his weapon drawn and pointed at the enemy, the rest reluctantly followed suit.

"Guys!" Second yelped.

They all looked at him.

He only said one word. "No!"

It was clearly a superior foe. They had amped themselves up for battle automatically, the weapons in their hands gave them a disproportional amount of confidence and they had almost stepped forward to challenge the pig beings.

----------------------------------------

"What are you doing!?" Grat was furious. He repeatedly slapped Horr on the back of his head. "I said do not kill. DO NOT."

Horr swatted his hand away annoyed.

The goblins were already fleeing from them. When shown such a decisive immediate blow even a goblin will know fear, especially if it doesn't have a sharp object to swing back with.

The three tried to grab other goblins, but the tiny creatures were too nimble and fast.

"This is just great. Horr, did you hear me? I said this is just great. You've really outdone yourself." Grat spat furiously.

"Shut up." Horr growled. As the bigger orc he had a higher status, yet Grat always insulted him, just because he was a trusted adviser of Kubar.

-

"Look. There." Grat distracted from the conversation by pointing at a bunch of healthy and plump looking goblins standing still right in the open. They didn't look emaciated like most you would come across. They were carrying weapons that had been supplied by the orc tribe but lowered them and backed away instead of using them, which was an unusual amount of sense for a goblin. "There's got to be some blood in those. Get them."

Now wasn't the time to discuss who got to give who orders, so Prakk simply charged at the the pack, his arms spread as widely as possible in order to pin them with his body.

To Grat's surprise a one-eyed goblin purposefully stood in the way of Prakk's sweeping arm. As soon as they collided the creature firmly held on to the body part in order to redirect its movement, his whole body contorted in order to twist

Prakk's arm and force him on top of himself.

Now squashed under the orc's weight, there was no doubt that the goblin had hurt himself more than he had hurt his attacker, but with the move he disrupted Prakk's movement and gave his fellow goblins room to dodge and escape.

"Pshaw!" Prakk yelled angrily as he saw the troupe run away from him. He smashed the goblin that had foiled him into the ground, which knocked the creature out.

"Get those ones!" Grat yelled as he jumped over Prakk to chase after them. "We need multiple for the bloodletting."

The truth was that he was intrigued. If they wanted to they could probably rip apart the nest or force the goblin tribe to deliver them one of their own, but these goblins obviously didn't belong to this nest. One of them had deflected Prakk, who had to be more than ten times his weight.

Grat wasn't particularly interested in humanoid behavior, but by the standards of his tribe he was learned on the subject. He took pride in being the most knowledgeable about these creatures and now he encountered a mystery. There was no harm in chasing down the anomalies and seeing what they returned.

----------------------------------------

There was no amount of novice-level martial arts training and proper risk analysis that could save the party from being captured by the orcs.

It seemed like the creatures had intentionally singled them out and went after them specifically.

They also didn't kill or hurt them, despite Teeth seriously scratching one their face when he had him pinned.

Eventually they were carried away, under the arms of the orcs, by the scruff of their necks or dangling from their leg, to the orcs' current camp.

Scratch was still unconscious. The blow to his head had been severe and could only have a lasting impact on him.

-

The brothers were thrown into a big pile in the middle of a large crowd of the orcs. The numbers of the large beings seemed completely overwhelming at the moment.

"How are we going to get out of this one?" Second asked Teeth.

"Get Scratch to wake up." Teeth answered, then he turned to Runt, who had been thrown after them as an afterthought as he seemed to be their accompaniment, more or less. "What are they saying."

"They all speak same time." Runt said in a tired voice. "I no hear."

Just then that situation changed as an orc much larger than the rest made his way between the crowd. The rest fell silent and he began to speak.

Teeth looked at Runt expectingly.

After a moment Runt understood the meaning of his look and started translating. "He say... he say god is near."

"God.. who's God?" Biter moaned, lying underneath Kicker, who was thrown on top of him on the pile.

Runt didn't answer, he seemed annoyed at getting his translation interrupted.

The biggest orc seemed to get challenged on something by a smaller one, but he was dismissive of his words.

"He say what we are not matter. He say must get blood for... for spilling blood."

At that moment an orc approached with what looked like a sickle. A path in the crowd opened towards one of the creatures sitting in a meditative position in-between smoke producing lamps.

The orc lifted Kicker by his hair, which was immensely painful for him and made him scream out while being dragged off.

"Scratch. Scratch." Second shook his brother.

"Tell them to use their own blood..." Scratch said in a weak voice, he was dazed and only half-conscious.

Runt didn't say anything as Kicker was dragged in front of the entranced orc and his neck exposed.

"What's the word for blood?" Second quickly asked him.

*Dreg* Runt whispered the noise for him.

The slaughtering orc raised his sickle to slash the sacrifice's jugulars.

"Spill your own blood!" Second yelled as loud as he could in the words he had picked up from the orcs' language over the day, so much strain did he put on his voice that he was instantly hoarse.

The killer paused in surprise as the sudden audacious remark.

Everyone was silent when the orc leader suddenly started laughing.

----------------------------------------

Once again Grat found himself annoyed at Kubar's exuberance.

He had tried to convince him to let him study the creatures a bit before the sacrifice, but he had insisted on starting the ritual as soon as possible.

A mystic was in place, the blue grass had been ignited, everything was ready for a blood sacrifice and the start of another communion.

After all that a single rude comment from the goblin was enough to stop everything in its tracks and make Kubar roar joyously with laughter.

It wasn't like goblins weren't known to talk back even when you're actually about to kill them, they had a reduced fear response and weren't as quickly intimidated as other creatures. Then again, Kubar, along with most orcs, didn't make much of a distinction between humanoids.

"Use our own blood! That's a good one!" Kubar's laughter continued, others joined him to flatter their leader.

Abruptly he stopped. "I see you're one of those who can talk. I'll let you live. Then we'll show you blood is given only by the weak. Continue the-"

"Argh!" Nuruk, the executioner had been distracted by the spectacle and Kubar's response and loosened his grip on the goblin about to be sacrificed. The creature had used this opportunity to bite his hand and make him drop the sickle.

With such a large collection of orc warriors surrounding them there wasn't much risk of him successfully running off, but there was the risk off...

Grat didn't have the time to warn him, he could only open his mouth and shriek as the goblin picked up the bloodletting knife from the ground and in one fluid motion slid open Nuruk's throat with the sharped implement.

The executioner collapsed on the floor, blood rushing profusely out of his slashed artery.

Multiple orcs rushed towards him and his attacked when the mystic opened his eyes and an intense shining light drowned their surroundings.

-

"Kubar!" The god exclaimed, his voice coming from the mystics body, its tone of divine fury making the orcs shrink back in fear.

"Manshuu..." Kubar responded, visibly shocked, but not cowering like the others.

This communion was different than the others. Manshuu, god of bloodshed wasn't here to help them their mission, he was here to tell them off.

"You have promised me a dungeon core Kubar." He spat menacingly. "What have you given me since then, huh?

Endless petitions for more guidance!"

"Boss, it's not my fault. My friends got spotted... we need to stop the humanoids from-"

The fury of the god contorted the mystic's face in an expression he was not physically capable of and ripped apart muscles in his face. Hands and arms of a muddy red material emerged from the ground where the blood had been spilled and started wildly grabbing at their surroundings. "I did not ask for your excuses, you filthy animal! Every day you spend playing with your feed is one my rival grows stronger! Now even hobgoblins have appeared, soon he will have a dungeon of his very own!"

Kubar audibly gulped.

"You are my champion, you serve me, not the other way around. Now go and find that core. It is controlled by goblins, not humans, goblins. Find it! I have prophesied your end before, make sure you serve your purpose before that, you know what will happen to your soul if you don't."

With those last words the god has enough and exited the mystic's body, who fell to his knees and held his mutilated face.

The orcs were spreading out to let the animated arms of blood crawl away, they knew from experience the things could get exceedingly nasty when their path was blocked.

Kubar gasped for air. Nothing about this was good.

----------------------------------------

Scratch still wasn't completely clear of mind.

"What happened?" He whispered.

"What happened?" Second scratched his head. "Kicker killed an orc and then..." He turned to Runt. "... and then what happened?"

Runt was wide-eyed and in complete shock. "It... the boss said not humans, goblins have *grug*."

"The boss?"

Runt pointed at the crying orc with the torn face on the ground.

"Fantastic." Scratch got up. "So now they're going to go after goblins. That's us. Although.. is it? I don't know anymore."

With the orcs fleeing from the strange arm things it seemed like this was the ideal time to escape, however, the smaller of the three orcs that had captured them quickly grabbed on to kicked from behind, to make him drop the sharp weapon.

He grunted something that was obviously an expletive.

"Runt." Scratch said, resigned to something. "Please tell them we'll give them their grug or whatever if they let us live."

Runt hurriedly delivered the message.

The small orc seemed skeptical but the large leader jumped at mention of the prize and barked at him to let him go.

"What are you doing?" Second whispered in Scratch's ear.

"Stalling for time." Was the answer. "Don't worry. You'll think of something."

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Crimson Graspers

Family: Elementals

Threat Level: D

Reward: 1 silver piece

An earth elemental created by dark magic, it longs only to kill and has no survival instincts. crimson graspers have the appearance of humanoid arms, drenched in blood. They are actually elementals composed of mud with not weak spots to attack. Because of their lack of mobility and intelligence they are considered a low threat, however, even for an experienced adventurer getting within grasping distance of a crimson grasper is serious trouble, as they possess immense strength and killing power.

Not much is known about the origin of crimson graspers, other than that evil magic is involved in their creation. Crimson graspers can be expected in areas were dark magic has a large presence, such as a land corrupted by darkness or a dungeon.