Eric took a whiff of himself, taking in the sickly coppery smell of the goblin blood he had drenched himself in. He had considered wrapping some of the intestines around himself and knotting them just in case, but the goblin that killed the rabbit the other day hadn't noticed him when he was just soaked in blood.

Again, he had become the Red Man, and was painted head to foot in goblin blood. The substance was very sticky for blood, more so than any other Eric had felt. He briefly wondered as to why that was, but he was far from being an expert on this subject. He could track a blood trail sure, but he didn't know what was going on at the cellular level, that kind of knowledge was reserved for eggheads.

Eric moved into the cave slowly, using the daylight outside to light his path. He would take out his flashlight only if needed, there were no batteries on alien planets. At least, he didn't believe there were. Eric didn't want to use his lighter either, he was uncertain how much longer it would keep going. Starting fire without a lighter was possible of course, but it could be a miserable process depending on conditions.

It wouldn't be too hard for him to fashion a bow drill once his lighter went out, but Eric enjoyed the convenience of his CIL buddy.

Eric supposed that he could just light up one of the torches he had in his bag once daylight ceased reaching into the depths. Sure enough, he had to do exactly that when he reached the bottom of the decline. The tunnel had flattened into a straight path ahead, the width enough for two people to walk through side by side with generous amounts of elbow room.

Before he ignited the torch in his bag, he peered into the gaping black maw of the tunnel, trying to discern any moving shapes. Either there was nothing ahead or whatever creature hiding was doing a damned good job of it. Eric lit up his torch, and moved forward, his footsteps echoing quietly. If the goblins could hear the echoes then they might think something was wrong.

He adjusted his movements as he went, adopting a low crouch and stepping lightly. The echo was still there, but very faint to his ears. The orange glow on the old rock corridor grimly reminded him of his spelunking back on the peninsula. He half expected a cannibal mutant freak to leap out at him, screeching like a feral beast as it tried to rend Eric's flesh apart. He put aside the awful memories, furrowing his brow in an effort to focus.

After a full minute of sneaking, the light of his torch illuminated a fork in the tunnel. Not knowing which one to go with, he opted to take a left. If needed he could find his way back here. The cool temperature of the cave was almost comfortable, but still a little to chilly for his taste. He wondered as to where Scout could be at this moment.

He hoped she was safe, these woods were no place for a little lady like her, especially with these little green freaks running around. Then again, she was clearly capable when it came to sneaking around. On top of that, she had her weird invisisuit, Eric could spot her sure… but a goblin? Not a chance in hell. She'd be okay.

Eric kept walking until he saw an unmoving shape on the ground. It was just ahead of him, a few dozen paces at most, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. He crept forward, readying his axe for a killer swing, but lowered it as he saw the form for what it was.

It was a corpse. A goblin corpse that had been run through the chest. Eric assumed that it had been a sword that had done the deed, for the exit wound out the back was the same diamond shape as the entry wound. Blood pooled around the corpse, yellow eyes glassy and dead. Eric was almost surprised, but remembered the three sets of tracks that had descended into the cave.

Perhaps they were clearing it out? If so, then Eric might not have that much work to do after all. Were they here to save the women? If so, then they couldn't be the bad people Scout warned him of right? Bad guys don't typically go out saving people on a whim… but perhaps he was assuming too much. He had no idea why these people were in the cave, best not to have any expectations for what was coming next.

Well, besides more dead goblins.

Which he did find. He passed through sodden mildew-smelling chambers in the cave as he moved forward. Moist hay had been piled randomly throughout these spaces in what looked like bedding. There were more forks in his descent, but Eric didn't fear getting lost, as he had been following a trail of dead goblins.

If he decided it was time to head out, he could follow the corpse trail back easily. Eric was curious as to just what else these strangers might be looking for. They weren't looting the place as far as he could see, as each chamber he wandered through had stores of unopened barrels, chests, crates, and other assorted containers filled with random assorted junk. Eric himself fully intended on looting the place when he was done cleaning it out.

What would he do if they demanded a share of the loot? Eric supposed that it would only be fair, considering that he hadn't gotten here first. What if they demanded all of it? He would solve that scenario if or when it happened. He needed to concentrate.

Eric narrowed his eyes as he passed another goblin corpse, this one with its brain spattered across the wall of the stone corridor. The light of his torch reflected off the oily meat on display, and he sneered in disgust. Not at the corpse, at the foul smell just ahead of him.

The corridor curved into yet another chamber up ahead, and that was where the odor originated, Eric was sure of it. Its scent was like rotting flesh that had been marinated in raw sewage over the course of several weeks… it was almost as bad as that baby cave back on the peninsula. Eric halted in his tracks at the thought. The first virginia he'd ever fought had caught him off guard there in that pit… he'd not have that happen again.

He took out a molotov from his bag, making sure that his axe was in a good position to be quickly drawn after throwing the cocktail. His torch was still going strong, an anchor to protect his mind from the maddening darkness all around him. He took a deep breath and rounded the corner.

The stench hit him even harder then, the sewer meat smell amplified by several degrees as he stared in horror at what lay in the room. Old rotten wood buckets of vile muggy water sat stacked in a line at the end of the chamber, dead goblin children lay spattered and decapitated before them… along with the bodies of several women. All were naked, some of their torsos burst open from the inside out. The mutant babies within had all been bludgeoned with a large boot against the floor, ending them before their life could truly begin.

The women without burst open torsos bore wounds from a blade, all driven through the throat. The size of the wound exactly matching that of one of the dead goblins above. That same diamond shape – Eric came to a realization then, one that boiled his blood with wrath.

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The men that had gotten here before him had done this, and he would make them pay. They could have been saved! They hadn't bloated up yet! His right hand shook furiously as he discarded all regards for stealth, charging back the way he had come, all the way back to the entrance of the cave. Eric didn't want to risk missing them as he searched the cave, they had to die.

And so, he waited, just above the mouth of the cavern, axe in hand – ready to fall upon the first man out of the cave. He doused his torch and tossed the mostly used-up tool aside in anger, the stick landing softly in a pile of autumn leaves.

Time passed, but Eric was too furious to notice as the light slowly began to darken around him. The light of dusk reflected off his bloody red form as he crouched silently over the mouth, his eyes as wide as they could possibly go and hand quaking. Time did not exist to Eric Leblanc at this moment – for maintaining his killer patience took all his attention.

The dark night that descended was barely illuminated by the red and green crescent moons overhead. Just as Eric's patience was beginning to fray, he heard voices approaching. They echoed up to him from the stone corridor, along with their heavy footfalls. Three men in all, matching the tracks he had found earlier. He strained his ears to hear what was being said.

"I don't like that Prowler wants us to kill the womenfolk when we find em… it ain't proper." One man, gruff and wizened said "They aren't here for cave explorin' they're just poor souls that got unlucky… don't understand why we gotta kill em' off."

Another voice belonging to what sounded like a younger man scoffed "We're branded. We have to do what he tells us. I don't like it either, but that bitch Scout made us his slaves..."

Eric frowned at hearing the words, anger receding only slightly. Scout made them into Prowlers What?

He remembered what he had asked her, about why her companions were bad.

"I… Helped make them that way."

Eric shook his head. Prowler was ordering these men to kill the women – for what purpose Eric had no idea. Based on the way those guys down there were talking, they weren't keen on killing the women… why didn't they disobey? The younger guy had said that they were 'branded' and had to do whatever Prowler said right?

Was this some kind of magic deal? Were they being mind-controlled? The shaking of his right hand slowed down as the possibilities rolled through his mind. It wasn't long before the three men who had entered the cave were out of the cave mouth, still chatting up a storm. They did not see Eric as they passed right under him, only a few feet from one another.

Should he kill them anyway? It wasn't their fault they were slaves to Prowler, but if more women were going to be killed by them… then he couldn't let them live. Eric couldn't make out many details from what he could see of the three figures, other than their size. The first two were near identical in shape and size, the only difference being the slight stoop in one's shoulders. That had to be the older guy Eric realized.

The third shape was a hulking brute of a man, almost as large as the hobgoblin Eric had fought the other day. It took long heavy steps, head slumped down as it trailed behind the two other figures.

"Don't be so glum Holom." The younger said, form turning to look at the large lumbering brute "One day, a brandless is gonna get sick of Prowler and kill him… then we'll be free again. It's only a matter of time."

Holom did not respond, keeping his head slumped.

"Ain't no brandless gonna kill Prowler boy," The old voice retorted "None of that chaff has the skill or the balls to try it, even if they did, they wouldn't be able to beat him."

They were drawing closer to the tree line, and Eric, curious about what else they might have to say, began following after them silently. He avoided several sticks and dry leaves as to not give away his tail, and thankfully the men just ahead of him didn't notice. They began speaking of other things, about the guys they didn't like, how the cook was probably a wanted criminal, and other nonsense that had nothing to do with Scout or her daddy figure Prowler.

He thought about what she and these men had said, and felt conflicted emotions roiling around inside him. On one hand, Scout was willing to speak and listen to him… but on the other, she had apparently helped in binding these men to Prowler's will. Eric's eyes widened as a thought - a horrible thought entered his mind. What if she was trying to stick him with that brand? Trying to make Eric Prowler's slave? Eric clenched his jaw, eyes going wide and hand shaking.

Of course! Why would anyone willingly listen to him!? Had Eric forgotten what his life had become!?

"Everyone is out to get me!" He thought angrily as his quaking hand reached an all-time high.

Scout hadn't wanted to be his friend or speak with him, she wanted to enslave him to this Prowler pricks will! He'd kill her the next time he saw her for sure. Something tickled at the back of his mind as the killer intent took him, a sort of… doubt he held. If she was out to turn him into a slave… why hadn't she just used the brand then? Why not send all these goons to hold Eric down while Prowler or Scout did the deed? What even was the brand? Was it like a cow brand or something else?

The shaking of his hand slowed, but only slightly. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. What if Scout herself had been branded by Prowler? She wouldn't have had a choice but to obey his every word right? Hadn't she said he was like a father to her though? That she had to pretty much beg to work for him?

Damn… was she just a daddy's girl? Willing to do whatever it took to please her father figure? What if he was taking advantage of Scout's affections to make her do all this enslaving stuff? Scout had seemed guilty when she told him she had helped make them this way… what had the younger guy said earlier?

If Prowler died then all the branded were free?

There was a solution here, it just took the death of Prowler. He sounded like an asshole anyway, and besides, he couldn't be that tough. Then again… if he killed Prowler, then Scout would probably hate Eric for it. Did that really matter though? Was his budding friendship with Scout more important to him than freeing enslaved men from an evil prick?

His frustration built from his indecision, staying with him for a long while before he finally came to decide on what he was going to do.

He'd follow these guys home for tonight, just to see where they lived – and the next time he saw Scout...

He'd get answers from her. Straight answers to all of his questions.