Sollerets clanked against the cave floor as the knight pushed forward steadily. The plain steel heater shield with no insignia hung over his back while the single-handed sword remained sheathed in his leather belt. A mummified corpse in dried leather armor, a bow on her back, rested on his left shoulder. He held by his right arm like a sack of beans.

Carrie walked gingerly besides him with her hands folded behind her back as she tended to do when she wasn’t checking her bow. Fat mushrooms lit the cavern ceiling in dingy yellow as they hung down from speckled stems. Crudely scratched drawings lined the cavern walls. They looked like little warriors hunting a beast. Little statues of uncut bones tied together with rotted leather and twine marked the path.

“Do you think possibly we’ve reached a civilization? Do you think they’ll be friendly dearest?”

“Best we be on our guard, angel,” Mike scanned the dimly lit cavern as he heard the shuffling of feet, “We’ve already seen what happened to the others. I picked a mint for you; they are quite delectable. Would you like it before we go further.”

“I’m not much fond of mint, dearest. Please enjoy it. I insist.”

The aluminum foil on the mint proved difficult to open with his gauntlets.

“Having trouble, dearest?”

“Yes, can you open this bugger for me?”

“Yes, dearest, give it to me please.”

“Thank you, my angel.”

A malformed and crushed chocolate mint plopped into his mouth. The curled foil fell near a bone pillar. The weight of his armor, sword, and shield felt heavy on his shoulders and bit on his stamina as he continued to trudge forward. Minor stat notices flickered at the side of his vision. Then the cavern opened before them from the once narrow path.

Three small creatures rushed to face the knight. Two had worn wooden pole-arms; the one in the center a staff decorated with a skull. The sight of the staff caused Mike to grimace and back away a step. He almost fell backwards. He reached for his sword, but Carrie put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Dearest, I don’t think they mean us harm. They’re just scared, after all we’re blessed of Azoria.”

The knight caught a breath and took a better look. The lighting of the mushrooms proved insufficient, so with a twirl of his hand Carrie cast mage light over them. A sparkling blue light revealed the forms of the three creatures. They had long pointy ears and none were much over three feet tall. From the looks of their lumpy green faces, Mike decided that these were goblins. Cave goblins to be exact, because they lived in a cave.

“Do you like goblins?” he asked Carrie with a sly smile.

“Oh, shut it now! You’re not going to use that line on me!”

The goblins with polearms had fierce looking eyes of pure red, while the one holding a skull staff had coal colored eyes. The one in the center began to speak with a raspy, gnarled voice.

“Erapta, Vovovovo!”

“Apparently we weren’t gifted with the ability to speak goblin.”

A voice called from inside the wider caverns, “No worries, welcome to our village. Some of my kin can speak Demonian. Some can even speak it quite well.”

“Is that what we’re speaking, not English? I’ve felt like something in my head had been replaced since I awoke here with my love.”

The knight remained steadfast as an older goblin approached into the mage light. The hunched deformity of his back made him seem smaller than he was. He had a thin wispy beard that almost reached the ground. A withered stick served as his cane. The others broke ranks for him as he observed the knight.

“Fierce knight, welcome to the village of Grugspitl.”

“And what about my lady, is she not welcome in your village?”

The goblin elder weakly craned his head. This knight had the marks of a Demonian. The corpse had no markings, yet it appeared to have been someone he treasured.

The goblin holding the skull staff turned to the elder, “Stalil fet goren avave?”

The elder replied by raising a hand with reassuring smile, “Stalil Demonian. Gorble taks.”

“Are you going to continue to test my patience with your crass language?”

Carrie put a hand on his shoulder and leaned against him, whispering in his ear, “They are not hostile and we can take food and rest here. We’ll just stay on our guard, dearest. Don’t worry, I can handle myself if they betray us.”

“I see, that’s why you are indeed my better angel.”

The elder goblin tilted his head curiously as the knight spoke to thin air. He hesitated for a moment and tilted his head in deep thought. Before them stood a demonian human warrior, unseen for centuries. This was cause for further celebration. Azoria would protect and grant prosperity to the tribe if they offered a warm welcome.

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“You two look starved, come with me if you please. We are having a festival to celebrate the lighting of the beacon and your very arrival. Yes, with the arrival of Azoria’s champions, we’ll be ushered forth into a new era of bathing in the light of the stars!”

The staff reached upwards and grabbed the mage light. The elder beckoned the others to follow them as they walked though dimly lit caverns speckled with bone sculptures and scratches depicting both hunts and battles. The knight creaked and clattered like a tin can with every step. He groaned and grumbled sights and his steps became heavier. They stopped at a flat rock. The goblin elder chanted before blue light flickered in lines carved upon the door, which slid aside.

A horde of little green people peaked from leathery tents, looked up from campfires baking rats or pots of boiling slime. They peered from dwellings carved in thick stalagmites and the walls of the cave itself.

There were small goblins, much less deformed looking, almost cute. The sight of them made Carrie giggle. Most were dressed, even if in rags and skinned beasts. Some of their numbers were hunters with pikes who stood with their women. Moans and groans could be heard from some of the tents they passed to closely. Goblin females in various stages of pregnancy stood around fires, some nursing young. The females were slightly fairer of face than the males but shorter, none over three feet tall.

Streamers of bone lined the ceiling. The same phosphorescence that brightened Azoria’s chamber presented itself here in dimmer form. Every dwelling had glowing mushroom nearby. Yet, without the mage light the cave remained dark for humans aside for the roaring fire in the center of the village. As they sat to warm themselves by the fire, Mike observed an elevated platform of flat stone carved with a glowing violet sigil.

On the other side of the fire, goblins of all stripes conducted a dance around a large monster bone statue of a beast in the shape of a minotaur. They kicked their legs, raised their hands, and sung short bursts of poetry in their language.

Carrie set herself by the fired. Her legs folded against her torso and her arms rested beside her as she looked into the fire. The elder took a seat on the mat beside the mummified archer. Two goblins munching a roasted cave rat on the other side of the fire looked at the new arrivals.

“Burgle eh, felth nage?” said one.

“Dead one, bring why?” said the other in broken common.

The elder goblin stared firmly with admonishment and the two went back to eating without further comment.

The wizened goblin sighed, “Feel free to take rest in our humble village. We don’t have much to offer, but we will do what we can for any warrior of Azoria. If you need anything, I am at your service. Just call for Garbleck Orzerek. In common Demonian, it translates to village elder.”

Mikes stomach growled, “We are famished. Can you prepare us something that isn’t a roasted rat or a disgusting cave fungus?”

The elder stood and spoke to the holder of the skull wand, who in turn ordered on the spear holders to relay a message.

“The finest we can offer is Mini-mogg and Mini-moggtaur steak. Our warriors are not capable of facing a full-fledged Mogg-taur. It is the best we can offer, cooked with cave salt, onions, and mushrooms as, being trapped in this corner of a dungeon for ten thousand years, we are limited in our options. But when we rise to the surface! Oh, that is another matter. I pray the surface has not become too bright for our eyes.”

Mike grunted halfhearted approval. He noticed a slightly cold breeze; something ventilated this cavern. Could they be close to the surface? Carrie didn’t say anything, she seemed a bit down lately. As his stamina recovered a notice alert flickered in his side vision. He opened the status screen and selected the available quests.

“From Azoria herself no less,” Carrie mused.

[Quest: Kill Order For Circe Oratia Sheffield: Divergent Bookworm]

Honorary Demonians: By all means at your disposal you are to seek and destroy this death berserker. The ones who succeed in this mission will become my closest advisor and receive great rewards beyond even my boon. You may utilize any teleportation ring to reach the floor it dwells upon by opening this quest request on entering. Good luck and my blessing upon you.

“She’s still on the listing,” Carrie said, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. Should we leave at once?”

“I’m tired angel, we can leave after we’ve eaten and rested. Perhaps we can recruit a few of these mobs to guard us. They won’t refuse a quest from Azoria. It would be worthwhile to fill out the party some.”

A few bladders were brought to the fire. The goblin elder tapped his staff and looked up, “While we wait to dine, how about you partake in some brew?”

“Do you have water?”

“Only from the finest springs,” he said, gesturing to the water bladder before he poured himself a helping of brew in his fiber mug, “Would you fine Demonian heroes be willing to share your names?”

Mike stood and drew his sword.

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“Our names are the key to our powers. We don’t share them lightly.”

“I understand, my humblest apologies sir knight and madam archer. I meant no subterfuge or disrespect.”

Mike sheathed his sword with a disapproving grunt.

Finally, the food arrived. A charred rat tail sufficed for the elder, a salad of mushrooms and grilled rat meat reached the attendants. A silver platter held a thick simmering steak glazed with mushroom sauce and speckled with onions before the hungry knight. At first, he salivated, but then his eyes narrowed and face reddened. The silver platter flung like a discus into the eyes of the server. The meal splattered about mats, some of it landed on Carrie’s mummified lap.

“How dare you serve me without acknowledging my lady! Have you no chivalry! A lady is to be always served first you witless slime. I’ll have your head for this. Do you have any idea who we are? We are knights of Azoria herself, granted armor and weapons to symbolize our status above even the others among her chosen! When I am served, she is served, or she is served first. Do I make myself clear? Now clean this up and bring two more, fresh, the same as before. Hurry with it, my patience wanes!”

The serving goblin clutched his nose and had paid little attention to the speech as it writhed about with a bit of green blood trickling from its nostrils. Red and black beady eyes from every corner of the village leered in the direction of the fire as the elder stood and tapped his cane. The offending server found himself drug out of sight. A young goblin lass gathered the spilled food delicately in a dried mushroom bowl, making sure to clean it and arrange it neatly.

“My apologies for these oversights my lord and lady from Azoria. It will be as you request. Please don’t punish us too harshly for overlooking you, my lady. We apologize that our offerings are so humble.”

Carrie pushed at his armored leggings, “Be gentle with them dearest, they’re only goblins. They barely know better.”