Moving through the tunnel and finding the next large room, we walk in to what immediately screams danger!

The layout is simple, a large square room with a door on two opposite walls, with one being the one where we came from.

The centre of the room is empty and well lit from a magic torch dropped in the centre of the room.

This however leaves the sides of the room very poorly lit, almost to the point of complete darkness.

Due to the bright torch, I can hardily see anything at the far reaches of the room, but I can still barely make out debris at the edge of the light on both our left and right.

What I can gather from my near-blinded vision is that there are two makeshift barriers on either side of us, likely hiding the archers behind them. Not that I have any idea if they are there with this damn torch ‘conveniently’ placed here.

Definitely set up as an ambush, further evident by few  fresh blood-stains metres from where I’m stood.

I imagine they are the other group, hence why we haven’t been peppered with arrows by now.

After a moment of frozen suspense, a voice ring out to my right in a low commanding bark. Similar to when I hear Taldarian officers shout at someone for marching incorrectly or having an insufficiently sharpened sword.

“Bows down!

It’s our own!”

“Talk about stating the obvious, do we look like a butch of mangy bipedal dogs to you?” Argus calls out after a light chuckle.

The would be ambushers gradually move from their cover into the light, 14 in total.

With the 12 of us, we now have a total of 26 fighters, instead of the original 40 that got to the ruins.

Looking around, I notice I can’t see the leader of the Black Hound squadron they had with them, so I assume he’s dead.

“This all you got Hywel? Thought you guys were superhuman Forgotten Land veterans.”

“Bah!

Least we don’t run from thos’ flea-bitten mongrels!

besides, ‘ow many ‘itches have your lot got? One, two if you lot got luck on your side.

Still manage t’ get ‘alf your guy dead though, didn’t ye’.”

“Six witches actually, and constant waves of gnolls coming through here.

Most of your losses are likely from them forgetting they have to breath!”

“Hahaha!

Only six ey! We got triple tha’ number, and we killed the furry lot yours were hiding from.

Waves of gnolls my hairy arse!”

We talked a little with the other group about what we had come across to get here, with me lurking behind Argus as he talks with the one arguing with Hywel.

With Argus starting first, he explains the ancient games we came across in abundance, notably glazing over the embarrassing ambush we suffered and going into far more detail in our attack on the group of witches. Both the ambush in the arcade and in the dormitory.

The first half of the story involving the artefacts was scoffed at by, for which I don’t blame him, since they do seem like a heavily embellished bullshit if you hadn’t seen them for yourself.

It probably also wasn’t helping that everyone are describing completely different artefacts than the other, rather than confirming one another's story.

The second half, and the cause of all of our losses, was taken far more seriously.

At the end of Argus’s portrayal of events, the military officer began on what his lot experienced.

“Didn’t have none of these fanciful magic that you described, but there was a whole lot stuff that looked completely alien to us, most of it being in pieces. Lots of weird spinney stuff and other devices that do who knows what.

After someone touched the wrong thing, it attacked him with lightning and left him on the floor twitchin’.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Thing must have been a weapon or something, but either way we stopped messing with this magic crap before someone got killed.

We basically just kept moving through different rooms dedicated to craftin’, with some rooms making stuff  that seemed like random junk to me. But what do I know? Maybe those things are un-killable metal warriors or somethin’.

One other thing we did see was a skeleton, who knows how long it has been here, but it was the size of a 13 year old.

It’s an awfully long way through the Forgotten Lands for a lost child to get here, so perhaps it’s one of this places original inhabitants.

From there we moved through even more workshops and then storage room used to supply even more workshops.

There is only such metal someone can take and I’m afraid I’ve reached that point.

To make the situation even better, every  10 minutes or so a group of gnolls come on through.

We avoided them at first, but due to a few dire wolves attacking us and making a bloody mess everywhere, we had to fight every damn group. Otherwise they’d continue past us, find the blood and corpses, and come and stab us in the arse.

So as we continued to do this, one loss occurred, and then another. So all in all we lost 6, including the leader of the Black Hound squadron.

He died fighting one of those bastards.” He gestures over to the bound gnoll still being carried by Torben.

“I trust you’ve got a good reason to keep that thing alive. I’ve seen one of them fight and it ended in three of us dying, including who was likely the most skilled fighter of the lot of us.

If it gets out and kills half of us, it’s on you lot!”

I give nothing more than a small grin as a response at his concern. Though it is certainly true that this guy is dangerous.

As I glance over the prisoner being carried over Torben’s shoulder, I am met with the vicious eyes of the gnoll staring back at me expressionless.

Or what I believe to be expressionless, after all it’s hard to read facial expressions beyond resting face and snarling face.

I look towards Argus, and gesture for him to come closer.

“Perhaps we should question the wolf? Provided it can even speak our tongue.”

“Not here, lets move into one of the smaller rooms.”

Slipping away with Argus, Torben and his cargo, we move back into the tunnel from which we came.

Finding the closest off-shooting room, we quickly enter.

I call it a room, though it barely qualifies as a cupboard.

Only three metres wide, it has no furniture beyond metal shelving lining the walls.

All are empty but one, which has three small box’s on a shelf, all of which are heavily degraded. However, a single container has relatively intact text, though still very warped.

I move up to it and attempt to translate it. Upon channelling a sliver of magic into the ruined material, it quickly begins to burn up and crumble.

Before the mana current completely destroys what text is salvageable I get a look at the largest writing.

Powdered cake mix

How do you make powdered cake?

Torben roughly drops the gnoll into to the corner face first, who responds with a low growl.

Taking out my dagger, I roll over the gnoll onto his back and crouch in front of him.

Nimbly Juggling  my weapon between my fingers I once again resume our staring contest.

“Do you speak our tongue?

After a receiving a blank stare, the gnoll officer finally responds in a deep raspy voice.

“…Yes.”

I make an attempt at a kind smile.

"Then, lets have a chat..."