A gust of wind causes a low, echoing hum to resonate throughout the cave. Fire-lit torches flicker, casting shadows on the rocky walls, while clawed creatures roam the tunnels. The wind travels past leaky sections of the cave, where small pools of water form on the ground. Finally, the wind is broken by large iron bars that span from floor to ceiling. The light from the rest of the cave barely reaches this deep into the cavern, leaving it nearly dark.

Another shiver rolls across Cella’s back. With a loud throbbing unceasing in her head, she begins to wake. “Kenson, she’s waking up,” Acini’s voice softly rings out. Kenson looks to Cella, then back to Acini. “I’ll handle Tallis, go to her,” he says, as they both gently raise a bloodied Tallis off the ground and lean him against a wall.

Cella begins to get to her feet as Acini comes to her aid, scanning their surroundings. Kenson holds Tallis up, chanting something under his breath. The entire group seems to have sustained major wounds to their heads, judging by the amount of blood on everyone’s faces. It appears that all of the group's equipment and clothing have been taken, leaving them exposed. Cella sees they are all in a dark cave of some kind, locked in by large iron bars embedded into the stone.

In the darkest corner of their "cell," Cella notices two men sitting. One is the lead guard from the forest trail, equally as bloodied as the rest. Without the helm and armor, his young, stubbly face can be seen—a handsome young human male with short, wispy black hair. He is conversing with the second man, a seemingly middle-aged bald human male who looks as if red meat would be the only thing on his diet. This second man has no visible wounds like the others.

There is a faint glow of magic in the room as Kenson completes his spell. A flash of purple strikes Tallis, and he groans awake. “It’s not enough to just take our gear?” Cella yells, turning toward the cage bars. “My nipples could cut through these bars, you stupid FUCKS!” Acini grabs Cella’s shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. “Save your strength, Cella. You are but a hatchling now in power.” Cella visibly relaxes, her breathing becoming deep and rhythmic.

“Yeah, Cella, no need to scare our guests,” Tallis groans, nodding to the bald man and the guard. Cella shoots Tallis a dirty look, but Kenson speaks up, turning to the two other men. “If either of you have a recollection of the events that occurred, it would be most helpful to all of us in this predicament.”

The guard looks at the bald man, then Acini speaks. “Hey! You were that guard from before.” Kenson raises his clawed hand toward Acini, motioning for her to be quiet as the guard begins to speak, turning back to the group and taking a deep breath.

“Let’s start at the beginning then. My name is Simon Le’vont, Guardsmen Captain of Thistle City. By order of Mayor Toma, my men and I were to track down and capture a dangerous criminal, the details of which don’t matter at this time.”

Tallis interrupts. “And so let me guess, you strayed too far from home without backup, and they kicked your ass,” he chuckles and coughs. Cella snaps back at him and scoffs. “You fool, look at the state we’re in.”

“Not exactly,” Simon continues. “Yes, we traveled far west in pursuit of this individual, but he was not what we found…” He pauses. “A warband of goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears were forming. From all corners of the nation, they were traveling to march together. It was horrifying to see. We tried to stop a few parties from noticing us, but it was too late. They had me and my men by the tail. From twenty, we became three and managed to flee. Now it’s just me. I have no way of knowing if the remaining guardsmen got away.”

“A goblin warband... ill-fated luck indeed,” Kenson mutters. “That still doesn't tell us what happened or how we got here,” Cella complains. Acini responds, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It may appear that the goblins got us while the guards were fleeing.” She looks to Simon, who nods.

“Then why capture us? Why not just kill us and be done with it?” Cella persists. Tallis groans and gathers his strength to rise, keeping a hand on the wall for support. “Think about it this way, Cella. They’re a warband now, not random traveling clans. They’re smart.” He pauses somberly. “Smart enough to know not to eat their food all at once.” The room grows eerily quiet.

Kenson takes this time to introduce himself and the party to Simon as courtesy. A moment passes, and a shuffling sound is heard. The silent bald man who had been sitting in the corner stands. In anticipation, the room’s attention shifts toward him. “The half-blood is right,” he says in a deep, smoker’s voice, looking toward Tallis. “It’s been three days. They check on us twice a day to make sure we aren’t dead yet.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Simon hops up, looking toward the bald man. “Then we have a chance to get out of here. We just need to take out the patrol somehow.” He looks at the group and asks, “Who here, besides our dragon friend, can use magic?” Looking around, Acini asks, “What is it you have in mind?”

“Probably a distraction,” Tallis replies. “Exactly right, my friend. If we can get the patrol close enough, we may be able to take him out.” Kenson, who had wandered over to the iron bars, turns to speak. “I’m afraid the gaps are too thin for such actions, sir.”

There is another moment of silence before the bald man speaks again. “Let’s do it. If the goblin gets close enough, I can take care of it.” The group looks around at each other and shrugs. “Okay, mister smart guy, what's the big plan?” Cella asks. The bald man walks over to the opposite side of the cell, where no one had been standing. In the darkness, he reaches down and grabs something. Standing back up, he is holding a long, sharp bone, off-white and worn. Everyone now sees the humanoid skeleton beneath him. He has just picked up part of the ribcage.

He turns to the rest of them. “I go by Red. Now each of you, take one.” One by one, everyone in the room begins to pick their shank of choice from the small bone piles beneath their feet. Regrouping, they lay out their plan. Kenson and Acini, both magically capable, will create distractions with sounds and noises. Their goal is to lure the patrol to the bars. Tallis, Simon, and Red will stay by the bars to strike. And Cella... she is Plan B.

After what feels like hours, the rhythmic pattern of footsteps begins to echo down the hall. A hulking, man-like beast—strapped in leather and loose bits of scrap iron—turns the corner. Its human-like face is gnarled, its narrow cat-like eyes glowing. Short fangs protrude from its open maw as it breathes heavily, its fur matted and brown. The stomps grow louder as the hobgoblin approaches.

As the hobgoblin peers into the cell, its yellow-red eyes scan the room. Simon’s earlier words play in their heads: “They can see in almost complete darkness. We’ll have to use each other for cover.”

The hobgoblin begins to count the captives in his head. “Breakfast, lunch, dinner, second breakfast, second l—wait, where is the second lunch and second dinner?” He was counting Acini and Kenson. Realizing the hesitation, the party springs into action.

Kenson shouts an incantation, and a small orb of bright white light appears from a purple mist directly in front of the hobgoblin. It whips his head around, only to be met with another equally bright light behind him. Momentarily blinded, the hobgoblin hesitates. Tallis, Simon, and Red, each holding the longest bones they could find, jab them through the narrow gaps in the bars.

With the sound of ripping leather and the dripping of blood, they strike. “HA! We got him!” shouted Simon. “Grab the keys!” barked Red.

“Oh shit,” muttered Tallis, as reality hit them. The hobgoblin was still standing and currently pulling out one of the bones lodged in his hip. The hobgoblin grabbed the bone Simon had stabbed him with, ripping it from Simon’s hand and letting out a foul roar.

“CELLA, PLAN B!” Tallis shouts as he dives away from the bars. Lying on the ground, playing dead, Cella’s eyes snap open and lock onto the hobgoblin. “About fucking time,” she mutters, her body convulsing violently as a sickly smile spreads across her face.

Tribal tattoos that spiral up and down her body begin to glow faintly yellow. Her smile distorts, raised unnaturally as her skin ripples, like bugs crawling beneath the surface. The convulsions stop suddenly, and she rises to her knees. Her face morphs, a beak forming over her mouth, eyes growing unnaturally large. Dark brown and black feathers burst from her skin all at once. Within seconds, where a naked, tattooed Cella once stood, now stands a seven-foot-tall owl-like creature. Two legs, two arms, and a deadly owl’s head.

Her gaze locks onto the bleeding hobgoblin, and she lets out a curdling screech. The hobgoblin, taken aback, roars back and turns to run. Cella narrows her eyes and slams her body into the iron bars. The loud thud echoes down the cave.

“Quickly now, everyone!” Kenson shouts as he backs up. Acini and Tallis give each other a look and meet him. The three brace for the next strike. Cella backs up, then charges the bars again. With a loud slam, their combined strength begins to weaken the bars.

“It’s actually working!” Simon mutters, joining the next charge with Red.

SLAM

With the force of the entire group, the iron bars finally give way. Gathering themselves off the ground, they find the hobgoblin frozen in disbelief. His last mistake. Cella charges without hesitation, and before the hobgoblin can flee, she strikes. Her beak pierces through his skull, a wave of blood showering her as the hobgoblin’s body slumps to the ground.

Tallis and Acini share a look, slight smiles across their faces. Kenson nods approvingly at Cella. “Why wasn’t that Plan A?” Simon whispers, staring at Kenson.

“No time,” Red interrupts. “They’re bound to come, and we can’t fight naked.” He runs over to the hobgoblin’s body, fishing around until he finds a key. “Follow me. I remember where the storage is, and then we can get out of here.”

The others nod in agreement. “Lead the way,” says Kenson, as they all fall in line behind Red. Simon pulls the hobgoblin's sword, a rusty, oversized meat cleaver, from its back. “Better than nothing. Alright, let's go.”