Snarls and yelps echoed off the mountainside. In the black of night the party leaned as far away as they could with blades and shields readied. Over a dozen goblins stood close to the alcove, all bickering with jagged teeth. The bickering grew louder. The snarls turned into screams. The hand on the entrance was pulled away and the goblin’s entire body was thrown into the nook of the mountain. The small figure writhed and wiggled as it held its slashed throat. Its eyes grew wide upon the party as it tried to squeal an alarm. But with its guttural shrieks and the brown blood pooling below it, the goblins eyes unfocused and settled still in the corners, staring at the intruders of the mountain.

The rest of the horde outside clashed amongst each other before a deep thunderous roar resonated from the entrance of the bunny-eared caverns. The voice bellowed in a similar dialect to the goblins but much deeper and its orders much harsher. Scoundrel dropped the necklaces and crouched at the edge of the recess, peering into the gravel valley. The figure was three goblins tall, covered in rusted iron plating, holding a whip in one hand, and a great axe in the other.

“I found our axe,” Scoundrel whispered.

Beads of sweat pooled on Dalon’s neck as he stared back at the fallen goblin.

Ryder focused on his breathing and his surroundings when he heard the roar.

“Is it an ogre?” Durge asked.

Scoundrel shook his head, “A hob.”

“Hobgoblins? We’re the deepest we can get in goblin territory,” Ryder muttered.

“Dammit!” Dalon cursed under his breath and gripped his spear. “What are they doing now!?”

“Grouping the goblins. They must be going on a hunt,” Scoundrel said as the cracks of the whip echoed in the distance.

“That means they’ll be traveling away from here! Now’s our chance!” Bell said.

“Not yet. It’s still too dark out. We’ll enter at twilight,” Dalon said.

“They’ll get tired by then, we should rest while we can,” Ryder added.

Durge nodded and slumped back to the ground, picking up his fallen slime friend and giving the sapphire necklace back to Ryder. He snapped a piece of hardtack and rubbed the crumbs into the vial.

“I’m sorry, little friend. This is all we have for now,” Durge whispered before drifting to sleep.

Ryder nestled in the corner, holding taut to his sword and necklace. And to think I could be in the deserts of Melody or the swamps of Willow. Instead, I’m surrounded by friends in a hive of goblins. I wish I was with you on the shores, Mother.

The morning twilight painted the sky like a spilled bucket of blue ink across obsidian. The first to rise was Dalon, who hastily peeked over the edge, praying that the horde of hunters weren’t returning in the morning.

The time spent resting felt like molasses with no end in sight for Ryder, but the first sign of dawn made him eagerly arise and leave his uneasy slumber.

“Did the horde return?” he asked.

“Fortunately not, but that hobgoblin is still in there,” Dalon said.

Scoundrel rose with a great stretch, his fur standing before settling back down. “We best get to him before they return,” he muttered.

Ryder smirked, “You’re the sneakiest, Scoun. Can’t we wait here while you retrieve the axe?”

Scoundrel groaned, “I’m sneaky, but not sneaky enough to pull an axe from a hobgoblin’s hand without them noticing.”

Ryder tsked and awoke Durge. The party gathered their gear and cautiously exited the alcove. Scoundrel scouted ahead as they made their way down the steep gravel mountainside. Few creatures stirred in the valley of death and stench. Old corpses of goblins slain in the night dotted and led the way to the bunny-eared caverns, some bore massive linear scars across their entire body while some were cleaved in two with a singular blow. This could be us soon, crossed Ryder’s mind but was forced to exit when he saw the great stone pillars above the cavern.

Scoundrel retreated back to the party, “Two on guard. Looking quite sleepy at the entrance.”

Dalon peered over the boulder he hid against, “Scoundrel can’t take them both by himself, one of you two should go.”

Ryder clenched his bow, “I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Durge said, already stepping down the hill.

Ryder huffed, nocking an arrow and peering at the entrance. The two small figures stood in the open and leaned against their spears. One looked to already be sleeping while the other was repeatedly nodding itself awake.

The presence of them wearing gauntlets and chest plates surprised Ryder. “They must’ve conquered a dwarven settlement,” he said.

“Explains why the axe is there,” Bell said.

Durge hugged the right of the mountain while Scoundrel approached from the left. The beast held his two daggers while the human held his mace. They were crouched low and could spot one another on opposite sides of the opening. The gurgling of slobber and the drops of drool sounded from the entrance as the duo neared.

They advanced to the edges of the stone. Peering at one another and then back at their tiny foes. Scoundrel gave a quick hiss and they both charged within. Durge swiftly slammed the mace into the side of the goblin’s fleshy head that left a crimson splatter across the rock wall, shattering its cranium in an instant. Scoundrel’s goblin awoke at the hiss but was put to sleep once again when one dagger slashed its olive-colored throat and the other stuck into the base of the skull. The goblins both dropped in a clatter of iron before being quickly dragged into the darkness of the cavern.

The oaf and ferret reappeared, waving for the others to approach.

“Solid work, Durge,” Ryder said.

“What about me?” Scoundrel asked.

Ryder shrugged but Bell gave a thumbs up. Dalon shook his head and ordered them to keep moving. Scoundrel sneaked further into the entrance and made sure it was void of goblins, the sun began to rise, and all five party members entered the maw of the abyss.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Schrik. Schrik. Schrik. Sparks from the flint flew onto the pile of torches, lighting them ablaze. Each member carried one, on Ryder’s behest, as they gingerly stepped through the cavern. Scoundrel held his snout as the stench of rot, sweat, death, and now smoke filled the enclosed space.

Ryder decided to lead the way as he assured everyone he had the most ‘experience’ when it came to dealing with goblins.

“Be on the lookout behind you, goblins like using shadow passages.”

Durge winced as he walked beside him, “I’m sure they’ve dealt with goblins before, Rye.”

“Actually we haven’t! We’ve done plenty of deliveries and slaying of vermin and Yena’s before though,” Bell chimed.

“Focus up already!” Dalon hissed.

Durge rolled his eyes, “Then lead on, Sir Scholar.”

Ryder smirked and his pompous ego rose.

The cavern was naturally formed. Wide enough for two people to stand next to each other shoulder to shoulder, but could fit four goblins side by side with ease. The jutting of stone or the smooth mounds inside made the eight-step high ceiling feel even smaller. All were silent except for the crackling of fire, shuffling of clothes, and the wind howling from the entrance behind.

To Durge’s surprise, Ryder pulled a loaf of bread and watched as he pulled chunks of it off. “You had the bread this whole time!? Even I know it’s not the best time to be snacking.”

He watched as Ryder dropped the bread upon the stone floor. “And you’re wasting it!?”

“I advise not eating our trail out of here, especially when it’s moldy, oaf.”

Bell stuck her tongue out as she walked past the fallen moldy crumbs.

The dungeon leader stopped at the first divergence, a path to the right and a path to the left. Both black as shadows without any difference.

“Your snout pick anything up, Scoun?” Ryder whispered.

“Besides all this dust? No.”

Ryder huffed and peeked his head down both pathways, he tried listening to the stone but it told nothing of significance. “Right is right, I suppose.”

As they ventured down the path, markings in an orange paint or dye presented themselves upon the wall. Handprints. Hundreds and hundreds of handprints covered the stone in various sizes.

“Look at this,” Dalon said. He raised his torch and a handprint bigger than the size of Durge’s head marked the ceiling with crudely painted skulls.

Ryder stood shocked, “The hob…”

“We can take him easily,” Durge scoffed.

“How can you be so sure?” Bell asked.

“Anything with meat and muscle bleeds,” Scoundrel said with a fanged grin.

She shivered.

The rock passageway led to an opening on the left. The party heard the scrambling of movement as they neared closer. Dalon and Durge stood in front with weapons ready. Dalon’s spear was too tall but he was able to hold it in front and pierce any foes ahead of him.

“Scoundrel, sneak.” Ryder ordered in a faint whisper.

The fur-beast crept up to the entrance of the new corridor and saw with his low-lit vision the gray silhouettes of small creatures making ready for bed. A pair of eyes stared back at Scoundrel, slowly walking closer until stopping, and letting out a ferocious scream. Scoundrel hurriedly slithered back to the party as a mass of high-pitched yells flew through the hall.

“Ready yourself!” the beast said, throwing himself to the back of the party.

“Damn you, mutt! I thought you were sneaky!” Dalon said.

“Not when they’re staring at me!”

“Drop your torches!” Ryder ordered.

A row of flame lined the corridor as a wave of goblins poured around the corner. The goblin’s red eyes constricted as they winced from the fire that illuminated the abyss. Ryder fired arrows in between Dalon and Durge, striking as many as he could before they reached the frontline. Any that weren’t slashed or pierced by Dalon’s spear were obliterated by the steel head of Durge’s mace. Scoundrel kept behind Bell and Ryder, ensuring that none came behind.

The snarls and whimpers came to a quick end when the final goblin archer realized he was alone. With his twig arrows stuck to Durge’s shield, his supposed family and friends killed, he charged Durge with his crude dagger.

With a pathetic scream, the dagger stuck into the wooden heater. Durge dropped his mace as he looked at the small goblin with its big wet eyes. He picked up his torch and smashed it into the goblin, rending it seared and lifeless in one swing.

The party collectively exhaled as the battle was over. No injuries were sustained except for the mental scarring of seeing the pools of brown ichor paint the walls.

“These one’s didn’t have armor,” Dalon said.

“No, perhaps they were trainees or only the hobgoblin’s guardsmen have them,” Ryder said.

“Won’t more show up?” Bell asked, picking up her torch.

Scoundrel stood alert and peered into the dark, “I don’t hear anything else.”

“But more will show up eventually,” Dalon said. “We know not when that hunting party will return.”

“I wouldn’t gamble staying more than a day in this filth,” Durge spat.

Ryder bowed and gestured with his arm to go down the hall, “Then let us proceed to find that axe.”

Down the passage where the goblins came from revealed to be a type of living quarters for them. Piles of straw and leaves served as bedding for the small horde while more crude weapons and arrow shafts covered the floor. As they exited the quarters and proceeded down the right passage, a roughly carved wooden slab blocked the way.

“Everyone stick to the sides. Durge, ready your shield. I don’t want any traps shooting out at us.”

Ryder slowly opened the creaking door and threw his torch within. Not hearing any cries of goblin’s or seeing anything within, the party entered. Ryder ushered Durge to lead the way, hoping he’d bumble around, set off the traps, and be unharmed with his shield.

When no sign of a pit opening underneath or arrows raining from the ceiling, the rest of the party went in. It was another dormitory, similar as before, but it was adorned with sturdy furniture. Bunk beds lined the walls, racks for weapons and armor, and footlockers for the soldiers as well.

“Shit, this reminds me of my father’s barracks.” Dalon said.

“It’s so well furnished!” Bell exclaimed.

Ryder inspected the making of the beds and sure enough, runic script was inscribed into the wall and metal braces. Scoundrel was popping the footlockers with his dagger while Durge pilfered through the pantry.

“We agreed to share the loot, Scoun,” Dalon said with a squint and furrowed brow.

“Of course, of course,” he said, digging in the pockets of a goblin’s pants.

“I don’t see an axe here, Ryder.” Bell said.

“It wouldn’t be here. The ceiling and bedding is too short for a hobgoblin to be staying here. This is all the hunting party’s. So I would appreciate it if we picked up the pace—” Ryder looked under a cot and found a small pouch of coins and gems. He was fingering through and counting before Scoundrel saw him.

“Oi! Bad luck to count before it’s over!”

Ryder tsked and shoved it into his satchel. The party could hear the jingles of coins and the sloshing of liquid from Scoundrel’s bag.

“We could leave right now and make a profit!” the beast said.

Dalon clenched his spear, “Don’t. This won’t be like your quest with Vultures where you ditch them and fail the quest. Some of us care about our rank in the Guild Hall.”

“And if you stay you’ll earn an extra 50 gold for the turn in. And don’t forget the treasure the hobgoblin must have in his own chamber.” Ryder said.

“Or what the steward in Thrahnar may reward us with!” Bell said.

Scoundrel pondered as he felt through the bounty in his pockets, “Fine. Just because I like you, Isabelle.”

She scoffed and turned away.

“We’re at a dead end and we have no axe, so if we could please proceed down the other direction,” Ryder pleaded.

“Maybe ‘right is right’ isn’t always… right?” Durge mocked.

“Hey, sometimes it is!”

With the dorms of the goblins looted, the adventures stepped over the corpses of goblins, the handprints, and past the sun-filled entrance. Scoundrel and Durge led the way, torches burning.

Durge peered at the small buckler and dwarven dagger attached to the ferret’s waist. “Your shield is a little small.”

“I don’t plan on getting hit,” he said with a smirk.

The cavern twisted and curved southeast until another fork was presented in the passageways. Similar and void like any other hallway in the goblin’s hive.

Ryder stepped ahead and gazed at the two corridors. “Well, you know what they say, right is—”

“Left!” the party said unanimously.

The leftmost passage led to another stone hallway to go down but they maintained pace to stick to the left-hand side. The stoneway began to open bigger, enough to fit a ducking hobgoblin and fit four adventurers wide. They halted for a moment and reignited their torches. Skittering could be heard in the dark but a flame was swiftly ablaze before anything ambushed them.

“We’ll smoke out every last one of them if we have to,” Dalon said.

The passage they continued onward was full of dust and cobwebs. Ryder took the brunt of webs that didn’t burn away as he steered the party. He looked closely at the ground and walls in fear of traps, and to his surprise, he saw what looked to be a narrow piece of thread that stuck to both ends of the wall. He halted in his tracks and stuck his arm out.

“There’s a trap here.”

“How can you tell?” Dalon asked.

Scoundrel groaned and huffed, “It’s just a damn web! Look!”

His paw snapped the thread and with it came the scraping of stone, the torsion of fibers unwinding, and blood pouring down his leg.