The screams of the beast echoed off the stone. The party quickly surrounded Scoundrel, holding him down as Bell pressed her glowing palms against the hollow wound. The familiar snarls and skitters sounded from the deep.

“Hurry it up, Bell! They’ll be here in a heartbeat!”

Groans of frustration and exhaustion puffed from her as the radiant yellow wrapped around Scoundrel’s thrashing leg.

Ryder picked up the spike of stone that ricocheted off the wall. Its sharpened tip was shattered while stains of a black liquid covered the entirety.

“Dammit! He’s poisoned too!”

The black liquid excreted from Scoundrel’s skin as Bell kept the pressure. Dalon shoved a health vial in the ferret’s mouth to keep his voice down, but the wave of snarling neared closer.

Dalon’s frantic eyes probed each jutting of stone and shadow that flickered from the torches. His breath was rapid until he gazed at his sister once again. He gulped a deep breath, gripped his spear with damp palms, and planted his feet, ready for the goblin barrage.

And as soon as he did, a goblin leapt from the corner, skewering itself onto Dalon’s spear as three others joined the fray. They bore chest plates and gauntlets similar to the entrance guards.

Ryder drew his arming sword in time as a goblin wielding a blade longer and heavier than its own body slashed at him. He was able to parry the goblin’s sword up high and before the goblin could muster enough strength to bring it back down, Ryder pierced a sword through its rusted cuirass.

Durge charged his shield into one of the gnashing goblins, crushing it against the stone and jamming the head of his mace into its face. He looked at Dalon who struggled with the goblin stuck on his spear and another trying to slice him.

While the rest of the party members fought the horde, Bell and Scoundrel sat against the cavern wall. She wrapped a bandage around his bloodstained fur through his yelps. His eyes were clogged with tears each time he winced. But his eyes grew wide and fearful as he saw a goblin appear from the previous passageway. He warned his healer in time for her to grab his dwarven dagger and leave a deep cut through the goblin’s forehead.

It withdrew back but reared itself to charge again while crimson painted its dark green face. She missed the wild swing of the goblin’s knife but with the reach of her other hand a flash of yellow reflected off the cavern walls.

Durge threw the body off Dalon’s spear and with that the blade was free to pierce the remaining armored goblin. The frontline peered behind as the flash diverted their attention. A blinded goblin was screaming as it held its head that began to mend its fleshy green skin back together. Bell dodged to the side of the goblin and shoved it over before stabbing it repeatedly in the back.

Bell’s breath, rapid and coarse, eventually found steadiness before wounds of her own came to fruition. Dalon swiftly came to Bell’s aid. The sleeves and sides of her white robe dyed red as blood pooled. Although shallow and void of poison or infection so far, Bell casted a feeble amount of restorative magic on herself before Dalon wrapped her with clean cloth.

After doing so he sneered. His nostrils exhaled like a dragon when gazing back at Ryder and Durge. Bell gripped his forearm but he tugged her off and stormed over to the duo who were checking themselves for wounds.

He dug his spear directly underneath Ryder’s chin. “I told you I won’t allow your foul play!”

Durge’s mace cracked down onto the shaft of the spear, enough to splinter but not shatter.

“Get through me first!”

“Stop it!” Bell shouted.

Scoundrel hobbled on one leg, trying to pull Dalon back. “Leave them be, Dal!”

Dalon pushed him back, leaving the beast to fall back onto the stone.

“They didn’t cause this!” Bell said, getting in between them.

“This is your fault, potion-giver!” Dalon said with a furious point.

“It’s mine!” Scoundrel exclaimed. “I should’ve listened to the boy!”

Dalon looked back at his two injured companions before huffing and rounding the corner. His back slid against the stone wall as he sat upon the floor. He held his spear in his lap and watched as his torch crackled next to him. With closed eyes and conscious breaths he wiped the tears welling in his eyes and looked to the black passages that lay beyond. He was interrupted when Bell’s footsteps sounded around the corner.

Her crystal head-chain shimmered from the torchlight as she looked down at Dalon. “You need to apologize to them. They’re doing the best they can.”

“But—”

“But. Things will also go awry. Best we can do is stand and face them, Dal.” She ruffled his hair and returned to the rest of the party. Durge and Scoundrel critiqued one another’s combative performance against the goblins while Ryder observed the one that attacked Bell.

Short, green, and mean, like any other goblin, but this one’s equipment was different from the rest. It carried a large pack with threading, weights, rags coated with black ooze, and sharpened stone spikes.

“Found the trap maker,” Ryder said.

“Dammit. This the putrid thing that got me?” Scoundrel said.

“We should be wary of any more traps in this cave,”

“Now you tell me,” Scoundrel rolled his eyes and winced as he took a step forward.

Dalon appeared as confident and stoic as ever in front of the party, “For Bell’s sake, I’d like to apologize for my aggression and hostility to you, Ryder and Durge, and to the rest of my party for failing as a proper leader. Forgive or not, I care less, but know we have an axe to return, and more goblins to slay.” He then proceeded down the unexplored passage.

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Ryder and Durge tsked and scoffed before regrouping with the party once again.

“Always grouping with the assholes, huh?” Durge said.

“You must be the one that attracts them. Like a bear to a beehive,” Ryder chuckled.

Durge shook his head before slapping the back of Ryder’s.

Scoundrel and Bell were in the middle of the walking order while Durge stayed in the back and Ryder led with Dalon. Cobwebs and dust continued to burn away until Scoundrel halted the party. His ears flicked and twitched when he pressed them against the cold rock wall.

“Water rushing. Must be a ‘fall or a creek.”

Makes sense why the goblins would live here. I haven’t seen water since the lake three days ago, Ryder pondered.

The adventurers cautiously followed the sound of water coming through the beast’s ears. He led the way with a hobbled step. The rest of the party was able to hear the water, and eventually, able to see a pool of it when taking a left turn. It formed from leaks underneath the stone wall, creating a three-step deep puddle. Although clean, the light from the torch reflected swirls of dirt, dust, and discarded food.

“I wouldn’t drink out of it if I was to be gifted a sack of gold,” Dalon said.

“Durge would drink it if I offered him a day-old lenk tart,” Ryder laughed.

Durge scoffed but cravings for a baked good began to torture him. “Let’s just poison the fuckers water supply and get out of here, I’m starving.”

Ryder sighed, “We don’t have the means to poison an entire aquifer, or enough time to watch them all slowly suffer.”

“How do we know the hobgoblin isn’t through here?” Bell asked.

“The halls are still too small. Unless they have a treasury in the water, I see no reason to proceed further,” Scoundrel said. The thought of goblin water sticking to his fur disgusted him.

“Then onward we shall go,” Ryder said. “I saw a path behind us that looked promising.”

“Lead on,” Dalon said.

They took a few steps back and with it came a narrow passage that fitted them single file. Dalon hugged behind the leader while Durge walked behind Scoundrel, Bell was stuck in the middle, trying to avoid the butt of Dalon’s spear and the snot from the dusty ferret.

“You’re not redeeming yourself, boy!” Scoundrel said.

When Ryder spotted the exit of the tight tunnel he also spotted the stone floor to be more cracked and damaged than usual. He halted the party while he inspected the erosion up ahead. He felt for pressure plates, looked for tripwires, and listened for any scraping stone, but none were heard.

“Hurry it, boy. I’m gonna snee—” Scoundrel said, before sneezing onto the back of Bell’s hood.

She stomped her foot, “Dammit, Scoun! Cover it with your paws next time!”

Ryder noticed that when Bell stomped her foot, the loose bits of rock in the stone floor shook and rolled into the cracks of the ground.

“Dalon! Spear!”

He looked perplexed but handed Ryder the spear. With the shaft of it, Ryder was able to prod and poke at the floor, and with it came the crumbling of stone into a black well of sharpened spikes.

Ryder’s eyes sparkled as he peered into the trap, “A pitfall,” he muttered with awe.

“What is it?” Dalon asked, almost pushing him into it.

“A pitfall!”

“How do we cross?” Bell asked.

“Should I turn around?” Durge said.

Ryder shook his head, “No, no. We can make it!”

“How? That’s a seven-step jump and Scoundrel has a busted leg,” Dalon advised.

“Hold your spear out. Grasp it well in case I need to hold onto it.” Ryder adjusted Dalon’s placement before he took a few steps back, hoping to gain some momentum or support in the hall that barely fit his shoulders.

With the speed of his steps and the power harnessed from pushing off the spear, Ryder was able to cross the deadly gap. He exhaled greatly before looking down the passage ahead of him.

“What now!?” Dalon asked.

“Now you!”

“Who’s going to hold the spear?”

“I will! Pass it, I can reach.”

Dalon clung to the side of the wall as he thrusted his spear toward Ryder. He was able to catch the base of the blade as the weight of the wooden shaft clanged against the lip of the pitfall. It was heavier than Ryder expected but he managed to hold it steady as Dalon crossed. Bell was the next to cross with ease, hardly using the support of the spear.

“Can’t you place it over the gap and I can just walk across it?” Scoundrel said in an annoyed and nervous voice.

“It’ll snap, Scoun. You can make it,” Dalon said.

“Maybe for the big guy here, but not me,” Scoundrel muttered.

“I can throw you across, if you’d like,” Durge said with a smirk.

Scoundrel licked his snout as he looked at the void, the bottom couldn’t be seen but the tips of spikes were ever-present. He threw his buckler shield and his three daggers over the gap, narrowly avoiding Ryder.

With a heavy press against his wounded leg, his jump failed to reach the ledge. He clung to the life-giving spear as he dangled over the pit. Ryder and Dalon gripped the wavering wooden shaft while Bell tried to reach for him. The ferret eventually felt the lip of the ledge when the trio pulled him over. He sighed and groaned greatly, once across.

Last was Durge, the heaviest of all who now got nervous. He threw across his mace, shield, and torch. The torch smacked against the edge and twirled to the bottom of the gap. It was over 20 steps deep and the spikes seemed to be carved stalagmites.

“You’ve done worse, oaf!” Ryder exclaimed.

“We got you Durge, don’t fear it!” Dalon said.

“If you cross, I'll give you my vial of honey!” Bell cheered.

Scoundrel chuckled, “You really going to let a ‘ferret’ like me, beat you!”

Durge took a deep breath. Reared. And charged. He made it across with a stomping footfall. But the stone below gave out. The weight of Durge began to fall backward. Until Ryder pulled him forward by the collar of his tunic.

They both fell to the ground and grew relieved they weren’t both skewered and left to rot in the pits of the goblin hive.

“Do I get that honey now?” Durge asked.

Bell laughed and handed it to him, it was less than a quarter full but Durge instantly tilted it backward, waiting for it to crawl to his tongue.

“Well, I did it with a mangled leg. So I still beat you,” Scoundrel smirked.

Ryder patted his back, “Nice one, Durge. Dalon, we should rest for a bit.”

Bell agreed, she’s been exhausted since the last goblin attack.

It was hard to track time within the goblin’s domain, the party was unsure if it was afternoon or late in the evening. They took the time to eat provisions and rest their eyes until their torches dwindled.

“Let us pray that the hunters do not return soon,” Bell said.

“I’d be pissed if some assholes went into my home, looted my jewels, and killed my companions,” Durge said.

“Don’t say it like that!” Bell said.

Dalon smirked, “I’d be sympathizing with them if they didn’t murder and pillage their way to fortune. And for the slaying? There’s plenty of goblins in the deep.”

Ryder looked into the nothingness that is the unexplored passages, Now we murder and pillage them for our own fortune. “What a cycle we live in.”

Dalon pulled out the last of the fresh torches. Pine wood wrapped with rags previously soaked in sap. He passed one to each party member. “Last ones. Let’s keep the faith that we’ll leave with the axe before these burn out.”

As the torches burned they pressed onward into the cavern. They were led to a tight passage, barely two steps wide.

“Do we have to step through this? Surely there’s another way,” Durge said.

“We’re wasting enough time as is, we take what’s presented to us. Scoun, scout ahead,” Dalon ordered.

With the scrape of his vest and clanging of daggers against the wall, he squeezed through and gazed at the vast passage of stone above. It was 10 steps high, fit for a hobgoblin. Scoundrel called out to the rest of the crew to enter. They were all amazed at the size but their tension quickly shifted to the sounds of a goblin skittering nearby.

“It took a left down the hall!” Scoundrel exclaimed, limping after it.

The party chased after and rounded the corner. Before them were two figures dressed in steel plating and wielding halberds that dripped the ichor of the cowardly, and headless, goblin.