Wynald had guided Garrick towards the ruined entrance of the third cavern site, veering off the main road. On the way there, they passed a bizarre crew of goblins, who looked like they had slapped a carpeting workshop onto themselves. Each and every one of them wore makeshift, mismatched armor, either fitting too large or minuscule, Their clanking weapons were anything stuck to something else. A club filled with nails A hammer stuck to a sword hilt and other weird contraptions.

“Pay them no attention, keep walking,” Wynald muttered to him, nudging Garrick forward as he stopped to stare at a goblin carrying a spatula like it was a weapon.

Who knew perhaps it had its means?

“With no orderly means to guide them, the people will cling to anything, and —goblins will cling to literally anything.” he joked.

It was true. He thought of back ‘home’ and how wars had driven most of humanity into extinction. The survivors, the outcasts, those that did not conform to neo-corpo dictum, were to rely on scraps to get by, cutting any corner they could even if cockroaches were the only thing around.

The way to the third mine was laid out, it was up ahead, and the road inside was blocked off, with wooden barricades and crumbling rubble.

Wynald pointed to a round hole, behind a watchtower that stood guarding the mine.

As they neared the entrance, Wynald stood over the circular-looking hole, he squeezed his bulky frame into the narrow opening but with the grace of a crane holding an egg.

“Fucking stupid hole, they really need to clear another path,” he said as he fit himself down the shaft.

Garrick followed suit, he felt tinier as he moved in, the space was tight even for a small goblin, the darkness creeping on him. Then he smelled the fucking foul thing. It smelled like an ocean of piss and feces, perhaps a couple of dead bodies too, something was decaying down here, or eating on bodies. The goblins never even used these tunnels, no way that was waste.

He made his best attempt at breathing through his mouth, shutting his nose off.

Barely seven steps, Garrick stepped on soft and squishy, About the size of his entire foot–stood a large, scaly rodent with eyes glowing red in the dark. He felt it biting into his shoes, fangs looking into it.

“Ahh, dafuq is this!!!” he screamed, recoiling back up the ladder.

“Just an overgrown rat,” Wynald stated, stepping on the creature, It struggled under his weight, given into the pressure, and subsequently dying. “Give 'em a night with you sleeping the room, and they’ll nibble off your feet before you even realize.”

Garrick got down reluctantly, he heard a loud crunch as he noticed, Wynald stepped another to death. He couldn’t help but show his disgust for the creatures. He glanced back at the entrance, Surely there were other entrances inside if this was indeed the same system he fell in.

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“Come on,” WYnald encouraged, tapping him lightly on his shoulder. “Not afraid of few street rats are you.”

“Rats that'll tear your knob off, " he complained.

Moving through the sewer corridor cautiously, they had fended off several of these scurry rats. They crept and hid under crevasses and walls waiting to strike. His crude blade was thick with the guts of his ratty adversaries.

Every now and then, Garrick's eyes turned towards all the side paths they weren't talking. And he would see things slinking through them, a shadow eerily to the creature that had chased him inside the well he had fallen in.

He shuddered the thought but kept on mvonig.

A hallucination, must be.

“There are predators down here, best not linger, keep light low, and travel in groups.”

“Such as, what?”

If there was a chance that his brain wasn’t hallucinating

“I prefer to show you later. Just don’t stare in any direction with glooming glowing eyes... might not be a rat. Things down tend to avoid goblin activity ”

They passed several rooms and metallic junctions leading from room to room. “They say the humans used to have a city here, long ago, before we took it out. What are you willing to bet there are some nasty shit under our stronghold.”

“No doubt, experiments of the worst kind, and smelly sewer monsters of course.”

At last, they came to a stop. A small metal door at the end of the corridor. Wynald knocked, then muttered a few words that sounded like a jumble of random syllables.

“Karu-Kolo-Kemi-Kano-Kira-Keza-Kuru-Kepo"

They waited and listened nothing happened.

“What the fuck is that, you’re a wizard now? What are you casting a spell?” Garrick asked curious as to what he said.

“It’s old goblin, not really used anymore, but the military makes you learn the alphabet for warring purposes.”

“Interesting, I’ve never heard in my, minuscule life.”

“It is what it is.”

A pair of eyes peeked through, yellow like an egg. Bloodshot streaks in the person’s eyes. The door creaked open slowly, sounding like a witch cackling against stainless steel. In front of them stood a pair of hobgoblins with massive grins.

“If isn’t the Ogre, we thought they cooked you upstairs.”

“Very funny, now let me in, I brought in a recruit.”

“This little pipsqueak.” The hobgoblin bent over to squat and pushed his finger against Garrick’s chest. He could feel his Mana leaking out, whatever this hob was doing was pissing him off.

“That’s enough of that, he’s with me!"

“Hmmm, just keep your boyfriend, where you can see him, don’t need more turncoat thieves.”

They were permitted to pass, but Garrick still felt uncombable with how he was treated. It will take some time, but he swore he’ll come back and give that hobgoblin a shove in balls.

“Turncoats?’

“Hmmm, the captain was short on manpower, let a bunch of randoms in, and they robbed the place of supplies gone in a few hours.”

He could understand the secrecy of that at least.

Inside, he was surprised to see them work in unison, albeit a bit chaotic, but they were functioning like a proper resistance. Hobs and gobs bustling about, surprisingly coordinated, though he assumed the hobs took most of the credit.

There was also clearly a hierarchy here at play, It was the green goblins that worked the hardest. The red folk, handled menial leisurely jobs. Ugly weapons were laid on one side of the walls on the other side of the small hideout, large barrels of who knows what on the other side... Somewhere nearby, he could smell the makeshift scent of something good being cooked in the kitchen. He couldn't help his stomach grumble.

"We'll fetch something to eat soon Gru--Garrick," Wynald stated.

He couldn’t help but admire it, impressive to say the very least.

He also caught several goblins staring at him, especially hobs, sizing him up with suspicion and curiosity.

What is that all about?

"Hoi!

A hobgoblin shouted across the long room.

“Wynald, the captain wants to see you and their friend. They exchanged glances, uncomfortable heat on both their faces, Wynald gestured and he followed him there.