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  [Marrok]

  Losing two of the tribe didn’t stop them, Marrok pushed the goblins onwards, exploring the rest of the third floor. The next fight against an alligator was a little hairy; their past experience weighing on their minds, making them hesitate, but the goblins fought through it and didn’t lose another.

  As they wandered along, they picked up various bits and pieces of loot from some of the hidden chests and that put them in a good mood. Marrok was glad of that. He wanted to encourage them to explore the dungeon, and knew that they would be able to become strong with it. He didn’t want them afraid of it.

  The islands in the swamp were thankfully all stable enough, although they did undulate and rock about when they first jumped to them. But after a good half hour of walking across them, the goblins had got used to the motion and there were no more slips and trips.

  Marrok was still wary of the pools of water, seeing Dervo reduced to bone in a few seconds had hit home how dangerous this dungeon could be. He had no wish to test those little fish any further. There was no glory in defeating them either. That wasn’t even mentioning the other shapes they had seen flitting around under the surface. Swimming was not for goblins and if there wasn’t so much to fight and explore then they would have moved on as soon as possible.

  Still, they had done a good job, and it was time to go down again, to the fourth floor.

  As they worked their way over to the exit Marrok was determined that the next floor would go just as smoothly as the second one had. No sloppy mistakes, no deaths and no injuries.

  The stairs descended as usual, with a couple of turns around a central column and the goblins wandered down both excited and afraid. Hopping down each of the large steps.

  What would they find?

  The swamp being viewable from above had given them a great advantage, they knew what to expect, enough that they could at least prepare for it.

  Marrok hoped there would be some sort of safe zone just before entrance where they could plan, but he wasn’t counting on it.

  The stairs terminated at an opening, he looked through the door and relaxed, far more comfortable than before, it was a forest. A densely packed forest filled with twisting branches and short thickets of bushes. Snake like vines entwined into nets connecting the branches and bushes in a nasty thick web of vegetation.

  Marrok smiled, although goblins were happier in the shaded woods, the dark forest floor was close enough to feel like home. They knew how to navigate around trees and watch for danger, they knew their footing would be sure and stable. He was confident, confident but wary.

  He glanced left and right a few times, observing quietly. Nothing.

  He stepped across the boundary and froze. Nothing.

  Relaxing once more he strode forwards waving the rest of the tribe to cross also.

  They did, and still nothing happened. Good. No sneak attacks so far. The dungeon it seemed was good about that. Getting attacked just inside the door would be annoying, being given time to prepare on a floor and begin exploring was nice. Helped with feel settled.

  Marrok walked into the tree line, slipping through gaps and cutting down the few vines that blocked him. The tribe followed, keeping an eye in all directions.

  As they progressed farther and farther into the floor the light dwindled as the edge of the forest grew farther away and the canopies overhead grew thicker. The boughs of the trees were packed closer together, almost unnaturally so. At least Marrok thought so, he was used to the comparatively sparse woodlands that were painted in soft golden light, not this dark broody jungle.

  The six remaining goblins stayed close, to each other, something Marrok was secretly happy about. This was prime territory for an ambush, and ambushers rarely attacked from the front, it would give him sufficient time to react and plan and as such give them all the best chance of success.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It was a few minutes later when they paused for a break that he heard it. A faint rustle, just as the goblins fell silent, something he would never have heard without that momentary lull. He raised a hand ensuring the silence continued as he listened. Ear cocked to the forest.

  Nothing.

  Nothing beyond the normal sound of the jungle. He spun on his heel, moving slowly and watching the jungle intently.

  Something was out there, something with a modicum of intelligence, it was watching them. He could feel it. And it was smart enough to stay silent, knowing he was spooked.

  So, what was it and where could it be? He thought.

  “Ready Yourselves” he commanded, speaking softly.

  “We’re being watched, back-to-back everyone.”

  The goblins moved slowly, picking up on his intent. That was good.

  Marrok glanced around them, it was cramped and not ideal for a fight, perhaps it would be the same for their attackers, perhaps it would benefit them. All he knew was that it was not optimal for the goblins. Remembering a small clearing a short distance back he worked to move the group that way. Eyes peering into the forest, searching, seeking and still finding nothing. But he could feel it. There was definitely something watching them.

  Fifteen minutes later and they still hadn’t been attacked. The goblins were starting to grumble in discontent but Marrok remained resolute that something was watching them. Still 15 minutes maintaining such hypervigilance was tough and he knew they would need to begin moving again soon.

  Sighing, he told them to move on, watching as they lowered their weapons.

  They had no choice but to continue, the tension they felt building with every step.

  They carried on walking for the next ten minutes before it happened. Charging out of the bushes, an attack.

  “Kobolds!” Marrok spat out in disgust as he saw it break free from the trees. A pointed snout bristling with teeth, patchy rough fur and light skin beneath showed as the dog headed humanoid charged.

  He slammed his hatchet into the chest of the first one he saw, dropping it. Stamping on its head a few times Marrok felt the skull shatter as he watched for more.

  Kobolds were unanimously hated amongst Goblin kind and Marrok was no exception. The kobolds - lighter skinned cousins of the Goblins - had retreated to the deeper forests of the land and had given up on the tally and the one God. Renouncing the proud ways of the goblins. It was a little comfort, the thought that their heretic souls would never make it to proper rest at the side of the one God.

  Goblins knew kobolds though, knew how they skulked around the shadows and attacked from behind, knew them enough to slaughter this bunch. Kobolds were bigger and stronger than goblins with vicious ripping teeth but they were fragile, with weak bones and thin blood, which meant it was a more even fight than it might have looked at first glance.

  More Kobolds attacked, charging the goblins on all fronts. Marrok put down another two before it happened.

  A sphere of blue burst out of the trees, shocking Marrok and the other goblins and illuminating the dark outline of a figure in the trees.

  “A shaman” he growled, recovering from the stun in time to dodge the blow from a kobold and return with a skull splitting strike.

  Glancing behind, he saw the others trading blow for blow. Trusting in their durability he abandoned them to the fight and set off in pursuit of the shaman. Hounding it until it died.

  He pounced forwards, determined to catch it but it slipped behind a tree at the last second, fading out of sight.

  Marrok spun, smelling the air. Locating the trail he pursued the shaman as it hurried through the bushes like a fox from the dogs. It tried all manner of tricks, but Marrok was on form and he charged heedlessly along the path harrying it and winging it with stones that he scooped from the floor as he ran. It would not escape him this day.

  Relentless, indomitable he chanted to himself pushing through the fatigue to keep up as he dodged roots and branches, barged through bushes and clambered over and under the fallen trees that barred his way. At home in the dark forest the shaman fled with unnatural grace, but Marrok was not going to give in so easily. Determinedly dogging after it.

  Soon it paid off, the shaman snagging his robe on the branch of a tree and tripping. Marrok closed the distance as the kobold scrambled to its feet.

  Marrok jumped, landing on the Kobolds back, dropping it and pummelling with his fists feeling bone break beneath him.

  Adrenaline rushed through his blood and the scent of death lingered in the air as he shredded his foe.

  Afterwards he felt serene, the silence hung in the air, stale and damp, the pounding blood rushing through his ears and his breathing slowed down. He felt calm and composed.

  He stood, looking down at the sundered corpse of his foe. He smiled a vicious grin licking the blood that trickled down his face and onto his lips. A good hunt.

  Looking around he saw nothing of concern.

  Cocking his head he located the sounds of distant battle and made his way back through the deep dark forest to his brethren.

  Glancing around the reddened forest he sighed in relief, no more deaths, well goblin deaths anyway. The kobolds were dead and their corpses lay mouldering on the floor. He smiled a toothy grin and clapped his brothers on the back.

  “Well done brothers, we have slaughtered the dungeon floor and we have avenged ourselves of these heretic scum. Dungeon creatures though they may be.”

  They whooped and cheered in response. He smiled.

  “Let us hunt the rest of this floor, clear the forest and bathe in the blood of our eternal enemies.”

  And so that was what the goblins did, scouring the floor from wall to wall until they found it, the village. The chests along the way had been pleasant and the goblins were running out of room to store their rightfully got gains.

  Buried in the deepest darkest corner of the forest a little village stood, wooden walls and leafy rooves to protect them from the rains that would presumably never come in the dungeon. Still it looked fitting.

  The goblins spread out, circling the village, this time they were the ones watching. A few female kobolds lounged around taking care of the Kobold young showing them the way to wield a spear, or sword.

  Marrok grunted back, wondering what the point was. He knew enough about dungeons to know that the dungeon would respawn all the creatures they had killed once they left. What was the point of having them?

  He knew not, nor did he particularly care.

  After assessing the threat, the goblins plundered the village putting the remaining kobolds to death with relative ease and looting from the chests in the wooden huts. Armour, arms and potions aplenty, along with some shiny coin.

  Marrok was pleased about that. His brothers deserved something from this trip, and now with two less returning to the camp they would all be outfitted in some new armour.

  Injured but laden with loot he made the decision they would retreat for the day, heal up and come back in the future determined to see the fifth floor. But that wouldn’t be today.

  It took them the best part of the night to make it back to the camp in the woodland on the mountainside but they walked back excited and happy.

  Marrok felt the excitement building at the thought of another delve. It may have been a dungeon and not count towards his tally. But the thrill of the kill was not a bit different. The taste of the blood was the same and the threat of death was the same. Glorious.