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  [Forroll]

  Forroll watched Marrok as the goblins gathered before him, somehow, they had got him healed up and back to full health without any of the others knowing any better. How he had healed from those injuries so quickly, she didn’t know. Perhaps he truly was blessed by the one God. His Tally seemed to suggest so.

  “We have made the trip, set up our camp and truly settled in this new land, well done my tribe. I am proud of you, no, the one God is proud of you. Through me, he has decided how we shall take our tally to the next level. I have found us the way, the answer to our problems.” Marrok started, capturing the audience with his words. Forroll smiled.

  “Two weeks ago, when we first arrived I set off to find some prey, I did so, a dangerous predator that blended into the environment like a ghost. It struck at me, and I fought back tracking it down and then striking it down. A well-fought fight.” He continued.

  “Where is its body? I hear you all ask.” He continued.

  “Where is its body?” some cheeky goblin at the back called out.

  Marrok laughed, “Where, indeed!”

  “I struck it down, killing it swiftly, when before my eyes its very form faded away, disappearing before me. How can this be? I thought to myself, though the answer was obvious. During our fight, the cat ran away from me several times, I trailed it across the land and we ended up inside a cave. A cave that had plants which also struck at me. A cave which absorbed the body of my fallen foe?” He said, using the tone and volume of his voice cleverly to incite the goblins to get them amped up. Marrok was a master at it and Forroll respected it. He had used his smaller size and sharper mind to great effect. He was a worthy leader of the Weir Goblins.

  “Does anyone know?” He called out, continuing before anyone had time to answer. “A DUNGEON!” he shouted out. “I have found us a dungeon. A dungeon to train in, a dungeon to fight in and a dungeon to grow stronger in. We will use it, use it to strengthen this tribe, we, the Weir Goblins, will become a force worth respecting by all the disgusting heretical tall ones, we will grow strong enough for all to receive tallies sufficient to grant us the one God’s grace, and maybe, even more…” He called out stirring the flames of emotion in all of the young ones that stood watching. Forroll knew better, but even she felt the excitement he offered. A great tally was one thing but to become something more, it was nought but a dream of goblins, something spoken about in the legends of all the tribes. That she dared to even think it…

  “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will take some of our best warriors to the dungeon, we will strike at it and come back stronger, having absorbed our essence and we will begin our next step. Tomorrow, my warriors we take the next step on our journey, and soon we will make them pay, we will make them all pay.”

  The vengeance he promised was delightful and Forroll felt herself drawn in to the revelrous shouting, she could hardly wait for it. The Weir Goblins truly could be something great, she felt it. Truly.

  Tomorrow would be the dawn of a new era for them.

  Tomorrow.

  *** The next day ***

  Today.

  It was today at last.

  The morning air brought forth a scent that would change the world. Or so Forroll had imagined. She had grown closer to Marrok over the past couple of weeks and so she knew she would be going on this trip to the dungeon. The morning light was pale and sharp, stinging with the fresh air as she stepped out of the tent.

  Behind her, Marrok yawned, getting up also, her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light disparity, allowing her to see him. He bared his teeth at her, snarling and she smiled back. He was just as vicious in bed as he appeared to be out of it, and she liked that about him. There was no pretence, just a hard tough goblin, one she admired. Though she wouldn’t ever tell him that.

  He had enough ego as it was, and though it was deserved, she feared that it would get him in trouble one day. Still, he was clever enough and wise enough to avoid most of it and tough enough and wily enough to barge through anything else that stopped him.

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  He slapped her as he passed and she yelped at the slight pain, swinging back at him in response. He caught it, gripping hard and pulled her roughly towards him.

  Dominance established, they walked over to the edge of camp, meeting up with the rest of the warriors. Forroll was there as a healer and support, she might be a tough fighter but she was not a goblin warrior, she never would be, she was female after all.

  They set off while the light was low in the sky, before the dawn birds began to sing. Marrok assured them this was necessary as the dungeon was quite far away. They trudged onwards, swinging weapons about and chatting as they went.

  Forroll found herself fading in and out of the conversation as the group walked along. She was and wasn’t part of the group in that respect. Whilst female goblins were certainly vicious fighters, they were relegated to camp duties much of the time. Rarely did they accompany the warriors out on expeditions, unless of course there was a raid taking place, a chance for the tally couldn’t be denied.

  “So how much further?” one of them asked.

  “Can’t be too much longer right, we’ve been walking for hours now!” another complained.

  “Marrok?” a third questioned, hoping for an answer. Marrok grunted, trudging onwards.

  “I can’t wait, I’ll slaughter everything in there, take all the treasure and have my choice of the women back in camp, you guys will be lucky to get anything once I’m done.” One of them bragged.

  Forroll wasn’t particularly enthused at that sentiment, less so when the others ribbed him and made similar boasts, but it was likely to be correct. The other women would look to him, as a strong leadership worthy male that could enhance them and the tribe. She had Marrok, though not publicly as yet and certainly wouldn’t have been attracted to that one, or so she hoped.

  “Only, if there’s any left after my run through the place! I wonder what treasure it holds. Oh, I hope its riches!” one of them pondered.

  “A sword, I could do with a new one.”

  “Food and potions.”

  “Armour.”

  “Mana crystals.”

  “Spells and magic items..”

  “Curse crystals or hexes”

  “Poisons or destruction magics.”

  “Riches!” said the first again.

  “Did you find any Marrok?” one of the quieter ones asked.

  Forroll had wondered that too, but hadn’t found a way to ask him, especially with the state he had come back in. She felt certain he hadn’t been entirely honest with the others about what had happened, but she couldn’t tell for sure.

  “I was just after the cat I told you lot about, didn’t look for anything else as it tried to escape into the dungeon, and I hunted it down. So, no clue, hopefully something that can strengthen the tribe, coins would be useless to us. Even if we wanted to, we could never trade with the other races. If we can get strong enough to take down a village it would improve our tallies tremendously.”

  “Makes sense, what about monsters? Did you see any, fight any?”

  “Yeah Marrok, what about the monsters?”

  “I didn’t see much, only managed to stumble into one encounter, it was with a tree whose branches moved, they tried to tie me up and I slashed through them cutting myself free.”

  “Bah, trees as monsters, this will be a piece of piss.”

  “We could just burn it all down.”

  Marrok stayed quiet as the warriors bantered about, taking the dungeon lightly. Forroll had seen how banged up Marrok had come back and was determined to take the dungeon seriously, she didn’t want to take it lightly and get punished.

  Marrok, it seemed, felt similarly, if the look of unease on his face was anything to go by. Trepidation seeped into her bones as they walked.

  Cresting over one more rise the dungeon mouth came into view. Like a gaping black maw in the side of the mountain, littered by a boulder field of smashed up rocks and shards of stone.

  This was it, her first dungeon, she knew roughly what to expect, but goblins didn’t delve dungeons, most of the dungeons were national treasures that the filthy races kept to themselves. This time it would be for the goblins. The humans could go die for all they cared.

  Marrok stopped a moment, observing. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, or not found if that was preferable, because they continued after a moment.

  “Right, we’re here.” Marrok started, glaring at the warriors that weren’t listening.

  They had brought six goblins with them, with Marrok and Forroll herself that made eight. A good number and certainly sufficient for a small delve.

  “We’re going to take a small break, do whatever you need to do to get ready. We’ll be delving as far as possible whilst we can, searching out our treasures and getting stronger.” Marrok continued, addressing the goblins in turn, catching their eyes to make sure they were listening.

  “You all know that the greater the Tally we wear, the stronger we are. Not only does it signify that the person has killed a lot and is, therefore, skilled at doing so, but also it is a way to determine actual strength. When you kill a human, elf, beast, or whatnot the cumulative experience of their life gets extinguished, and our souls naturally absorb a small part of that making us stronger in turn.”

  Several of the goblins nodded at that, it was well known, after all.

  “In a dungeon that effect is multiplied, despite the monsters not being thinking beings. We cannot mark it on our tally to the true God as we have not cleansed the world of our heretical enemies. But we will still grow stronger, we will still feel better and that is how the Weir Goblins shall become strong enough. Strong enough to truly earn a tally worthy of our recognition of the true God, enough to stand behind him in his shadows rather than under his feet as so many other tribes have stood, not reaching high enough.”

  The others cheered, excited to embrace the future. Forroll was too, though the fervour around the tally was not conducive to the care that she felt needed to be considered when facing this dungeon.

  Something felt off, she couldn’t say what, and maybe that was just how a dungeon felt but she couldn’t quash the mounting fear that something about this dungeon wasn’t right, that they would regret their carelessness.

  “But we mustn’t be careless, calm yourselves because this may be far more dangerous than anything you have faced as yet. Take your time and we will delve in a half hour.” Marrok said, as if hearing her unspoken words and doubts.

  She smiled at him.

  He glared back.

  She felt her heart flutter at his look.

  Manly.

  The others spread out, enjoying the fresh woodland, wandering off a short distance to see what could be found.

  Forroll was half tempted to stick her head through the entrance, but she resisted the urge. That was strange, she had never had the urge to stick her head through anything before. Perhaps it manipulated emotions.

  No, that couldn’t be it, she was just excited, and impatient.

  She sat cross legged on a small section of smooth stone and tried to calm herself. Ease her heart rate down and embrace the flow of the zone. Time seemed to slow around her as she felt herself begin the experience, the world felt clearer, and with that new clarity she felt her muscles move, able to control them with ease.

  She was ready, she dropped out of the zone, knowing she was centred, and it wouldn’t be hard to pick it up again. Forroll continued her breathing sequence, controlling it, in through the nose and out through the mouth in even intervals, maintaining that lucid sharp state of being.

  Soon enough Marrok called them in, and they walked into the dungeon together.