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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4517196" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 44They did not linger long in the storeroom.  Not only were they all-too aware of the likelihood of the fat goblin returning with reinforcements, but the stink of the dead goblins quickly soured the air until the small chamber was almost unbearable.  Mara tore down the curtain to the north, both to let some fresh air in and to minimize the chance of another ambush.  She tore long strips from its hem with her short sword, and used them to bind the arms and legs of the goblin she’d knocked unconscious.  The sniper remained out cold, lying on the ground; all that the fighter did for him was to drag him a short distance from the puddle of blood slowly spreading across the floor.  Once the prisoner was secure, she joined Elevaren in keeping watch on the outer chambers and passages while Devrem tended to the halflings.  Finally, after what seemed like an hour to the battered adventurers, but was in reality only about five minutes, Devrem bent low over Jaron.  “This will require a lot of your own strength, and I know how drained you are,” he told the halfling.  “And it will hurt like a demon.”“I have been shot before,” Jaron replied simply.  Devrem nodded, and grabbed hold of the bolt with one hand, while his other pressed close around the wound.  Without preamble he yanked out the missile; Jaron swooned in sudden agony, and would have fallen without the support of the priest’s other hand.  Devrem spoke a word of healing power, and magic flowed between them, drawing upon the last of the halfling’s strength to help close the wound.  He was still weak, gravely so, but the nasty wound no longer threatened his life.  “You have a fierce spirit,” the cleric told him, when Jaron was finally able to stand unassisted.  “What about Beetle?”“Unfortunately, he is too weak for me to help any further; he needs rest,” Devrem said.  “But as long as we are in this place, we cannot spare anyone to carry him.  He should be able to walk, if you wake him.  But try to see that he does not get stabbed or shot again, at least not until tomorrow.”Jaron looked up at the cleric, trying and failing to judge if he were making a jest.  But Beetle stirred at his gentle touch, and when Jaron helped his cousin to his feet, he could stand, if a bit wobbly.  Beetle’s natural curiosity and energy was muted, however, and he followed Jaron silently as the trio left the storeroom and rejoined the others.  “Let us be free of this place while we can,” Mara said, after verifying that the two halflings were all right.  She took up her prisoner like a sack of oats, slinging the unconscious goblin over her shoulder while holding her longer sword ready in her prime hand.  “Do you think you’ll get him to talk?” Jaron asked her.  “He’ll talk,” the fighter replied, her voice full of grim certainty. They made their way out into the larger room and then back north along the wide passage that led to the entrance chamber.  The rats continued their din within the pit, as they fed on the corpses that Beetle had tossed down earlier. They didn’t linger, heading around the pit toward the staircase leading up.  The amount of light filtering down from above had dimmed considerably, suggesting that they’d spent longer down here than it seemed; time was a funny thing, underground. “Hsst!” Jaron warned, drawing their attention around just as a goblin emerged from the corridor to the west.  He was a scraggly unfortunate, clad in a dirty tunic that was little more than rags.  The goblin’s eyes widened as he saw the companions at the same time that they saw him.  He didn’t have a weapon, and flinched back as Beetle stepped forward, a knife appearing like magic in his hand.  As hurt as he was, there was still something menacing in the way that the little halfling carried himself.“No kill!  No kill!” the goblin urged, spreading his empty hands wide.  “Can helps you!” “Hold, Beetle,” Devrem said, but they never got a chance to learn more from the creature, as a loud noise sounded from down the passage behind the goblin, a guttural roar that was followed by the heavy tread of running feet.  The goblin hurled himself aside, moments before a big, broad-chested hobgoblin came around the bend of the passage.  The creature was covered in old scars, which ran out from under the tunic of stitched hides he wore over his bulging torso.  The hobgoblin carried a long iron poker, the end of which glowed bright red, as if it had been just taken from the depths of a forge. The hobgoblin found himself confronted not with a single escaping prisoner, but by a heavily armed and experienced company of adventurers.  Even as big and as mean as he looked, the odds were clearly against him.  But he didn’t hesitate, growling a challenge as he surged forward toward them. Mara shrugged, letting her prisoner fall hard to the floor at her feet, and stepped forward to meet him.  She reached for her short sword as she lifted her longer blade to parry the hobgoblin’s lunge.  But the hobgoblin was deceptively fast, and he slid the end of the poker down under her swing and smashed it up into her face.  The red-hot, slightly curving end of the poker caught her just under the lip of her helmet, smashing her jaw.  The fighter was knocked roughly to the side, and she slumped against the wall of the corridor, the sick stink of burning flesh coming from her ravaged face.  The hobgoblin lifted the end of his weapon to his face, his lips twisting into a slight smile as he sniffed at the blood that hissed on the glowing iron.  Then he stepped forward to confront Devrem, who’d taken up a position in front of the crippled Mara. “Time for pain,” the hobgoblin grunted.  The creature’s Common was so thick as to be barely discernable, but there was no mistaking his intent as he stepped forward to engage the cleric.</blockquote>

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