The hobgoblin archers rolled up their map and hopped towards the nearby security door. Sten rolled his neck and felt his joints pop, he didn’t like getting tossed by the damnable barrier blocking them off. He didn’t like this plan a lot.

“Good luck Josh and Yara,” Sten said, raising a fist. They responded in kind, and Bent, Burn and Mike also waved and wished them good luck. Sten followed the archers and waved at his friends. “Come on guys, let’s see if we can’t beat them to a control room.”

The half assembled ‘mech’ as Josh called it was against the far back wall, with the promise of escape somewhere behind it. Sten flexed his tingling fingers and frowned. This felt like he was trapped again, like the crypts with Rolada. But, like the old dwarven saying went, when you're stuck, start mining.

The two hobgoblin’s fumbled with the door, and one of them managed to get the lock to tick over. There was a staggering amount of corrosion around the door, jamming it in place. Sten pushed between them and grabbed the door’s large latch, and pulled as hard as he could.

Strength Check : Failure!

He tried, and tried again, but each time the damned security door thwarted his attempts. Sten tugged on his gloves and flexed his tired fingers. If he just hadn’t lost hold of his pick during the fall when it had slipped out of his hand like a wet mead cup during a toast, then the door would have already been open. He looked at the pickaxe he had claimed from the goblin machines that attacked them when they fell. It was a hunk of junk. The half was cracked from the push back from the barrier and the head was misshapen. He tossed it aside.

He felt naked, every dwarf carried a tool and weapon when they travelled, a real weapon, and here he was, down to his fists like some stark raving mad wrestler. If his clansmen could see him now, he would be disgraced, again. Sten sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Best not tell mother.”

A shadow loomed over the door. “I got it, Sten,” Bent Plate said. He tapped the dwarf on the shoulder and the grumbling warrior shuffled out of the way. “I’ll have this open in no time.”

“Aveenica, I almost had it,” Sten said, mumbling the great wrestler's name. He leaned against the wall and his chainmail jingled. He watched Josh, Yara and the hobgoblin leader surround their door on the other side of the barrier. Suddenly Yara kicked it in and they rushed into a fight. “Hope we have some excitement.”

“Excitement? Was nearly falling to our deaths in a pool of acid not exciting enough?” Burn asked. The goblin stood in front of him and checked Sten over. “Did you fall on your head on the way down? I know dwarves have hard heads and you shouldn’t be affected, but I’m starting to worry.”

Sten tried to hide his grin. His beard curled into a hand to wave off the goblin. “I’m fine you cave gremlin, worry about yourself.

“Oh and then who would I have to steal beer from for my soaps if you fall over dead from a head injury? Yara would probably kick me clear into the forest and stealing from Lin would be a nightmare.” Burn shook his head and took out a grey wand with a green ribbon attached to it. He waved it over Sten’s head and the tip glowed green. “Huh, you're fine.”

“See,” Sten said, puffing up his chest. “Like all dwarves, I got rock skin and iron bones.”

Mike the miner minion hopped up between them and flexed his arms. “S-strong d-dwa-f.”

Sten nodded in approval. “Aye, keep it up and you can be an honorary dwarf.”

A horrendous racket behind them grabbed their attention, and they watched as Bent brute forced his way into the next room. Flakes of green corroded copper flew past them, and the door squealed in protest as it was forced to move on its hinges. The two hobgoblins stood off to the side, keenly watching the orge. Too keenly for Sten’s liking, there was something off about them.

On the other side was a brightly lit underground farm. A side of the wall had been cut out to allow part of the underground river to divereve and spread along a snaking moat to feed small plots of dirt. Root vegetables and other cave plants grew and goblin contraptions that walked on four spindly legs moved between them, taking care of them with smaller grabber hands that ended in garden tools or grasping claws. At the end of the room was a door with ‘maintenance’ written across it, and a workbench full of jars, scarps and preserved vegetables.

The two hobgoblins, which Sten trusted as long as their beards were, which was none at all, posted up beside the door with bows drawn. Each of them were sweating, and their hands shook, clearly showing them to be at their wits end.

Amateurs.

“Let ol’ Sten take a look.” The armoured dwarf strode confidently into the room, with his hands out at the ready. When no dangers leapt out at him he rested his hands on his hips. “Just a farming plot, at least the goblins were self-sufficient.”

Danger Sense Active!

Danger! Roll now!

Sten threw himself ahead, rolling on his shoulder heavily. A blast of magical power blew up the tile he had been on and he bounced off his feet to dodge a second attack. On the walls were similar constructs, comparable to the gardening ones. Fused to their bodies were pieces of glass to focus the energy out of a mana crystal.

An entry log appeared. He had met these before.

Stone-Lens Crawlers

A goblin contraption that uses their base construct models along with a healthy dose of unstable elemental magic. Crudely made lenses are used to focus the energy of the wild magic stones on their bodies to attack other targets set by the master of the construct. These stones can be unstable and might blow up the construct when they use it or get hit. Caution is advised.

“Damn magic,” Sten hissed as he picked up a gardening bot to shield himself. The nearest wall crawling robot shook and it sparked with barely contained lightning. It coursed up its sides, and condensed by the glass gathering up in the stone. It then shot the blast straight at him. The gardening bot floundered like a flipped cave turtle, and it blew up in his hands. “A little help here fellas!”

Finally a series of bow shots came from the door, knocking the lenses off the constructs or outright penetrating their corroded copper shells. Oil leaned down them and they fell off the walls, crumbling into rubbish on the floor.

Sten moved back, hopping around in a zig-zag pattern as repeated magical blasts struck where he had just been standing. He felt his boot hit the edge of the moat and Sten braced for impact as a magic bolt flew straight at him.

Lightning struck his collarbone and ran down his body, causing him to drop to the floor and convulse. His shoulder felt like it was being dislocated as the muscles tried to pull apart. The sensation passed soon after, and Sten grumbled as he heard the sounds of combat finishing up. He took a moment to gather himself and smooth out his beard. The beard feeling his intentions righted itself, becoming uniform and smooth again. “This is getting fun, ain’t it beardie? Josh does right by us sometimes.”

Constitution Check : Success!

Shock duration drastically decreased.

Sten waited for the last bits of energy to get sorted out. Once he was well he got back to his feet and he heard the last few attackers fall to the ground. By the door were two hobgoblins looking for targets, Mike and Burn kicking a fallen robot that was trying to stab them with a dented spike of a leg, and Bent who ran full tilt at him.

Sten felt his muscles tense up and he gripped the hilt of his pickaxe as his training tried to kick in, telling him to fight. The dwarf whispered into his beard, an old phrase his mum always told him in their native tongue. “Be the dwarf like the mountain top, always visible, stoic and strong. Be a stone in the river and let problems flow past you.”

His encroaching rage settled and the only friendly ogre he had ever met waved at him. Bent had a crushed goblin construct in his hand and he held the thing like a he was ready to throw a bomb at the nearest target. The stone on the top of it fell off, hitting the ogre in the foot. The stone exploded, and Bent barely even noticed the mild annoyance as he continued to walk up to Sten. The front of his pant leg was covered in soot, but he was otherwise unharmed.

“Got another rank in a defensive talent I see,” Sten said, raising a brow. “Some form of mild magic resistance?”

Bent nodded. “Trying to get tougher, I didn't like the siege, too many spell casters around these parts.” The ogre absently touched the scars on his arm, and he scanned the rest of the curved, arched ceiling that went well over his head. He dropped the construct in his hand, and crushed it underfoot. “I don’t see anymore.”

“What kind of mad folk put such things in a growing room?” the hobgoblin called ‘Hasven’ asked.

The hobgoblins walked side by side as always, carefully stepping around the blasted rock tiles where Sten had avoided the attacks. They were way too high strung. If they were like their bows, Sten would have thought a single tap on their sides would cause them to explode into splinters.

“Didn’t you see the sign on the wall?” Burn joked as he hopped over a crater to reach Sten’s side, health potion in hand. “Need a potion buddy?”

Sten glanced down at his chainmail.

Health Status : Minor Damage, torn shoulder muscle,

Full recovery in : 1 Hour

Would you like to use a charge to heal?

Yes / No

Sten waved off the potion, his armour would fix up any damage soon enough. “No, I think those crawlers were designed to stun and knock out trouble makers.” Sten glanced to the side to see the large sign, ‘Workers not meeting their quota will be taken to the reprimand hall!’ “It always surprises me how brutal goblin culture can be. I thought dwarves were hard to live with.”

Burn reached out to one of the underground farm plots. This one had chest high bushes and the goblin plucked a ripe dark red berry off it. He popped it into his mouth and danced on his feet. “Oh they have sugar rush berries. I can’t wait to make some fermented bubble juice with it.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” Sten chuckled.

They went to the back of the room, and the gardening bots hurried out of the way. One of them set to the task of cleaning up the bits of rock that made it into the plants and the water way.

It was a mess back here. Half repaired bots littered one table, some of the persevered jars had bad seals and the beans inside were a nasty sludge. The ones that were properly made actually looked half decent though the cloudy glass jars. The sight of food made Sten’s stomach rumble, and Bents. Between the rubbish and scrap metal wire on a table Sten spotted a crossbow. He tapped Burn on the shoulder to point it out.

“No way,” Burn said with barely contained enthusiasm. He ran over like a kid in a sweet rock shop. “I never thought I’d get one since they discontinued them!”

It looked like a crossbow with an odd shaped cut out around the trigger, attached to which was a rather small bolt cage. It also had short limbs, and a latch on the side likely for reloading. Optically it was pleasant to look at with its dark hardwood body and shiny copper and brass gears. However, the input for the bolts looked odd, as it seemed they would not sit on the string right.

“I’m not even getting a check to identify it. What is it?” Sten asked.

Mike peeked his head over the top and the minion slowly reached for it.

“Hey, back off,” Burn said, grabbing it and lifting it out of reach. “I always wanted one.” Once Burn made sure the minion wasn’t going to grab it he grabbed several nasty looking darts off the table. “It’s an alchemist made dart thrower, it’s like a bigger sling staff. See these darts? Then have a groove under the head that grips the string, and the latch on the side lets you reload it quickly from the magazine. Holds about ten of them. Then, you can use special darts infused with air essence that are fragile, and near the trigger here you see this cut out? Watch.”

Burn took a small health potion and Sten watched him push it up into the cut out. There was a hiss of air and the potion’s fluid was drained. Burn reached around the table and found these ‘special darts’ that had a clear wide head on them. Burn placed it into the weapon and cranked the gear on the side once. The clear dart head turned potion red, and Burn shot it at the wall. The dart burst, and a pop up told Sten it was ‘healing mist’.

“That’s…incredibly useful,” Sten said as he stroked his beard. Bent looked between the healing mist and the dart thrower and he also seemed quite impressed. Sten then frowned. “What’s the catch?”

“Ah…yeah, about that,” Burn chuckled. “So, apparently alchemists issued this were notorious about forgetting what potion was hooked up to it, or forgot to use the special darts sometimes. So…they shot their allies with poison or hit them with a steel dart that would technically heal them. If it didn’t outright kill them.”

Bent, Sten and Mike shuffled back. There was a loud crash and they all turned to see the hobgoblin’s bash the maintenance door’s lock with fragmented pieces of the crawlers.

“Do you think Josh and Yara are having better luck with their ‘help’?” Burn whispered.

Bent crouched down, and looked quite comical trying to get down on the shorter races level. He shrugged. “That other hobgoblin had good gear, and I managed to figure out his level is seven, not sure about class though.”

“Aye, that armour and curved sword of his are from the Eastern Tranderes. A damn fine group of dwarves and elves migrated there a hundred years ago to hide their smithing techniques and it shows. I think if they get into a scrap Yara can take him out,” Sten whispered.

Burn shook his head. “That guy was constantly focusing on Yara, he’s aware she can fight him, but he’s in armour while she’s in sleep clothes. Josh is getting pretty quick on the spells and I’ve seen him fight dirty with magic, I think he could take him.”

Mike nodded a few times. “J-Josh sm-art.”

Sten hummed in agreement. The odd far traveller human was certainly different. He was quick on the uptake and for the most part he was always trying to learn things. He did give Sten his own space, something he never had back home with the clan or in the dorms at school. He wasn’t exactly shaping up to be a lord, but as a friend? Well Sten couldn’t ask for much more, he had his own still, and space to practice his singing.

“Maybe. If he can squeeze a level up he can get some pretty good talents. Maybe it’s a ‘you know what thing’ but he tends to get some pretty favourable talents offered up to him. Then again, he’s hitting those level ups too fast,” Sten said.

Burn and Bent both looked worried. “You don’t think he’s an Aldert do you? He’s not that foolish, at least he brings one of us or the girls along when he does things.”

“Aldert did too. Don’t forget once that prideful dwarf hit level ten or so he decided he was good enough on his own,” Sten said, shaking his head. “Then he gets chomped down by a dragon and hands over enough magical arms to cause the dragon’s armies to crush a nation.”

Bent squeezed his hand into a tight fist. “Overconfidence is the greatest killer in Ewyernar. Along with too much sweets and a drunk wizard.”

Knowledge World : Success!

+1 XP gained.

“Oh, you read Valric too?” Sten asked. “A damn fine orc poet, the finest I would say. Didn’t know you were one for the classics.”

Bent’s cheeks went red and he tapped his fingers together. “Sliva said reading would sharpen my mind, and a sharp mind helps you have a strong body.”

Sten chuckled. “Aye, that fox lady is pretty wise.”

The sound of slamming metal died down and the group turned to see the two hobgoblin’s cowering behind a table as a black sizzling sphere was flung onto the wall, sticking to it with muck.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Burn said.

Then hit the floor and the goblin bomb went off, blasting the door off it’s hinges. The smoke cleared and in plain view was a stairwell to head up a floor. They waved off the smoke and Sten grumbled something positive towards the hobgoblins, even if he was getting ticked off at them.

“Don’t rage, not here, not ever,” Sten whispered in dwarvish.

“Everything good?” Burn asked, giving Sten a light punch. He hefted his new weapon and slammed the latch back to load up a sharp dart. “I can lead if you want to take a breather.”

“Don’t say that too loudly,” Sten said, tilting his head towards the hobgoblins. “Why don’t the perceptive archers take the lead? They have the best chance of spotting traps.”

The hobgoblin’s chatted between each other then started to shake their hands at one another. It looked like a variation of rock, scroll and pickaxe. The other hobgoblin who refused to show his name lost and took the lead. They followed him up the stairs, and stopped once for him to disarm a trap that would have locked the door ahead. They reached the end of the stairwell to reach a heavy door with big letters on it.

‘Cargo Lift Room.’

“Hey, that's probably connected to the surface or the river with a crane,” Burn said excitedly. “We can dip out and get help from everyone else to dig for Josh and Yara.”

“Hush!” The lead hobgoblin put his ear to the door and shook his head. “I thought I heard something.”

They stood deathly still, and Sten watched the hobgoblin’s poses. He saw a small bar appear in his vision as he was slowly trying to pick up any ques on them. The bar was slow as his insight was still terrible. The hobgoblin’s had to stay perfectly still, or it would break his attempt.

Identify Creature : Success!

Creature 1 : Level 2 Backstabber

Creature 2 : Level 3 Black March Poacher

Creature types : Shapechanger.

Sten’s bushy eyebrows shot up. He quickly quelled his body’s reaction and forced himself to stay passive, sending the info off to the others. They too tensed up for a moment, before returning to a calm state.

They had to warn Josh and Yara.

Sten grit his teeth. He still hadn’t managed to get enough bard talents to get his multiclass, and the access to the poetic magic he so desperately wanted. If he had it he could use any number of minor spells to send off a message, and talk his way around their foes to plan with his allies.

His rage built up once again in core. Anger at himself, his family, and the damn world that was intent on keeping his poetic soul drowned in blood. At least if these two monsters tried to turn on them he had more than enough ample reason to let off some steam on them.

“Patience is the stone's greatest strength,” Sten whispered.

The ‘hobgoblins’ opened the door and they followed them in. Their group was trying to act calm, and Mike whistled a soft dwarvish working tune Sten had taught him. The little minion was shaping up to be an honorary dwarf.

The cargo room was stacked up with boxes, crates and rubble. There was a huge crane to the side with open sliding doors that led to the caves and the sounds of the underground river rushed in. What really stood out was a small makeshift camp of boxes, cloth and several more hobgoblins, including a look a like of their leader. There was a harsh edge to their stance, and the ones in the camp all looked to be in spotless gear.

The two fake hobgoblins ahead of them looked at their leader, and then to Sten. “They know.”

Then all the hells in the underworld broke loose.