The sprawling wilderness inside the dungeon is a realm untamed and unforgiving. Here, the air hangs thick with a sinister odor and an unsettling silence, broken only by the whispers of unseen things that lurk in the shadows. Forests and tangled groves, untouched by the hand of civilization, become twisted and gnarled breeding grounds for creatures truly vile, whose existence defies the already grim standards of the dungeon.
At the northern gate of the small village, a group of Adventurers halted, the silence of the forest pressing in on them. The recent turmoil had left its mark on the land; the forest's edge loomed, twisted and menacing, a stark contrast to the rough-hewn stockade surrounding the village. Leading the way was a middle-aged man in a rugged leather jacket, the armored chest piece beneath hinting at countless battles. Strapped metal shoulder pads and a length of chain at his waist completed his worn but functional look. His brown hair, slicked back into a pompadour, with a red tint at the distal end of the hair shaft. He paused, a cigar between his fingers, and lit it with a practiced hand, exhaling a plume of smoke. He surveyed the stockade, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if searching for flaws in its defenses. Another slow puff, a deep sigh that carried the weight of experience. "Seems like the right place," he murmured, his voice low, "What was the name of this place again?" He turned, his gaze falling upon his companions.
"Umm! It is called Chisopani, Tesro ko Chisopani," a young voice cut through the air. A young girl[Tara], no older than sixteen, approached him. Her long, straight hair, the color of a twilight sky, flowed down her back, a cascade of dark blue against the rugged backdrop of the stockade and the waiting wilderness. She stopped before the leader, her posture a blend of tentative youth and newfound certainty.
The heavy clang of armored boots echoed through the air as a new figure approached the northern gate. He was a man in his forties, his face etched with the lines of countless suns and hardships. Clad in worn but sturdy armor, he strode with an air of authority, a couple of similarly armored guards flanking him like shadows.
Kirat moved towards the armored man. He offered a polite nod. "Namaste. I am Kirat," he said, his tone respectful. "And you are?"
"Namaste, I am Captain Ghising."
A wisp of iridescent smoke blossomed in the air, "Nice to meet you, we are here on behalf of Nirpeksha. I was given the lead for this mission."
"Please, this way," the Captain said, indicating a path. "Our guards will show you to your accommodations. Take your time to settle in. When you're ready, inform a guard, and they will bring you to my office. We can then go over everything."
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The oak door of Captain Ghising's office creaked open, revealing the stern figure of the captain seated behind a cluttered desk. Kirat and the three members of his guild stood before him, their expressions a mix of respect and apprehension. Madav, the captain's ever-present attendant, stepped forward, his arms laden with papers. He methodically passed a weighty sheaf to each member of the guild with the faint scent of old ink filling the air.
Captain Ghising's brow furrowed with worry as he spoke, "Goblins have pushed deep into our territory, encroaching on lands they never dared to tread before. It breaks my heart to see the toll it's taking – more and more of our people vanishing, kidnapped in broad daylight. I swear, if I weren't tied to this post, I'd lead a punitive expedition and wipe those vermin off the face of the dungeon!"
Kirat's gaze flickered between the Captain's worried face and the pages in his hands. "Take it easy, Captain," he said, a hint of sympathy in his voice. "We understand the gravity of the situation and your limitations."
Bir, a man with a crew cut who was sitting next to Kirat, leaned forward. "The villagers know the score, Captain; they're just paralyzed by fear. Have you had any reports of survivors? We need more intelligence..."
Madav replies, "Yes, a couple ..."
Bir: "Who was the last survivor?"
Madav hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Just over a week ago, a man and a girl managed to escape the forest. The man... he was in a terrible state. But the girl was unharmed. They claimed that a pair of young adventurers rescued them, fighting off the goblins and giving them a chance to flee."
Captain Ghising exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. "Two young adventurers, you say? It's been over a week since they showed up. The assumption was that they'd gotten restless and deserted their post."
Kirat's eyes held a grim certainty. "I don't think they're alive, Captain," the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Captain Ghising's expression softened. "It's a tragedy," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "They had the makings of great adventurers. But perhaps... perhaps their sacrifice wasn't in vain. We must stay hopeful."
Bir leaned forward, his voice low. "Captain, can we speak with the survivors? We need to know more about those adventurers, find out what happened."
Kirat: "Were they part of any guild?"
Madav handed a stack of reports to Bir. "No," he stated, his voice level. "They were just greenhorns, with no formal affiliation to any guild."
Bir with a stern expression, "And you let them dive into the forest."
"I went over their assessments... flat out warned them: reconnaissance only. No heroics, no rash moves."
"Goblins... this problematic?" Kirat muttered, the question hanging in the tense silence. Then, snapping back to the task at hand, he looked up. Suddenly, Kirat's posture straightened, and his voice grew sharp with urgency. "Provide us with a map of this area. And gather everyone who has survived or seen anything related to the goblins for the past month."
Madav: "On it."
.
.
.
One by one, the villagers were ushered into the room, where four Nirpeksha representatives waited to hear their stories, to interrogate them about their encounters. The testimonies stretched on, the details blurring until the day's light faded into night. With the last witness dismissed, they spread the map across the table, marked with every reported goblin encounter, and scanned for a pattern. Connection. Kirat's voice was low, but clear. "Do you see what I see?" Bir answered, his finger already tracing the area. "Yes. The attacks... they're all concentrated here."
"Blast it," the Captain muttered, a hand running through the hair. "How did I miss out on such an important detail? It was right there."
Bir admitted, "It is always easier to see things when you have something concrete to observe." He gestured to the map, "Mental mapping is for geniuses."
Kirat pointed to the circled area on the map. "The goblin encounters converge on this location. We need to establish an arc and move in." He looked at the Captain. "Can we mobilize your troops tomorrow?"
The Captain's jaw set, his eyes fixed on the map. "Now that we have this... we mobilize at first light."
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As the sun began to paint the sky, the familiar sounds of morning filled the air: birdsong, the distant lowing of cattle, the creak of farm carts. Yet, the scene at the northern gates was anything but typical. Thirty guards, a disciplined line in their polished armor, stood poised to depart. And behind them, a smaller group of eight approached, their presence radiating a quiet intensity.
Bir: "Hope we are not late."
A middle-aged guard approached. "Kumar," he introduced himself, "I will lead the guards and will assist your party today." Before further pleasantries could be exchanged, the Captain arrived with his attendant, Madav, their gazes sweeping over the assembled group.
"To think," the Captain murmured, a hint of regret in his tone. "If only I were younger, unbound by the needs of the town... I would be marching with you."
Kirat tapped the ash from his cigar, a thoughtful expression on his face. "We understand, Captain," he said, meeting the Captain's gaze. "We'll see this through."
The Captain offered a small, sincere nod. "Best of luck to you all," the Captain said, his voice carrying a note of deep hope. "May Fortune favor your endeavor, and may you return safely to these gates."
Kirat turned, addressing the gathered guards and guildmates. "You've had your briefing," he stated, his voice ringing with authority. "Move out!"
The thud of boots on the damp earth sent a tremor through the ground as the group began their march towards the forest. Their path led them deeper into the woods, the trees closing in around them until they reached the designated area. A base of operations was quickly established, a hub from which their mission would unfold. Tasks were swiftly divided: a vigilant guard rotation was set up, meanwhile, the bulk of the force formed search teams, tasked with systematically sweeping the area converging on the potential location of the goblin burrow.
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The first two days yielded nothing but empty forest and the growing weight of frustration. But on the third day, a stroke of luck, or perhaps skillful tracking, turned the tide. A small group of scouts, moving cautiously through the undergrowth, spotted a patrol of goblins. They shadowed the creatures, patiently tracking them until they vanished into a hidden entrance – the mouth of the burrow. As soon as the scouts returned to the base, breathless with their discovery, they relayed their findings to Kirat. The leader wasted no time. The plan was immediately set into motion.
The group moved like shadows through the dense forest under the fading light, their footsteps muffled by the decaying leaves and tangled vines. They approached the hidden entrance to the goblin burrow – a dark maw in the earth, half-hidden by thick foliage, that plunged downward into the ground. At the opening stood a few goblin guards, their forms hunched and wary. With a subtle hand signal, Kirat initiated the assault. A blur of movement, and the adventurers were upon the sentries. There were no cries, no sounds of a prolonged struggle, only the swift, silent work of blades and the soft thud of falling bodies. The guards were gone, and the entrance to the goblin realm stood open, oblivious to the fate that was about to befall them. They separated into smaller units and descended into the darkness, each team assigned a section of the burrow to scour.
Groups advanced down separate passages – five adventurers and twenty-five guards this way, three adventurers and five guards that way. Deeper in, the larger force split into six-person clearing teams. Three teams found the prisoners. Before they could even assess the situation, the alarm was raised, and a chaotic battle erupted. The clang of steel and the guttural shrieks of goblins echoed through the tunnels. As goblin reinforcements swarmed towards the prison, a vital interception occurred. One of the remaining squads engaged the incoming horde, buying precious time. Meanwhile, the other two squads pressed onward, clearing their path through the chaos until they reached a vast chamber. Here, amidst mountains of mineral, a glowing inscription pulsed with dark light. Goblin workers scurried, oblivious to the three shamans pouring magic into the ancient symbol. The attackers didn't wait. They charged, smashing into the ritual and igniting a separate, wild conflict in the burrow.
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Kirat, Bir, and Tara, along with their five accompanying guards, began a systematic sweep through the Burrow's eastern section. As members of a raid party, they employed a unique magical ability: an augmented 'HUD' spell layered with a 'map' function spell. This spell allowed them to constantly share information and update a real-time, three-dimensional map of the burrow, ensuring they meticulously covered every passage and chamber as they explored.
As they moved deeper into the passage, the oppressive atmosphere of the burrow grew more pronounced, a rancid smell clinging to the humid air. Suddenly, a discordant symphony of sound reached them – guttural goblin noises interspersed with sinister chants and the heart-wrenching cries of children. A surge of urgency propelled the group forward, cutting through the goblin resistance that tried to bar their way. Suddenly, the cacophony ceased, replaced by a suffocating silence. The silence was unnerving, a sudden void after the frenetic sounds. But more than that, a palpable weight settled upon them, the air thickening and pressing down as if gravity itself had doubled. Ignoring the questions in their minds, they continued.
Just as suddenly, the noise returned, but now the children's cries were sharp, panicked screams, as if facing something truly terrifying. The sound ignited a desperate urgency within the group, pushing them forward. They surged down the passage, steps heavy from the lingering magical weight, their pace a frantic, stumbling rush until they burst into a gargantuan cavernous hall. And there, revealed in the cavern's eerie light, was a sight of unspeakable horror: a goblin ritual, a dark spectacle rarely witnessed, a scene etched in dread.
"Now!" Kirat roared, his voice cutting through the horrific scene. "Guards! Free the children! Get them back to the hall, now!" He gestured towards Tara. "Tara, help them!" Then, eyes burning with fury, he pointed towards the shamans. "Bir... MASSACRE THEM!"
As Kirat's command echoed, those around him scattered. He swung his weapon – a fearsome sickle on a three-foot staff, looking like a brutal scythe. Bir, with the savage grace of a seasoned adventurer, engaged the goblin guards near the cage, his Khukuri a relentless whirlwind of steel designed to break their ranks and secure the path for the guards and Tara. The guards moved in, a coordinated force, their weapons a deadly tide sweeping away the goblin wave. Meanwhile, Tara, positioned in the backline, began to draw upon her magical reserves, her mana flowing, ready to turn the tide of the battle with her spells.
Kirat moved with a focused intensity, making a beeline towards the hobgoblin near the altar. The hobgoblin radiated a sickly, sinister energy, its presence a vile stain on the cavern. Behind it, a horrifying tableau: the headless bodies of three children. A goblin warrior lunged to intercept Kirat, but the swipe of his sickle was a swift, brutal judgment, bisecting the creature. The hobgoblin at the altar, however, was a different caliber of threat. It met Kirat's charge with a swing of its greatsword, a crushing blow that sent him flying across the cavern, crashing into the stone wall. The Arc Shaman's chant ceased abruptly, replaced by a guttural command. While the other shamans remained lost in their trance, their unknown hymn continuing its eerie drone, the Arc Shaman's order galvanized the other hobgoblins.
Bir watched Kirat's shallow arc of flight, saw him crumple against the wall, then spotted the hobgoblins charging. His gaze snapped to Tara. "Tara," he yelled, his voice strained, "slow them down!" Tara's eyes widened, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Can I? she thought, the question a silent echo of her uncertainty. But she wouldn't let doubt cripple her. Her hands flew up, mana surging, ready to attempt the impossible. The guards, a whirlwind of desperate action, shattered the cage locks and pulled the children to safety. "Move! Get to the hall!" a guard roared, directing them away from the fray. One boy, Ale, didn't hesitate. As soon as his bindings were off, he snatched two rusty goblin swords, their dull edges glinting in the dim light, and screamed, "I can help!" Acharya, a moment later, grabbed a goblin bow from a slain archer, a grim resolve hardening his face, and sent an arrow flying towards the approaching goblins, aiming to buy Bir and Tara precious seconds.
Water coalesced around Tara, swirling and shimmering as she rose into the air, a serene contrast to the chaos below. A significant portion of her mana surged through her, fueling the spell. "Torrent Crash!" she cried, her voice ringing out. The swirling water compressed into a tight, football-sized sphere, its surface taut with immense pressure. With a roar, it shot forward, slamming into the hobgoblins with concussive force, sending them staggering back a few meters, their advance momentarily halted. Just then, a cloud of dust and debris erupted from the wall as Kirat burst free. He quickly surveyed the situation. His eyes landed on the hobgoblin by the altar, and a faint blue glow emanated from his eyes as he cast an appraisal spell. His eyes narrowed in grim recognition, "Hobgoblin Champion..."