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  [Marrok]

  The second floor of the dungeon progressed just as smoothly as the first. The goblins marched down the stairs. After a brief stop to wonder at the giant trees on the second floor, they headed down the tree-stairs, pausing to look at whether the sky paths were worth investigating.

  Marrok had decided to avoid the sky paths, it felt risky, and he knew there were wolves on the second floor. Perhaps next time he thought.

  Advancing around the floor, they found a ruined campsite with a small chest containing gold and gems. Useless once again and then the wolves.

  With seven goblins and himself they eliminated the group with ease. In a straight up fight, they were unstoppable.

  Five minutes later they found the second pack of three and eliminated it just as quickly.

  Looting the rest of the level, they found nothing of interest apart from a few more wooden chests, half sunk in the ground.

  Now, they were crowded around the waterfall, looking down through the opening to the third floor. Marrok wasn’t sure about it, it was a long drop, and he knew not how they would get back up. Still, he trusted they would find a way.

  “So, how’re we getting down?” Glady asked from next to him leaning over to get a better look. Marrok thought about it for a moment, deciding quickly.

  He slapped Glady on the back pushing him over the edge and watching him tumble into the hole.

  He landed with a wet slap and a groan. He seemed ok. Marrok paused, and then jumped, landing smoothly, and looking around.

  “You pushed me!” Glady complained in a nasally croaky voice.

  “You asked!” he responded dryly.

  “I landed on my nose.”

  “Unfortunate” he replied, as the rest of the goblins dropped down next to him. “Get up Glady.”

  Glady groaned, sitting up and then clambering to his feet. He looked vaguely out of it. Marrok didn’t care.

  Observing the floor, Marrok didn’t know what to make of it. He knew it was a swamp, but he had never spent any time in that kind of environment. He was a goblin that was at home in the soft green woodlands of the Weir Wood and the Palus Forest, he had never seen a swamp, had no idea how to navigate one. Neither did the others, having lived in the Weir Wood Tribe for their entire life.

  With the possible exception of Forroll, he was the cleverest goblin here and it would be up to him to lead them through it. He wasn’t sure about Forroll. She kept a lot of herself hidden, but he knew she had no experience of swamps either, so it made little difference.

  The third floor was noisy, that was what he noticed first. Whereas the forests he called home had a constant soft rustling from the leaves in the wind, the calls of birdsong and the occasional humming buzz of a flying insect, the swamp was an overwhelming assault of sounds, carried forth by the clouds of insects that swarmed across the floor. He grimaced, not liking the look of it.

  Large puddles - though he supposed they were more like pools - covered the ground, he didn’t like the look of them either, many nasty things could hide in there and he wouldn’t know it. Edging forward, he walked to the edge of the firm ground and looked down. Beyond the first few inches of clear water, the rest was a murky mystery, he couldn’t even tell how deep it was. Perhaps only a few more inches, but also perhaps a whole metre, or even enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom. He didn’t like the idea of stepping in and falling fully under the water.

  He stepped back, looking around again. Marrok couldn’t spot any predators, he had been hoping for a repeat of the previous floor, with obvious fights that he could gauge beforehand. That was not the case.

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  The other goblins shifted restlessly. He would have to say something.

  “We’re going to have to be careful here. I’m not at home in a swamp and I know none of you are either, these pools could be so deep we would just fall right in, and they are dark enough I can’t see anything that could be hiding within them.”

  The others shivered at the thought. For once, not feeling the need to speak up.

  Braving himself, Marrok took a few fleet-footed steps and jumped over the ring of water that surrounded their safe haven. The ground on the other side wobbled significantly, almost disturbing his balance. Ripples in the water shot away, colliding into the other firm ground and breaking. He stood, walking around and feeling the ground shift beneath his feet. It was like a floating platform.

  “Come on, this way.” He called out.

  Glady, eager to gain a bit of respect back went next, hopping over with annoying grace.

  Marrok watched them all over, pleased there were no slips. He planned to take a quick trip around the floor, checking it all out, the trees, mangroves and other interesting thickets of shrubbery that might hide threats they could fight.

  A large splash sounded out, he whipped his head towards it, but the trees and bushes blocked his view. At least he knew there was something out there. Perhaps in the water, perhaps on the land. There was something to fight which was good.

  Marrok led the goblins across three more pools and islands, towards the central island cluster that held much of the foliage in the floor. Each time they hopped over the water was nerve wracking.

  On the fourth such jump Marrok made it, but one of the others cried out. In alarm, Marrok whirled round, just in time to watch the goblin slip backwards and fall into the water. He had landed on the edge of the stable ground, it gave way, sliding him into the water where he then toppled back.

  Marrok jumped forwards determined to save his tribesman, just in time too, as he dived to the ground reaching his hand down and into the waters and grasping a shirt. He pulled, yanking the goblin back above water level. He felt the shirt begin to rip and the goblin slipped back a fraction. Pulling once more, he jumped his hand onto their arm and pulled him all the way out of the water and onto the land.

  Lying on top of him, the nearly drowned goblin - for goblins had never learnt to swim - coughed up water for a few minutes. Marrok rolled him over and stood up. It was Hrog, if he had remembered correctly. There was a blood trail leading back to the water. Scanning the warrior he saw a number of small chunks of clothing and flesh missing. Enough that he was bleeding profusely, colouring the water and sodden ground in shades of fading crimson.

  “Forroll!” He called out. “Bandages over here.”

  With greater care the rest of the goblins jumped over, making sure to fall forwards to place less pressure on the edges of the island.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were all across to the central cluster of islands and trees, with Hrog all bandaged up and the bleeding slowed. Goblins healed fast, he would stop bleeding shortly.

  Pushing through the foliage, Marrok carefully avoided the smaller pools of water and made it to the other side unharmed. There, he saw what he wanted to fight. Some kind of dark green or black, overgrown, lizard, lay basking on one of the islands, a much bigger island several metres across. The lizard was about twice as long as he was tall and looked like it would put up quite a good fight. It had short stubby legs and a long tail. Thick, tough-looking scales covered the lizard from head to toe, though perhaps snout to tail would be more accurate and its yellow, slitted eyes spotted him. It shifted slightly towards him, shuffling on its belly. He thought that it was probably heavy and slow, but difficult to injure. Glancing around the floor he could see another two on small islands further afield.

  Fading back through the foliage, he re-joined the others and let them know what he had found.

  Skirting around the tree line they attempted to come up on the lizard’s rear side. Sneaking as they went. The ground around that way was firmer and the pools shallower and closer together. All in all, they made it easily until they were crouched about 15 feet away.

  They had planned out their sequence, all that was left was to execute it.

  In silence, Marrok ran, hefting his heavy axe over his shoulder. Across one island, then another and another until he was one away. He jumped, flying through the air as he let out a scream. With it, he brought down his axe into the middle of the creature’s back. Soon after Glady followed suit, coming from behind, whereas Marrok had attacked from the side.

  The attacks landed one after the other, sinking about three inches into the beast. It spun, twisting about far faster than he had thought possible. Its jaw popping open. He jumped back, abandoning his axe as he recognised the danger in front of him. He sunk into a pool, his momentum carrying his bum back far enough he could roll onto dryer land.

  An arrow whizzed past his head, aimed for the eyes of the lizard. It missed, skittering off sideways and carving a small, notched line through the creature’s scales on the left side of its eye.

  Seeing Marrok dodge, it kept spinning going after Glady. He too abandoned his axe and leapt backwards, but he wasn’t fast enough to get completely clear. The creature shot forwards going for him as he back pedalled.

  Another arrow slammed into the beast, in its rear this time, making it pause ever so slightly and giving enough time for Hrog to lash out with his hatchet.

  It spun again, searching for this new threat and Marrok launched forward grabbing both axes buried in its back and retreating again.

  Another arrow whistled past him.

  He tossed the axe back to Glady, now safe on the other side of the pool of water.

  Swish, another.

  Arrows peppered the beast from Forroll and another warrior. But they had barely any affect. The eyes were too small to hit and the scales protected the beast from all but a direct perpendicular strike.

  Glady attacked it again and Marrok followed suit, hit and run, hit and run. Like that, they wore it down until the beast had numerous deep slashes in its back. It was quick, a damn sight quicker than he had first thought. They were lucky no one had got injured from this one, though just how dangerous it was they didn’t know. Still the look of those teeth gave Marrok the impression it would be able do a lot.

  As they whittled it down, the beast looked for an escape path, but they had it covered on all sides. It slithered forwards, trying to get into the water.

  Could it swim? Marrok questioned. He wasn’t about to lose another prey in this dungeon.

  “Attack, don’t let it escape!” he called out, charging forwards and slamming his axe into the animal’s leg, buckling it. Drawing back, he spun the axe around and aimed for one of the slashes they had opened up in its back, slighting backwards as he did so to get more range.

  He scored the hit, feeling something crack under his hands. The beast flailed around, and the other goblins arrived to help finish it off.

  Thick blood trickled out of the wounds of the beast covering the ground with a sticky cerise coloured coating that matted with the grasses of the swamp.

  Marrok laughed, victory!

  And there was more to enjoy. What a fight, they hadn’t come close to dying but it felt tense and like they were fighting on the edge.

  “Onto the next one boys,” he called out, they cheered. Marrok smiled, glancing at Forroll once more.