“Con?” Valleria turned, ignoring the heated fighting around her. “Are you alright?” The air was ragged. Hot from the eruption of the light above them. Wet from the muck and earth.

“What happened to the light?” They spoke quietly at first, but then louder, trying to talk over the noise of fighting all around them. Not to mention the occasional scream.

“The dungeoncore must have destroyed it… they really don’t want us to leave.” She whispered. “Shit.”

Silver grabbed at the wound on his side, turning back to the fight.

“Run!” Simon yelled. “Fight and retreat! We wont win here!”

The Tinyfinger Kobolds responded first.

Valleria couldn’t see how many Kobolds were attacking them in the dim light, but she heard the screams. The torn flesh. And the bodies falling.

“We have to go before reinforcements arrive!” Simon yelled. “Backs to the light! Back away!”

Valleria stood, stumbling forward, turning over her shoulder to look back at the fight.

Kobolds stabbed ferociously, piercing into the dark, blades chasing nocturnal eyes that glowed when light him them at just the right angle. Someone right next to Valleria screamed, stumbling into her. She shoved her shoulder into them, stumbling forward.

The group retreated at a jogging pace, fighting their way free from Longtail territory. In the dark, glowing eyes signified Changed Kobolds, dashing in and out of the fight.

Valleria didn’t know or care how many fell. Simon and Silver were to her right, running at a full pace. Eventually, they reached the area where the light met the dark, turning back and staring.

They had lost at least half their number to the Longtail ambush. Valleria panted, staring back into the dark, but no Kobolds made chase.

“Shit…” Simon said.

“Shit.” Valleria confirmed.

Her home was gone. Good and gone. Here at the edge where the light met the dark, she peered into the clan Longtail rot-city. Twisted shapes of wood lurked in the darkness, housing monsters she once called clan. A dungeoncore had taken root in the center of the city.

Infesting it.

“My home is gone.” Valleria said aloud. Simon turned to her.

“I wouldn’t want to live there. Creepy ass things.” Simon said. “Oh, not the tails. The whole, creepy predator thing.”

Valleria looked mildly offended.

“We need to keep moving.” Silver said, clutching the wound in his shoulder. He had dropped his spear at some point, stumbling away from the enemy encirclement.

“We were lucky.” Simon said.

“How the fuck was that lucky?” Valleria asked, beginning to walk forward once more.

“They attacked us almost entirely from the rear. Only the one Kobold sat in the way of our retreat.” Con said from Valleria’s back.

“They probably were following us through their little… nest… city.” Valleria more spat than said the last few words, trudging back towards their home.

They walked again, now blooded and half their number, through the gore. Kobolds from the other clans stared at them from across the Hallow, watching from building doorways and roof tops, running back to report to the other clans.

They would all know that they had fought soon enough. It wasn’t as if Kobolds from different clans never talked. Even if they weren’t currently in alliance, they often traded, and many Kobolds stepped between the more friendly clans.

Well, except for Bighorn and Longtail, who held a multi-generational grudge.

Valleria was panting and sore by the time they got close enough to see the mob of Kobolds outside of the castle.

They were mottled. Wart covered. Half dressed in ragged cloth, completely different from the finery that the Clan Below wore, or even the whole clothes of Longtail.

“More trouble?” Simon growled. “Zeek should be inside. Is this a siege?”

All of the Clan Below’s Kobolds flinched simultaneously.

“Valleria! So good you’re here.” Mark said.

Valleria panted. “What the hell was that?”

“We’re currently absorbing another dungeoncore! Its very painful. I think some of the pain is echoing through me and into the Kobolds.”

“You’re… absorbing a dungeoncore?” Valleria repeated his statement out loud in shock. “You destroyed one while we were out?”

“No, we…” Mark only seemed to notice just then that half of them were missing. “Oh god, what happened? Half of you are injured… Oh god.” Mana started resonating in Silver, and his wound began to stitch itself.

The few remaining Clan Below Kobolds, likewise, started to heal.

Valleria observed Kobolds rising over the walls of little fortress in the distance, staring down nervously at the crowd below.

“Clan Longtail ambushed us.” Silver spoke.

“Who are you talking to?” Con asked. Silver looked at him and then away again.

Ignoring him, Silver continued on. “They pulled the light from the ceiling. It erupted. Their fortress was full of twists and turns. They ambushed us from out of the dark.”

The group of Wart-Skin Kobolds had noticed Valleria’s arrival and were staring. They were conversing heatedly among themselves, shouting and slapping and pushing each other.

“Mark and Silver, Con. They’re good people.”

“They’re gods. They uplifted us.” Silver said simply, as if it was a matter of fact.

“Gods? Like from the stories?”

“No, I don’t think they’re like from the stories.” Valleria grimaced.

“Stories?” Mark asked. “Tell me later, I’m sure. Right now I need you to—” Mark’s voice was interrupted, and for a single fleeting instance Valleria felt a noise like a gong. Not heard it, but felt it, as if it was inside of her skull and pounding. “—Ow.” Mark finished.

“What do you need?” Valleria asked, squinting at the little fortress in the distance.

“Need you to talk to the Kobolds outside for me.” Mark spoke as if he as talking through gritted teeth, although he didn’t have any teeth to grit, being a dungeoncore and all.

“And do what?” Valleria asked.

“Make them leave, preferably. Or at least not attack us. They’re unarmed, at least.”

Valleria sighed, setting Con down. “The things I do for you, Mark. Silver, Clan Below Kobolds, come with me. Simon, watch Con for me.”