“Are you ready Aphrodite?” The voice rasped as always, although accompanied by sweet honey politeness this time. She calls me back to the present. No more time to reflect upon my shame it would seem. Ignoring my partner in escape for a moment, I sniffle and then grab the cleanest Orc cloth I can find to blow my nose on and then throw it into the shadows, perhaps leaving more than bodily fluids behind, exorcising my shame. I check both swords are with me. I did contemplate borrowing some clothes from the Ogres and resisted, my nose advising me they were either sweat fill, dirt marked, rotting, bug-ridden or through no fault of theirs, terribly bloody.

My human side and monster side still war within me regarding my bloodbath. Convincing myself I need clothing to confirm my human connection, to firmly cast away my monstrous behaviour and it wasn’t to be. A knot forms and wells in my stomach and I recognise it, a pressure builds behind my eyes as wetness collects around them. I have cried my tears and refuse to shed anymore. I have acknowledged to myself, my wrong, why must the torment continue.

I search for a distraction and decide to check our unlikely acquaintances. As I approach them, I wonder if monsters can cry. If they can weep, then perhaps my deed is so heinous and maybe, just maybe the second set of tears belonged to my monster side and if so, I have hope.

I confront both kobolds who retreat from my inspection. Their arms wrap around their now empty buckets tightly, deliberately lifting them protecting their belly not realising the futility of the action.

“What do they carry in their buckets?” I ask, trying to voice the words evenly and without emotion. My new humanity tugging at me, my Creator’s wish I travel this path to enlightenment. For every new emotional discovery, there seems to be lingering pain and it heals slowly and I am yet to discover if it heals at all. I do know it takes longer than an hour as Dawnanda already informed me my drunken stupor and bloodbath took at least two of them.

“I am not certain, is it important we know?”

I release my gaze from the kobolds. If they don’t hinder me or assist the ogres all will be well. I draw one of my swords in front of them and notice they shy their heads away from me. Satisfied, I stride down the passageway.

Before I reach the tee section, I pivot and usher everyone back. A noisy and confident gaggle of voices approaches, striding towards us relaxed and comfortable in their home. As I enter the Jailor’s Cavern and appreciate the amount of blood, I can’t believe I am calm. I can’t afford the distraction and I order the kobolds to hide inside the Captive Cavern and well out of harm’s way. Dawnanda, I suggest stands near the boulder peeking around and if necessary, escapes into the Captive Cavern when she feels threatened.

She opens her mouth slowly and then snaps it shut, huffing from her nose, not for the first time, as the voices grow louder followed by ruckus heavy laughter. I set myself on one side of the passageway entrance waiting for them to enter the cavern.

The first ogre leads them in with head bowed as he is too tall for the passageway, calling one of the dead by name or perhaps massacred Jailor Ogres. No answer and so he calls for a second one. I remain still, waiting for him to arrive and assess the scene. Will he charge Dawnanda for revenge?

After the initial happy grunting, the words catch in his mouth when his mind tries to register the carnage. Dawnanda then plays her part, demonstrating with the club and challenging the ogre. I reinforce the illusion by insisting she dip the club in ogre blood and gore in preparation. His eyes single her out, and he plods forward or is encouraged forward physically by those following.

Clear of the passageway the first ogre roars, leans back and brandishes his halberd in defiance returning Dawnanda’s challenge and I hope eager for revenge. As he finishes the next ogre joins him and likewise goes through the 'stunned' observation phase. I must truly be monstrous if my bloodbath has caused monsters to pause in horror.

The third ogre peers into the Jailor’s Cavern bent over, following the Chef, which I now identify by his unusual clothing. I strike at his exposed neck; he wears no helm and his leather armour comes up short. My scimitar arcs down with my full force behind it and slices in a single schnick. The head falls racing the body to the ground, winning the race as it makes a wet thump noise on the cavern floor. The body still bent over pauses a heartbeat, not aware it is dead and as it falls forward blood sprays in a downward arc, painting the back of the Chef’s special clothing. Oh well, I sigh and prepare for my second target.

As the chef swivels to investigate, he obliges me and Dawnanda by hollering to the first ogre to warn him. I then strike his gut, his leather apron no protection. As he crumbles at my feet, I kick his head. The first ogre stops his charge, glancing at Dawnanda and then back to me. I smile showing my teeth and slowly bend over to pick up the head of the second ogre and display it proudly before me as a prize. Dawnanda wisely ducks behind the boulder and I hope continues into the Captives Cavern.

The first ogre’s eyes are clear and wide, incredulous due to the bloody slaughter, disrespect and challenge. He charges. My concern for Dawnanda is uppermost in my mind as the ogre could’ve chosen petty revenge. Fortunately, my insult and his affront as result coupled with his thirst for vengeance propel him toward me.

His halberd swings in a broad diagonal strike. His strength and body weight behind the swing given the anguish on his face and the strained muscles of his arms and legs. With two hands on my scimitar, I sweep at his halberd, he grins at my tactic, he expects me to be weak. The weapons clash and as the halberd is deflected my scimitar shatters forcing me to roll away.

His charge ends at the passageway, and he pauses, finally deciding to swing around, regripping his halberd. I draw my second scimitar as he prepares himself and then advance upon him. I am not sure if I would throw his mates’ halberd after him or my scimitar, either way, bent over, retreating through the passageway he couldn’t possibly escape I am certain and seemingly he agrees.

Facing each other, him without his charge, I am the wind, I flow and bend, I am inside his halberd’s guard, and I destroy his kneecap with a thrust. He grunts and goes to one knee his halberd is now a burden and useless to him, except as a crutch or weak spear thrust. He swallows as I eye him for a death stroke, I am quick, the scimitar slices open his throat and oh, spreads more blood about.

I rush to the boulder, and she is hiding out of sight beside it.

“Call the kobolds, we need to leave.”

Dawnanda nods and ducks into the Captive’s Cavern.

I am busy removing the chest armour from the first ogre, the protection isn’t important to me, I wish to be clothed. I wish to be civilised. The Chef's clothes, blood front and back, I lament their loss as I confirm his death.

I am patting down the chest armour and my breasts push the armour out. The armour doesn’t flow to my waist, it drops from my breasts creating a hollow under them. The metal links are covered in a significant amount of blood and alas I don’t possess the tools or skill to clean it away. Size-wise it is tight although not uncomfortable.

“While you would think the armour would help, I can tell you the blood and gore distract from whatever modesty you were trying to achieve,” Dawnanda offers judgementally. The two kobolds peering around her nod in agreement, brave since she separates them, from me I would guess.

I didn’t yell, I hiss my displeasure. “Well, I tried to be careful, more concerned I could distract him before he killed you all!”

I stomp off then, heading for the passageway.

“Right, turn right.” I hear in response, and I need to stop and check.

“The kobolds advise turning right, to deal with some more ogre guards. It is best they say and if you are careful, you may find some bloodless clothing, and wouldn’t that be wonderful for you they added?” Dawn confirms.

I remain quiet. While I am the target of her mirth, she is sounding happier and positive, perhaps hopeful and her statement isn’t wrong. The kobolds also seem relaxed around her. So, I wave them to follow and start carefully striding down the passageway, my head clearing its roof by a couple of finger widths.

The beast kin and the kobolds are adept at stealth when oppressed by danger. I need to glance back to confirm they are indeed following. I rest a couple of body lengths from the tee intersection and wait. My companions are content with my judgement and wait without saying a word.

Satisfied with the silence I exit the passageway and turn right treading down an identical passageway, carved single ogre wide and as high as me. I notice the kobolds can comfortably follow side by side, each trying to peer around the badger kin’s large lower body.

We smell the entrance to the next cavern before we are upon it. An exact duplicate odour of where we’ve been, no blood and gore though as expected. I wave to Dawnanda to wait while I edge forward. Approaching the entrance, I peek in. A fire burns low and several prone sleeping lumps are highlighted by the meagre light it casts. I assume ogres and a few empty sleeping furs. I retreat to my companions.

“Some empty furs and some occupied furs, I assume four ogres given the number guarding the Captive Cave. Four of them and four of us, so we sneak in and slit their throats, one each.”

“I don’t have a weapon,” replied Dawnanda.

One of the kobolds reaches into her bucket and offers her a knife, thumbing the blade inferring its sharpness. Dawnanda shrugs thanking her for the knife. The two kobolds then show a knife each. I present my hand and I am quickly rewarded with a knife. I refrain from inspecting their buckets as they still cradle them tightly, although I am curious now. As I turn from them, a smooth and leathery appendage brushes my leg, guiding my attention to the location, it is one of the kobolds.

She points the knife at herself and feigns to stab it into her eye and then points to the cavern. I am not sure why she didn’t say the words, still a useful suggestion, perhaps less blood and quicker death. I nod and start towards the cavern with my three assassins following me.

The need for absolute silence is quickly dismissed as the occupants indulge in snoring and farting and while they toss and turn in response, they fail to wake. We stand back once done, four dead ogres with knives sticking out of either their right or left eye socket depending upon which side they were sleeping on.

I start rummaging through their furs and clothes when Dawnanda calls to me.

“We must leave now. The kobolds say the chef will be missed as he would’ve returned with the sample by now.”

I stare at her dismayed. She responds by placing her hands on her hips.

“Why don’t the kobolds impart their wisdom to me?”

“You are covered in blood and gore, wear armour covered in blood and gore. Fortunately, they don’t believe you will eat them now.” The happy smugness irritates me for a moment, although again she spoke the truth.

“Now left?”

I didn’t wait for confirmation, with no other exits apparent and if the kobolds were correct a search party could find us by accident first instead of the chef. Although for bloodless clothes, how much time would I need?

After a short while, the passageway opens into a voluminous cavern, ceiling height and cave width three or possibly four times larger than the Captive Cave. A large community fire pit dominates the centre of it and around the pit, scattered bedding groups radiate out. Multiple passageways exit the cavern, providing us with many choices. I check with the beast kin.

“They are going to ask their elders for guidance, while we sneak around the edge to the first entrance on the right. They call it the Mushroom Cave.”

“Can we trust them?”

“No and yes, they seem to follow their own plan. We killed the ogre guards in the Guard Cave for no reason I can figure out, it is not as if they were going to wake anytime soon. Come on let’s go.”

We follow a path of sorts, along an edge of the cavern clear of bedding. Three passageways lead off from the cavern on this right-hand side although it didn’t take long to reach the entrance to the Mushroom Cave, the first one.

Our wait wasn’t long as two kobolds meet us and direct us into the Mushroom Cave. I can’t guess if these were the same two, although they didn’t carry buckets so perhaps not. Winding and twisting through mushrooms, some up to my waist, some smaller and prolific, the larger ones feeding insects, amazing. The entire room carries the odour of decay and oppressive humidity. The water source is where? I couldn’t guess, nor did I ask.

We halt when we stand under the king of the large mushrooms. The two kobolds leave us there.

“Are we to be added to the fertiliser now?” I ask Dawnanda.

“No, I suspect you’ve started a revolution,” she said, showing her teeth and wheezing.

Is that her laughing?

“What is so funny and what do you mean revolution?” I answer with confused concern.

“Well, when you didn’t eat them, they decided you were a mortal enemy of the ogres, especially since you wear ogre blood proudly and disdain armour unless it is covered in their blood. So, I reckon we are waiting for the kobold tribe to assemble to escape under your protection.”

“How could they believe that?”

“I possibly encouraged them with a few well-chosen words and really what is the worst that could happen?”

“What do you mean encouraged them? I am barely responsible for myself let alone a whole tribe of kobolds, what were you thinking?” I couldn’t contain my whisper towards the end.

“Quiet and hush, they escape, we escape, win-win as far as I can see.” Again, with the sweet high-pitched reply.

“What becomes of them when they escape?”

“They can enter your Dungeon thing, can’t they? Any case, safety in numbers.”

“It is not.” With effort I lower my voice, “My Dungeon thing, in fact, the Master of it despises me at best, wishes me dead and gone at worst, it will not be an option.”

“I am sure you can convince him, after all, they grow their own food, are reasonably clean, well they defecate in the one place and can fight for him. They are known to be quite good with traps and tricks for example.”

I place my finger across my lips as I overhear approaching footsteps and soft clattering. Dawnanda retreats into some nearby mushrooms trying to hide while I attempt the same.

Several kobolds approach, carrying in a chair between poles and occupying the chair is an ancient, easily the oldest kobold I’ve seen. They place the chair before the huge mushroom and assist the elderly kobold out of her chair within touching distance of the mushroom.

Our hiding places are overrun by kobold children while we watch, none of whom seemed disturbed by the amount of ogre blood painting my armour and skin. I ignore them when the murmuring and humming start from the kobold elder leaning heavily against the huge mushroom.

Slowly as the kobold tribe gathers the huge mushroom shuffles from its current position. Then the kobolds rush toward it and vanish from sight. I edge along within the flow of kobolds, sweeping towards the base of the mushroom. I stop, surprised, my strength forcing the kobolds to hurtle into me, crashing into each other and then untangling around me.

A tunnel entrance reveals itself, once under the huge mushroom, perfectly camouflaged. Kobold after kobold descend into it. Noticing Dawnanda I decide to ask her a question.

“Will you fit?”

Her snout twists and her cheeks puff out as she steals a glance at the escape tunnel and back to me.