Arnith stood next to the falling water in front of his home, he had just unwrapped his hand from a fur binding. There was a wound in his palm which had taken longer to heal than he would have liked. He held his hand to the water, letting some of it trickle on it as he gently cleaned it from sweat and puss. Working with the obsidian had not been as easy as he had thought and he had cut himself early on in the work.

His hand clean, he covered it again in a new strip of rat fur. Not for the first time, he wished that they had access to some cloth, some clean linen, he knew, would have been far better for the binding of his hand and the wound would have closed long ago.

Dismissing his thoughts before they began to spiral down on all the things he would have liked to have, he decided to take into account the hard-earned accomplishments they had achieved.

Though he did not have any special talents in stonework, it was not the same for Tokki. The diminutive goblin had shown to be adept in the fashioning of obsidian daggers and spearheads. Even Hopper had joined them for a spell and easily fashioned a small knife and then left with it.

Adding an obsidian spearhead and a new shaft together, Arnith had made himself a spear much improved compared to the one he had looted from the Black Rat guards. The bone shaft was longer by a third, a short spear still by elven standards, only reaching his shoulder from the ground, but something which he could use to good effect. The spearhead was now made of razor-sharp obsidian. A bone tip should not be underestimated, without armor, it will be just as deadly, but the volcanic glass can hold an edge without compare. The downside of obsidian is its durability, unlike metal, it cannot be sharpened again, and once it becomes damaged the spearhead has to be replaced.

The obsidian vein that they had found had been plentiful and though mining it without proper tools had been difficult, they had worked hard and after several trips to the barren land in the south, they had a good stockpile of the material for future use.

Arnith wanted to try and craft some armor to add their equipment, he had been thinking of pauldrons and hide armor, but the need for supplementing their diet had become a priority issue.

The elf had noticed that his teeth had become sore and when he touched them he felt them shift slightly if he gave them pressure. He had not lost any, but he was sure that if he did not manage to find better nutrition, then they would start falling out soon.

He was also concerned with the length of time that the wound on his hand was taking to heal, his natural healing ability was not inconsiderable and it should have progressed further. He had also tried to heal himself through magical means. He had been taught a relatively simple meditation technique, which accompanied with a hand sigil should speed up the body’s ability to heal by many folds, but it had borne no fruit.

They had postponed an expedition to the east long enough. The nearest sources of mushrooms were in the territory of the Black Rat tribe, but otherwise, they would need to travel much farther until they entered the territory of the lake goblins. As much as Arnith wanted to avoid the Black Rats he reasoned that the choice was just as dangerous and it was better to deal with the enemy you know instead of treading into uncharted areas.

The elf gathered both of his minions and after a simple meal and preparations, the three of them ventured forth. He had debated bringing along the unpredictable shaman, but his knowledge of the area would be of use, and having an extra pair of hands to carry the mushroom meat, would mean that they would not need to venture out again for a longer duration. Arnith made sure to repeat himself three times as he told Hopper the importance of stealth during the mission, hoping that the sentiment would stick.

The party took the same direction that they had the last time and the going was much the same until they arrived at the first mushroom grove.

Arnith made the party stop at the ridge overlooking the grove; it was just as silent as it had been the last time. The elf was sure that pond was still hiding the serpent that probably lived in it and after peering into the gloom around he led the group around the little valley instead of going down into it. Arntih made a note to add the place onto the map in Brightwater, avoiding lair of the predator was a good idea, at least until they had the necessary numbers to deal with it.

Beyond the serpent pond, there were still a few valleys before they came upon their goal. The grove which they peered at this time was much similar to the last one, a pond around which there grew some of the giant mushrooms and circles of smaller ones. What made it different was the presence of small life forms, lizards and rats skittered around the place and the pace was not deathly silent.

Arnith told Tokki to go and scout around the ridge of the valley before they went down. The goblin took as much time, as a thumb width of candle would take to burn, before he completed the circle of the vale.

Deciding that the place was as secure as it was going to be the elf bade the trio down the slope with speed, the faster they were done the better.

The critters scurried away as they entered the greenish luminescence of the mushrooms and when the group neared the closest mushroom Arnith raised a hand.

“Stop.” The elf commanded and then he picked up a rock which he threw into the water beyond.

The stone made a splash and the three of them stood still with apprehension.

When the ripples had receded and nothing changed the elf relaxed.

“Alright, Tokki, you climb up and start cutting out pieces, we will bag them,” Arnith commanded.

Tokki began to scurry up the trunk of the closest mushroom but was met with difficulty. The edible tissues of the mushrooms were on the bottom side of the caps, which were not too high up, some three meters from the ground. The problem was that the trunks were slick and smooth, and they were firm enough that the goblin could not claw into them.

The third time that Tokki slid down, the elf became frustrated, lingering in the light of the grove was dangerous, and the faster they were gone, the better.

Arnith went and stood with his back to the trunk; he crossed his fingers and made a handhold at the hip level.

“I will give you a lift.”

Tokki stood still and looked at the elf, fear evident in his eyes.

Arnith had no patience to sympathize with the goblin. “Quick now! Get up there!” He barked.

“Yes, Master.” The goblin replied and climbed up to stand on the shoulders of the elf.

From the perch on top of Arnith, the bottom of the cap was in easy reach and soon chunks of mushroom began to fall.

Arnith looked around to see where Hopper had gone to, not so simple with the feet of the goblin on either side of his head. The Elf was distracted for a moment as the smell coming from Tokki’s feet entered his nostrils; he suppressed a wave of nausea before he spotted the shaman.

Hopper was a little distance away, kneeling next to one of the rings of small Mushrooms, he dug one out from the ground with some of the soil and then carefully deposited it into one of the sacks they had brought with them. Arnith was a little curious about the purpose of the shaman but dismissed it. The chunks of mushroom that Tokki was throwing down were much more efficient in terms of harvesting compared to the tiny ones that hopper was collecting and he called him over.

They met their goal soon and the trio was already leaving the grove only minutes after their arrival, each of them was carrying two large sacks on their backs when they entered the lower light at the edge of the small valley.

Arnith was excited, they had completed their objective, now they only had to sneak out of the territory of the Black Rat tribe and as he understood it, they were not so far from the edge of it. The tribe seldom ventured beyond the grove where the serpent lived. Thinking on it he considered the snake to be a kind of a boon, the goblin tribe probably would range much closer to Brightwater if the serpent did not scare them away.

Arnith's celebratory mood was short-lived, as they began to hear a commotion from beyond the ridge in the direction they were going.

“Down!” The elf commanded in a whisper.

Arnith’s first instinct was to flee away from the sound, but they were only a little distance from the top of the ridgeline, and seeing what they were dealing with was probably better than blind flight.

Slowly the elf began to skulk nearer to the edge, coming close to it he went down into a crawl, to make as little of him seen when he liked over the ridge.

What he saw beyond it chilled him to his bones.

Down in the valley, a couple of hundred meters from where he lay was a small army of goblins. It was easy to see the band as many of them were carrying torches. Arnith was not surprised by the carelessness that the goblins had towards being spotted, there were over a hundred of them in the column snaking along the bottom of the valley. With numbers as large as these, even the most ravenous of beasts would keep away.

These goblins seemed more organized than the Black Rats had seemed. In the middle of the column, warriors were wearing various pieces of armor made out of metal, they were bigger than the rest and made up a third of the total of the band.

“The Red Mark tribe,” Hopper whispered. Arnith had not heard the goblins crawl up next to him, so taken aback had he been.

Then Arnith noticed that in the column there were a couple of goblins carrying banners, with a red circle on them, confirming the shaman's assessment.

“Run away?” Tokki whispered.

“NO, stay still, and keep quiet,” Arnith answered.

Fleeing now would be more dangerous, if the Red Marks had scouts around them they could be spotted more easily if they moved about, better to stay low, and wait for the goblins to leave. Arnith just hoped that no scouts would be walking along the ridgeline.

His fear did not come to pass, the column continued along their way and no scouts materialized.

When the Red marks were beyond sight, only a light glow remaining of them beyond the next ridge, Arnith thought on what he had seen. “Why are they here?” he mused to himself.

As if reading his mind it was Hopper who answered. “Chieftain sent hunters to get Red Marks, Elf-lord big prize, my idea, said so chieftain would not kill you.”

Arnith remembered the scene in the goblin settlement, he had come closer to death then than ever before, The Chieftain of The Black Rats had been about to cut his throat when the shaman had burst into the scene and convinced him otherwise. Now the long term effects of that action were coming about.

“We have to follow them,” Arnith said after thinking about the situation.

The column of goblins was heading toward the Black Rat settlement and it was better for them to see, what comes of it. Dismissing the Red Marks and going home would mean that if the goblins decided to remain in the area to look for them, then they would not have any advance notice of the situation and Brightwater could be found without them knowing.

Following the column at a distance was not hard, the band made constant noise and the light of their torches could be seen from afar. So the trio followed for over an hour, always keeping far enough away.

The home of the Black Rat tribe was a hill with several cave entrances; it was in front of one of these that the column came to a halt. By the time that the trio had followed close enough to observe the scene, they saw that the black rats had come out of their settlement in force. Standing in front of the entrance there were over a couple of hundred of the tribe, probably all of the warriors of the tribe had come out.

Though outnumbered the Red Mark goblins were not cautious, they seemed to be casually flinging insults at the Black Rats. An armored figure stood in front of the Red mark line calling out for the Black Rat chieftain to appear. Arnith recognized that the Red Mark leader was using the dwarven trade tongue, but they were a little too far for even his elven ears to make out clearly.

After a moment a goblin with a potbelly stepped out of the Black Rat side.

“The fat one is the new chief.” Hopper sniggered quietly and he pulled a doll figure that had been hanging from his belt. Arnith looked at the strange-looking thing and then felt some similarity between it and the new leader of the Black Rats. The shaman was weird, no doubt, and the dolls were just eerie.

Looking back at the meeting, Arnith began to worry. The fat one and the armored warrior began to converse and the insults between the sides began to quiet down. After a bit of talking some of the locals began to step forward and put items in a pile between the sides. Arnith recognized pieces of the armor that he had lost and his anxiety grew.

If the sides agreed to hunt for the elf then remaining in the region would be dangerous. Thoughts of abandoning Brightwater hurt to contemplate, but there was little choice.

Some more goblins came out of the settlement, carrying packages and some were dragging prisoners, all of which were deposited as tribute near to the pile of armor.

“We need to go home and pack our things,” Arnith whispered and turned to leave.

“Not yet,” Hopper whispered.

Arnith was about to argue, but then he saw what the shaman was doing.

Hopper was crouched and peering to the ground. The doll-shape of the new goblin chief was lying on the ground and hopper had drawn three squiggly red circles around it. There was blood slowly dripping from the fingers of his left hand and in his right was the small obsidian knife which he had made for himself.

Hopper put the tip of his knife to the belly of the doll and then he looked up toward the meeting.

Arnith followed his gaze, apprehension in his gut.

The leaders of the groups were still talking, the fat one being meek in the presence of the Red Mark leader, nodding and confirming along to the armored one's monologue.

The spray of blood that the fat one vomited into the face of the armored one came as a total surprise for everyone.

For a moment it seemed that the amount of red liquid coming out of the potbellied goblin was endless, the stream continuing long enough that the armored one had time to lift one of his hands to protect his eyes.

Then the goblin fell dead to the ground.

Not a single soul moved for a time.

Still dripping with blood, the armored one gave a little kick to the body of the leader of the Black Rat tribe and grunted to himself.

The coming chaos was heralded by a single cry. A lone goblin from The Black Rat tribe gave out a piercing sound of panic, it echoed in the underground, bouncing back and forth in the contours of the great cavern.

When the panicked yell had almost run its course, the crier seemingly out of breath, the rest of the tribe joined in.

The leader of the Red Mark war band seemed mystified for a moment, but quickly realizing from which way the wind was blowing he drew a rusted sword from his hip and razed it to the air and let out a roar towards the Black Rats as if challenging the whole tribe alone.

But he was not alone and though the Black rats had taken up the cry before it was the Red Marks who charged first.

When the two sides met it seemed that the Black Rats would swallow their enemies easily as they were twice as many, but the Red Marks did not break.

Arnith had no words, so fast had the situation changed. The elf turned away to look at the shaman and saw Hopper in a weird sniggering dance, the goblin was holding the doll up in the air and dancing circles.

Arnith felt unnatural fear and wowed to keep an eye out for any dolls resembling him, maybe the goblin was too dangerous to keep alive.

The battle did not last long. The advantage in numbers that the Black Rats had did not break the discipline of the Red Marks, the invaders were warriors one and all, and the center of the band which were equipped with some armor and of whom many were sporting shields. Still many of the Red Mark goblins died in the battle.

The leaderless tribesmen soon began to flee, first in ones and twos, and then it was as if a dam had broken.

When the Red Mark warriors began to cheer and the first ones entered the goblin mound, no doubt to pillage it, Arnith had seen enough and he turned away.