As Egard said, we left immediately in the morning. His only words were to inform me that we were heading to a town called Rattayak. No other information was forthcoming. None of my party were familiar with the name either, which didn’t bode well.

It took around eight hours to arrive at the exit. The Dwarves lined to the side of the tunnel to let us pass once more, the atmosphere as bad as it had been.

Egard looked away from me as I passed, but I stopped, nonetheless.

“This is childish as fuck, Egard. Will you not be content until you’ve made an enemy of me?”

His eyes came back to study me carefully. “We don’t need to speak anymore, Clive. Go, find Cushec, come back, we move on. That is all. Stop wasting all of our time with meaningless words.”

I smiled at his response, any doubts about going alone confirmed with his shitty attitude toward me.

“Goodbye then,” I said and followed my people out of the tunnel.

We exited into a barren expanse of land. The ground had a tight covering of green and brown grasses and other low lying hardy vegetation that was currently frozen and crunched underfoot as we walked.

A few miles distant against a cliff was an area of trees that barely clung to life. Smoke lifted from above them, indicating signs of settlement among them. It was only then that I noticed evidence of a road that ran from the tunnel to the trees. It must only have ever been a muddy track as it was overgrown now, and only the slight uniform divots in the grass indicated its existence.

We followed the old track, and I wondered who the hell would be living here, knowing that, whoever they were, they must be hardy. I prayed to nobody in particular that it wasn’t Grobblers, though I knew it could have been a lot worse.

As we approached the trees, Sania held up a hand.

“Goblins,” she hissed.

“Ah fuck, that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not,” Grigor said. “They’re dirty, nasty little things.”

“So what do we do? Go in or just start heading north?”

“They might know where Cushec is,” Danivra said. “It’s very unlikely this space would hold enough Goblins to pose a real threat to us.”

I nodded to the Dokalfar Queen. She could probably trash the whole settlement herself.

“We go in nice and careful, though I really don’t want to kill practically a whole other settlement. They must be capable of some level of negotiation because they must have traded with the Dwarves at some point judging by the tracks.”

Whether anyone agreed with my little attempt at detective work was unclear, but they followed dutifully.

We entered the tree line carefully, and I knew one thing for sure. I wouldn’t be wandering off into a building alone this time or ever again.

As we saw the first signs of building, the smell hit me. The place ahead absolutely reeked to the sky of rotten food and shit. We still hadn’t seen anyone, and I was beginning to grow worried this was some kind of trap. I considered stopping and using my Ethereal Spirit awareness, but it didn’t have the range to be any use for this.

I needn’t have bothered worrying. It wasn’t a trap from what I could tell as we entered the town. The goblins I could see were pretty much identical to what I’d have expected—short, dark green in color, and dressed in ragged clothes made of furs and leather.

They were all well wrapped up and sat about half-asleep in front of fires that burned at the front of the open wooden shacks they lived in. They looked up as we entered and even waved tiredly. I looked to my friends who seemed just as bemused by their behavior.

Walking up to the first group, I flashed a smile at them. “Hey, guys. We’re looking for any signs of Cushec the Dragon?”

“Fly by sometime. No know where he be now. Try chief,” the goblin said, pointing down the shit covered road to the only building that was made of stone. Though, building was a push. It looked more like a dilapidated pile of rocks.

I thanked the goblin.

Ud: Level 21, Goblin.

He snuggled back into his blankets and returned to staring at the flames blankly.

We continued on our way to their dilapidated town hall. None of the other goblins bothered with us other than to briefly look up from their fires.

The front of the town hall was wide open like the other houses, a large fire roaring inside. There was half a roof, which consisted of badly placed wooden planks that stretched between the wonky walls. A larger looking goblin, closer to gray than green, sat by the fire. He watched us more alert as we approached, and I checked his identifier.

Glaunk: Level 37, Head Warrior of Rattayak, Hobgoblin (Goblin II).

“Hey, man, are you the boss here?” I asked

“No. I’m Head Warrior,” Glaunk said in an a surprisingly coherent manner considering the near gibberish I’d heard from the goblin I’d spoken too first.

“Can you help us? We’re looking for Cushec.”

He shook his head. “I just returned from Akomoka few days ago looking for recruits for our town. There was none not already following Destruction. Seems they’re swearing them earlier now.”

I was surprised and impressed with the amount of information he gave me, even if it had no bearing on anything I was doing. “Ah, right, so who might know?”

“The chief, but he’s hammered on the last of our whisky and mushrooms. Been unconscious two days now.”

“You’re sure he’s not dead?” Sania asked.

“It would take more than a week-long bender to kill Freeler.”

“I could heal him?” Rella offered.

“You can if you want. He probably won’t be happy.”

“We kinda really need to know about Cushec, so we’ll try our luck healing him if that’s all right?”

“Sure, come on then,” he said, beckoning us forwards. “I could do with a laugh, and I need to speak to him myself.”

Beyond the fire, slumped in a large wooden chair was a big, hairy goblinoid man.

Freeler: Level 58, Chief of Rattayak, Bugbear (Goblin III).

He must have been eight-feet tall, but it was hard to tell with how he was sprawled. Rella moved over to him, her hands taking on a green glow for a few seconds, then Freeler sat bolt upright, looking around like he’d been electrocuted.

Rella moved back over to where we stood, looking over to Glaunk as she moved. “He’d had a brain hemorrhage. He was in a coma.”

“Is that good?” Glaunk asked.

Rella shook her head. “No, Glaunk, it’s not.”

While Freeler pulled himself together, I spoke to Sania, Grigor, and Danivra across the bond. “Should we ask these guys if they want to settle in Far Reach? They actually seem harmless enough.”

“If they are in trouble, then I suppose we have a duty to offer at least,” Grigor answered, surprising me completely with his compassion considering I could feel his distaste for the Goblins.

“I honestly thought you’d say no, Grigor. You’re growing, man.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Well. Because they fucking stink, they just seem to lie about all day, and they hadn’t even noticed their king had slipped into a coma for two days,”

“You have other people to watch over you,” Grigor replied. “One of us will notice if you slip into a coma, and we will help you. You do not need to rely on the people of Rattayak.”

“Well, that’s good to know, Grigor,” I laughed. “If they do come with us, then I hope someone is going to make them work, because I had enough of all your shit with the Fensalfar.”

“They will contribute, Lord Clive, do not fear.” Danivra replied. “They are only lazy without direction. If this Freeler has been out of action high and then comatose, it is likely they all just stopped doing anything remotely laborious. Watch,” she said, indicating Freeler.

The Bugbear had finished his frantic looking and was now sniffing the air. “What is smell!” he roared. Then his bleary eyes focused on us. “Who are you? What is smell? Is smell you?”

“No, chief. That’d be the town.”

“Glaunk, how long have I been out? When you get back?”

“Uhm, about five days since I returned, chief. But you weren’t coherent at that stage. You’ve been out for two days.”

“Ah.” He got up, scratching at his arse, then lumbered heavy footed past us all, as if we weren’t there, to the opening of the hall. Once there, he yelled in an outstandingly loud guttural voice.

“This place is shit pit. Get it clean or I bash all of the heads together! Twice.”

He then turned and walked slowly, tiredly back to his chair where he thumped back down unceremoniously.

“What’s going on then? Where did all of you come from? You wanting refuge here?”

“We’re looking for Cushec. And if anything, we were going to offer you refuge.”

“Me refuge? I not leave my people. No way,”

“I meant all of you,” I added. “All of your tribe.”

“We safe here. No fighting yet. People coming here for Freeler’s protection.”

“You might be safe now,” Danivra said. “But the armies of Justice and Destruction are drawing nearer.”

“I bash them all with Bone Basher,” he said, stroking a large club leaning against the side of his chair. It was an ugly thing, a thick old tree branch with lumpy metal rods the length of the branch inlaid all the way around. I had to admit it looked like it hurt to be clobbered with.

“There are too many,” Danivra said. “You can’t bash them all.”

Freeler seemed to phase out for a moment, his eyes going blank.

“So you want safety?” he finally said, as if he’d forgotten what had just been said. “We have the swamp elves here already,” he said, pointing at Rella. “They making a home at back of town.”

“Truly?” Rella said, her eyes lighting up. She stared at me intensely. “May I go and speak with them?”

“Sure, take a few others with you, though.”

She nodded and hurried off with the rest of the Fensalfar and a few Wultr and Krysan.

“Well, we have a city far to the south. It’s warmer and there are many of us. If you want, then you’re all welcome to come,” I said. “Even if you want to wait and try to see it out here. There’ll be a place for you if you change your mind.”

“Freeler thinks,” he said and fell silent as though he was indeed thinking. After the silence extended for close to five minutes and Freeler looked as though he was nodding off to sleep, I decided to push forwards.

“So, Chief Freeler. Do you know where Cushec might be?” I asked him.

“The dragon? Last I saw him, he was flying west. Won’t be long I think for him to fly east again. He does that often.”

“How long? And do you know where he will go?”

“He goes to filthy Grobbler place that way,” Freeler said, pointing to the southeast. “He talks to the evil witch who lives there.”

My jaw dropped. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No kidding. He has friendship with her.”

“Well fuck,” I said, turning to my friends. “What do we do now? If Laga escaped and manages to meet with Cushec, then we’re in for some serious trouble.

“We move quick,” Grastad said. “Go north to find Stada the Gran. If we get him on side, then we will be safer against Cushec and this Laga.”

“I hope you're right, man. And I'm inclined to agree with that,” I said. “If this is true, I don't think Cushec will be amenable to anything we have to say.”

“It does mean that, even if Stada agrees to help, Wind of the Wild still won’t join us,” Sania said.

“I know, but we can only do our best,” I replied.

“What you people talking about?” Freeler asked angrily, trying to follow our conversation.

“Don’t worry about it, chief, and thanks for your help. And I mean what I said. If you come under attack, you can come and join us down south, okay?”

“You too. If you want to settle here, we have plenty of land. You just need to clean up after yourselves,” he’s said, laying back and rubbing at his eyes.

“You never know,” I said, smiling at the strange Bugbear. “See you later, Glaunk. Good luck up here.”

“You too.” Glaunk nodded and retook his place by the fire as we left.

Back on the street, I found Rella and the group who had gone with her, leading over a hundred Fensalfar toward us. They were all wrapped in thick woolen cloaks against the cold, though they didn’t seem to be overly cold, following confidently behind her.

She hurried over to me with a wide smile. “These people wish to come with us. As we aren’t going back into the tunnels, I told them they could help us on our mission.”

“I won’t complain about that.” I noticed Glaunk watching us from the town hall. “You don’t mind if the Fensalfar come with us, do you?” I shouted back in.

He shrugged and continued staring at the fire.

“That’ll do for me,” I said back to the leader of the Fensalfar.

Zalen: Level 58, Tribal Elder, Fensala (Fensalfar II).

“You guys have weapons?”

“We haven’t been here long and our bonds with the trees are in their infancy. As such, the bows we have managed to craft are of poor quality, but I believe they will stand up to the rigors of our journey.”

“That’ll do for me. We should probably get moving before night falls.”

As we left Rattayak, I was mildly impressed with the Goblins who were now running around full of energy, cleaning up their homes and the main street of rubbish, bones, and excrement.

The Fensalfar were clearly very happy be leaving the place. Zalen moved alongside me as we cleared the area of trees to thank me profusely.

I waved it off. “Honestly, Zalen, you’re doing us a favor here, too. We’re not exactly heading towards safety yet and having you all here to boost our numbers is huge.”

“Danger we could handle if it’s guided by hope. To roam, lost in the wilderness of Kalabri, seeking out a new home that will soon be reduced to ash like our previous home is a heartache I cannot bear. I know you must understand our bond with our homes. Without a permanent home, we Fensalfar are directionless, lost, powerless.

“My people were being continually whittled down until we found refuge in Rattayak, but we were under no illusions that we were only waiting for our eventual eradication. To track down powerful beings to provide a safe sanctuary for those who have been displaced in this terrible war is something I will die for with honor and pride.”

I patted him on the back in a friendly gesture. “Hopefully it won’t come to that, Zalen.”