All of you bail, the kobolds scrambling over each other in an attempt to get out of the canteen first and you not far behind.

You exhale a sheet of flame in an attempt to buy yourselves a moment, but before you can do more than breathe back in, Killworthy comes charging out of the smoke. His soot blackened face is stretched wide in a manic smile which doesn't break for a second when his hammer comes down on the small kobold mage. Her eyes, filled with something you can't identify, meet yours for a moment.

Minion lost! Teardown! 50 Fame lost!

You freeze, for a second, as Killworthy pulls himself back up form the powerful blow. Not even a loot bag remains in the crater left behind. He opens his mouth to speak and you can feel the other kobolds gathering themselves to attack. The crafting kleptomaniac is reaching for something on his belt. The shield user is hunkering down, preparing a charge. The yellow scaled fist fighter has rocked back on her heals for balance. You can feel the continuous growl vibrating your chest. The only one who is not preparing for a fight is the kobold leader, the large horned female, who is doing her best to pull you away.

Then the smoke that still fills the canteen billows, spitting out rattling bones. The skeletons have emerged in thin ranks, three abreast and with shields raised. Killworthy laughs as you all freeze.

“You have passion, little monsters, but you lack... everything else.”

The necromancer chuckles as he steps out of the smoke, safe behind his skeletal wall as the canteen burns behind him.

“You finished mocking him yet?”

“Nearly!” Killworthy replies with a grin. Your eyes drift to the side. Something is moving in the smoke. Something small. Killworthy speaks again.

“You know, Mary is real into this whole grudge thing. She thinks its a lot of fun. I'm here for the loot, and 'Crowbeard' back there, well, I'm not sure what-”

His speech is cut off from a soft grunt from behind him. He turns, an eyebrow raised, in time to see the skeletons puff from existence as Raventalon crumples to the floor and disappears. Behind him, mounted on Hyena and with bow raised, is Sapphire.

“What the-”

Level Up!

Achievement Unlocked!

Totally Broken!

Get 3 or more times the experience as you should do from a kill!

You blink in surprise at the unexpected notification, then smile. Apparently Hyena, Sapphire and yourself had all counted as 'in combat', and any experience any of you get makes its way to you.

Your respite doesn't last long. With a kick of her heels and a ululating war cry, Sapphire goads Hyena into a charge. She drops her bow and couches a spear that she's got from somewhere, forcing Killworthy to back-pedal.

In an instant, the combat has shifted to your favour and you're glad of it. The klepto kobold throws a handful of small, metal balls onto the floor as the blackhammer steps back and Hyena leaps. With a thunderous crash, all three go over the edge of the arena and into the sand below.

Sapphire shouts up as Hyena skids to a stop.

“Go! I've got this!”

You nod at her and run, leading your remaining kobolds in a mad dash towards where you last saw the goblins.

The pool room is chaos.

Mhæri, dripping wet, is shouting directions while strumming at a short necked instrument in discordant beats. The commoner is stood behind her, whispering into her ear. The two wizards are shooting showers of sparks into the grand melee seemingly uncaring if they hit friend or foe, while the halfling druid has bulged up and out into some kind of half bear amalgamation. Presumably also because of the druid, some tentacled beast has taken up residence in the pool and is lashing out at anyone who gets close to the water's edge.

On the other side is five goblins armed with ramshackle wooden equipment, dancing between sparks as best they can and jabbing at the bear monster with spears while trying to remain out of reach of the crystal topped staff which is now being used like a club. Mercy, in full war armour, is leaping across the battlefield, tanking blows but having no time to counter attack as she struggles to keep your goblins alive. Amanda is stood at the back, tears running down her face as she tries and fails to cast spell after spell.

Your group joining the fray does nothing to calm matters down.

You jerk your head and your kobolds charge into the fray. You skid to a stop next to Amanda.

“AMANDA!” you shout, over the sizzle of magic. She barely responds, mouthing an incantation as nothing but smoke wafts from her fingers.

“AMANDA!” you try again, standing on your hind legs and shaking her shoulder. She turns to you and you can see that the little control she had breaks. She starts to sob.

“Get out of here! Hide in the kobold village or something! Stay safe!”

You give her a push and she goes, running from the room. You gesture at two of your kobolds and the shield user and the monk disengage to run after her. “Keep her safe!” you shout as they pass you. “There's no telling where she'll respawn!”

Or even, you add in the privacy of your own mind, if she'll respawn at all. Abandoned PCs were a murky area. If they hadn't managed to 'upgrade' into an NPC by their first death, that was it, and there was no way of knowing ahead of time.

With Amanda out of the way and hopefully safe, you charge into the fray yourself, only to immediately have to duck under a wild swing from the transformed druid that impacts into Mercy with a crunch of breaking wood.

“Good of you to join us!” Mercy shouts, reaching across to pull a goblin out of the way of a drifting spark and taking a blow to the arm for her trouble. You ignore her jibe, using your tail spike to draw a line of blood across the druid's torso. The goblins and kobolds surge forwards as she rears back in pain, but a wall of flames leaps up forcing them back. It's hot enough that even Mercy is forced to cover her face.

In her moment of distraction, the club comes sailing out of the flames and catches one of the kobolds in the chest. You think it's the one you told off for stealing. He goes sailing backwards and hits the far wall with a crack.

You growl.

As soon as the flames start to die down, you leap through them, trusting your race to protect you. That was a mistake. The pain sears like acid but, after a moment, you're through. The druid leans backward, her eyes widening in shock on her misshapen face. Her arms come up in a cross and you crash into them, your jaws closing an inch from her.

Mhæri's song changes, the strange notes burning into one horrible tune that reaches into your mind and does odd things. You smell purple and feel like a Thursday. You shake your head. Everything blurs for a moment.

Dazed condition resisted

but a moment is all that's needed, and you're thrown from your perch by the irate druid

“Damn it!” spits Mercy, “We can't do anything while they have magical support!”

You nod. “On it.”

You back away and unfurl your wings. The creature in the water shifts. You re-furl your wings and start to run around the edge of the room.

The mages spot you first, as you near the entrance to the jail cells.. A wall of cackling flames leaps upward at a gesture from the smoking elf and you pause. Her arms are shaking slightly. You smile. A spell like this can't be cheap to cast at her level. If you can wear her out like this then you might have a chance.

Then you note the cocky smile on her face, and that there's been no new electric sparks for a while.

The other elf throws a hand towards you and everything seems to slow down. Mhæri strums a strange, deep chord that vibrates your bones. A bolt of piercingly white lightning arcs towards you. Mercy shouts and leaps at you. The creature in the water lashes up at her.

And the commoner throws of his cloak, revealing a young man dressed in white and gold with the symbol of Ekul, god of Judgement, shining on his brow. He speaks clearly and you realise with horror that things are slow. Some kind of magical effect has lowered movement to treacle as Mhæri's chord goes on and on and on, slowly rising in pitch until it feels like your ears will burst.

“Hold the Unholy,” the man intones in a whisper that shakes the world. The chord ends. Mhæri collapses. A bolt of golden light eclipses Mercy and detonates. The lightning strikes home. Mercy's body goes flying out of the room and lands with a sickening crunch, a canine yelp and a distinctly Sapphire-like cry of shock and pain. You are thrown into the wall by the force of the spell and you can feel bones break.

Crippling Damage to Left Wingling, flight lost Crippling Damage to Right Wingling

Mhæri climbs to her feet, unsteady but grinning at you. “Oh yeah! That's what I call 'draw them in and lay them out'! That's planning! Who's a master planner? That's right, it's me!”

Another familiar voice comes from the doorway behind you. Killworthy.

“Good fucking shot! Thought that little kob bitch had me till half a ton of demon-spawn knocked her off that damn mutt.”

You pull yourself to your feet. Sure enough, the hammer wielder is stood in the doorway. He looks worse for wear, blood running freely from numerous small cuts

“You wouldn't be trying to attack my friends there would you? That's not very nice,” he mock frowns. Then he charges you, hammer swinging. You have a split second to make a decision.

You have to trust your minions to deal with their situation. You dive for the corridor down to the jail.

The blackhammer goes to follow you, but the shouts of “Damn it Luke! I need to heal you!” from the cleric makes him pause. You take the moment for what you can, racing to the bottom of the stairs.

You look around wildly, looking for anything that could turn the tide. You've equalled the levels in a one on one duel, but an advanced class makes everything unpredictable. It's not like you've put all your points into combat applications and you're already injured. A second, slower look confirms what the first told you. It's hopeless. There's furs covering one iron door, the lever for operating the door to the pit, and a hole in the ceiling which you couldn't fit in if you tried.

Killworthy appears, walking un-hurried as the cleric bathes his wounds in white light. They stop in the middle of the room.

“So, out of places to run yet?”

You snarl at him, and he looks almost amused.

“That's the problem with you monsters. You put on all the airs of civility and then when pressed you're just... this.” he gestures at you with the head of his hammer. The cleric pulses with light, bathing the room in stark relief.

It must be quite artistic, your half delirious mind thinks. The mighty knight, backlit in white fire, staring down the snarling beast with crippled wings in an underground jail.

The blackhammer steps forward, away from the cleric. You take a moment to examine him.

Orstov Van Gabriel, Level 20 Inquisitor of Ekul

“Tell you what. I'll do you a favour. Give up this lair to me.”

A popup shimmers into view before you. It flickers and fades sporadically.

Abandon your lair to Brok Killworthy?

“Give me your lair, give up on being a boss monster, and I'll tell the others to let your friends go.”

He shakes his head and looks at you with something approaching pity.

“You have no idea what you're getting into. Trust me. It would be a kindness.”

He hefts the hammer once more. Something white moves in the tunnel above the cleric's head.

You meet his eyes.

“No deal.”