You cast an eye over the group beyond the doors, but don't have time for a more detailed examination. The one at the front - an elf with strange, orange tinted skin dressed in leathers – leaps forward the instant the doors open. For an instant, it looks like they're going to come down directly on top of your pit trap, but their body blurs and a second later, they land instead on the thin rocky ledge that allows for safe passage.

“Shit! It's trapped!”

Behind them, a figure built like a brick and clad in steel plate rolls a shoulder, bringing a tower shield into play. Behind them, barely visible behind the wall of muscle and metal, a squat dwarf raises a clenched fist, soft light spilling forth.

Likely rogue, fighter and healer or support. Kill the healer, isolate and overwhelm the fighter, don't let the rogue dictate the fight.

Basic instincts, bubbling forth from your War skill and out of your mouth.

“Sapphire, take the rogue,” you see her nod out of the corner of your eye.

“Feathers,” The goblin nods, not taking her eyes off the fighter in front of you. “Charge the shield user.”

You half turn to Amanda. “Support anyone you can.”

Then there's no time for further instruction, as the rogue dances through the charging mass of green and red, aiming a downward swipe at One-eye, only for their knife to get caught in a near invisible line of webbing as Steve swings down and past.

You leap past the elf, following the charge of the goblins – the kobolds split off and fall back slightly, forming their miniature party under command of Willow. Jack has two glowing vials of liquid in his hands and you don't want to know where he got the vials or the ingredients.

You catch up to the goblins before they've gone more than halfway down the entrance hall – they're enthusiastic but no amount of enthusiasm will make up the difference when your legs are so much longer than theirs. You throttle your speed until you're just ahead of them. The armoured figure sets his feet in a brace, putting his weight behind the shield.

Sparks drip from your maw and you see dark eyes widen behind the slit of his visor before he ducks.

Perfect.

To keep up appearances, you do lash out at him with a weak fire breath, keeping his pinned. The dwarf is still casting – presumably some sort of debuff that you really don't want to see go off based on it's casting time. You shift your angle slightly, so the shield user is directly between you and the cleric. If he moves, your flames will continue to strike his, frankly, more valuable ally.

Then he's right in front of you. One leap sends you into the wall, your entire body tensed into a spring of fire and death. Time seems to slow down as you blink, making eye contact with him once more as you entirely bypass him. A look of horror behind his helm as you pounce again, directly for the caster. The fighter breaks his stance, turning to follow you, taking his attention off his shield.

Feathers slams into it like a small goblin woman with an active Rage skill, knocking the already off balance man further open. Then the remaining goblins hit him like the tide, and you're past him and focusing your attention on the cleric.

“Shat!”

The spell, or prayer, or whatever it was, is aborted as the dwarf brings up a wooden buckler. A noise like glass breaking fills the air with motes of wasted mana. Unfortunately, the dwarf apparently knows how to use his shield,. Smashing it into your jaw from below and forcing you to spit your flames high. Your grasping claws have better luck – he only has one arm to defend with after all, and while your left arm is pushed away, your feel the claws of your right catch in something warm.

“Mather facker!”

The dwarf stumbles backward as your weight crashed into him, and you follow, pressing the advantage, bringing your head back and away from his buckler.

Mini-boss left lair! You have been temporarily given the designation “Wandering Boss”

As a wandering boss of the Drake subtype, you have been given the Dragon's Avarice wandering boss feat!

You jerk, spasm backward as quickly as you can, but the cleric isn't helping – one hand is wrapped around your elbow as he brings his buckler down for a strike. You take the blow, ignoring the shooting pain that reaches from your shoulder to your wrist.

How dare you? I am still in control here, Wandering Boss or not. I will TAKE my due from your flesh!

Dragon's Avarice Sustained! Intelligence and Integrity roll...

You spin so fast you could swear you left an after image. Your tail, covered in sharpened scales, carves across the dwarf's eyes forcing him to let you go and within a heartbeat, you're back over the threshold.

You have returned to your lair! Wandering Boss designation lost! Dragon's Avarice lost!

“Ee's another one!”

The cleric shouts from behind you, making you pause, but not for long. The fighter is being swarmed, sheer weight of numbers dragging him down as the kobolds join the fray. You turn once more, seeing the cleric holding a glowing hand over a mess of gore that used to be an eye.

“Boss won't leave! Call a retreat if you need it!”

… is that little shit using Dragon's Avarice against you?

Gee, a small smirk tugs at your lips, if only dragons had some sort of very famous ranged attack?

Your neck swells, the sheer amount of mana you're forcing out a near physical thing as you unleash a pillar of white hot fury. The air itself shrieks at you, a high pitched death knell as your lance of flame punches through the space the cleric once was.

Huh. Gotta put more points into Occult.

You turn back to the fight, only to see it paused as everyone involved is staring at you. The fighter is on his back, Feathers stood on his chest, glaive raised. The rogue is pinned in a corner by Sapphire and Hyena, Steve above. The elf's flesh looks haggard and sickly, with Amanda pointing a finger at him, her mouth still open as she stares at you.

“What the-!”

The fighter's exclamation is cut short as the glaive thuds into his chest.

“Nope.”

The rogue vanishes, a loot bag falling to the floor.

You blink.

“That went well.”