Chapter 23

Arden

Arden woke up in complete darkness. He heard wind blowing behind him, but saw and heard nothing else. He reached out his hands and felt a stone wall. It wasn’t soft dirt like the goblin caves, so where was he? He cast fire one and saw that he was in some sort of cave or tunnel. Why didn’t he respawn at Home? Where was he?

Arden could still see the icons on the sides of his vision. He looked at Maps and blinked. It showed an overview of where he was, with sand and rocky hills as far as the map showed, about a mile in each direction. He looked at the bottom corner of the map and zoomed out more. He finally realized what happened, he was at the cave he and Jex had claimed after defeating the spiders and snakes. But why?

Arden walked out of the cave and into a clear but windy night. There was little moonlight and the sand looked grey in the dim starlight. They seemed so bright out here in the desert. They always did. He went to the desert a few times during meteor showers to watch for falling stars. But this was different, he was naked and alone, and his friends were slaves a hundred miles to the south. He had nothing to defend himself with. Why didn’t he respawn at Home?

With nothing else to do, and knowing his friends would never be able to help him, he began walking. Hopefully they all died or escaped, and they would be reunited in a week. Since Jex didn’t respawn at their cave, she must have escaped. He had to believe she escaped. The alternative was something he pushed out of his mind.

Arden used his bare hands to dig up the grave they had buried the dead dwarf in. He removed the shredded clothes and wrapped them around his feet and tied the rags on. Now the rocks didn’t hurt so much. The extra strength and endurance point he gained while working in the goblin cave allowed him to walk a little faster and a little longer before resting. When he finally sat down a couple hours later, his body was overcome with fatigue. Hard manual labor was not for him, and a week of it drained his mind, body and spirit. He remembered sitting on the rock to rest, but didn’t remember face planting into the ground a minute later.

The sun was up and it was a beautiful spring day when he woke up. The road rash on his face healed while he slept, so he never knew he had it. He walked hard and fast all day to make it to Home before nightfall. He had stopped at a spring near the area he woke up, shown on his map because he had been there before, but he had no way to carry water with him. The water from the natural spring had tasted wonderful after a week of tainted goblin water, but it had been twelve hours since he last had a drink. He was looking forward to the well at Home.

Arden’s heart sank as he approached from the east. A little wisp of smoke lazily floated into the sky from the charred remains of Home. When he finally made it there an hour later he saw that everything had been destroyed. The cabin was completely gutted from fire, everything that could burn did, the crops were nothing but soot, and the well had been filled in with rocks. Arden and the rest of the group now owned nothing but the clothes on their backs, and he didn’t have clothes on.

Arden sat in the smoldering ashes wondering what to do. No wonder he didn’t respawn here, Home was no longer a village. That meant anyone without their own property would have no place to respawn if they died. They might be dead forever. Arden realized he had things to do. First, he added all his friends as residents of his “village.” That way if they did die, they would respawn in his cave. Next, he walked north toward Small Hammer. He needed water, at the minimum.

When he got there he was startled by what he saw. The guard from Small Foot that had taken them to the goblins was having a heated argument with Baybil. Both dwarves had their axes out and looked like they were ready to start trading swings. Arden had no doubt Baybil would lose. Without thinking, he ran forward ready to help him. Arden forgot that Baybil needed to grant him access to safely pass through the shield. Lighting and fire struck him and he flew backwards. He landed hard on his butt and broke his wrist trying to break his fall. His Stats was now flashing, and he knew if he opened it his health would show less than 50/100. Baybil and the guard looked at him laying on the ground. Baybil said “Now we’ll get to the bottom of this!”

He walked toward Arden and the guard looked just a little worried as he approached. Either Baybil was extremely angry or he had an astounding lack of compassion. He said “I’m told you killed my cousin Small Foot, and his guards razed your village in retaliation! Is this true?”

Arden was dazed, in pain, and thirsty, but he saw this as an opportunity to sell. He had to or he would be exiled from Small Hammer and probably sent back to the goblins.

“I’m thirsty,” he croaked. He had to find out what happened in the last week without admitting guilt. Baybil glared at him before waving for him to follow.

They walked to the waterfall and Arden saw the dwarves of Small Hammer looking at the guard of Small Foot with barely concealed hostility. There had obviously been tensions between them going back further than Arden’s arrival in Nuva. He had to work that to his advantage.

As he drank from the stream he asked “How is Small Foot? He wasn’t looking well the last time I saw him.”

That verbal jab landed hard, just as he hoped. “Small Foot died from your attack on him.” Turning his attention to Baybil the guard said “He attacked a dwarf leader and your own cousin no less. You know that penalty is a lifetime sentence to be the goblins’ slave. Hand him over to me and I’ll return him to where he belongs.”

Baybil asked Arden “Where are the others? Why are you alone?”

“It is true they are slaves to the goblins. I died in an escape attempt. But Small Foot was alive when he passed sentence on us to become slaves. My sole purpose in life right now is to free them from an unjust slavery.”

The guard yelled “Unjust! Attacking a dwarf village has consequences!”

Baybil asked “How did you respawn? I hear Home was destroyed. If there are no intact buildings then it is not a village, and not a respawn point.”

“I am co-mayor of a cave. I respawned there, but I don’t know why.”

Baybil cried out “The stupid goblins! The tyters will completely destroy them for killing one of their prey. But them dying is better for dwarves everywhere. Hmmm. We need to go to Calico. I want to hear from Strong Arm on this matter. As for your respawn point, a cave does qualify as a building.”

Arden hung his head. Small Foot would surely convince Baybil of Arden’s guilt. Why was the guard lying and saying Small Foot was dead? Why did Torger have to get revenge for getting cheated out of a reward? There had to be a different approach to resolving the problem. But Arden knew Torger was an idealist. He couldn’t let a thief get away with his crime, not as long as there was something Torger could do about it. And now once Baybil found out what they did, word would spread and they would be hated by dwarves everywhere.

Arden was given a simple bed sheet to wear, cut out to form a poncho. He was grateful because after two days of walking naked through the desert he was severely sunburned, but that healed every time he slept. Three days later they reached Calico. But what they saw surprised everyone. Dwarves were everywhere working to repair the damage of battle. Some were pushing the burned debris out of the way, others were repairing Small Foot’s personal home and the common large house, and others were building what looked like it might be a tavern one day. There were around thirty dwarves in all that Arden could see. Compared to Baybil’s twenty-eight dwarves he was in charge of, Calico could be a pleasant little town with some proper leadership.

But the most amazing part of all was the sight of three tall gallows, all about fifteen foot high. Small Foot hung by a rope tied around his neck on one of them, and the other two personal guards hung on the others. Arden looked to the north and just out of the village some dwarves were digging rectangle holes in the ground. Small Foot’s personal guard that had walked with them and was arguing with Baybil ran into the village.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Two of the dwarves recognized him and yelled “He came back! Get him! We’ll hang him too!”

Three dwarves ran at him with axes raised. To his credit, the guard didn’t back down. He took his round shield from off his back and pulled out a small one handed axe that was strapped to his waist. He blocked the first strike that came at him and countered with his own axe. It sank deep into the skull of the smaller dwarf, who crumpled instantly. Baybil Yelled “Stop it! Let’s settle this with words, not metal!”

None of them listened. More villagers ran at the guard. His axe was stuck in the dead dwarf’s head, and the extra second it took him to pull it free cost him his thumb. Another dwarf had tried to remove the whole hand but the guard’s impressive strength allowed him to pull the small axe free just in time, but his thumb didn’t clear out of the way in time. He saw all the other dwarves running at him and used his shield to block an axe strike from the third dwarf that had initially run at him. He looked at Arden and said “You are going to pay for this. I’m going to torture and kill you and all your friends.” With that he ran into the desert dripping blood along the sand. His speed was faster than Arden thought possible.

Arden looked at Baybil and asked “Who was that?”

Baybil said “His name is Brute. He likes to hunt monsters to grow as powerful as he can physically. He and the other two guards have placed most of their ability points into strength, health, and stamina. They were all as tough and as dumb as an anvil. Doing whatever Small Foot wanted from them. But Arden, you really shouldn’t have killed Small Foot. Now I have to arrest you.”

Arden yelled “We didn’t kill him! He was alive last we saw him. Ask these villagers. I don’t know why Brute wanted to pin the blame on us.”

Baybil looked at the crowd of dwarves. “What have you done! You know the penalty for killing another dwarf is permanent slavery! You have brought destruction upon yourselves.”

An old dwarf approached. “Baybil, my friend. You have not visited us in many years. These young dwarves don’t know what true freedom is like. At least they didn’t. For many years Small Foot’s reign has been getting tougher and stricter, stifling independent thought and fun. He has manipulated these young dwarves into believing they were working for the good of the village and dwarves everywhere, but in actuality they were equal to indentured servants. It is true Torger and his group attacked Small Foot, and for that they should be punished. But it is also true he made these dwarves realize they weren’t really living. More than half the silver they mined went to Small Foot, and they had no place to spend their own money. If someone tried to start up their own business, Small Foot would tax them until he owned it. He was your cousin, and for what I’m about to say, I’m sorry. But you need to know that your cousin was a crook. These dwarves lived in constant fear of him and his guards. If they did or said anything he didn’t like, they got tied to a stake, which isn’t that bad for a few hours. But then their muscles would cramp, then dehydration would set in. Two days of it would be physically very painful without anyone actually inflicting pain. The only way free from the stake was to make a public apology or die. Torger used the correct word when he called Small Foot a tyrant.”

Baybil looked shocked by the audacity of the old dwarf using such a word against his leader, but the old dwarf continued. “Torger promised them a life of freedom, a life of a ten percent tax, a chance to grow a new village into whatever they wanted it to be. When Small Foot sent these two guards to destroy Torger’s village, the dwarves saw their chance to take freedom for themselves. They mobbed his house and killed him. These dwarves killed your cousin, not the humans. When the two guards returned and saw Small Foot hanging, their dumb minds told them to protect their employer, even though he was already dead. A battle broke out, and nine dwarves lost their lives fighting those two monsters.” He pointed at the hanging guards.

Baybil sat down and a series of emotions crossed his face from anger to despair to betrayal to grief.

Arden saw his opportunity. He addressed all the dwarves who by now were gathered around. “Dwarves of Calico! For years you have been oppressed under a harsh ruler, but you have stood up for yourselves. You have chosen to live a life of freedom and not bondage. Well done! But do not forget that it was Torger who showed you that freedom was possible. It was Torger who showed you that Small Foot was not invincible. He gave you the heart and courage to take control of your own lives, and you have done that. Welcome to a new life of freedom! But you are leaderless. Are there any among you who know how to manage a village? Who know how to establish trade routes and ensure justice? Can any of you make this desert wasteland prosperous? No? I thought not. But I propose to you someone who can. I propose you accept Torger to lead you. He can teach you how to make yourselves strong, both with weapons and with wealth. Do any of you want Torger to guide you into a new life with casks full of ale, purses full of coins, and axes hanging on every door? I ask you to accept Torger as your new mayor!”

As he was saying these things, Arden so badly wanted to make himself the new mayor, but he needed them to love Torger enough to free him, and more importantly to free Jex.

After a pause, a dwarf meekly asked “How can he be the mayor if the tyters will kill him? We need someone who will guide us after they come and go.”

With quick thinking Arden replied “I am not asking you to make Torger mayor for life. It is not right for a human to lead dwarves for many years. Dwarves need to lead dwarves. I am asking that Torger be your mayor for one year. He will show you how to get started as a village, and do the most difficult work of making you strong in mind and spirit. After that you should select someone from among yourselves to be mayor. Make Torger mayor for just one year. Let him help you.”

Baybil listened to these words carefully. Before anyone responded he addressed the crowd. “It is a great crime for anyone to attack a dwarven community, or a dwarf leader. As the closest dwarf neighbor to Calico, it falls to me to pass judgment against any who attacked Calico or Small Foot. With all the information before me, I pronounce my verdict. The members of the village of Home were not attacking dwarves, they were freeing dwarves. As such, they are hereby given the title ‘Humans of Home, Liberators of Dwarves.’ With this title bequeathed to them, they are given certain dwarven privileges. One of these privileges is to be granted military arms when they are under duress. As mayor of Small Hammer, I determine that they are under duress, and our village will leave tomorrow to deliver military arms to them. If you accept Torger as your new temporary mayor, it is your obligation to deliver weapons to him so he can fight his way out of the goblin caves.”

After a minute the old dwarf said “I nominate Torger the Liberator as new temporary mayor of Calico.”

Baybil said “A proposition has been made. In a democracy form of government, you may discuss the matter amongst yourselves. At sunset today, you will be able to give a yay or nay to Torger being a new temporary mayor for one year. I ask that you all show up and think about the positive and negative effects of your decision tonight. How you decide will determine the future of Calico.”

Chapter 24

Triumph

Graul struck the wall with his pick, and another large chunk of soft dirt fell to the floor. He grabbed a shovel and scooped the dirt into a bucket a goblin had brought. The dwarves next to him filled the other bucket, and the carrier goblin carried the two buckets of dirt away. He had no idea how many days had passed since he had last seen his friends. Everyday was the same since the failed escape; dig dirt and sleep. That was the extent of his life.

He struck the wall again and a chunk of coal fell to the floor. He waved the guard over and the guard removed it. Graul had no idea where they took the coal or salt they sometimes found. The goblins wanted it for something. He was so sick of his life that he wished he could light the coal on fire and die from smoke inhalation. But the attentive guards always saw when he found coal.

Communication with the dwarves was minimal. They were never alone and weren’t allowed to talk. Since Graul was two feet taller than them, he always hit high on the wall while they hit low on the wall. If he didn’t keep up he would find himself stooping under the low ceiling. His desire to die had caused him to want to dig upwards, hoping he was under the marsh, and let the cave flood in drowning them all. But he had no idea which direction he was digging. He had to watch dirt chunks fall to be certain which way was down. Still, he hoped he was slowly angling towards the surface.

He had gained another two strength points while learning how to be a miner. He also gained another three stamina points. He was sure he made more progress in digging now than he had when they first entered, but whether he made a lot of progress or little seemed to make no difference to the goblins, so long as he kept swinging his pick.

The only thing stopping him from attacking a guard and dying was watching Arden die. He had no way of knowing if Arden respawned or not. The idea of permanent death just slightly outweighed his repulsion at life as a slave. He thought of his and Torger’s ancestors, the Cherokee Indians, and their forced march along the trail of tears. Many had died during that long walk to the wasteland of Oklahoma. At least at the time the U.S. military had thought it was a wasteland. Now he wondered if his ancestors that died at that time tried to attack their guards just to get their miserable lives over with. The history books don’t say that, but then again it was the corrupt soldiers who wrote the history.

He swung the pick a couple more times and his thoughts turned to racial prejudice. He and Torger had grown up in an area of Southern California that was very ethnically diverse. His elementary school and junior high had a mixture of people from all different backgrounds. He had never even heard a racial slur until his freshman year of high school. No one ever made fun of him for being an Indian. Now they were supposed to be called Native Americans. Like most of the other Indians he knew, it made no difference to him. He and Torger befriended people based on their own personal merit. The idea of racism was a concept he struggled to grasp. It was more of an academic study in social study books. Hell, Rome and Antic weren’t related but they both were Mexicans, and Brun and Arden were Pollocks. He didn’t know what Jex’s ancestry was but he didn’t care. Many of his friends over the years asked why he didn’t take the government money that he could apply for. His mother had taught them from an early age that they hadn’t personally been oppressed. They never once suffered for being Indians. Why take money away from honest hard working people of today to pay for the sins against their great grandparents? That mentality had always rooted deep with him and his brother, and the rest of their family. His father was white and his brown skin meant he often got mistaken for being Hispanic.

He struck the wall again and another chunk of coal fell out. The guard came and removed it. After being down here so long he finally began hating goblins. He finally understood racial hatred, or rather a species hatred. He couldn’t be angry with all dwarves. He was here because of one dwarf, Small Foot. He suspected the dwarves working next to him were dangerous criminals, but their presence reminded him that Baybil had been good to them; loaning them twenty years’ wages worth of goods was more of a gift than a loan. No, he couldn’t blame all dwarves for where he was at. He could only blame all goblins for being cruel.

His thoughts continued as they had day after day, wandering from subject to subject, with nothing ever changing. Until one day he heard goblins shouting far down the tunnel. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but one of the guards ran down the tunnel to investigate. He knew he should keep working but the idea that today something was different was too exciting to pass up. The dwarves stopped working too and looked into the darkness. Their eyes in dark shade were much better than his. The goblin guard that remained yelled at them to get back to work. He thrust his spear at a dwarf and stabbed him through the forearm. The dwarf cried out in pain but the goblin ignored him and went back to stand guard. Graul had seen this before. The same stab to a forearm a few times to disorderly dwarves. They writhe in pain all day with no medical attention, but wake up restored in the morning. Somehow in Nuva getting five hours of sleep always made you physically better.

A few minutes later Graul heard the angry shouts of dwarves, then metal hitting metal. He turned and looked again but saw only shadows in the distance. The dwarf next to him said “A rescue party!” He immediately began cutting his ropes of negation with a shovel.

The goblin shouted “Stop!” The dwarf didn’t stop. The goblin thrust his spear into that dwarf’s forearm as well.

The last remaining dwarf yelled “You bastard!” He hobbled with his feet tied and hit the goblin in the face with the flat side of his pick.

Graul didn’t want to die permanently, but was afraid the stupid goblins might kill him if he tried to surrender. He frantically cut off the ropes from his hands and feet while the three dwarves bludgeoned the goblin to death with their tools. Luckily the other guard didn’t return. Graul knew this was his chance to fall on his pick and die, then respawn at Home. He mentally prepared himself to do something his psyche screamed against in protest. He readied the pick against the ground and was about to puncture his heart from falling on it, but a dwarf slave stopped him. He said “We are being freed! Help us fight our way out of here.”

Graul figured dying fighting goblins was just as good as a brief suicide. Either way he would awaken at Home a few minutes later, but this time he had to be sure to avoid all arrows of paralysis. He ran down the tunnel with the pick raised over his head and brought it down on the head of a goblin that had its back turned to him. He looked up and saw fully armored dwarves with battle axes running at him. They killed a couple more goblins and asked him “Where is Torger?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Help us find him. Take these.”

The dwarf handed him a round shield made of wood and iron, and a long straight steel sword. That sword looked familiar. “This was Torger’s sword. Where did you get it?”

“Torger’s? I thought your leader would have had the best sword.” The dwarf pulled out Graul’s flame sword, an iron sword with a small pearl embedded in the blade, infused with Fire 1.

“That’s my sword, this one is Torger’s. And he’s not my leader. We are brothers and equals. We are co mayors of Home, our village.”

“Well you’re not equals in our village. We are from Calico and we elected Torger as our new mayor. Help us free our mayor or get out of our way.”

Graul stepped back. “Calico? You are the ones that sent us here. At least Small Foot did. Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you? No. We listened to Torger and took our freedom for ourselves. Now help us look for him, we don’t want to get trapped in here.”

Graul traded the steel sword for the flame sword. It felt good to be in his hand again. He swung it through the air then saw Arden and Baybil run up. Graul said “Arden! You’re alive!”

“No time to explain. More goblins are on the way. Know that you can respawn, it will lead to my cave. These dwarves aren’t here to kill goblins, just to deliver armor and a sword to Torger, then they’ll leave. That was all I could convince them to do.”

By then the dwarf slaves had caught up and were listening. One cried “Get us out of here!”

Baybil looked at them with pity, then shook his head. “It would take a tribal chief to pardon your crimes, I don’t have that authority. But at our next annual meeting I will ask for all dwarves to be freed from the goblin caves.”

The dwarves looked surprised and dejected at his words, but Baybil cast Cure 1 on the two wounded dwarves, and the bleeding from their arms stopped.

The dwarves of Calico along with Baybil, Arden, and Graul ran and searched tunnel by tunnel. Graul had no idea how massive the network was. Graul took point and killed a few goblins as they ran. They left the slave dwarves where they were when they found them. Eventually they found Antic digging with three other dwarves. Everyone else ran ahead while Graul freed him and assured him he would respawn if he died.

Next they found Jex. She and Arden hugged and kissed and wouldn’t move no matter how much the others tried to persuade them. Graul had to leave them there. Graul and others killed more goblins. Once in a while one would take a spear to the arm or leg, and a few got hit with an arrow of paralysis, but none of the dwarves died; they had brought several low level health potions. Finally they found Torger. The dwarves told him he was now the mayor of Calico, for one year, and it was their duty to provide him with a way of freeing himself, but their obligation ended there. If he made it to Calico, he would be most welcome. Then all the dwarves ran out of the tunnels and towards the exit.

Torger was stunned at their words and the rescue, and didn’t have any time to respond before the dwarves ran away, but once the shock wore off he put on his old iron armor, head to toe, and grabbed his two handed steel double edged straight sword. His mind was spinning, then looked at Graul and Antic. “Where are the others?”

“Arden and Jex are a few tunnels away, we don’t know where Brun and Rome are at.”

“We’re not leaving them behind. I want to confirm with Arden that it’s OK to die before we charge more goblins.” Graul led the way past dead goblins and took a few turns in the tunnels.

They found the couple still hugging and had to pry them apart. “We need to save Brun and Rome. We can’t let them be killed with those ropes on.”

Only Arden and Torger had armor on, and Graul had his sword and shield. That was all the dwarves brought for Torger. They seemed to have little interest in the safety of the others. But the goblins were small, weak and stupid. Goblin spears shattered easily and copper swords were cut in half against Torger’s steel sword. Graul’s shield blocked most thrusts aimed at him, and his sword cut deep into goblin arms, adding extra fire damage. With good weapons they plowed through pair after pair of goblins. Occasionally they had to stop for three seconds, waiting for paralysis to wear off from an arrow, but eventually they found Brun. He lay on the tunnel floor bleeding heavily from a spear in his side. The others froze in shock at the sight but Torger sprang into immediate action. He cut off the ropes binding Brun’s hands and feet, and a few seconds later saw a flash of pale green light and Brun was no longer there.

“We have to find Rome. Now!”

They all ran from tunnel to tunnel killing more goblins, but never found him. Finally a dwarf shouted out to them “You are looking for your friend, yes? Free me and I’ll tell you what happened.”

“What do you mean ‘what happened’? Is he alive? Did they take him away?” asked Arden.

“Free me first!”

“How do we know you know what happened to him? Tell us what he looks like.” Jex questioned.

“He is a human, of course. Dark hair, dark beard, medium dark or brown skin. He looks a lot like him.” He said that pointing at Antic. True they were both Mexican, but they would have never been mistaken as relatives on Earth. But when they all came to Nuva, they all entered short and scrawny bodies, and had all gained about the same amount of strength points so their height and muscles were similar to each other. To a dwarf it was possible Antic and Rome looked like each other.

Torger said “OK I believe you. Tell me where he is.” He cut off the dwarf’s ropes. Torger didn’t know why this dwarf wasn’t trying to cut off his ropes using jagged rocks like all the other dwarves were. Even as they were talking a couple of dwarf slaves ran past them towards the tunnel exit.

But as soon as Torger finished cutting them, the rope grew in length and circled around the whole group, going round and round faster than they could see. It cinched them all together, and the appearance of the dwarf changed to a hobbled old goblin leaning on a staff that looked like it was made from gold.

It cackled in delight. “Oh the queen is going to be so happy with what I’ve done! I will get a big pile of treasure!”

Brun checked his ability to use magic and saw this was not a rope of negation. He could barely move his hands but was able to cast Fire 2. The rope caught on fire and began to snap, and everyone got scorched, himself worst of all. The hobgoblin saw the rope burning and cast Ice 2 on it. The flames were extinguished, and the whole group took more damage.

But the rope had burned enough that Graul could move his sword a little. He slowly changed his grip on the handle while Torger was asking the hobgoblin where he was taking them and what would happen. Graul got his hand at the end of the pummel and using his wrist swung the sword behind him. Antic cried out in pain as the sword cut deep into his thigh then Fire 1 was released from the sword into the wound.

Unfortunately, Antic didn’t die. Graul had no idea who he would hit with the strike behind him, but he thought as long as he hit anyone but Antic they should die. Antic had invested some ability points into health, making it harder to kill him. But Graul was committed now. The hobgoblin began waving his hand ready to cast a spell. Graul twisted the sword in the thigh and with the little wrist movement he had available he pulled down. His mining had increased his strength to six, and that extra strength allowed him to cut along the thigh until it went through the femoral artery. He felt it and knew Antic would be dead in seconds.

The hobgoblin finished his spell and a dome surrounded the entire group. They didn’t know what it did but it was obviously some sort of barrier to keep them inside.

Graul readied his sword to cut the rope as soon as Antic disappeared and the rope slackened. Brun had the same idea. The hobgoblin began casting another spell, and before Antic died everyone was lifted into the air by the spell, still surrounded in the magic bubble. The hobgoblin moved his gold staff and the group began to float helplessly in front of him as he led them down a tunnel. He was apparently taking them somewhere specific.

Antic let out a final slow breath and there was a flash of pale green light. Everyone was drawn a little closer together form the sudden void but as soon as they had a little room Brun cast Fire 1 at the rope and Graul sliced it. The combined effort cut through a few more cords, and with a little maneuvering they all slid out of the magic rope. Graul and Torger began slamming their swords into the shield and the hobgoblin looked worried.

Arden slammed his wood shield into it and his shield splintered. With each strike against the magic shield, it released a Lighting 2 spell inside the spherical dome and everyone lost much of their remaining health. The goblin began casting another spell. The electric shock from the shield hurt like hell and the brothers dropped their swords. When Graul’s sword landed on the bottom of the shield it sent Fire 1 into the shield and they were all struck by Lightning 2 again, but the two men with shields kept slamming their shields into the dome with eventually all of them losing all their health points and dying.