39. Lair Sweet Lair
The three of you trudged on, in silence. Only a few minutes had passed since the battle with the bard, if you could call it a battle, but the mostly uphill path coupled with a very trying week or so had sapped everyone's limbs until this slow, dogged walk was all that could be managed.
You were somewhat curious as to whatever had happened to detain Amanda and Mercy, but you were finally reaching the end of your rope. You led, without speaking, and they followed. Pathways long familiar to you opened up as you trod them, your slightly hidden home always just out of sight.
You're starting to get worried that you might actually be lost when you finally see it, further down the narrow track than you expected. A dark archway, barely distinguished from the mountain around it, being as it was constructed from the same stone, shaped by whatever arcane forces lairs worked on.
A brief flash of red draws your attention to the entranceway, and you frown a little before a voice echoes out.
“Red Scale has returned.” the rasping voice is not immediately familiar to you, but the figure who comes running to greet you is.
Sapphire has her arms wrapped around your neck before you so much as blink, and you finally let tension that you didn't know you had out of you. Your head cranes down to her in the drake equivalent of hugging her back.
Hey, when your species doesn't really have arms you have to improvise.
You ignore the noise of your level up, and absently wave away the notification that reads
Amanda and Mercy stop behind you, watching your reunion. Sapphire is the first to break the silence, pulling herself away form you and self consciously wiping her eyes on her leather sleeves.
“You were gone so long.”
“Yeah.” You let the silence hang, casting your mind back over your journey. “I'll fill you in inside?”
You go to walk forwards, but Sapphire doesn't move. “Before you go in sir, there's... you should know that, well...”
“What?” You ask, worry growing as she avoids your eyes.
“Feathers' mission didn't go as smoothly as mine, nor,” she flicks her eyes at your companions, “Yours. She's... She'll be OK, but it might be a bit of a shock.”
You nod in mute understanding, an odd buzzing ringing in your ears. What happened?
You enter your lair for the first time in too long, and are almost flawed by the changes. A kobold you don't recognise salute you form the doorway – the source of the voice you heard announcing you, you presume.
You can clearly see the tunnels, long planned out, and fully realised in the stone. Even as you gape, a half dozen rusty kobolds dart from one door to another. Only one notices you, and he slows to an open mouthed stop as his companions' voices fade away. Sapphire leads you away before you can ask, towards the fighting ring at the current far end of your lair.
Sapphire stops you at the entrance and passes on alone, leaving you rather unsure of yourself. The sounds of combat can be heard from within – the clash of metal on metal, the thump of flesh on earth, all accompanied by grunts and short-lived yells. You strain your ears, and think you can make out Sapphire's voice, murmuring. The sounds of battle die down, and a voice you don't recognise responds. Whoever it is, his voice is gruff and husky.
A few moments more, and Sapphire reappears, beckoning you in and leading you down the stairs into the pit proper.
Where is Feathers? You're confused, expecting her to be resting if she was as injured as Sapphire had implied.
The gate rattles down, revealing the contents of the pit.
The first thing you notice is that someone, somehow, has animated five scarecrows, given them wooden swords, and then beaten the stuffing out of them. Each one is twitching and rolling around on the floor, slowly regenerating from their injuries and returning to some sort of storage rack on one wall where another five scarecrows hang, unmoving.
The second thing you notice is the goblin. Dressed in leather armour with metal plates covering the vitals, and wielding a long handled pole-arm with a wicked, sword-like blade. The wood of the polearm and the leather armour were both charred by fire. Presumably, the same fire that took the goblin's left leg, leaving a wooden peg in its place. The same fire that crawled up its face, taking an eye now covered by a leather patch that did little to cover the scaring that stretched from beneath the armour on its neck, across it's cheek, and marring the temple.
The goblin meets your eyes, unblinking, then turns and walks to a weapon rack, placing the glaive against it.
There are feathers, wound into the back of the goblins hair.
Your knees feel weak.
Feathers meets your gaze as she walks towards you. There's a slight limp to her gait, and a hollow thump echoes every second step.
Her pace slows to a stop as you don't move towards her, and she searches your eyes for... something.
Whatever she finds causes her to snarl and stalk away, returning to the weapon rack.
Your mind is still in reboot.