With a single, unceremonious pull, the iron-barred door that sealed the Gore Pit was torn from its hinges. Rusted metal screeched as it ripped free, bolts tearing out of stone, dust and grit raining down.
I held the door in one hand and glanced back at Corvin and Branek.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said mildly, gesturing for them to step aside.
They didn't hesitate. The two knights moved, clearing the space.
I swung my arm and released the door. It sailed across the pit, spinning end over end. The slab of iron struck stone with a thunderous crash, clipped Bloodmaw's headless corpse, and skidded to a halt in the centre of the arena.
As we pressed on to leave, I paused and turned back to Corvin.
"Oh... Would you do me a favour?" I asked.
He straightened immediately. "Anything, my Lord..."
I smiled. "No need for titles. Just keep calling me Stranger."
Corvin nodded. I could see he was still quite nervous.
I pointed toward the arena floor, where the ogre's massive head lay not far from its body.
"Would you fetch the ogre's head?" I asked casually. "I dropped it over there."
Corvin dithered for half a heartbeat, then nodded again.
"Of course."
"I'm going to use it," I added, turning back toward the exit, "as a negotiation tool."
Behind me, Corvin jogged back into the pit and retrieved Bloodmaw's head. He returned promptly, and the three of us ascended a torchlit stairwell.
Navigating Kragmôr Hold proved tricky.
Goblins and hobgoblins crowded the corridors, but none dared approach us. They pressed themselves against the walls, shrank into alcoves, or fled at the sight of us - especially when Corvin passed by carrying Bloodmaw's severed head like a grotesque lantern.
Clearly, fear travelled faster than we did.
Kragmôr itself bore the bones of an older purpose. Long before goblins infested its halls, the hold had been a joint Elven-Dwarven outpost.
The dwarves had carved deep into Frostvein, extracting gold, silver, and rare gems. The elves, in turn, refined the spoils. Enchanting metals, shaping jewels, crafting works meant for courts and kings. Caravans then carried them down from the mountains to be sold in distant towns and cities.
As we walked through, the elegant stonework lay cracked and defaced. Runes had been gouged out or smeared with crude symbols. Pillars, once polished, were splintered and stained with old blood. The outpost had reduced it to little more than a slaughterhouse.
"I have a feeling," I said as we strolled down one of the wider tunnels. "The chieftain's hut should be this way."
Branek glanced at me. "You feel it?"
I nodded. "I can't remember clearly. It was dark when they brought me here."
I looked straight ahead, toward a bend in the tunnel.
"So," I continued talking. "How did two former Knights of Aurelion end up as prisoners here?"
Branek's expression darkened.
"Escort duty," he said after a moment. "A caravan bound for the lowlands.... Supplies, relics, refugees."
Corvin nodded. "We were three days from the pass when we were ambushed."
"Snowstorm," Branek added. "We couldn't see a thing. Perfect cover for the beasts."
"They took me and Branek alive," Corvin said quietly. "Killed the others."
"They tortured us," Branek continued, his fist clenching. "Found amusement in our suffering. Kept us in cages barely big enough to breathe in... I don't know how long we've been here for, but it's been more than fourteen days."
"You mentioned escorting refugees," I asked, glancing back at him. "From where?"
"From the war in the East... against the Dark Ones."
I hummed softly. "How ominous."
Corvin let out a breath that sounded half like a laugh, half like despair.
"It's worse than it sounds," he said.
I didn't doubt it. Wars that produced refugees rarely ended cleanly. And with unsettling, tyrannical titles like the Dark Ones involved, it could only be worse than I imagined.
"Oi! You three, stop right there!"
A crooked voice stopped the three of us dead in our tracks.
Ahead, goblins and hobgoblins had packed the tunnel wall to wall, an enormous horde choking the passage. At the front stood four figures. They were draped in crow feathers and bone necklaces and had deer and wolf skulls pulled over their faces. Each carried a staff carved from oak or pine, the wood etched with crude runes.
We'd stumbled into the shamans.
"You lot 'ave breathed yer final breaths!" one of them screeched.
"Prepare to be incinda'rated and burnt to a crispy!" another added.
I grimaced. Clearly, the human language was not their strongest skill.
I spun on my heels.
"I suggest you both take cover behind one of those," I said, gesturing to the ancient pillars. "Looks like things are about to get heated. And I'd rather you two not end up... burnt to a crispy."
Understandably, Corvin and Branek didn't falter. They dashed for cover, ducking behind the stonework.
I turned back to face the shamans and raised my empty hands, showing them I was unarmed.
"Now, now," I said, keeping my voice calm. "We can use words instead. That's what our voices are for - to talk, to avoid fighting."
"BURN HIM!"
The shamans spun their staffs in wide arcs, conjuring flames that stretched from floor to ceiling. In less than a second, a roaring wall of fire surged between us and the goblin horde. The heat darted toward me, and instinctively, I raised my arms to shield my face. I knew I'd survive - but the searing fire could still bite at my eyes.
My tunic turned to ash almost instantly. My leather boots disintegrated around my feet. Every scrap of clothing I wore vanished into soot. And so, for lack of a better term, I emerged unscathed but completely... nude.
That really pissed me off.
As the wall of fire raced down the tunnel, goblin tents and weapon racks were swallowed by the blaze. Corvin and Branek were safe, feeling only the intense heat as it passed the pillars.
I looked down at my naked body and snarled.
"Well. I suppose I'll need a new outfit," I said, anger bubbling beneath my words.
The shamans stared in stunned silence. They had thrown everything they had at me, and I was still standing.
"U-uhhh…" one of them murmured. "What goblin do now?! What goblin do now?!"
"Burn him again! Make him crispy!"
The words had barely left his mouth before I was in front of him.
My sudden speed and displacement knocked several of their kind off-balance. I wrenched the staff from the shaman's hands, tearing it free with a pronounced crack of wood and bone.
"No," I said. "No more fire."
I repeated the action three more times, disarming each of the chieftain's mages in turn. Then I reappeared where I'd first stood - on the scorched floor where my clothes had been burned away.
With all four goblin staves in my possession, I slammed them against my left thigh and snapped them. From the shattered wood, a whisper of dark magic hissed upward, coalescing into a purple cloud that hovered before dispersing.
"You've all annoyed me," I said, my expression hard. "I'm going to ask you once. Take us to your chieftain."
I let the silence hang. Disbelief and dread were building in their puny minds.
"If you try anything," I continued, "anything at all... you'll end up like the ogre."
As if on cue, the two knights emerged from their pillars behind me. Corvin lifted Bloodmaw's severed head like a trophy, and a ripple of gasps swept through the horde.
"U-uhh…" the first shaman stammered, struggling to form words. "Y-you follow us. We… we take you to Chieftain Urzak."
"M-make way!" one of the other shamans barked, terror bleeding into his voice. "Make a gap... for humans!"
The unsettled horde of goblins and hobgoblins parted down the middle, forming a clear path through the tunnel.
I motioned for Branek and Corvin to follow, and we stayed close behind the shamans as they led the way.
"S-stranger," Branek stammered. "Your clothes… you're-"
"Yes," I interrupted, voice flat. "I'm naked. Tired. Hungry… and pissed off."
Our shaman convoy overheard me, and all four of them winced. I made sure they knew I wasn't in a good mood. I'd grown fond of my tunic and boots. I'd purchased them - along with my favourite wolf-pelt cloak - from a quaint village several miles west of the mountain range.
After a few minutes of walking, the tunnel opened up. A cold wind cut across my face, making me grit my teeth. We were no longer inside the mountain - it was a watch overlooking the valley below. The blizzard was still raging, blurring what might once have been a breathtaking view.
The encampment was sprawled across like a festering wound.
Tents. Too many to count. Stitched from skin, stretched taut over crude frames. Bones littered the ground, some animal, some… decidedly not.
Flickering torches and bonfires cast shadows. Symbols and sigils were painted crudely against the rock face or carved into stones. Some were made with blood, others with excrement.
At the centre of the encampment stood the largest tent.
Urzak's tent.
As we approached, the four shamans then stopped. Their courage failed them all at once. Fear filled their eyes as they hastily moved aside, pointing trembling fingers at the tent flaps.
"Chieftain Urzak…" one croaked. "Inside."
"Thank you," I said, offering them a pleasant smile.
The three of us began walking toward the tent, but then I stopped. Corvin and Branek halted with me. I glanced back over my shoulder at the shamans.
"One last thing," I said mildly. "I really did like my clothes."
The world blurred when I moved.
Four heads left four shoulders. Black blood sprayed across the snow-dusted ground as the shamans' bodies twitched, muscles spasming uncontrollably. Their nervous systems never caught up to what had happened. I was too quick. Too powerful.
I held all four goblin heads by the tufts of their straggly, dark hair.
"Shall we?" I asked, almost conversational, as I gestured toward the tent.
Corvin and Branek exchanged glances, and they followed without hesitation.
I stormed straight in, caring little for guards or ambushes. I wasn't here to dance around threats; I was here to settle business.
As I passed the tent flaps, the interior struck me. Riches were sprawled everywhere. Heaping piles of coins and glittering jewels. Chests stuffed to the brim with gold, and gem-encrusted goblets and plates.
Golden-framed portraits - smudged with filth - hung crookedly from the tent walls. Red carpets ran beneath our feet, and red banners drooped overhead. In the centre, a table cluttered with lit candles bathed me in a warm, yellow glow.
When they first dragged me to Kragmôr, I'd met Urzak at one of the breeding pits. I hadn't realised that his personal tent was a cove of stolen spoils.
The chieftain was here, seated and flanked by two heavily armoured goblins. They wielded curved swords, like those brandished by corsairs. No doubt plundered from passing merchants.
Urzak was stocky, even for a goblin. His sickly pale skin stretched taut over muscle and fat. He was larger than any in his tribe, and never appeared without his black armour. Like all goblin chieftains, he ruled with an iron fist, and every creature in his domain knew it. A deep scar dragged along his left cheek, the pale line cutting across his face - a memento from when he'd seized Kragmôr from the Elves and Dwarves decades ago.
Corvin and Branek entered shortly after I had.
Three of us. Three of them. A tense standoff hung in the air, thick and palpable, like the calm before a storm.
I tilted my head toward Urzak and tossed the four shaman heads onto the table. They landed with a thud, rolling slightly in the candlelight. Corvin hesitated for a moment, then handed me Bloodmaw's head. I flung it onto the table as well.
The chieftain's eyes widened. It was a mix of rage and disbelief.
Finally, I spoke.
"I've killed your strongest," I told Urzak. "Your shamans... your ogre... all that remains is you and your personal guards."
Urzak's eyes narrowed, a low hiss escaping his throat. His hand hovered over his curved sword, but he didn't move.
"You can reach for your weapons," I continued. "But I promise you, your fate will be no different from theirs."
The chieftain's lips curled into a grin - half defiance, half curiosity.
"What is it you want?" Urzak asked, his voice low and grating.
"I want…" I began, weighing my words carefully. I didn't want to reveal everything just yet. Civility could be as sharp as any blade. "Lots of things."
Urzak's grin got bigger.
"Lots of things? You kill Urzak strongest... and tell Urzak you want... lots of things?"
"That's correct," I said evenly. "I want everything that you have."
As quickly as it grew, Urzak's smile faltered.
"Your gold. Your gems. Your weapons. Your people." I took a slow step forward. "Kragmôr Hold."
The tent seemed to shrink around us.
"And then," I finished calmly. "I want you gone."
The chieftain's fingers tightened around the arm of his chair, black armour creaking as his bulk shifted. His guards glanced at him, uncertain now, their confidence leaking away.
"You want Urzak to give you hold?" Urzak growled. "Urzak tribe?"
"I'm not asking," I replied.
Urzak looked at the heads on the table again. His shamans, his ogre, his power base reduced to trophies. Slowly, his scarred cheek twitched.
"You human!" he spat. "What make you think tribe would ever follow human?!"
"The same reason they all follow you", I said. "Fear."
Urzak snarled, mouth curling in rage. "They fear Urzak!"
I took another step forward.
"They fear you because you kill those who defy you. Because you punish weakness and make examples." I pointed lazily at the table. "I've already done that - better than you ever could."
Urzak's guards didn't breathe.
"Your tribe has seen me kill your strongest. They've seen me walk through your hold unchallenged... And for the most part, naked," I met Urzak's eyes. "They don't need to like me. They don't need to understand me."
A pause.
"They only need to fear me more than they fear you."
Urzak's confidence cracked. And in goblin society, that was fatal.
He glanced over his shoulder at his guards, searching for intervention. An attack, a challenge - anything. Neither lifted a finger. One wouldn't even meet his eyes.
Slowly, the chieftain turned back to face me.
"Where…" he rasped. "Where Urzak go?"
"You're a big goblin," I regarded. "Strong and cunning. I'm sure there are other tribes across the lands in need of a leader like you."
I could see in his eyes that he was flustered.
"How about I give you an hour?" I continued pleasantly. "That should be more than enough time to gather a few essentials."
I nodded toward his guards.
"You may even take those two with you. I wouldn't expect you to survive the wilderness alone."
Gradually, the goblin chieftain rose from his chair.
He circled the table with his head lowered, a clear sign of defeat. His two guards fell in beside him, no longer protectors but escorts. As they passed Corvin and Branek, neither knight moved. When Urzak reached for the tent flaps, I suddenly recalled his promise.
"Oh, Urzak."
The goblin stopped, but he didn't turn around.
"If I ever catch you anywhere near my mountain," I said pleasantly, as if offering friendly advice, "I promise I'll eat your heart and liver."
Urzak stiffened. Then, without a word, he stepped out into the cold.