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< Go Read Part 3
< Go Read Part 4
< Go Read Part 5
Part 6
Gerald took the lead as we walked along the smouldering path, deeper and deeper into the forest. Marcia was beside me, and Anita put herself between Damon and Marcia. She had a keen eye for justice it seemed, and it looked as though she would use any excuse to lash out at Damon too. He, on the other hand, just held his war hammer, muttering about fish, money, and how life was so unfair.
I think the entire group had enough of his bellowing. The path through the forest thankfully remained uneventful. "During my time as a statue, I could still hear, see, and think" Marcia had told me, "I saw a group of Goblins follow this path, and that the vines had grown in their wake".
The vines had touched her, and then she was gone from the world, turned to the stone from which we had extracted her. She was grateful, but she wanted her money back from Damon.
No one asked her what she was doing in the forest alone, but it was easy to suspect that she may have been with another who had fallen to her charms. Perhaps this path would lead us to the other, as well as the Goblins.
The path gave way to a dense cliff wall, and before it, was a clearing. Gerald stopped. Anita and I insisted on taking the lead. There was a hole in the cliff wall. This was really the only way to describe it.
It wasn't a cave, it was a hole, as though someone had meticulously chiselled out a perfect circle in the face of stone, to carve a tunnel into the cliff. There was no evidence of rubble, so this did not seem to be a recent excavation.
I observed from the tree line with equal parts caution and suspicion. Hiding in the shadow of a tree at night was easy. "Torch, out now", I hissed, seeing movement from within the hole-in the-wall tunnel thing.
A keen nose would still smell the extinguished pitch, but in the darkness, my vision could make out clearly a few goblins. I smiled. I made the sound of a bird call. The goblins looked in my direction. They didn't see me. Good. I moved to another spot, as quickly as I dared, thorugh the undergrowth, mimicking the sounds of a boar or feral pig moving rapidly.
I made the bird call again. I made it sound like it was in genuine distress. Then, I called out for help in the common tongue. I made myself sound refined, dignified. I hoped the others would realise I was trying to open up the rear-flank of the Goblin formation now rapidly approaching me.
To my surprise, Damon had figure this out. He took one out quietly with the Warhammer he carried. An absolutely sickening thud. Anita stabbed another, and Gerald captured the third. For some reason, Marcia had not understood the unspoken brief, and was at my side fussing. "Are you okay?" It seemed like she wore her heart on her sleeve, and ran toward the distressed instead of taking the hint.
Damon was speaking to the Goblin that struggled in Gerald's grasp. He was speaking Goblin to it, in shrieks and scowls, and I wondered what the discussion was about. He turned away and hurried into the cave. "She's in there!"
Gerald knocked the Goblin down, and reached for the fish. The fish! That bloody fish! He seemed to have a great old time slapping the goblin to death with the fish, but with each assault, it seemed to become... less like a wooden sculpture, and more alive, as though it were a leech sucking on the goblin's life force and blood.
Gerald and I met eyes. We had noticed this, together, and knowingly... but also suspiciously agreed to let ourselves see where this experience was going. The fish seemed more alive with each strike. Gerald seemed more homicidal each time he used it. Thankfully, he hadn't directed that at me, and I hoped that it would remain that way.
Marcia clicked her fingers in a certain tune. Flame appeared at the tips of her fingers. She relit the torch. We entered the cave, and followed the sound of Damon's rapidly vanishing footsteps.
## THE DRUID'S DILEMMA WILL CONTINUE
D R A M A T I S
P E R S O N A E
(so far)
The Druid:
A quiet protagonist-narrator, nameless, female. Lover of wild life. Interested in aquatic welfare. Wants to get on with the job.
The Drunken Cleric:
Damon, alcoholic, violent, full of vitriol. Concussed and dazed. Owes Coin.., learning how to be useful
The Fighter:
Gerald, loves fish, gambling, and pumping iron. Fish 3, Damon 0, Goblins 0
The Hooded Figure:
Anita, sly, calculating, mysterious. Quick, Stabby
The Statuesque Bardess:
Marcia, #1 member of the Damon hate fan club, is owed money
