The box that flashed before his eyes said ‘Level Up,’ but vanished as soon as he read it.

  It was replaced by another. Allowing him to ‘roll’ or take the average for ‘HP’ which appeared to be something to do with health, given what the injured had reported. He took the average and it increased by 7, to 17, from 10. Was he truly that much more durable all of a sudden? Or would he be after he rested? It actually read 10/17, after all. But he didn’t feel injured the way the men who’d reported missing ‘HP’ had been. The boxes continued to unroll.

  He carefully did not say any of them, but instead wrote them down, after reading the instructions aloud and passed that list around the group. There was some debate, with various arguments being made for Nature, War, Peace and Knowledge, given their situation, but in the end, the Colonel recommended Forge, and Rawlins agreed. They needed their equipment. If they were reduced to using axes and knives like the locals, they’d undoubtedly be swarmed under, eventually. Forge seemed most likely to help.

  Besides, Rawlins had always wanted to be a man who made things. His spellcasting feature updated, giving him one additional use of magic per day, though not until he rested, and two new spells, [Identify] and [Searing Smite] both of which were useless. [Identify] theoretically might not be, even though it only worked on magic items, not others, but more critically, it required an expensive pearl as a spell component, which they did not possess. He also gained an additional spell known, which he could learn tomorrow morning.

  Then there were a whole series of other updates, which he read through quickly, by the end, he was smiling broadly. He mentally compared his initial status with his current one

  And what he was—no, what he had now.

  It was that last point which was of critical interest, though the Colonel was pleased by the ability to enhance a weapon, if he could make another axe magical, even if not necessarily to the same degree as the one the orcs had, that would reduce arguments over who got to use it. But Artisan’s Blessing was the clear winner. There would need to be tests done, to figure out what a ‘short rest’ even was, besides how it actually worked and what monetary value was placed on the ammunition, after the mission, but perhaps this would provide a stopgap. Either way, he had an operation to carry out and a question to answer.

  “Trip,” he said as the new Sergeant would be leading the other section and they had no idea what second level of Barbarian gave (which turned out to be almost nothing, besides a lot of hitpoints, the only other things he got strengthened his ability to sense danger and allowed him to attack recklessly...no change there). When phrased that way, it was obvious that the other one would be an Artificer, to see what came with that title, which seemed closely related to creation. Only one man in the assault group was an Artificer, Private Price.

  The poor man was so nervous being brought in to talk to all the officers in the regiment (except Merriman) but when they quickly had him ‘leveled’ up, he walked through it eagerly. That left two reward boxes, which could be distributed after the completion of the mission, depending on EXP levels. The ‘level’ gave Price no additional spells known, or spell slots, instead it gave him an entirely new ability, ‘Infuse Item,’ which allowed him to imbue magic into two items, which would last until he died, or replaced them...which made everyone nervous about relying on existing magic items in case they might vanish if their creator so chose.

  They went through the long list of options, most of which were based on armor or weapons which they didn’t have, or didn’t use. Though there was one they were eager to experiment with, the Repeating Weapon asserted it would create magical ammunition for a weapon which lacked ammunition. The problem was, even if they advanced all their artificers and they all made such weapons, it would only equip a fraction of a battle line. Their strength was in volley fire, not in a handful of guns. Again, it wouldn’t work until the next day, but as they looked through the list the man had scribbled down. There were several obvious winners.

  The Alchemy Jug could create many things. Even if some were unspecific, or of uncertain use (what sort of poison/acid did it make?) something that could make 4 gallons of beer a day would be of use in maintaining morale, without even getting into the uses for oil, vinegar, or honey. Though what use one could have mayonnaise, which the jug could also produce was confusing. The Colonel suggested it was about having a source of salt to be added to food, though it could also produce salt water. In the end, they shrugged and moved on from that point.

  The Bag of Holding would allow easy transport of goods up and down the mountain, but that was low priority for the moment, despite the fact that they all wanted to see it and see what could fit in its allegedly 64 cubic feet of storage, taking up to 500 pounds of weight while still weighing only fifteen for the carrier.

  The Cap of Water Breathing did exactly what it said and given the claims about monsters in the river and their need to secure a water supply for the mills and for fishing…it seemed potentially useful.

  But the two stand out, obvious choices were the Sending Stones, paired items which would allow single statement and response once per day, regardless of distance. Portable telegraphs, even Rawlins could see their military potential. They’d need smooth stones to quickly shape and enchant, but the obvious advantages of that, especially given the need to separate into smaller groups, made those high priority.

  The other winner was known as the Goggles of Night, which would give vision, even in total darkness, at least out to 60 feet. This would be crucial for the underground operations and night watches, given that both orcs and goblins could see in the dark and who knew what other residents of this strange place could do? Leveling the playing field was critical. Tipping it in their favor would be even better, but that would have to wait on further ‘leveling.’

  And if they could get two items from each of Artificer they brought to second level and had 7 artificers, they could get a squad kitted out with Goggles of Night to keep watch over night, an Alchemy Jug to provide beer to about a third of the men each night, two Sending Stones, one for the field outpost, one for an exploratory operation, and a Bag of Holding to carry supplies...or so the other officers almost instantly agreed, while Rawlins was still attempting to work out the arithmetic. He really wasn’t comfortable being an officer. He hadn’t been comfortable being Sergeant-Major.

  He remembered running, escaping, leaving behind his children, his kin. And his prayer before the battle had been granted. He had died, they had all died standing up, taking it to the enemy. But now he was here and an officer, fighting forces he didn’t understand. The war with the Grey Backs was one thing. He understood that. The godly side was right clear. So far that had been true here as well, the goblins were heathens, yes, who had never even heard of the true church, or any church, but that did not mean they deserved to be held in bondage. They deserved freedom from both the orcs and their own ignorance.

  His conversation with Madam Varrarg had been enlightening on that front. He doubted she would deliberately send them against some innocents they labeled beasts, given her clear interest in salvation for her people. But it was still best to be cautious in territory he did not understand. Especially as he had not been able to understand the comments of her fellow goblins, lacking the boon of translation she had been granted. With Trip leading the other section, he brought in Sergeant Wilson, as the Colonel had given him the blessing of languages, so he should be able to communicate with their guide. He’d also be relying on the sergeant in the event this beast could speak.

  He rendezvoused with Trip and the other soldiers, briefing them all on the plan, then their goblin guides showed up and they split up. Rawlins had chosen to come in from below, while Trip took the walk to the top, then down again. They both had watches, synchronized to move out at two in the afternoon. That should give them both plenty of time to get there and wait. The goblin guiding them, Merrik, as he’d been introduced, twitched nervously as they waited around the bend from the main cavern. The bend would mostly conceal their light, as they counted down the minutes and talked quietly. A few men checked and rechecked their weapons, despite being fully loaded and prepared. Bayonets weren’t fixed yet. Even with the lit stones, the tunnels were dark and cramped and Rawlins had no desire for his men to kill themselves, or one another if someone tripped. Hence also leaving the percussion cap off until the last two minutes, when it was put in place and the bayonet was locked into place. Two men stepped around the curve of the tunnel and chucked lit stones into the darkness.

  A large rock answered them, fortunately exploding against the wall of the cave and only ineffectually showering them with rock fragments, though some men would have cuts. He heard a growling rumble, then what seemed to be a reply and glanced at Wilson.

  “First voice said ‘Run home Gobbos, this is ours now.’ Second said ‘Why’d you scare it off? I want Gobbo meat!’” The voices continued from around the bend, “Now they’re arguing about which tastes better goblin or rat.”

  All doubts about their task faded away in the face of this admission of cannibalism and conquest. Though the fact that there were two enemies gave him some pause, this wasn’t how he’d thought it would go. Had the goblins lied? They’d said the ones down here died and it threw rocks at whatever came down here and though he didn’t know either language, it was obvious the goblins and whatever was down here were not speaking the same language, at all. That was a problem for later. For now, they had their orders.

  He glanced at the wizard and the poor man did his best. He’d only seen the cave from the other angle, but after a moment, he managed to complete the spell, it blocked off the end of the exit, showing the view of the back of the tunnel as he saw it from here. That was reversed, but it was good enough to confuse for a moment. As they walked around the corner, they could see through the illusion as they knew what it was and were able to see the creature as it was approaching one of the glowing stones and picking it up, staring in wonder at it…

  It was even bigger than the orog he’d seen buried, at least ten feet tall, maybe closer to fifteen. He had no idea how they would get it out of here, even if they could kill the damnable thing.

  And it had two heads. The other hand came around, clamping down around the light and plunging it into darkness, only for the hand holding the stone to pull free, revealing it again. They laughed. Rawlins reconsidered talking, only to see the goblin skulls hanging from the belt that was its only clothing, along with two massive weapons, both crudely made from wood and stone. He’d first thought it was more dressed than it was, but the dark material that covered its grew skin was not fabric, but rather dirt, congealed sweat and what certainly looked like food and blood. Matted hair from each head and chin ran down, fusing into the waste that covered its body in a truly nauseating way.

  He counted down almost silently to the squad, and at zero, they all rushed out, forming a swift line at the cave and Rawlins bawled out, “Aim! Fire!” even as the monstrous giant spun to face them with shocking speed.

  Smoke filled the air, blocking line of sight, even as more light stones were sent flying overhead by the group behind. “RELOAD!” Rawlins ordered, suiting word to deed as he heard and felt the footsteps of the creature, rushing them with a screaming warcry on both its pairs of lips. Or not, he still couldn’t understand the language. It thundered forward through the smoke even as the reloading was finishing, faster than ever before. It wielded a massive club in one hand and an equally massive stone axe in the other. The creature looked crazed and was so badly injured that it was not long for this world as well over half the shots had hit and one seemed to have hit one of the heads, though the beast was still charging. It seemed determined to take a few of the soldiers with it.

  Rawlins wished he’d ordered the reserves to prepare to toss cantrips which couldn’t hit friends from behind the battle lines, but instead, they simply braced for the charge. Even if it could injure, or kill a few of his men, the beast would die the moment they finished reloading, or in a charge from the reserves as the line broke apart.

  To his utter shock, Merrik, the goblin, leapt forward snatching up one of the light stones on the ground and hurled it directly in the face of the charging monster, before screaming and fleeing back behind their lines. It wasn’t much, but the bright light directly at its face made the creature flinch and that gave them the time they needed.

  The second volley dropped the beast, ripping it apart. From across the vast cavern, they saw another ocean of light and could hear the snapping of guns. He’d been right the second time. There’d been at least two of the monsters. Fortunately, the two entrances weren’t directly across from one another, so they could target things over there without any missed shots potentially hitting their own men (though they could also simply aim up, over their heads, but though the 54th had drilled diligently with their weapons, with a handful of exceptions, they were not marksmen and their training was to aim chest high on a man, for the best chance of hitting the enemy). Unfortunately, the beast on the other side wasn’t in the light and they couldn’t see the blasted thing anymore than the desperately blind-firing group was managing on the other side.Rawlins’ men advanced quickly towards where the battle was clearly occurring as soon as they’d reloaded.

  There was probably a better solution, but the only one he could think of was to yell “Skirmish formation, spread out those lights! Fire at will as you have a target! Sergeant, keep Merrik with you and a stone handy, if he sees the thing, let us know where it is and throw a rock at it!”

  They advanced quickly across the cavern as more shots rang out, followed by screams as a rock burst near a man who was trying to advance out of the tunnel entrance and showered him in stones, sending him collapsing to the ground, screaming. The monster tried to rush into the light to grab him and got shot several times, retreating away, bleeding, but still throwing another stone at the soldiers in the light. This one sank into the rich soil underfoot and so didn’t shatter, accomplishing nothing.

  As they approached Trip raced out and pulled the other man back to the tunnel entrance where there was a flash of light and angry cursing as he was healed.

  More lights spun ahead of them, then Merrik yelled and pointed, flinging a stone which mostly went wide, but illuminated the beast in passing. Everyone who had a shot fired. Most went wide, but enough struck that the monster screamed and that let more men target the area, pouring on fire. More light stones flew, more shots were fired and it took Trip, Wilson, and Rawlins yelling “CEASE FIRE!” at the top of their lungs to end the barrage of bullets into a corpse. By the end of it, more than a hundred rounds had been fired.

  But both creatures were definitely dead and there were no fatalities, though several men were injured from shrapnel from the massive thrown stones and one of Trip’s men needed serious healing as she (as their monster proved to be) had ambushed them on the way out of the cavern, smacking one of them into the wall and crushing ribs. Only his own use of the Second Wind ability which allowed Fighters to heal themselves somewhat and rapid healing spells from the reserves had kept him alive. Another man had been injured by friendly fire as the assault team had fired to drive back the ambushing monster, fortunately the reserve group had two druids with both [Light] and [Cure Wounds] which meant that the operation which, back home, would have cost them at least two men dead and half a dozen or so injured, was completed with no cost except ammunition and spells. Well, and damage to a uniforms, most of which could be set right by a needle and thread, but one man had half his chest bare as the mace had ripped it away before pulping his ribs.

  Rawlins remembered after a moment that he was in full command here and ordered Trip to find he entrance to the Deep Dark, and secure it fully, while his own squad secured the entrance to the Giant Rat caverns beneath, while the reserves spread out light stones so they could inspect the entire cavern and make sure there were no more surprises. That took quite a bit of time, as the ladders up to the galleries were sized for goblins, not meant to bear an adult human man’s weight. Merrik volunteered to go up, confident there was nothing else up there. Or eager to show his courage, Rawlins couldn’t quite tell. All the goblin had was a pick. Instead, they brought out some rope and had him go up and lower it down, after tying it off.

  Each gallery was carefully searched and nothing was found, except quite a lot of mushrooms that Merrik was glad to see. By the time he returned, Rawlins and the goblin who had been guiding Trip, Keibel, had headed down to the Giant Rat pens...which proved not to be pens at all. There were massive mounds of waste that the rats tunneled through, but they came eagerly enough when Keibel whistled. They weren’t precisely domesticated the way dogs were, but since the goblins controlled the water supply, they were able to control them somewhat, training them to come when called and give up both milk and occasionally their lives, though the dumb beasts would tend to run away after one of their number was killed, they’d still come when called.

  It was lucky the goblin trapped down here when the monsters had come had removed the stopper which controlled the flow of water out of the cistern above. And lucky that the goblins above had noticed the drainage and swam down to block it at the other end. Which they’d continued to do daily for months, in the hope that their rats would survive below and be reclaimed. Hope which was now rewarded. And reminded Rawlins to use [Purify Food and Drink] before taking any food or drink from the goblins. No surprises up there, and Trip had secured the entrance, swiftly rebuilding at least a waist high barricade from the stone scattered around (or those stones that hadn’t been thrown at them) and had scattered light stones out into the tunnel. It lead downwards at a relatively sharp angle through solid stone. Some stones rolled further down, providing a clear line of sight until the tunnel turned sharply, cutting off line of sight.

  For the moment, that would have to be good enough. So far there were no surprises, until one of the men going through a giant pile of junk, having spotted a few glimpses of metal suddenly shouted and fell on his butt, clutching for his gun. Then there were more surprises. Or another surprise, it wasn’t entirely clear how he should refer to the discovery of a wailing two-headed baby, in a clear space within that junk, which was already the size of a goblin. That was a surprise, or surprises, but there was only one thing to do about it.

  AN: Ettins are two headed giants, famous for their filthy nature, stupidity and tendency for the heads to feud with one another. They generally only come together when a female hunts down a male in order to propagate the species. Here, they found themselves a nice place full of food to steal. Shame things went so wrong for them…

  Comments/critiques/corrections always welcome.