The bottle shatters against the goblin's face, The shards ripping into his cheek as he corkscrews backwards into a table.

"Clean that up!" His attacker commands.

Her fair skin, tall thin frame, and long ears mark her elvish heritage, her long robes and jeweled five star medallion denote her status as enchantress of the fifth order.

The goblin slowly picks himself up off the ground. He's used to such abuses, and begins cleaning up the broken glass. Blood seeping down his face.

"You're too slow!" She chants a small spell her voluminous blonde hair flowing outwards waving in response to the pure energy she's summoning.

The poor goblin does his best to relax his muscles knowing what's about to happen but it does no good. The lightning shoots forward and his body convulses. His flesh is covered with many charred spots where it's been struck before. He crumples to the ground once more.

"Must you treat him so unkindly?" Another woman pipes up. A halfling, her diminutive 3ft 2in form is slightly smaller than the goblin who is even now convulsing on the ground.

She wore fitted green pants and a chain shirt belted with a broad leather strip adorned with a small crossbow and rapier. The real tools of her trade rested in the various pouches around her thighs. Lockpicks, small hammers and the like used to gain entry into places normally forbidden.

"Don't tell me you pity him." The enchantress sneered.

A gruff female voice cuts in. "What Neara means is that if you insist on bringing the mudfoot you should make sure he can walk. Because I'm not carrying him."

The green skinned speaker was the largest at the table by far taller than even the elf and broad. Her thick arms and legs were covered in animal hide. She took only the barest of care with their placement. Covering her chest and groin to keep the civilized folk happy but displaying her well built torso. A massive greataxe within arm's reach. It's worn grip demonstrating it's regular use.

"If that's your only concern Morad then don't be. I'll kill him myself if he gets to be a bother."

"Aelua, look at him. You've beaten him near senseless. He'll only slow us down. Kill him before we leave town. It's faster to find a new one."

"I most certainly will not! Do you know how much effort capturing one took? They die so easy. Why blowing on one caused it to disintegrate!"

"Oh yeah!" Neara chuckles. "What'd you call that spell? Acrid Must? The look on it's face as it melted!"

"Acid Mist." Aelua corrects her ally. "And the farting sounds it made as it died" The party laughs at the memory.

"Though Celks liked the blood which is kinda weird" Morad stroked her chin.

The mention of the name stalls any further laughter. Suddenly the room grows colder as a dark settles over the table. A moment later Celks appears. Her pale skin, icy blue eyes and lips stand in stark contrast to the black and red attire. Her hair is white and straight. On her hip is a mace emblazoned with a one winged angel. The sign of her god.

"Blood is life! Life is suffering! To see that potential cut short is…" she licks her lips. "Invigorating."

The rest of the party is taken aback for a moment before Morad laughs, warming the mood.

"You're an odd one but I'll take it!" She raises a stein. "To looting, murder, and mayhem!"

The rest raise their glasses and drink.

"So Celks, you said you had a job?" Neara eyes her party member with interest.

"Yes, a magical item. You said." Aelua drums her fingers on the table.

"I did, Branth has shown it to me. The Gauntlet of Unmaking."

"Sounds powerful." Morad leans in unintentionally showing off her cleavage.

"Oh, quite!"

"So what does it do." Neara eyes gleam with greed.

"Rumors say it allows you to Unmake a person."

"Unmake a person?"

"Yes! All we can do is cut life short, or grind it down, but with The Gauntlet of Unmaking you can do far more! Imagine, turning your fiercest foe into a trusted ally, turning those holier than thou witches." She curled her lips in disgust. "Into true believers of Brandth."

"I don't like this." Neara narrows her eyes. "Seems like the kind of treasure that would turn parties against each other."

"My god commands all her followers to search for it. The reward is the spoils of the dungeon. She has shown me there is much treasure. We are but one of many searchers."

"So most likely we won't find it." Morad nods in understanding.

"No, but even so the treasure haul is vast." Celks assures her teammates.

"I say we do it. Think of the power!" Aelua looks to her teammates.

"I'm in." Morad agrees.

"Can't afford to lose out on treasure." Neara excitedly nods.

"Mudfoot!" Aelua yells at the goblin picking up shards of glass.

"Y,yes!" He squeaks.

"You didn't say ma'am!" Her hand crackles with magic as he shrinks back.

"Aelua." Morad growls. "Remember our bargain. We'll kill him if he's too slow."

"Right. Of course." the crackling fizzles away "Pack my things!" The goblin flees the room in terror.

"Why do you keep him? Brandth would appreciate the sacrifice." Celks asks, her hand stroking the one winged angel.

Aelua smirks. "Kill a goblin, all you have is a dead goblin, crush a goblin's will and you can see its despair for months or years. And if you ever grow tired or bored of it. You can always make a dead goblin."

"Have you considered joining Brandth? You'd fit right in."

"If there's power then I'm in."

"If the treasure is as big as you say I'd join." Neara chuckles.

"Same here." Morad nods.

"Then a toast is in order!" Celks summons four skeletal mugs. Inside each a red ichor.

"What is this?" Aelua sniffs the mug.

"Oh a bit of this and a bit of that, I got it from the owners daughter."

The party toasts and drinks. Spending the remainder of the night debating over what they'd do with the treasure they seemed certain to find.

The next day they, along with the mudfoot, leave town. It wasn't until that evening the owner finally found his daughter. Beheaded, drained of blood and half devoured.

The mudfoot struggled to keep up, his short stature did little to aid his speed. His hands tied to a saddle as the horse was forced as fast as possible as often as possible.

His feet were rubbed raw, his wrists swollen and bloody. The party finally untied him in the evening but only to laugh as he struggled to walk and delighted at his futile attempts to crawl. His wrists and feet were in searing pain.

They demanded he make them dinner, then beat him when he took too long, then Aelua magicked up a feast, allowing their captive only the most unsavory of table scraps.

That night the goblin curled into a ball and cried himself to sleep.

He awoke the next day to a sneering Aelua. "Can't have you get too weak, Celks! Heal him!"

“As you wish.” She grinned wickedly as her spells mended his wounds. She knelt close to him and whispered “Your suffering is truly delicious.”

"Actually I was going to use him in the dungeon. It's an easy way to check for traps." Neara chimed in.

"Hah, I like the way you think." Morad said as she prepped the horses. "My money's on a fire trap getting him."

"Nah, arrow for sure." Neara never one to let a bet go answered.

"Perhaps something slower a spear trap? I've heard people can live for days with those."

"I hope Acid Mist." Aelua added

"What happened to all the bellyaching about keeping him alive?"

"Oh, I'm tired of him now. You all can do whatever you like with him."

"Hear that Mudfoot, you're going to be an adventurer!" Neara teased.

They all laughed as they lashed him to horse and once again his torture continued.

A week later and they had arrived.

The cave itself was unassuming. Remains of various camp sites littered the site. It had played host to many other travelers before them.

"I don't like the looks of all this foot traffic. You sure this is the spot?" Neara began checking the area.

"Positive. You can't expect a dungeon like this to be out in the open can you?" Celks dismounted and walked briskly to the back of the cave, taking no heed of just how dark the back of the cave became. She felt along a back wall before finding her prize.

"Ah, there you are!" A moment later a loud rumble was heard as the cave wall slid back revealing a long stone hallway. The pale flames in the braziers lighting up the back of the cave.

"Oh this is gonna be FUN!" Morad growled.

"ah, ah, ah" Neara stopped the barbarian. "We have a bet remember?"

"Yes, we do!" Aelua cut the goblin loose and shoved him towards the door.

He tumbled to the ground his wrists and legs once again raw and blistered. Unable to support even his meager weight.

"Well get going!" She commanded.

He attempted to rise but the best he could manage was a crawl. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he couldn't help it.

"Oh what a weakling!" Morad scoffed. "If this is his pace we're gonna be here a long while! Can we speed this up!"

"Oh certainly!" Celks healed him. "There little goblin, now you can't say we aren't being a good sport about this."

He cowered for a moment. Unsure of whether or run away or towards the dungeon.

"Move your ASS!" Morad roared he squaked as his legs carried him away into the dungeon.

"Try to die to an arrow!" Neara called after the goblin as he ran further away from his captors down the long unknown hallway that would only certainly lead to his doom!