Dust and blood clouded Grunkh’s vision even as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the mine. He had avoided the collapsing of the entrance and now ignored the minor cuts he suffered from its shrapnel. The slave woman had not been so fortunate…
Grunkh looked to the rubble that had been the Old Dwarf Mine entrance and saw only the slave woman’s arm – the rest of her crushed beneath tons of stone. Though he had not known the woman, he had taken it upon himself to save her and now she lay dead. Grunkh turned as goblin guards, hobgoblin taskmasters and bugbear enforcers came to investigate the explosion. What they saw was a near naked savage with grim aspect.
Rage and hate arose in Grunkh’s heart the like of which he had not known since his youth in the wilds of the Western March. The goblins closed in, having great experience in brutalizing men and women slaves weakened by hunger and despair, but that is a far different thing than facing a wild-eyed Gael consumed with fury and bloodlust… far, far different.
Grunkh did not curse, but instead let out a roar as he leapt into the midst of the goblins with his greatsword Aecris as if only blood could quench the fire of his frenzy. In wide arcs and cleaving slashes the thirsty sword rose and fell with the sound of a butcher’s cleaver as blood and gore splashed the mine walls. Grunkh was oblivious to the dozens of goblins that continued to pour from deeper within the mine and instead only piled corpse upon corpse until it became no longer a battle, but a slaughter.
After some time, the tide of enemies stopped and the gurgling cries of the dying soon dwindled away to nothing. As the haze of Grunkh’s rage fled him, he looked upon the gory travesty that only vaguely resembled the force of goblins it once was. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he took a torch from the wall and plunged forward into the mine.