*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Iron Confederacy*
Demir was now twenty years old, worn out, with so places of his armor completely gone and replaced with leather patches. He pulled a wooden cart filled with raw tal, having dragged it all the way from his outpost where seventeen people now lived. They'd been mining that opening for months and selling every piece to the dwarves.
So far, they'd invested all the earnings in better mining equipnt and the needs of the community. But this ti, Demir was determined to replace the missing pieces of his armor. "One wrong swing from a bear and I'm dead. One lucky head toss from a boar and I'm crippled. I need to be in top shape," he thought.
Demir reached the Ironfell stairs. He hailed the guard at the top operating the dieval lift for traders.
"Adrem, pull the lift! I have a new batch to sell!" he shouted, pulling the rope.
While going to the top of the cliff and inside the city, Demir was calculating how many pieces of armor he could replace. Lost in those daydreaming thoughts, he saw Moradin's small shop. He didn't want to pass by without saying hello.
"Hello, old man! Wake up - custors are fleeing away!"
Moradin was sleeping in his chair, startled by the comnt. "Where? Who's running?" Then he saw Demir laughing. "Don't kid , boy."
"Where's your son? He should take care of the shop. You're old now - you should rest."
"I'm not that old. Middle-aged for a dwarf, I am. Sent the kid with the caravan to the Kingdom of Satar. They promised good profits. What do you got there?"
Demir raised the cloth over his cart filled with different colored tals. "I think we even have a gold chunk there."
"They won't buy it."
"What?"
"The Confederacy has a new supplier now. Big one, they told ."
"Supplier? What?"
"Keep up, kid. There's a new supplier selling incredibly cheap reserves. Raw materials are now so cheap that most miner veterans in our mines retired."
"What do you an? We dug this for a week. I carried it for four hours here."
"Go ask yourself."
Demir left the cart and ran to his usual officer of the Confederacy. The dwarf shook his head, confirming Moradin's words. Demir was devastated. The small comfort from mining and selling was gone in an instant. He went back to Moradin.
"Sorry, kid. There's a new world now, and power, politics, trade - all changing. I can't buy those, but I can give you piece of mind. Leave this place. And I don't an our city. Leave your outpost, leave the Iron Confederacy. Big moves are happening, and I don't like it."
He leaned toward Demir and whispered, "Go to low-level areas, like you people keep saying."
Demir tried to understand what Moradin said, but the words flew by him. Leave the outpost he'd built over the last four years? Abandon sixteen other people? He had no way of inco now. No place to get drops, and now he couldn't sell the mining extracts. Big movents were happening in the world. Things were changing, Moradin said. Who could supply more ore to dwarves than the dwarves themselves? He had no idea, but since there was no patch to stop these irregularities, anything could happen, he guessed.
Demir waved goodbye to Moradin and started pulling his cart back to the ruins of the amphitheater he called ho.
When he arrived at the outpost, he noticed strange things - irregularities. Sothing seed off from afar. But when he ca really close, he saw the truth.
Everything they'd built over the last four years was broken down. Smashed to pieces. The cobbler shop, carpenter area, their inn, and small shacks - all destroyed. He dropped the cart and ran to the scene. No one was there. No one to be seen. He looked around - they'd been attacked, but there was no blood.
Demir checked every inch of the outpost. Everyone's personal stuff was scattered around. That indicated they hadn't run from a threat. Also, there was no blood. No one's belongings were stolen, so they weren't pillagers.
"Even if they were pillagers, what could they take from poor people like us?"
He sat by the door and part of the broken wooden wall of the inn, thinking about what he could do. Then he heard a crackling sound. He perked up and drew his sword. He'd been sharpening and keeping it in good shape - his second sword. A shadow was creeping toward the gate.
He imdiately took his place along the side of the door, ready to strike.
Then a man entered, and Demir put his sword behind the stranger's neck.
"Who are you?"
"Don't harm , please. My na is Marco. Marco Fray. I am a player like you."
"What are you doing here? How are you the only survivor?"
"Please, young man, lower your weapon." Marco looked with afraid eyes. He wasn't that old, but the four years stuck in the ga had taken their toll on him. He was extrely thin and looked very weak.
"All right, sit down." Demir lowered his sword but didn't turn his back on the stranger or the broken door.
"I survived mostly alone the last four years. Stealing scraps, trying to live in small NPC towns."
Demir interrupted. "Locals. Don't call them NPCs. Maybe that's why they didn't want you."
"I heard from so people about a human outpost, and I've been searching for a place like this for months. When I arrived a couple hours ago, there were goblins with beasts. I imdiately hid near a rock and saw—"
"Saw what?"
"They took everyone as slaves."
"Goblins here? It shouldn't be. Taking slaves?"
"Exactly. They shouldn't even be here. Their chiefdoms are almost 100 kiloters east. Taking slaves here and taking them there is stupid. Too much work." Marco kept staring at the dried ats hanging from Demir's belt.
"You seem hungry. Here, take this." He gave the dried at and took out bread from his satchel, giving him half. Marco started gobbling it up. He was clearly underfed and had no ti to enjoy the food.
"Did you see which way they went?"
Marco took a breath from eating and said, "Yes. I followed them a little from afar. If we avoid east, we'll be fine. But most likely they'll co back here. We should leave imdiately."
"What are you talking about, avoiding? Show where they went. I'm gonna get my friends back."
"Get them back? Are you crazy?"
"Yes, I am crazy. Crazy to get my friends back."
"With that gear? What level are you? Can't be more than 30. How many can you take down - fifty? You can't even kill their boss."
Demir lowered his head. He didn't think about that - so many goblins must be crowded, he thought. He couldn't take down five goblins, let alone their boss. The gear had covered his ass for the last four years, but it was on the verge of total failure.
"I am level 12, but it doesn't matter. I need to get my friends back."
"If you wish to kill yourself or get captured, it's your business. I can show you the way. With level 12, you can't even win 3 to 1."
---
The forest path was quiet, only the crunch of gravel and Demir's leather creaking breaking the silence. Marco trailed behind him, hunched, constantly glancing over his shoulder. The man looked half-ghost already, but his eyes burned sharp when Demir ntioned leaving him.
He clearly didn't want to be left alone. Even afraid, he followed Demir.
Two hours later, the sll reached them first: burnt iron, charred flesh, smoke thick with unwashed bodies. Then the sound - hamring, snarling laughter, chains clinking in uneven rhythm. They crouched low in the brush, peering over a ridge.
Below, the goblin burrow yawned open from a cliff face, a black wound in the rock. But it was more than a cave. Crude wooden scaffolds wrapped the entry, smoke drifting from squat chimneys. Small shacks leaned against the stone, and fires belched from makeshift forges where slaves bent over molten ore. Mostly humans, so unrecognizable races, even two elves, their hands bound to poles, shoveling slag into pits. Demir recognized the twins - Timmy and Sin, seventeen years old, bowed and working like everyone captured.
Other goblins were trying to raise palisade walls around the entry, but it was just a starting stage.
Demir's jaw tightened. "They've... built a camp. An industry."
Marco spat quietly. "Not just a camp. A hive. This isn't random raiding - this is expansion. Soone's feeding them designs, tools. Goblins don't set up slters on their own."
Demir scanned the scene. Half a dozen goblins patrolled outside, ard in mismatched gear. One lounged near the forge, his rusted breastplate catching the firelight. Another had a dented steel helt strapped crookedly on his head. Their armor, though ragged, looked sturdier than Demir's whole kit.
Marco was wearing strange spectacles. He nudged Demir. "That one. Breastplate. Helt. They're low-grade - E at best - but still leagues above your scraps. Everyone's gear is decaying. Only locals are supplying gear. Your special edition S is now F-grade, barely holding together. If you want to last five minutes, you'll need theirs."
Demir blinked. "You can tell? Just by looking?"
"Goblins can't make that quality unless Realmforge gave them, and they look new. Those are dwarf-made. Not their best job, but they must be sending ingots and getting gear."
"You sure?" Demir asked. That ant the mystery supplier to the Confederacy was goblins.
Marco gave a bitter half-smile. "I was a tester. Realmforge paid to test level 35 bugs in their systems before the last expansion. I know how to read quality by weld lines, by shine, by weight of movent. Spent years cataloging loot tables no one rembers now."
Demir looked again, this ti with new eyes. The goblin's plate wasn't just rusty junk; the way it sat on his fra showed reinforced leather backing. The helt's dull gleam ant so coating had resisted years of gri. Gear worth killing for.
He tightened his grip on his sword. "Then we take them. Quiet. Tonight."
Marco's eyes widened. "You're insane. You charge in and we'll both end up in chains."
"I am not gonna charge." Demir's voice was steady now, sharper than Marco had heard before. "We will wait for night. Two sentries outside first. Strip them. Use their own shadows to slip inside."
The older player stared at him a long mont, then exhaled, defeated. "Gods help , you sound like one of them. Fine. But I'm not dying for your hero story."
When night ca, the camp dimd. Goblins gathered around fires near the forges, leaving only two sentries pacing the outer watch. Demir and Marco crept low through the brush, the ruins of his armor wrapped in rags to dampen the tal's clink.
They waited until one goblin wandered too far from the firelight, scratching at his chin. Demir surged forward, sword flashing in the dark, his hand clamping the goblin's mouth before the steel slid into his chest. The creature twitched once, then sagged. Demir took his helt.
Marco, shaking, lunged at the second with a rock, caving in the back of its skull in a sickening crunch. He stood there panting, eyes wide, blood splattering his thin hands.
Demir didn't hesitate. He yanked the breastplate free and took the sentries' weapons. "No more scraps," he muttered, strapping the armor to his chest.
The forge fires still roared in the distance. Beyond them, the slaves shuffled, chains rattling. Demir's friends could be among them. He pressed low into the shadows, breath tight but focused.
Demir hunched low, rags tight around his fra, every step asured. The forge light flickered across the crude palisade, stretching shadows long. He slipped past the sleeping slaves until he found two familiar faces - two young blondes curled together under a filthy blanket.
"Shh... Timmy. Don't talk loud. It's - Demir," he whispered, crouching.
Timmy's eyes widened, tears welling instantly. "Oh my gods... Demir."
"Where is everyone?"
"Everyone's inside the cave. It's huge - they carved it into a mine. They kept us out here to work the smithies."
His twin stirred at the sound. Sin blinked, then hissed, "Demir? You're mad coming here - shh!"
"How do I get to them?" Demir asked, voice tight.
Timmy almost broke into sobs. "You can't! There are hundreds in there. Leave us - save yourself!"
Demir swallowed hard, his knuckles white around the stolen sword. For a long mont he said nothing, just breathing with his eyes shut. Then:
"No. I'm not running alone. You're coming with . I am not leaving anyone like I left Aris."
He pressed the looted dagger and short sword into their hands. "Free yourselves with these. I'll handle the fire."
Demir rose in a crouch, moving toward the ring of goblins laughing and spitting by the campfire. His steps were soundless until the last two strides - then he lunged. The blade cut deep into the first goblin's neck before the creature even turned. Sparks flew as another snarled and raised his cleaver. Steel t steel, clangs echoing through the night.
The camp exploded into chaos. Timmy and Sin worked fast, slashing at the ropes binding their wrists, then those of the other slaves. Chains clattered as cages swung open, gaunt prisoners stumbling free. So ran imdiately into the treeline, others froze in shock.
Two goblins rushed Demir from opposite sides. He ducked low, parrying one, his shoulder catching the other's gut. The clash of iron on iron echoed sharp - clings, clungs, louder and louder.
Then Sin, wild-eyed, struck from behind with the short sword, stabbing one goblin through the ribs. Timmy grabbed a rusted hamr from a slave and smashed it down on another's skull.
Marco appeared from the shadows, pale but ard with the dented helt and a scavenged spear. Together, the four of them pushed back against the ring of five goblins. The slaves - so emboldened - grabbed rocks, sticks, even broken chains, striking out with desperate fury.
When the last goblin fell choking in the dirt, silence lasted only a breath. Then ca the sound - a rising chorus of snarls and barking orders deep within the cave. Dozens. Maybe more.
Demir's face drained of color. "They've heard."
Timmy's hand clutched his arm. Sin grabbed the keys from a dead goblin's belt, unlocking the last cage door. Most of the freed slaves bolted into the forest, vanishing like deer.
"Run!" Marco shouted, voice cracking.
Together - Demir, Marco, Timmy, and Sin - fled into the tree line, hearts hamring, torches flaring behind them as goblins poured from the cave. They didn't stop until the ruined amphitheater lood ahead, the outpost's broken walls welcoming them like ragged arms.
For now, they were alive. But the war drums of the goblins echoed in the night, and Demir knew this was far from over.
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