Here they come...

"Footsteps! And usernames!" you hiss, spotting the telltale signs coming from a screen away. "Quick, hide!"

Dreary and murky as the swamp is, there isn't a lot of cover where you are, with the trees reasonably spaced apart and the morning mist fading. Still, you don't have a lot of choice either way, and in a matter of seconds both thrall and thug choose the thicker trunks they can find, aligning their positions against the trees as close as possible. The best you can manage is to huddle against a stump, and you grip the handle of your hammer as the voices get louder.

"Couldn't we have picked a different sidequest?" you hear one female say, followed by the unmistakable clunk of heavy armor. "Nymphs are one thing, but driders? We're not even properly leveled for that!"

"Which is why we're attacking them in their sleep, dumbass," another player sneers, this one male and haughty. "Why do you think I had these things enchanted against corruption, anyway? Besides, have you seen how much Griever's Water is going for? Imagine how much drider webbing fluid is going to sell. Hell, what about drider mounts? We could corner the black market on that!"

"So long as you know what you're doing. If you end up endangering us needlessly, don't count on me pulling your sorry ass out," mutters a third, this one a low alto that nearly borders on androgynous.

"Oh, please! When have I ever needed your help?" The male scoffs as he addresses his surly teammate. "You're a priestess, remember? If anything, you're the one relying on me to make sure your dainty little sensibilities don't get damaged."

"A decision I rue with each passing day," comes the grumbling reply.

"Guys, hold on!" The clunking of metal stops as does the players' advance. "...I don't think we're alone. It feels like there's a trap ahead." The three of you draw a sharp, silent breath.

"A tra - seriously, Duranda? We're not even halfway into the swamp! Who's going to lay a trap here?"

"There have been reports about griefers lately," notes the priestess. "It wouldn't hurt to be just a little cautious, Sylvanis."

"Please, Rynna! Have you forgotten you've got an elf in this team?" At this mention you glance at the thrall, who to your growing unease tightens her grasp on her axe so hard you can almost see her knuckles paling from the exertion. "I told you not to invest those skill points in Ranger skills anyway. If I say there's no trap, there's no trap!"

"But..." you hear Duranda whimper.

"Look, if you're so scared of a little damage, why not send Duranda ahead? She's the most damage resistant," Sylvanis suggests, with all the stereotypical sincerity of a crocodile.

"Why, you - "

"I'm just saying! She's got the best build to take on trap damage," comes the innocent reply. "Anyway, what could possibly happen to her that you can't heal back anyway?"

"...Ugh, fine! But just so you know, if anything bad comes out of this I am shoving you into the trap to join her!"

"It won't come to that. Trust me." You hold your breath as the three heroes travel past your location, heartbeat pumping in your mouth as you dearly hope your cover doesn't get blown - until you hear the telltale signs of heaving earth under pressure. A shrill scream pierces the swamp air, followed by jangles of metal. "Huh," Sylvanis remarks as he and Rynna stop in their tracks. "So there was a pitfall trap after all."

"You fucking asshat! You had your Detect skills turned off again, didn't you?!" snarls Rynna. "You cuntsucking - "

"Oh, will you relax?! Just look at her!" You see the two remaining heroes look over where Duranda plummeted into the thrall's trap. "Vagsuckers. Pshaw! Total low level spell. It's not like they can do anything to her."

"I wouldn't call this not like anything!" shrieks Duranda. "They're everywhere! Down my arms! Under my armor! Inside my - eeeeeeeek!"

"You realize she's only losing MP that she's not going to use, right?" The elf ranger pauses after the priestess shoots him a particularly murderous glare. "All right! I was kidding! Just give me a - "

"RAAAAAAAAGH!"

"What the fuck?!"

The yell is heard from both your party and the heroes' as the thrall makes herself known, charging out of her hiding place while brandishing her weapon. The elf only has time enough to turn around before the Bludgeon skill catches him across the pectoral, and he goes flying onto the grimy ground. "W-wh-wh- how dare you!" he exclaims, trying to scramble to his feet.

"What the hell is she doing?!" growls the Gritsheim thug. "I thought we were supposed to stick to the plan!"

"Come on, Sylvanis! What happened to making sure I didn't get damaged?!"

"Are you kidding?! Just look at that - THING!" he spits out the last word like a disgusting morsel in his mouth. "You've got light magic, you get her!"

"Oh, go munch on your own dick!" Fed up, Rynna turns to the seething half-troll, glyphs emerging from the folds in her cloak. "I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing, but you're gonna - "

"Smite!"

A brief explosion of clashing energies bursts in front of the thrall, safely dissipating into nothing before the bright blast can hit her. You breathe a gasp of air, trying your best to shake the numbness out of your arm, still unused to casting hate magic like that.

"Sylvanis?! This is going to hell real fast!"

"You okay?!" you try to ask, but pause when you catch a sight of the thrall's bloodshot glare, crimson vessels pouring into her violently purple gaze. "Uh... why don't you go after the - "

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!" "No! Keep that filth away from me!"

You stare after the two as the thrall goes after the shuddering archer before turning your attention back to the priestess. "Anari dammit, what the hell is going on here?!" she growls. "Thralls and gnome mages? Did the devs skip out on patches for DLC again? ...Fine, shortstuff! Give it your best shot!"

A moment of worry crosses your mind. As uninspiring as you probably seem, healers aren't usually aggressive, never mind the sort to taunt an opponent, but this isn't the time for analysis. Instinct guides your arms as you swing your hammer into the cleric, but she extends her longer staff at you. Your eyes bulge as she catches the underside of your hammer, cleanly knocking you aside and exposing your less protected flank.

"Gotcha, you slimy little - "

"Looking for me?!"

"What in the - "

The priest never finishes her sentence, as the Gritsheim thug slams into her out of nowhere. She tumbles onto the dirt, coughing and staggering to pick herself up as a sickly purple aura pulses around her; the hoodlum's Weak Poison taking effect. You catch the gaze of your partner, who returns the gesture with a knowing nod. "Do it!"

"Exhaust!"

"Guh!" No sooner than she raises her head, Rynna eats the dulling magic, followed by another mouthful of swamp grime. Cleanly, the thief scoops her up in his arms.

"W-w-w-wait! What are you - ?!"

"Alley-oop!" Smirking, the thug drops Rynna into the pit of vagsuckers. Instantly a fresh wave of screams are heard, alongside a sickly symphony of oozing and squelching.

"That take cares of that," grins the bandit. "...Hey, where'd Thrall go?"

"There!" you point, seeing the silhouette half a screen away. The two of you run towards the figure of the thrall wrestling the elf, hollering expletives into the dirt...