Return to Blackwater

Grashok and his companions made their way back through the winding dungeon tunnels, the path dimly lit by the flickering glow of torches mounted along the walls. The air was damp and heavy — and so was the mood, weighed down by the conversation still unfolding between them. Snippa, her brow furrowed with a mix of determination and concern, led the discussion.

“The Blackwater is too important to leave unchecked,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “If the Ratkin regroup, they’ll use it as a foothold. We need to understand what they’re planning before it becomes a threat.”

Grashok’s steps slowed, his face darkening as he processed her words. "I don’t like the idea of you going back there, Snippa," he said finally, his deep voice rumbling through the corridor. "It’s dangerous. We’ve just barely survived the last encounter."

Snippa didn’t flinch. “That’s exactly why we can’t ignore it. Waiting only gives them time to prepare. If we move now, we stay ahead of the danger.”

Nyxie, bouncing lightly on her feet a few steps behind, piped up with a grin. “She’s right, Big Boss! We need someone sneaky and smart out there watching the Blackwater. And unless you’ve suddenly learned how to tiptoe, Snippa’s our best bet.”

Grashok came to a halt, his towering frame blocking the narrow passage. He turned to face Snippa directly, frustration and worry warring in his eyes. “Careful or not, it’s a risk. You’re too valuable to lose.”

Snippa met his gaze steadily, her voice softening but never wavering. “I know the risks better than anyone. I trained the scouts. I know the terrain. And I won’t be alone. We’ll do this properly, for the clan.”

“For the clan,” Grashok echoed, though his tone continued to carry a worried edge. “You’re carrying my child, Snippa. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Snippa blinked, taken aback for only a heartbeat before her expression settled into something warm and resolute. “It means everything to me, Grashok. That’s why I’m doing this. Our child deserves a future where the clan is safe and strong. If we ignore the Blackwater, we put that future at risk.”

Sylrith stepped forward, her silver hair catching the mana light like a blade’s edge. Her voice, when she spoke, was measured and respectful, carrying the weight of someone who had survived far worse. “My Lord, Snippa speaks truth. She is the most capable among us for this task. To send another in her place would be to invite greater danger. Her judgement is sound.”

Grashok’s jaw tightened. “And if something happens? If she doesn’t come back?”

Nyxie stepped closer, planting her fists on her hips. “Then we go get her, obviously! But she’s not reckless, Big Boss. She’s Snippa. She’ll do it right.”

Grashok turned back to Snippa, his expression softening despite himself. “You’ve proven your courage a hundred times. This isn’t about doubting you. It’s about what it would cost us if we lost you.”

He hesitated, the next words slipping out quieter. “What it would cost me.”

Snippa’s eyes glistened, though her voice stayed steady. “I know. And I’m not planning on dying. But fear won’t keep the clan safe. Action will.”

Silence settled over the corridor, broken only by the distant drip of water. Finally, Grashok exhaled heavily and nodded. “Fine. But you stay in the shadows. No unnecessary risks. And if anything feels wrong, you come straight back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Snippa said, placing a hand over his. “We’ll be careful.”

Grashok’s shoulders eased, though the tension never fully left his face. He squeezed her shoulder gently. “You’re not just our best scout. You’re family. Come back to us.”

Snippa gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I will.”

With a reluctant sigh, Grashok opened his character sheet again, navigating swiftly to the War Chief tab. The familiar Expeditions section glowed with latent potential. He tapped into it, dragging Snippa’s name into the lead slot, followed by a small detachment of goblin scouts. Their stats, loadouts, and support roles flicked into place. He reviewed the cost—modest, but not insignificant—and with a firm press of his finger, clicked Launch Expedition. A subtle vibration pulsed through the stone beneath his feet as the system registered the deployment.

As the group continued their journey back to the main hall, the atmosphere lightened slightly, though the weight of the decision still hung heavily in the air. When they reached the main entrance, Snippa excused herself, explaining that she needed time to prepare and gather the scouts. She disappeared into one of the side passages, her footsteps echoing briefly before fading into the distance. Grashok watched her go, his expression pensive, before turning his attention back to the main hall. The group lingered there for a while, their conversation shifting to lighter topics as they waited for her return. Eventually, the sound of quiet, purposeful steps drew their attention, signalling that Snippa had rejoined them, now accompanied by a small band of scouts. The scouting group gathered near the exit, their gear packed, and their expressions a mix of determination and quiet resolve. Snippa stood at the head of the group, her figure straight and poised, though her eyes flicked back to Grashok as if sensing his gaze.

Grashok’s heart tightened. His earlier words of reassurance felt hollow as he watched her step into the role she had argued for so passionately. Despite his trust in her abilities, an uneasy dread lingered in his chest. He approached the group, his heavy footsteps drawing their attention. Snippa turned, her gaze meeting his, and a faint smile touched her lips.

"Big Boss," she said, her tone both respectful and fond. "We’re ready to head out."

Grashok crossed his arms, towering over her. "Remember what you promised. No heroics. You see anything out of the ordinary, you come back."

Snippa nodded. "I remember. And I’ll keep my word."

The scouts murmured their assent, their trust in both Snippa and Grashok clear in their expressions. Grashok looked over the small band, each of them armed and dressed for stealth, their resolve evident despite the danger ahead. His gaze lingered on Snippa again, worry tightening his features despite his attempt to hide it.

Sylrith and Nyxie stood nearby, watching the exchange. Sylrith stepped forward first, her silver hair catching the dim light, her posture straight and composed. “She will return, My Lord,” she said, her voice calm and assured. “Snippa has strength enough for this task — more than you realise.”

Nyxie chimed in immediately, bouncing on her toes. “Yeah! Snippa’s tougher than half the dungeon put together. She’ll be back before you’ve even finished sulking, Big Boss.”

Grashok shot Nyxie a look, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He turned back to Snippa, placing a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. “Make sure you come back,” he said quietly, the emotion in his voice impossible to hide.

Snippa laid her hand over his, giving him a warm, steady smile — the kind that had soothed the tribe through far worse. “I will, Grashok. I promise.”

With that, she turned and led the scouts out of the dungeon. Grashok watched them go, their forms swallowed by the dim light of the forest beyond. A heavy silence followed their departure, broken only by the faint echoes of their retreating footsteps.

Sylrith stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, “She will return,” she said softly. “You have given her a home worth fighting for.”

Nyxie nodded vigorously beside her. “And she’s got the best scouts with her. Honestly, Big Boss, they’ll trip over each other trying to impress her before they let anything get close.”

Grashok nodded slowly, though his gaze remained fixed on the entrance. “She has to.”

He lingered there a moment longer, staring at the now‑empty threshold. The air felt colder without her presence, the faint light from outside seeming to dim as if echoing his unease. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself before finally turning away. Each step he took back into the depths of the dungeon felt heavier, burdened by a worry he couldn’t shake. Though the tunnels were familiar, their shadows seemed darker tonight, filled with the weight of her absence.