Cliff-climbing is treacherous for some, despite the aid of a well-anchored rope. Those bruised and battered stand watch while the more stealthy enter the caves, which prove cramped and dank, awash with stink. Hobgoblin guards lurk in the shadows, muttering guttural curses, armed with spears and bows. Will they spill out like ants, pushing the party to their doom, or is there a light at the end of this tunnel?
Music provided by Andreas Lundström and Heimat der Katastrophe
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