The crumbling towers of Cragmaw Castle loomed above Ragnar, Erwen and Bob as they crept forward, wary of the arrow slits that would provide alert sentries with a wide field of fire. The trio headed towards the terraced front entrance of the ruined castle, where Ragnar thought he could see a gap in the thick outer walls. As the rogue and druid forged ahead in the fading light of late afternoon, Bob thought he saw movement in a vined overgrowth near the castle’s foundation. Was that a… spider ? Bob froze. Few creatures in Faerun, even ones that had magical abilities to augment their fangs, claws, and spikes, struck such terror in Bob’s heart as the spider. They didn’t have to be overlarge, either – the eight-legged freaks were utterly terrifying at their most common size. The man-eating variety? Well, they hardly bore thinking about when the tiniest of orb weavers caused Bob to break out in a cold sweat. It’s more afraid of me than I am of it it’s more afraid of me than I am of it it’s more afraid of me than I am of it Bob repeated to himself, willing one foot in front of the other as he slowly crept past the dark green bushes. In the northwestern tower, Varien saw the hobgoblin mercenary ready to let loose a holler for help, and he jumped down from his perch, casting hunter’s mark as he did so. He swung his new sword Talon at his hobgoblin quarry, who stood flatfooted and mouth agape before him. Sadly the acrobatics had thrown off his aim, and the sword whipped harmlessly over the creature’s head. Theryn jumped down gracefully beside Varien, and then put on an exaggerated look of consternation. “Now this isn’t where I hitched my horse!” He let his quarterstaff fly, only to have it carom off the shield of one of the hobgoblins standing before him. “I immediately regret this decision,” he said. “You should stop,” Varien hissed. The monk and the paladin charged into the melee, weapons raised. Outside the castle, Ragnar and Erwen mounted the steps, leaving Bob behind them. Ragnar crouched low to keep himself out of the view of the arrow slits in the tower adjacent to the main gate. Erwen didn’t need to crouch to keep himself out of view. Ragnar risked a look through the slit as he crept by. He spied a roomful of goblins, engrossed in a high-stakes game of knucklebones, tossing what looked like very fresh knuckles around on the group, winning and losing copper coin with each throw. Ragnar nodded sagely – he appreciated a good game of chance. Then he and the druid were standing before a pair of sundered wooden doors sheathed in corroded bronze, which at one time had been standing upright to bar the way. Now, their rotted planks lay on the flagstone floor, useless for defense. Ragnar turned to Erwen and motioned him to stop. He then breathed deeply, concentrating as he formed a humanoid shape in his mind. Reaching up, he pulled his reptilian face off as if it were an actor’s mask, revealing the elegant cheekbones and pallid skin of a female drow’s face. The disguise spell’s effect rippled over the rogue’s body, blurring and reforming his burly physique into the shapely form of a high-born drow who had absolutely no time to suffer fools. He cocked his new rounded hips and kicked out a leg. Erwen nodded and wildshaped into the form of a giant hyena, and padded over to the drow’s side as if he were the woman’s animal companion. Ragnar’s new, full lips pursed in appreciation. Bob realized he was alone at the base of the front steps to the castle and hastened to catch up to his companions. He mounted the steps, catching sight of the arrow slits near him. He slowed down and moved with as much stealth as he could muster. From across the terraced courtyard he heard a surprised voice shout “What the-!” An arrow shot out from the slit in the opposite tower, striking Bob in the chest. The sorcerer cleric bit back a scream of pain, and instead stumbled towards the safety of the arched entryway before more arrows could begin pinning him to the flagstones. He half-ran, half-stumbled over the broken wooden doors and stopped short as he took in the female drow standing beside a hulking hyena. The drow spoke in an overdone accent that Bob couldn’t place. “Are you saving dat arrow for laturrr?” She pointed to the arrow sticking out of Bob’s armor. “Do you zink it mahkes you look cool? Because it does naht.” Bob recognized Ragnar’s voice coming from the feminine mercenary standing before him. “What the?” The drow shifted her weight and began sashaying through the front entrance. “Vat, isn’t dis a proper drow accent?” Ragnar-Drow marched into the gloomy interior of the castle with Erwen-Hyena at his side. There were sealed wooden doors banded in iron to the north and south, with a broad corridor leading east to a set of double doors. The flagstone floor was littered with piles of rubble and masonry from the castle’s degraded roof. A smaller door lay to Ragnar’s immediate right that corresponded to the archer’s antechamber near the main gate. He pulled a sword from his satchel of loot and promptly jammed it into the frame to wedge it shut from the outside. Erwen-Hyena’s ears pricked up as he heard the sound of running feet from beyond the southern door across the main foyer. His lips curled back from his sharp teeth in a snarl. Theryn and Varien were quickly learning that the hobgoblin mercenaries were professionals. Their leader, a hulking brute whose skin was crisscrossed with battle scars, barked orders at his minions, who were keenly skilled in the use of their weapons. Both the monk and the rogue were bleeding from slashing wounds before they could inflict some pain of their own. One of the hobgoblins disengaged and lunged for the door, intent on raising the alarm. Varien slashed at him furiously as he ran through the door. Varien and Theryn were back to back, fending off the swords of their enemies. “Tell me, monk,” Varien said in between gasps of breath and swings of sword. “What does your order teach regarding strategic retreats?” Theryn launched a haymaker at the hobgoblin captain, which failed to land. Varien took the monk’s silence as consent and lunged through the open door after the hobgoblin. He found himself chasing the humanoid through what looked like a storeroom and barracks, complete with freaky doll-like totems tucked into the filthy bedrolls on the uneven stone floor. Bob ran after his disguised comrades as they moved deeper into the castle’s interior. The drow turned to him. “Ahh will say that ahh saw dem first,” she said. Bob shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re saying!” Then he cocked his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ragnar-Drow opened the door to the north and strutted through, coming face to face with the retreating hobgoblin. “Vat is all dis commotion!” Ragnar-Drow shouted at the hobgoblin, who skidded to a stop and stood staring at her, mouth open. The hobgoblin struggled to find the right word in Common as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “M-milady, there are intruders in the castle, and I was about to-” “Nonsense!” Ragnar-Drow shouted. “Look at ze state of dis place! I will intrude upon yer arsehole if you do not clean zis room immediately!” The hobgoblin’s jaw dropped further. “B-but milady-” “Get yourself a mop and clean zis floor until ah can et off it!” Varien rushed into the room from the other side and also skidding to a halt, goggling at the sight of the drow speaking with Ragnar’s voice. Inside the barracks, Theryn dodged a blow from a greatsword. “Brother,” he shouted to Varien, who he assumed was still standing at his back. “We must hold out a little longer! Together, we can-” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Varien running away into the next room. Theryn turned back to the hobgoblins and lowered his quarterstaff. “Heyyyy, fellas,” he said. Then he slapped the hobgoblin captain across the face and bolted after his companion. “Hey Varien, you forgot your keys!” The four hobgoblins gave chase into the storeroom. Ragnar-Drow reached out a hand and cast eldritch blast as a warning shot, striking the floor in front of the hobgoblins like a glowing purple strand of spider web. The group of hobgoblins halted, dumbfounded. Erwen-Hyena dashed forward and blocked the hobgoblins’ path. Bob whirled as he heard the sound of a door slamming open to the south. A trio of goblins rushed into the main hall of the castle, scimitars swinging. Bob took a deep breath and shouted at the approaching goblins. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He indicated the arrow still sticking out of his armour. “All I was trying to do was deliver a message to your King! Stop shooting!” One of the goblins dropped his weapon while his companions looked a little confused as Bob continued to berate them. “That lady Drow won’t be happy when she hears that I was attacked for simply delivering a message from Cragmaw Cave,” Bob said. One of the goblins scratched his head. “B-But Yeemik just came here from the hideout and said that there were some humans coming to storm the castle.” Bob backed up towards the northern chamber and called out. “Hey, Lady Drow, these goblins mooks were shooting at me!” Varien ran across the storeroom and hauled open the next door. A sulfurous smell assaulted his nostrils and he stopped short, gaping. Three goblins knelt before a stone altar in the middle of a darkened chamber. The altar was covered with bloodstained black cloth. Golden ritual implements – a chalice, a knife, and a censer – were carefully arranged on top of the altar. To the south, two archways were covered with heavy curtains. The air was thick with cloying smoke billowing out of the censer, as though the small bowl was a fiery furnace. The lead goblin, his body adorned with crude totems, braided scalps, and bloody feathers, was chanting in a profane tongue unfamiliar to Varien, whose spirit recoiled at the blasphemous atmosphere of the dark ceremony. The paladin clamped down on his urge to put an end to the sacrilegious ritual and quietly pulled the door closed. He turned back to the unfolding confusion in the storeroom. He heard Bob calling out from the room to the south and gripped Talon tightly, steeling himself for the melee that was to come. Bob rushed into the room ahead of the two goblins who were now chasing him rabidly. Ragnar-Drow slapped the first hobgoblin hard across the face. “What is all dis violence? Do you naht know who I ahm?” The hobgoblin rubbed his face incredulously. The Hobgoblin Captain strode into the midst of the battle and shouted, “What is the meaning of this?” Ragnar-Drow whirled to face the captain. “Dolt! Wretch! Dog! Ah ahm escorting these guests to your Kang, and dis is how you treat us?” Ragnar-Drow cast eldritch blast and encircled the hobgoblin next to the Captain with a tangle of incandescent webbing that began constricting around him, draining the life from him. The hobgoblin screamed as he withered and shriveled. The scream was cut short as the hobgoblin disappeared into a puff of gas and brittle hunks of dried flesh. “I don’t care how powerful your master is,” the Hobgoblin captain drew himself up to his full height and brandished his greatsword. “Nobody talks to Captain Slarg that way. Nobody.” He swung his greatsword at Ragnar-Drow. Ragnar tried to steal distance and get to safety, but lost control and hurtled across the storeroom, materializing amid sacks bulging with what smelled like rotten meat. The sacks promptly burst under his weight, showering him with gore. “Why Ah never!” Ragnar-Drow shouted in rage as he tried to find his footing, instead slipping in the puddle of rotting meat at his feet. He fought back the urge to vomit. “Ugh, is dis meat rotten or somethang?” The last two hobgoblins looked at one another. “If Captain Slarg says it’s okay to kill you, then okay, we’ll kill you!” The first one shouted, raising his sword. Theryn rushed at the Hobgoblin Captain, missing with his staff and then failing to land two additional punches. He stood there in front of the sneering soldier and twirled his staff in embarrassment. The Captain swung his sword at Theryn, cutting the monk open across his chest. Theryn staggered back. One of the hobgoblins stood over Ragnar-Drow and plunged his sword down, missing the rogue by a hair but goring a sack of meat quite bloodily. Ragnar-Drow let out a shrill scream anyway, writhing on the ground as if in great pain. Erwen-Hyena leapt forward and bit down on the nearest Hobgoblin, shredding his flesh with his needle-like teeth. The hobgoblin died screaming. Bob cast shield  as two goblins swung their scimitars at him. For a split-second his body was outlined in the shape of arcane armor, and the goblins' swords clanged off the invisible force that protected him. Varien raised Talon and transferred his hunter’s mark to the goblin menacing Ragnar. He buried the sword deep in the humanoid’s side. Bob broke out into a dance routine to distract the goblins as he cast heal wounds on Theryn. The goblins were unimpressed with Bob’s moves. “Eh, I’ve seen better,” the captain grumbled. The hobgoblin standing over Ragnar-Drow raised his sword to deal out a death blow. Ragnar lashed out with his daggers, driving them deep into the creature’s chest. The hobgoblin’s victory laugh was cut short as he died on his feet, pitched backwards to land on the floor with a wet thud. Theryn tried to attack the hobgoblin captain again, missing with his staff, but he managed to get an uppercut in on the humanoid. Varien found himself fending off a furious attack by one of the hobgoblins. Erwen-Hyena chomped down on the creature’s sword arm. One of the goblins stabbed Bob, who turned around, fire in his eyes. The sorcerer began casting scorching ray , sending bolts towards each of the enemies. As each ray struck home, Bob punctuated the blasts with a shout. “This is what you get for not liking my dancing!” Ragnar got to his feet and hexed the Hobgoblin Captain as he moved behind Varien’s shield. He tried to lash out with his daggers, but the captain managed to parry each blow. Theryn swung his quarterstaff but missed the Captain again. “That’s it, I’m just going to stand over here,” the monk said glumly. Erwen-Hyena rolled onto his back, laughing hysterically, kicking his legs into the air. The door to the south slammed open again, revealing a trio of goblin archers who had been following the first group of sentries, led by the goblin who had dropped his sword moments ago. Arrows were already nocked in their bows as they looked around for targets, taking in the chaos. Captain Slarg swung his greatsword at Erwen-Hyena but missed, and on the backswing, he accidentally lopped off the head of one of the goblins menacing Bob. The head bounced twice on the floor as the goblin’s body slumped to the ground. Bob was seized with inspiration. “Goblins!” He shouted, pointing at Captain Slarg. “Your Captain has betrayed you! Join us and fight back! Rise, good goblins!” The goblin archers looked at Captain Slarg, whose sword was still dripping with goblin ichor. “Now, listen here, fellows-” Slarg started. “We always knew you were a treacherous snake, Slarg!” one of the archers shouted. Slarg’s eyes widened. “Wait, what-” There was the sound of twanging bows as the archers let fly, plugging Slarg full of arrows. The Captain teetered sideways and sprawled headlong, his sword clanging on the floor. Erwen-Hyena’s cackles intensified. The fourth goblin turned to Bob, smiled a toothy smile, and then plunged his scimitar into him. “You asshole!” Bob shouted, casting chill touch on his attacker. A spectral hand flourished into existence and choked the life from the goblin, its necrotizing effect disintegrating the creature’s flesh. Ragnar-Drow got to his feet. “Congratulations, my goblin friends,” he said, wiping meat from his outfit. “You are brave, and for your bravery you shall be rewarded with promotions.” “And double pay?” One of the goblin archers piped up. “Yes, double for you.” Ragnar-Drow said, moving the hex to another goblin. Theryn swung his quarterstaff overhand at the last hobgoblin, missing his body but landing a solid hit on the humanoid’s foot. The hobgoblin howled in pain, grabbing his injured foot and hopping backwards. He slipped on the pool of bloody meat in the centre of the room and fell back, hitting his head on the stone floor and dying. “I meant to do that,” Theryn said. “Here, hold my drink!” He spun around and crushed the skull of a nearby goblin. Erwen-Hyena leapt from the floor and savaged one of the goblin archers. The remaining goblins fired arrows at Theryn and Bob, striking Bob in the chest. One of the goblins chose to run, screaming “I gotta tell King Grol!” Varien hurled his javelin at the fleeing goblin, nailing the fleeing creature to the floor with a well-placed shot. Bob, blood streaming from his mouth, cast ray of frost but only struck the doorframe, which was suddenly fringed with a rime of hoarfrost. “Don’t worry, mah goblin comrades, Ah am here to halp!” Ragnar-Drow said, sidling up to one of the archers and then stabbing him in the back, killing him. Ragnar pulled off his magic disguise, revealing himself to the party. “It’s me, guys!” “We know,” his companions responded with a mix of weariness and annoyance. The remaining goblins began to retreat, but Theryn gave chase, attempting to pole vault with his bo staff. The staff dug into a gap between two flagstones and bent dangerously. “Uh oh,” Theryn had time to say before the staff flexed back and sent him flying in the opposite direction. Erwen dropped out of hyena shape and approached the barricaded door, which was jumping in its frame as the goblin sentries on the other side beat against it in an effort to get free. He pulled the sword from the door and opened it quickly, slipping into the room and standing before the quartet of confused goblins. Spying the tiny Halfling before them, they grinned and drew their daggers. “I’m not locked in here with you,” Erwen said. “You’re locked in here with me!” Then he wildshaped into the form of a bear, growing and growling as the goblins’ expressions turned from fury to fear. One of the goblins, a veteran of the earlier fight at the Cragmaw Hideout, knew what Erwen-Bear was capable of and immediately leaped for the arrow slit, squeezing through the narrow gap. Erwen-Bear’s teeth and claws began turning the remaining goblins into a fine red mist. Varien gripped his holy symbol and uttered a short prayer, readying himself to throw open the door to the chapel and disrupt the occult ceremony, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and hesitated. Bob glared at Varien as he held him back. “Focus, friend.” With his free hand, he indicated the goblin attacking Theryn in the southern hall. Varien nodded and put the ceremony out of his mind, charging into the hall and swinging Talon at the goblin attacker. Bob followed, stepping into the doorway and casting sacred flame . The goblin fell beneath their combined onslaught. Ragnar flicked out his knives and charged at the remaining goblin, stealing distance and diving right through the hapless creature. The rogue materialized a few feet beyond the goblin. “Heh, you missed!” the goblin said, turning around to follow the rogue. He raised his scimitar. “No, you’re already dead,” Ragnar said, showing the goblin his blood-soaked knives. The goblin looked down at his torso as blood began to spurt out of several wounds made as the rogue had teleported straight through him. The creature came apart at the seams, splashing blood everywhere. Ragnar walked heedlessly through the shower of gore towards his comrades. Theryn tried to open the door to the archer’s post but found that it was pushing up against something hairy, growling, and largely immovable. “Huh,” the monk said, closing the door again. Inside the room, goblin blood soaked the circular walls as Erwen-Bear roared and chomped, downing two of the archers without mercy. The remaining goblin panicked and tried to join his comrade who was wriggling his way through the firing slit. With a pop, the first goblin sprawled out onto the grass outside the tower wall. “Ha!” he shouted. “Gilbo the Nimble escapes again!” He dashed into the woods. From inside the castle, Varien suddenly felt like he'd been fooled again. Gilbo’s friend was halfway through the arrow slit behind him, his legs kicking fruitlessly as he became stuck in the tiny gap. Erwen-Bear grinned and opened wide, biting off both of the goblin’s legs in an instant. The top half of the goblin flopped forward and hung through the slit, dead. The forest breeze made the corpse’s arms wave like a gory battle flag in the fading daylight. Erwen-Bear spat out the green-skinned legs and let out a victorious roar. Ragnar grasped Varien’s hands and pulled them towards him. “Do your thing, do your thing,” he said. “I need me some heals.” Battered and bleeding, the party steeled themselves for the next encounter. Seized by inspiration, Ragnar picked up Slarg’s greatsword and cast disguise on himself, taking on the image of the fallen Hobgoblin captain. He stood at the door to the dark chapel, sword held over his shoulder. The rest of the party nodded and fell in behind him, ready to swarm through the breach.