TROGLODYTES ARE SCAVENGERS, THE hyena of the monster world.

They don’t go looking for fights, preferring to come in after it’s over and pick off the remains of what lost. But they can look after themselves when necessary. They ain’t no wilting flower that’s to be sure.

Yet, at the same time, they startle easily and when given the choice, will run rather than fight. Which is why, when I fired, I aimed low and the bullet struck within inches of the thing’s big webbed feet.

It screamed and ran off through one of the side tunnels, it’s feet flapping against the slime-hardened floor.

I levered another round into the chamber and followed it on into the tunnel, sending another shot its way. But again, the purpose was to frighten, not kill. The thing didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t hurting no one. So I let it run and returned back to the room with the cages.

Sure enough, in one of the cages, I found a cat. It was fat, like it had been eating well. Which made sense. If a goblin pack had been using these cages to hold cats to eat, they would’ve been fattening them up. We do the same thing with cattle, so I ain’t judging.


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