“God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.” ― Walter de la Mare,

  The orcs, having finished their brief rest, regrouped as they prepared to proceed. Lugrub took the lead again, albeit moving a bit less smoothly as her bruised hip had stiffened a bit despite her stretches. I noted with some amusement that Lazgar had, despite his apparent nonchalance, watched those stretches fairly intently. I wasn’t sure if Lugrub had noticed, but I suspected she had or at least had hoped he would. I’d never really considered orc courtship practices, but if I had, I’d have probably assumed they were rather more direct. I’d have to watch my tendency to make racist assumptions based on otherworldly books and games, particularly given the variable quality of those media.

  To be fair, Lugrub and Lazgar weren’t being particularly subtle, but I suspected that came with the line of work they were in, as much as their race. As they started moving, I gave over pondering orcish romance in the context of plains tribes to focus on the adventuring side of things.

  I had the suspicion that Orbul and Shuzug, at least, had the sense they were missing the access to my core room, but were willing to let that slide, at least for the time being. Orbul had been casting silent glances in my general direction, suggesting that she could sense the mana flows moving in my direction. Shuzug, of necessity, was clearly aware that I’d moved my core from the first floor, and I suspected that his casual mapping was suggesting spaces where I might have tucked my core. Norfoth HAD said he was going to note I had an inaccessible hidden space, so I assumed he was keeping an eye out for it. As a dungeon inspector, it was also entirely possible that he had some means of detecting a core location; at least, if I’d been choosing or outfitting dungeon inspectors, that would seem like an obvious move. The complex system of latches for the door at least seemed to evade notice from Lugrub; I wasn’t sure if that was because they were well hidden, or because she had other things on her mind, currently.

  In any event, they were soon moving cautiously down the hall towards the paddock area, emerging from the hall into the thin stretch of gallery forest bordering the defined paddock. Their sharp eyes picked out the resident creatures quickly enough, and they were fully set and prepared by the time the boars noticed their incursion and began their approach at an irritated charge. They’d been unlucky enough that the boars were together and on the near side of the paddock; if not exactly coordinated, the effect was akin as they arrived nearly simultaneously and from the same general direction.

  Lugrub had fallen back behind the larger Lazgar and Ushug. Lazgar met one boar’s charge with his own counter charge, smashing his kite shield into hit target’s snout to solid effect. No permanent damage was done, but the boar lost its momentum and clearly looked dazed; leaving it open to a quick strike with his longsword. The boar wasn’t dead yet, but the blood loss suggested a critical strike that would leave it bleeding out after a minute or so.

  Ushug was even more direct, leaping over his own boar’s charge to smash his axe into its spine above its hind quarters. I was impressed with his timing, though his landing lacked grace and he’d been forced to release the axe through the sheer momentum of the forces involved.

  It did succeed in taking out the boar as a combatant, but wasn’t, perhaps, the most strategic approach as it left him unarmed as the two warhorse skeletons clearly took notice of the clash. He was fortunate enough that they didn’t charge immediately, though the pawing and rearing suggested that was imminent; the boar was paralyzed in its hind legs, and not much of a threat to anyone, but that didn’t mean retrieving his axe was going to be simple.

  As the two frontliners worked to finish off the mortally wounded pigs, the other members of the party looked to the now rapidly approaching warhorse skeletons a bit grimly. Orbul was running low on her more powerful spells but used much of her remaining mana to send a fireball to meet the skeletons while Lugrub wrestled with her belt to detach what I quickly determined to be some variant of a bola. It made sense that a rogue-type working in an area of horse-mounted tribes would have some way of tripping up a running horse; I wondered what she’d thought of the caltrops earlier.

  The fireball went off with a brilliantly roaring burst of heat and light. It HAD been pretty obvious, though, and the skeletons had enough sense to avoid the main blast. They took some relatively minor damage, but it did break their charge long enough for the pigs to be finished off and for Ushug to retrieve his axe. Lugrub had held off on hurling her bola – presumably because it would do more damage if the skeletons were in active movement.

  That turned out to be the case, whether intentional or not, as the two warhorses, separated by the blast, wheeled back towards the center – apparently intent on running down the older mage. Orbul, for her part, didn’t panic, but she did backpedal fairly directly behind her reassembling frontliners. Lugrub waited calmly enough until the skeletons were within about 15 meters before hurling the spinning weapon at the legs of the nearer of the two.

  She had made either a very lucky cast or she’d had a lot of practice; the bolo snared the front legs of the skeleton, sending it crashing to the ground. It wasn’t immediately clear how much damage had been done, but it was down, and in the best-case scenario (for the warhorse, that is) it was going to take a minute or two to kick free and regain its feet.

  In the meantime, the frontliners opted for a more measured approach to the remaining warhorse skeleton than they had to the boars, dividing to make sure at least one of them had a clean shot at its side. It opted to charge the barbarian, who in turn tried to angle away from the charge while remaining within axe range. That didn’t work so well, as Ushug’s attempt to smash its forelegs was thwarted by the skeleton leaping up and lashing out with its hooves. The axe passed beneath the skeleton’s legs, missing entirely. The skeleton did NOT miss, and Ushug took a forehoof directly to the sturdy helmet covering his forehead. Sturdy or not, the helmet took a deep dent right above the nose guard, and Ushug went down bonelessly, only to be trampled a bit as the skeleton returned to the ground. Lazgar’s sword smashed into the skeleton’s neck, sending up splinters but failing to decapitate the beast.

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  He did succeed in drawing the warhorse’s attention, at least, and Ushug took no further damage. I didn’t think he was dead, as there’d been no rush of mana or anything, but he was clearly out of this fight. Lugrub sent up an anguished cry, but was sufficiently focused to take this chance to finish the job on the fallen warhorse skeleton, separating its head from its neck with a series of precise yet rapid knife strikes.

  Orbul had started immediately digging through her own supplies in search of a potion, or some other form of healing, I assumed.

  Lugrub and Lazgar managed to take down the remaining warhorse in an impressively coordinated sequence of attacks. Lazgar did most of the damage, but Lugrub’s repeated strikes at its rear legs had prevented the skeleton from focusing on the paladin. The paladin took advantage of that distraction to finish the job, severing the head from the neck with a couple of additional heavy strikes.

  This was the first time I’d seen the orcs truly disturbed, and they very quickly collected around Ushug’s prone form after a very cursory survey of their surroundings to make sure no further attacks were coming.

  Lugrub was the first to speak, in a rather panicked rush completely at odds from the studied, sarcastic tone she usually adopted. “How is he, Orbul? He’s alive, right?! Or you wouldn’t be giving him a potion? Lazgar – heal him! Please!” She wasn’t waiting for answers, though, and she grabbed the big paladin and pulled him closer to her brother.

  Lazgar eyed the crushed helmet grimly from where Orbul had removed it. It had taken the brunt of the blow, and was now useless, but it hadn’t taken all of it. There was a visible dent in the barbarian’s skull which spoke of likely brain damage and internal bleeding.

  “I’ll try, Lugrub. You know I will. But that looks bad...”

  He held his suddenly glowing hands to either side of Ushug’s head as Orbul carefully dribbled the most potent potion I’d seen yet into his mouth – tilting his head and massaging his throat to get it down. The ruby liquid glowed brightly in my mana sight, and I could see it spreading out through his system, with the brightest concentration moving somehow to the most heavily damaged regions – in this case the frontal lobe of his brain, the frontal bone of his skull, and the less obvious damage to his neck muscles.

  Between the potion, whatever it had been, and the divine assistance provided by Drogma, the barbarian was quickly breathing easier and the dent in his skull reversed in a visually disturbing movement. He didn’t wake, though, and I wondered what kind of lingering damage he might have suffered.

  Orbul tried to reassure the still rather panicked Lugrub. “He’s alive, girl. And you know the potion I gave him; It’ll fix him, but it may take a bit for him to wake up. We got to him fast, so there shouldn’t be much lasting damage.”

  Lugrub’s eyes rolled a bit wildly, the whites showing clearly as she snarled, “Shouldn’t? Much? Drogma’s tits, woman! Is he going to be okay?!”

  Lazgar winced at the casual blasphemy. “Brain injuries are tricky things, Lugrub. The potion and my healing should have corrected the basic physical trauma, but brains don’t really heal much on their own naturally. The healing should reconnect any major breaks, but there may be some subtle changes – we won’t know until he wakes up.”

  That took another agonizing fifteen minutes or so, with Lugrub being told off to search for loot or other rewards as a means of distracting her from her brother’s plight. She’d found and disabled the wolf trap quickly enough, and it was only after some additional searching and the benefit of a skill, I thought, that she discovered the small cache of loot below where the trap had been placed– a gold chain, some rubies and three small silver ingots. She was back at her brother’s side after that, and there was little the others could do to settle her nerves.

  I honestly felt a little bad about the whole thing, though my newly crystalline mind didn’t exactly feel emotions the same way; my dungeon instincts were, frankly, a little sad that he HADN’T died, though I wasn’t about to tell anyone that. My more intellectual and human side recognized that these were simply the hazards of the career he had chosen, though I was pleased that he hadn’t died – if only to prevent issues with the party and the inspector as they continued. They were overleveled for my dungeon, and while I might be able to prevent them from destroying me, I really didn’t want to need to find out.

  I was learning a lot from the actual delving, and this incident made clear a few things. First, that it was likely inevitable that someone would die while delving my dungeon eventually, and I was okay with that. More okay than I had expected to be, honestly. Second, that the skeletal warhorses were kind of badass in contrast to my expectations that all skeletons were kind of feeble. Third, that despite the existence of adventurer levels and presumably increasing toughness and health, the laws of physics weren’t entirely overruled – a serious brain injury was still a serious brain injury, no matter the level of the adventurer.

  Speaking of which, Ushug began stirring while the paladin and mage were discussing whether to set up camp for the night. Lugrub noticed the movement immediately, and by the time he’d roused to actual consciousness, the party had gathered around him and were watching him rather intently.

  He woke with a groan and some complaints. “Ugh. What happened? My head’s fucking killing me and my neck feels like I’ve been sleeping on rocks again.” He looked around at his companions as they stared down at him, looking relieved. “This doesn’t look like I was partying too hard and passed out. I’m guessing I was in a fight of some sort? Did I win? Fuck! Can’t remember a thing... Was I drunk AND fighting?”

  Lugrub laughed with a manic undertone and hugged him while weeping quietly. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, you giant idiot!”

  He patted her confusedly. “Ok, I guess? What did I do?”

  It became clear, soon enough, that the damage to his pre-frontal cortex had wiped out his short-term memory; he basically had no memory of the delve to this point – having lost his memory of pretty much everything since he’d gotten up this morning. It also seemed to be making him a bit more irritable, though that could have just been due to his sister taking the opportunity to remind him of the various less than brilliant decisions he’d made up to this point. She was good, at least, about not making up embarrassing incidents entirely while giving him a synopsis of the events to date.

  He took it fairly well, though he did seem rattled, and he spent a couple of minutes rotating the crushed helmet in his hands, clearly visualizing the power of the strike behind it. Had it been any less sturdy, there’d have been no healing able to save him, unless one of them was capable of pulling off an actual resurrection. From the slight tremble in his hands, I was guessing that wasn’t something they were capable of.

  By the time they had all settled down and recovered well enough to continue, it was getting late in the day (not that it was easy to tell in the dungeon with its mana lights on 24 hours a day). The party discussed continuing on to the manor house, which was, of course, easily visible from the paddock. But with Orbul effectively out of mana and Lazgar out of his standard healing, at least, they decided to set up camp in place and recover until morning.

  They erected camp in the corner of the room nearest the entrance to the farrier's shop, set up ward stones and built a fire, with Orbul taking the initiative to secure a large ham from one of the fallen boars and set it to roasting.

  Shuzug, who had joined them after the fighting had ended and while they awaited Ushug’s revival, took the first watch and the party slept on simple bedrolls with the ease of long-established habit. Shuzug kept an eye out, but mostly spent the early evening hours jotting down notes on both the dungeon and the party’s experience.