Beastborne: Tower of Blight: A LitRPG Adventure (Beastborne Chronicles, Book 6) by James T. Callum

Author:James T. Callum [Callum, James T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Unfortunately for Altres, he had misjudged Councilman Dantra’s resolve. Severely. Dantra wept over his dead friend, holding his lifeless body. He vowed with a string of spittle running down his lips that he would see the demon tortured to death.

He didn’t care about Murkmire or who he had to hurt. He would see that the red devil paid for what he did.

Emotion, as Altres had remarked, made for stupid decisions.

Far below Murkmire, a pair of koblins were bickering over a small box. Dressed in their typical koblin attire, small leather suits with leather masks and black smoked-glass lenses, there were only two things exposed to the air on a koblin. Their long, droopy, green-furred ears.

Before Hal–whom they called Havior and regarded with the utmost respect–had saved them from near extinction, they would have had much more fur showing.

You could be forgiven for thinking they were goblins, just not by the koblins themselves. They were about the right size, right shape, and even talked somewhat similarly.

However, you couldn’t be further from the truth.

Koblins separated themselves from the goblins by being good. They had honor and were more than mere monsters.

Slyrox and her brother Slyrix had both laid claim to the magical box they had found deep in the bowels of Murkmire.

It had been a great find, something worthy of the Havior, and both koblins wanted to present the gift to him. Altres had informed them that he was due back in just a few short months.

How the man knew was anybody’s guess, but the koblins had learned to trust the tiefling with their lives. He was as slippery as a greased-up eel, but he was their friend and he looked after them.

The problem was, the Havior was far away in the Shiverglades, far from Murkmire and the Koblin District they called home.

The box was obviously magical, that much they could tell with what little skills they possessed between them. They had intended on having Altres look it over. He seemed good with magical artifacts and might better tell them what it could do.

All to give the Havior the best present possible. Hal had said he would return, and the koblins trusted his word above all. He was, in many ways, a living god to them. Like a parent to a small child, his word was law, so of course he would return.

When Altres told them he would be coming soon, each koblin scrambled for a suitable gift to give the Havior.

They would make sure Murkmire shone like a gem for Hal.

“Slyrix Quickfingers?” Slyrox, his sister, snarled. “More like Slyrix Slowbrain! Need hand-lending to win a tug-a-war with your sickly sister?”

The other koblin lost his mittened grip on the box and tumbled to the floor of the dilapidated tunnel. One of several running beneath the towering Sanctum of Murkmire.

Murkmire had been built into, on, and through a small mountain. The people who called it home were constantly digging into each other’s attics and/or cellars based on which direction they were going.

This particular

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