Dungeon Crawl
A trickle of sweat ran from Jareth's temple, tracing his strong jawline, and dripped from his chin. Three goblins laid dead at his feet, each with a piercing wound to the heart, blood pooled around their lifeless bodies. Jareth cleaned his rapier and returned it to its leather sheath at his hip. He looked around warily. The forest surrounding him was silent save the chirping of birds and insects. The entrance to the goblin's cave was dark and appeared empty. It seemed he had finished off the guards and would be able to enter without alarming the other goblins that were sure to dwell inside. Quickly, he ruffled through the threadbare and worn clothing of the goblins, searching for anything of value. Goblins would often carry odd trinkets, most of which were worthless, but sometimes one could find a few silver coins or a brass amulet. He had no such luck with these three, even their weapons were simple clubs made from thick branches and rusty nails. He dragged them away and hid them among the surrounding shrubbery, kicking leaves over the trails of blood, and did his best to hide them from any of their companions who might come around while he was exploring their dungeon.