Everything stopped, and the metallic stench of blood hung heavy in the air. It was a smell Morga knew well. It was the smell of the aftermath of battle, and it either signified victory or defeat, depending on what side you were on. At that moment, the whole thing reeked of defeat. Like most orcs, Morga didn't like to lose. It didn't sit right inside her. It felt alien and uncomfortable. 

She looked around. Carnage's eyeless head was faced towards Scratch's mangled body. The snot-covered unicorns remained motionless as if awaiting orders, while the unicorn that had attacked Scratch now seemed calm, as if sated. Morga wanted nothing more than to launch into a Rage and tear that creature limb from limb. Maybe she wouldn't even stop there. Maybe she'd destroy them all. She still wasn't Scratch's greatest fan, but he was on this journey with her. Or, at least, he was supposed to be. 

And the unicorn took him from her.

They stole him. 

Didn't they know better than to steal from an orc? 

Beneath the surface, she could feel the Rage scratching at her brain, eager to be released, but nothing happened. 'That bloody snot,' she thought, cursing the Grunt that had stolen her Rage, while also wishing he'd somehow survived being impaled by a unicorn horn. 

The ground below her feet started to shake. 

"Not more unicorns," she muttered, but part of her was excited about the prospect. If she could wipe the snot of her skin before they arrived, she could go kill crazy. It wouldn't bring Scratch back, but it would at least make her feel like she was doing something. Battle always felt productive, even if it was usually the exact opposite. 

Morga turned in a complete circle, trying to work out where the new unicorns were coming from. But there was nothing to be seen. 

The ground shook again, moving more vigorously. It was like a dog trying to shake off water or stubborn fleas. In that respect, the shaking worked as the unicorns broke free of their stupor and scattered. Now it was just Morga, a mutant hammer, a barrel of bones, and a pile of Scratch. Could she face whatever had scared the unicorns pretty much single handed? The way she was feeling at the moment, she believed she could tear down Abyssus... with or without the Rage. 

Morga braced herself. 

And the world beneath her feet disappeared.

Morga, Carnage, and what was left of their companions plunged into darkness.

*****

Morga awoke. She couldn't even remember being asleep, but the humongous bump on the back of her head throbbed and told her that she'd likely been unconscious. Her fingers caressed it gingerly, and she winced. It felt like it was about the size of a dragon egg, and it hurt like a particularly large dragon had been stamping on her head. While wearing shoes. Really heavy ones. 

Trying to ignore the pain, she took in her surroundings. She remembered falling and darkness but, while this place wasn't as bright as a spring day, it was light enough to see things. And, although she was almost certain that she had never been in this place before, she recognised it for what it was.

She was in a dungeon.

As dungeons went, this one was alright. The cell was plain, with nothing more than a simple bed to sleep in and a pot to do her business in. She'd seen worse. The straw and sawdust on the floor hid any suspicious stains from view, so she could at least pretend that no-one had met a grisly end within the walls. 

Aside from herself, the cell was empty. No barrel of bones. No half-devoured remains of Scratch. And no Carnage. For the first time since leaving her home, Morga was truly alone. (So long as you one ignored the sounds of coughing and retching from the other cells.)

A thought scratched at the back of her head. If Scratch was dead, what happened with her deal with Selene? Would the witch understand? Morga doubted it; she'd already used the witch's magic to escape the tavern and end up... wherever this place was. There was no way she'd be allowed that for free. She wished she could talk to Snagthorn; he'd know what to do. 

Footsteps echoed around the dark, dank place. Someone was coming.

A figure appeared at the other side of the bars. A goblin. It had to be a goblin, didn't it? Morga's blood pressure rose just looking at the little creature. If she hadn't been covered in snot, she might have fallen into an almighty Rage.

The goblin was armed with an axe and a... something...

"What's that?" Morga found herself asking, even though she had no intention in engaging in conversation with the goblin. 

"Axe," she replied, her tone implying that she thought Morga was an idiot. After all, who didn't know what an axe was?

"No, the other thing." Morga gestured towards the other item. 

The goblin looked perplexed as she raised the object in her other hand. "This?"

"Yeah, I've never seen one before."

"It's a clipboard."

"Clip... Board..." Morga tested the new word on her tongue. "What kind of weapon is this?" 

"Weapon? This is better than any weapon," the goblin replied. "This is knowledge."

"What kind of knowledge?"

"Stuff I need to know," the goblin replied, before clearing her throat and studying the object more closely. "For instance, it tells me that you're a serial killer and bandit, wanted in several towns and settlements. Worst of all, you pissed off the boss's unicorns so he's in a shit mood."

While Morga had been guilty of ending a life or two (okay, several... probably more), she wouldn't call herself a murderer. Those had all been in the heat of battle. Different rules applied. As for the bandit thing, bandits were thieves and orcs didn't steal. At least, that was the case in Morga's clan. 

"There's been a mistake! You've got the wrong person!" Morga said, gripping onto the bars. To the goblin's credit, she didn't even flinch.

"You'd be surprised how often I heard those words. If I weren't so cynical, I'd believe there were a lot of mistakes down here. It's amazing how many innocent people end up locked in the dungeon."

"No, it's not like that," Morga said, trying to calm her voice and appear more reasonable. "I really haven't done the things you'd said. I've never taken a life that wasn't in battle," she said. That was half true. One didn't survive without the odd killing here and there, but it wasn't like she did it a lot - certainly not enough to be described as a serial killer. "And I don't steal."

"What about the unicorns? You definitely pissed them off."

"They started it."

"That's what they all say," the goblin replied. "Besides, you were found with the remains of two people and a barrel that was stamped with 'Property of the The Waning Gibbous'. I'm guessing that isn't your name. And before you try to trick me, I already know your name ain't Gibbous." The goblin didn't give her a chance to respond. "That evidence alone is pretty damning."

"I can explain all of it," Morga said, unable to believe the injustice of it all. How had she been arrested in the middle of nowhere for crimes she hadn't committed?

"That's what they all say," the goblin replied. "Lots of innocent people with perfectly reasonable explanations down here."

Morga realised that she wasn't going to get anywhere by protesting her innocence, so she tried a different approach. "What about my name? Does your clipboard tell you that? You seem to know it isn't what's stamped on that barrel."

"Yep, it's right here," the goblin said, squinting at the clipboard. "You are... The Shadow Butcher."

"No, it's Morga," Morga said.

"Well, obviously The Shadow Butcher is a stage name. Can't imagine many parents looking down at a newborn little tyke and saying 'aww, look, she looks just like a Shadow Butcher'."

Morga sighed. "Whatever. Since you know my name, how about you tell me yours?"

This time, the goblin did take a step back. "What? So you can add me to your list of future victims? No, thank you Madam Butcher."

"Don't call me that."

"Do you prefer Madam Shadow?"

"No!"

"Madam Shadow Butcher?"

"No! Just Morga is fine."

The goblin raised an eyebrow. "I dunno, being on a first name basis with a notorious serial killer seems like the kind of thing that could get me in trouble."

"Or... it could be useful. You never know when knowing a... serial killer... might come in handy." Morga winced as she said the words 'serial killer'. 

The clipboard dropped to the goblin's side, and she smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. Goblin smiles rarely were. In fact, on a scale where 'pleasant' was at one end, and 'absolutely horrendous, my eyes are bleeding' at the other, all goblin smiles were at the latter end. 

"You make a good point," she said, before taking a look over each shoulder, as if making sure no-one of importance was listening in. "I'm Petal."

Morga stifled a laugh. "Is that a... stage name?" It was the only thing that made any sense. No-one looked at goblin spawn and thought of flowers.

"Nope," Petal replied. "Shit, should I have given an alias? Don't kill me for a little faux pas. I'm not used to being involved in the criminal underworld."

"That's a first," Morga muttered.

"I heard that. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh... umm..." Morga had never insulted a goblin before. She didn't think it was possible. And, even if she had, the last thing she would do would be to try to make the evil little shite feel better, and yet, that's exactly what she felt she should do. "I'm sorry, it's just that... where I'm from... goblins are... er... not necessarily law abiding citizens."

"Hmm... people from above are weird."

Morga nodded, she couldn't argue with that. "People from everywhere are weird." She leaned against the cell wall. "So, now that we're friends, why don't you let me out? After all, what could is your new Best Friend the Serial Killer, if she'd trapped behind bars?"

"You make a good point," Petal said, "but I can't just let you out. Do you know what would happen to me? I'd lose my job... and that's just for starters. The boss would probably kill me. Like... I'd be dead. Properly dead. I'm can't die yet, I've got too much to do."

"Then what's the point in getting to know me?" Morga asked.

"To be honest, I hadn't thought it all the way through. I just wanted a cool friend who's a bit dangerous. You might not believe it, but it's gets pretty boring down here."

It was time to try yet another approach. "What about the people I was with? What happened to them?"

"The dead ones? I expect they're in the mortuary."

"And the hammer?"

"That's the weird thing, you were found with no weapons. I thought that was weird for a serial killer. You folks are usually armed to the teeth. But then... you are an orc, and orcs do have that Rage thing."

*****

After falling into the ground, Carnage had legged it as soon as the heavily armoured people had come to take Morga away. Sure, he could have beaten them with his eyes closed (not that he had eyes), but what then? He didn't know where he was. And, perhaps more importantly, he didn't know how to get out. Had Morga been awake, he might have tried it, but there was no way he'd be able to drag an unconscious orc around. 

So, still covered in snot, Carnage ran. He ran and ran, through corridors and abandoned rooms. It didn't take him long to realise he was in a castle, and a nice one at that. It was largely empty, but every so often a room would reveal a servant, but none of them seemed to notice him. They were all too caught up with whatever task they were doing. 

It wasn't long until Carnage found an empty room. He didn't pay too much attention to the contents of the room, because something else had drawn his attention. A window.

Using his tiny legs, he hopped from chair to desk to window ledge and looked out. Beyond the castle was an icy landscape, covered in snow, and a purple sky that was both calming and ominous at the same time. But that was impossible, wasn't it? He was underground... wasn't he?

Behind him, someone laughed. Carnage turned. He wasn't alone. Two faces stared in his direction, and only one was still attached to a body. Both were covered in blood. Carnage cocked his head in confusion. That was odd. 

---

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