Syllia

Hmph. Amateurs. The air in here is stale, full of the smell of wet rock and dust kicked up by clumsy human boots. All the torches on the walls are just blackened stumps of wood, but that doesn't matter. My eyes drink in the darkness, turning the deep gloom into shades of grey and silver. I can see juuuust fine. My bare feet, calloused and tough, make no sound on the filthy flagstones as I creep along, my body low to the ground. Every so often, the chink of a loose buckle on my leather straps seems loud as a thunderclap, but it’s only in my head.

My fingers, tipped with thick, yellowed nails, trail along the carved stone wall. Stupid-looking dwarves with long beards and big noses, one after the other. I poke one right in its stone nostril. "Heh." The hallway is littered with trash. A splintered shield, a half-eaten, moldy apple core... even a bent adventurer's fork. Honestly, it's insulting. They come in here, stomp around like cave trolls, grab the first shiny thing they see in a big, obvious chest, and leave. They don't have the patience. The finesse.

I press myself up against the wall to squeeze past a pile of rubble where the ceiling caved in a bit. Ugh. My tits get squashed flat against the cold stone, and my ass scrapes along the other side of the narrow gap. It's a real struggle gettin' my glorious curves through these tight spots sometimes. "Stupid dungeon," I mutter, wiggling my hips to get my rear end unstuck. "Not designed for a goblin with... proper... proportions."

Once I'm clear, I shake myself out and continue my slow, methodical search. Tap, tap, tap go my knuckles against the floor tiles, listening for that tell-tale hollow sound. My eyes scan the walls not for traps, but for seams. The rookie adventurers look for big levers and glowing runes. Idiots. The real secrets are always smaller.

My gaze catches on a section of wall behind a discarded, empty wineskin. The pattern of moss and grime is... wrong. Too uniform. I shuffle over, my big blue eyes narrowing. I sniff the air. No magic. Just rock. I press a palm against it, and then run my fingertips over the surface. There. A hairline crack, almost invisible. A stone that isn't quite flush with the others.

"Ooooh, Syllia," I whisper to myself, a greedy little grin spreading across my face, showing my pointy teeth. "You clever, clever girl." I pull a small, flat prybar from a loop on my belt. "Let's see what they missed..." I wedge the tip into the tiny crack and put my weight into it with a soft grunt.

Syllia's Status HP: 100/100 MP: 50/50 Curses/Sicknesses: None. Current State: Healthy, Stealthed. Loots: None. Worth: 0 Gold.