Amal almost shuddered. Usually a woman's breath in his ears was a welcome thing, but he was not expecting it and was too preoccupied with the very near future of having to fight for his life. He turned to her, his nose brushing hers. They both flinched a moment, Amal smiling at the situation. 

"I get four scalps, you get one?" He asked breathily. "More for me then." 

"Uh uh, shaman counts for more than one!" She protested, as loud as she dared. 

"But does the bounty office know that?" He asked with a smirk. 

"Well, what if I make it worth your while?" She said playfully, before turning off the charm and elbowing him. "By not shooting you in the ass." 

Amal gave a silent boyish laugh, shaking his head to show her he was toying with her. "Don't worry," he whispered and held his hand out as she had at the town square. "I will do my part. And whatever happens in there, we split the earnings down the middle." 

She eyed him speculatively, as if wondering just how convivial his company really was. However, she took his hand in hers and shook it. Amal gave his trademark grin. "We have an accord." He pronounced, and then gestured with his head to follow him to the tunnel. 

Amal found the goblins more or less where they had been a minute previously. The Shaman had skulked off back to the high ground with its meal, while the others huddled around the corpse, taking the scraps the shaman deemed unsavory enough not to take. Amal silently gauged the situation. Perhaps it might be easier for himself to move and kill the shaman before the others were alerted, but no. This was his chance to see just what the Breton girl could do. If it killed her, more treasure for him, and if not, he had a competent partner. Of course he preferred the latter, but Amal was sanguine about almost any situation. 

He slipped into the room as the primitives stripped the bones clean and bickered amongst each other. The shaman seemed too intent on their own meal to look up, but Amal still moved carefully, using the shadows and keeping out of the firelight. It helped there were old barrels and crates nestled near the walls. He stepped over a discarded stool, before he froze, noticing one of the goblins turning around to hack a guttural cough. It was only seconds before it saw him, he knew. He simply knew. Hundreds of situations like that had informed him of that eventuality. And so Amal did the best thing he could. 

He grabbed the stool, and chucked it at the coughing Goblin. 

It's yellow eyes lifted as it saw Amal pick the heavy wooden implement up, and as it coughed, it hadn't the breath the scream before it was hit in the head. The stool and the goblin hit a second goblin in the side, both going down as Amal charged with his twin blades, driving his saber into the side of the third goblin that had witnessed the stool with a dumbfounded expression. It wheezed in pain, chittering as blood pumped out of its torso. A knife in the eye ended its animalistic squeals, and he spun to the other three. One was down, groggy. The other had only a glancing blow, while the fourth goblin, one with a scar on its left eye, was unharmed. It leaped on Amal, as the other had the frame of mind and rage to charge at Amal with a thigh bone. 

The bandit bounded back, too close to the other, getting a bruise from the first swing, but too full of adrenaline to feel it. As he began to furiously defend himself against both goblins, he felt just as much as heard the crackle of lightning from the shaman. He hoped he had not annoyed Delphine too much with his jokes.