Well, he could tell she was reluctant, but Amal also began to form the opinion she was a natural. When push came to shove and it was fight or flight, she fought like hell. He would congratulate her, but he had some goblins to worry about. 

The left goblin lunged with its shortsword, swinging in a low arc. Amal parried with his saber, redirecting the swing to fly wide before he leapt over the bone wielding greenskin. It howled in anger and tried to bite at him, only managing to scratch his knee when Amal shove it into the goblin's face, breaking teeth. The other one did not relent however, causing Amal to curse. He sincerely wished to finish one of them off. Luckily, with the broken toothed goblin dazed, he began to break down the defenses of the goblin with the notched short sword, nicking its neck and cutting its arm. It screeched in rage, attacking with abandon. Amal blocked and dodged, enjoying the practice and the danger, despite his obvious reach advantage. 

A small handful of debris fell from the crux of ones of the pillars, dusting flitting as Amal felt he was just about to finish this Goblin, before it was hit by something made of pink incandescent light, and screeches exploded out of its mouth. It leaped onto its rising companion, and Amal laughed at what Delphine had done. "Not bad!" He called to her with a wink. The un-beglamoured goblin decided in its pea-brain that it might just lose this fight, with both Amal and its companion now wanting its life. It shrieked in dismay and scrabbled away as more debris began to fall, this time on the opposite side of the chamber. Amal's smile disappeared, his mind finally realizing these might not be ideal signs... 

"Amal!" Delphine cried, reaching for him as a chunk of stone the size of his torso plummeted to his position. Amal had the frame of mind to leap out of the way, but the damage had been done. When it struck the ground he had been standing on not a moment before, a crack rolled across the center of the floor, ending at the Shaman's rise in the ground, a seemingly separate bedrock. Delphine, thinking quickly, thrust her hand into her pack to grab a rope, but it was too late. The ground broke beneath Amal, and every goblin, alive and dead, fell into the abyss of darkness with him. 

The immense noise polluted the air as much as the plethora of dust and debris. It was like an avalanche in confined quarters, the very ground shaking, even in Delphine's more stable area. 

For Amal's part, it seemed to last far too long. It wasn't pleasant, and the situation was very fatuous, but then again he often found himself in such scenarios. Ostensibly his death, he thought, but thankfully the nine divines and the old yokudan gods saw fit that he was not going to lose all of his luck today. He found himself seeing a sliver of light, and began elbowing his way out of the darkness, feeling hard, coarse rock poking into him uncomfortably. Finally, he burst out of the pile of rocks and breathed in air that was only moderately full of stuffy particulars. Unfortunately, he also breathed in an odious stench that he briefly feared was a dangerous gas, before he found his fear was replaced by another. 

He had fallen into a lower chamber, larger than the one above, and filled with skeletons and excrement, and what appeared to be a roughly crafted cooking fire. The fire was made out of small logs, and the denizen that had crafted it huffed in annoyance from across the ruined ground. It rose up, and up, and Amal sighed as he realized the thing was not a goblin, or even an Orc. It was an ogre, more pale of skin, with upturned tusks and small, evil eyes. The ogre was easily over eight feet in height, its head moving forward and back in small thrusts, almost like an iguana. It opened its toothed maw and grabbed a huge rock, as large as the one that nearly crushed Amal earlier. 

Beneath the ogre, a goblin tried to crawl out of the debris, but the larger monstrosity stepped on it, crushing its skull like a popped melon. Using the step, it reared back its simian arms and chucked the stone at Amal. The redguard cursed and ducked back into the hole he crawled out of, the boulder rolling off the rest of the debris onto the more even ground. Amal yanked himself out after, glad to still have his dagger but lamenting he had lost the saber in the fall. 

"Come on, bat dung!" Amal cried at it. From above, Delphine had the best seat in the house. She could help at range, or slide down to join him.