"GAAAAAH" The goblin roared in pain, betrayed by an unexpected enemy.

"Teeth! I told you to wait until it had cooled!" Scratch snatched the skewer out of his brother's hand. The freshly roasted meat had burned the child's tongue. "I swear, like I don't have a day job making sure the little ones don't hurt themselves."

The little ones were the infants born in Scratch's absence, their birth had been the last straw for their mother's deprived body and she had died, ignorant of this tragedy they eagerly explored their surroundings, up to and including the fireplace he had managed to get going.

Their names had been given by Drool again:

"First",

"Kicker",

"Biter",

"Dumb",

"Fat",

and "Slow"

They weren't very flattering names, and there were two Firsts now. It was not like Scratch's impression of Drool's parenting skills could drop much lower, but he could have at least avoided redundancy.

Either he's not used to his children surviving for this long, or they were never intended as names in the first place. Just insults and phrases he says when pointing at someone to give them an order.

The fire was vital for their prolonged health, rather than eating raw flesh containing disease and who-knows-what they could now subsist of roasted pork. Scratch had introduced the concept of toothbrushes to the goblins too. They were small softwood twigs with the ends cut into shreds like brushes. They were supposed to use them to remove the food on and between the teeth after eating.

"So you won't end up like Drool."

Teeth had been eager to preserve his namesake so began proudly using it, which encouraged the others to follow suit.

Now the whole troop was up and about, cooking food, watching over the young ones and exploring the forest with their new made shoes, before Drool had even woken up. Scratch dared to leave the young children and the immature

Teeth alone for Quiet to watch over for a minute and went back to the hunting prize from the other day, where he had been embroiled in a new project.

"If only we had an easier access to water." Scratch murmured. "Not just for cleaning, hydration too."

As he was pondering the problem he was digging his small hands into the decaying board carcass, pulling out tendons and slicing them out in as long unbroken strings as he could manage.

First (the older one) was holding the beast open at Scratch request, to make the task easier. "You said there was a river. North."

"There is. There are a few streams too, but it's a long distance to walk for a single gulp of water. We need a contained.

Like, a jar, or waterskin." He said while focusing intensely on a long wire he had almost removed completely without damaging it. "Okay... okay... O- Rats. Can't we grab Drool's knife?"

First shook his head. "Drool said: only leader use weapon."

"Is that so. Only the leader can use his weapon?" Scratch said, finding a reason to repeat the phrase so he could correct the grammar. "Well, I suppose this one is good enough." He put the tendon next to himself on the red stained earth and wiped his hands on his chest. "Could you hand me that rock and stick I prepared."

First handed him the tool components. One was a chipped and sharpened rock, but much to large to hold in one's hand and use effectively, the other was a straight hard stick, a hole had been partly carved and partly burned through it on one end.

"You have to use fire to make sure the material doesn't split." Scratch had said.

"Watch closely, I'm going to combine these items." He said now.

First stared intently at Scratch using a mixture of soot and pine resin to secure the rock into the hole and tying it together with the harvested tendon. After he had finished and tested out the weight himself he gave it to First to test.

"It's a club." First proclaimed, swinging it around.

"An axe actually. See, because it's sharp." Scratch pointed at the various parts of the tool. "Because there's a long handle, you get some momentum from the swing and you can hit harder."

The next few hours of Scratch's life were spend trying to chop down a tree. He had started too ambitiously, on a thick dead oak near the cave but had to give that up and find a small one further out. While away from the rest of the group he was more comfortable rubbing his painful and itchy face. During his visit to the human farm he had been mutilated by a hoe, the entire right side of his face was a bloody mess of scabs and pus, it took a lot of willpower out of him not to continuously scratch and pick at it, so his forestry mission was slowed down quite a bit by this distraction.

First had a good feeling about his brother Scratch. Runt had been a letdown, they were both young and immature but his impatience got the better of him and he had attacked Drool while First was away. Drool had been too strong and

Runt was killed. Scratch wasn't like that. When First was going to take over the group and defeat Drool it would be handy to have someone like Scratch around, to make tools and teach about being clean. It wouldn't be too hard to keep him in line either, Scratch had been gravely injured when trying to flee to human lands the other day, so in a fair fight he would probably lose to any of the older brothers.

How he would take out Drool, that was the problem. Drool had the human-made knife, the greatest weapon there was.

If First somehow got his hands on Scratch's axe he could maybe overpower him with a surprise attack, but he would need the support of the others to take over as the leader. Teeth was stupid enough to convince of anything, Scratch did it all the time, and Quiet would stay out of it out of cowardice. That left Scratch and Yeller, the hunters. They had

Drool's respect for their successful hunt and the others seemed to look up to them. They had the most to lose with a change of leadership.

All First needed was a good excuse. A reason for the goblins to rebel.

Those were the things he was thinking about while brushing his teeth by the side of the stream, the banging of rock against wood audible in the distance.

Suddenly he noticed movement in the bushes. There was the patter of feet and a powerful rotting smell coming from the underbrush. Out jumped two- no, three goblins. They were all clad in old loincloths, some of their teeth gone but most still there in their yellow-black glory. They were brandishing big sticks as weapons and were as surprised to see him as he them.

-

Both parties were locked in silence before each other. First had never seen hostile goblins before, but then again, the only goblins he had known about were his family, these ones could very well be hostile.

The tension was cut when one of the strangers lost his cool and came charging with his club. Faced by three goblins against one First decided to flee. The others came running after him, however, his shoes did their work, while the attackers were left behind making awkward bow-legged jumps First could sprint away effectively.

The room was poorly lit, thin streaks of light from between the blinds lit up the old man's face. In this part of Earth he was the most powerful person around, who knew why he holed himself up in a dark office? At that moment he was receiving a paper pusher from one of his partner's branch of the syndicate. Neither of them were speaking. The big boss was fuming great clouds of white smoke through the cramped atmosphere, his cigar emitting a red glow that was the only color in the darkly lit, monochromatic space.

"I... uh. You wanted to see me?" Our hero carefully broke the silence, fearing the worst.

His superior let the question hang in the air. Focusing intently at the figure on the other side of the desk. He was sizing him up, now was the time for a poker face.

"Have you been doing anything about those troublemakers in your territory?"

"That isn't really my lane." It was technically true that he was not responsible for quelling rival gangs, there was a whole security detail for chasing away presumptuous upstarts and it acted independently from him. However, there was a more direct reason why he didn't actively contribute to solving the issue. They were working for him. "I have my hands full with just the accounting and logistics of the cheap merchandise. I let Butch worry about the gang stuff."

The syndicate leader stood up and turned around, to peek through the blinds. "I pride myself in being aware of anything that happens around me." He straightened his back to emphasize his own pride. "What Butch is dealing with is beyond gang stuff."

"S-sir?"

The man took another big drag on his cigar. He continued to talk while exhaling smoke unperturbed. "These kids.

They know our business. They know where we're selling and where we're buying and they know how to avoid us. They have inside knowledge."

What now? Do I act surprised?

Instead of acting out anything he stayed neutral, leaning back slightly. Awaiting the boss' next words.

The old men glanced backward at him. "You know what happens when a younger chimpanzee attacks the alpha?"

At those words he almost fell out of his seat. "Wh- chimpanzees?"

The boss ignored his loss of composure. "You see it all the time in nature. Beta males challenging their leader for the position... of alpha male."

He wasn't sure if his boss was joking but he didn't dare crack a smile at the weird tangent.

"And the one that loses..." The man crushed his expensive cigar in his hand. "is banished. Cast out. Made to leave the pack." He was staring intently at the younger paper pusher now, who had quickly regained his poker face.

"So what you're saying is..."

"We have a traitor in our midst. Someone is trying to overthrow the regime. Dethrone the alpha lion." He stared at the ceiling. "Perhaps multiple people."

His heart was beating in his chest. It was floating in the air, unspoken but right between them, the accusation. He was the traitor.

Come on then. Say it. Say my name. At least get it over with.

The man did say his name, but the accusation never came. "I want you to be my eyes and ears. We need to put down this little uprising. I know I can count on you to do it."

"Huh? I.. yes. Of course, I have quite some experience with interdepartmental communication and espionage. You can count on me to bring these people to justice, whoever they are."

-

He walked out of that meeting not completely at ease. He didn't imagine the suspicion above his own head had been completely cleared up and the fact that it wasn't addressed was only proof of its severity.

Scratch returned because he heard a commotion. He didn't have it in him to hurry, since his facial wounds hurt when he moved, but he did have a feeling that that was where he needed to be at that moment.

At the camp Drool was trampling out the fire to the great frustration of Quiet and Teeth. None of them where intelligible with how they were screaming over each other. The babies were noticeably agitated by the screaming around them.

"Can't you people get along for one day? I gave you cavemen the gift of fire, you're civilized people now you know." Scratch proclaimed, stumbling out of the woods.

As soon as he saw him Drool came charging at him, brandishing his knife. "FIRE IS HUMANS! MAIN GROUP COME!"

Unable to judge the path and speed of the knife his father was thrusting at him Scratch fell backward trying to dodge it.

Luckily, both Teeth and Quiet had grabbed Drool by the upper arms to stop him from murdering Scratch.

"Hey! Hey. What the hell? What's with the hostility? Did you burn yourself on it or what?"

It was at this point that First returned. "There are other goblins. They're... they attack." He said brusquely walking right past Drool to address Scratch. "Where's the axe?"

Drool was vindicated. He pointed at Scratch on the ground. "Your fault!"

Scratch grabbed his head, it was all too much for him to process. "... I left the axe near the tree all the way back at the clearing. What is going on?"

Teeth and Quiet let go of Drool, who had seemed to calm down.

"Are they... coming here?" Teeth asked First.

"I don't know. We need weapon." First replied. "Is Yeller here?"

"No." Teeth said. Yeller was still exploring.

"Quiet, take them inside. Teeth, come with me." First was quick to take charge before Drool but didn't yet dare give him orders directly.

-

Scratch helped shoo and carry the infants into the cave. Drool paced around in anger for a bit before helping too.

"I'm falling into repetition, and I realize that. But what the hell is going on?" Scratch said, sitting on Drool's mossbed.

Drool pushed him off and sat down himself. "Goblins see smoke, Goblins go to smoke, find humans." He stood up again, having too much adrenaline to stay seated.

Quiet was playing with Kicker and Biter to make sure they didn't wander off, but he glanced at them to listen in on the conversation.

Scratch contended with sitting on the rocky floor. "Humans are stronger than goblins." He touched his mutilated eye when he said that.

Why would creatures as pitiful as this seek out their own biggest enemy?

Drool was pacing around the cave, barely minding the infants while playing with his knife. "Women make clan strong.

Become bigger." He grunted. "I had woman. I was take revenge."

Scratch sighed, picking up the surprisingly smooth rocks in the deeper area where he was sitting. "But you used her up, no regard for her health. Say... did she have a name?"

Quiet looked up at those words, he hadn't considered such a concept for a human. Drool just looked impatient. "No matter. Is dead. Useless."

"Quiet, do you hear that? Listen to him insult our mother like that." Scratch said. Quiet quickly looked away.

Revenge. Who are you taking revenge on old-timer? Are the children here your best attempt at an army?

Scratch suddenly had an epiphany. "I suddenly have an epiphany." He said. "The main group. You call them thatt because that's your clan! They banished you and... you survived with a stolen woman."

Drool didn't seem ashamed or insulted at all by the accusation. In fact, he looked defiantly proud. "I come back. Become leader again. First get more goblins, then attack."

"So we inherited a bloodfeud." Scratch moaned, leaning back. "You're the worst, you know that?"

Before Drool could put him in his place they were disturbed by the sudden appearance of three goblin silhouettes at the cave entrance.

The three eldest brothers had returned, First was carrying the axe, which now had spatters of blood on it, and Yeller had a bruise on his forehead from somebody's club. All of them had at least some wounds from battle.

"Were you followed?" Scratch asked.

"We fought." First said. "They flee."

"They fled" Scratch corrected him.

"They come back." Drool said. "With more."

"We'll fight back!" Yeller cheered, ignoring his injuries. "Right, Scratch?"

Scratch could muster up less enthusiasm. "How big is the main clan?"

Drool shrugged. "Lots and lots."

"Okay, that's helpful. Thanks for that. Do we even have time to prepare?"

Drool didn't answer, he looked into the distance, retreated into his own world.

-

Scratch decided to repeat what he had heard from Drool to the trio.

"The main group." First said. It was something Drool had mentioned to him before.

"And now they know we're here." Yeller added, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

Scratch had gotten up to pace around. "What if we leave? We could find a new place and let them explore an empty cave."

Quiet, who had Slow sleeping on his lap, shook his head. Teeth explained. "Cave is only safe place."

"The cave is the only safe place? Why? How?"

Careful not to disturb Slow, Quiet drew in the dirt with a twig.

It was a primitive drawing, to the point of being abstract, but the essence of a map was there.

-

In the center was the cave, the campfire and carcass were represented, as was the small open space around them.

Around them was the forest, the use trails and streams were shown in the form of lines and were most definitely not to scale.

The main point the illustration was making clear was the living area and territory of different kinds of animals. Stick figure representations of boars, deer and more predatory and alien creatures were sketched over the map. Notably, the area immediately surrounding the cave was devoid of such things.

"So we can survive here because animals avoid the cave? How do you even know this?"

Teeth laughed. "We looked around. You're dumb for a smart."

"Watch it." Scratch wagged his finger at him. "You're the last one I want to hear that from."

Yeller came between them. He didn't say anything, he just blocked their argument with his body by standing inbetween them.

Interestingly, there's a mix of regular animals and fantasy creatures shown on this map. Well. We're fantasy creatures too. I suppose I need to accept that this is a completely different world.

"We're going to need to hunt." First said. "And go to the water."

Scratch looked out over the infants. They were sleeping contently now, but they would need to eat soon enough. And the pig's meat was starting to decay.

He clapped his hands. "Okay, here's how we're going to do things. Every time we go outside it has to be in groups of at least three. That goes for hunting, drinking and even just taking a shit, okay?"

The older siblings all nodded, except for First, who had felt interrupted and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Then I will be making more weapons. For hunting and for fighting back."

"Will that save us?" First asked.

"It'll buy some time for a real plan." Scratch replied, scratching at his face wound. With the way the infection progressed, he'd probably survive another two days, enough to experience a violent invasion.

This is just great. Like I don't have enough problems. I can't live peacefully with humans and now I can't live peacefully with goblins either.

The most useful tool Scratch had come up with was the simplest one. A sharpened stick as a spear. With it Yeller had managed to kill three ferret-like beings, making him the most succesful hunter of the clan.

The composition of the hunter party changed from time to time, but the most prolific hunters were Yeller, Teeth and First. Scratch had begun calling them 'the military' in his head.

Of course a large factor in that was that they didn't allow the young ones to wander off too far and Quiet was the best one to look over them, and that Scratch had a significant wound and was preoccupied with his toolmaking.

After a day the young ones had grown up quite a bit, they were probably halfway toward adulthood. However, letting them play freely would probably cause a portion them to die to some animal or enemy goblin. Scratch very clearly remembered his own death defying first hunting trip and how his intuition had so utterly failed in assessing the risk.

That's why he had them help him braid rope.

"If you twist it like this it would have to go against the grain to unravel. Do you see what I mean?" He was showing the process of turning softwood bark strips into rope to Dumb and Fat, who were dutifully paying attention and trying to copy his movements. Their own creations were pretty much just practice runs, but they were making progress and

Scratch's had created enough useful product by himself.

The most important invention was the sling. By incorporating extra material when making the middle he had been able to create a flat pad at the halfway point in the rope that could hold a stone or pebble. He pulled on the ends of the weapon to inspect it, it was exactly as long as the space between his hands when he spread his arms.

Perfect.

"You two keep doing that. You're doing well." He said as he ditched his younger brothers to test it out.

He walked past First (the second one) and Slow, who were packing a makeshift wooden fence of half-buried logs and a weave of branches with mud, according to his instructions.

He put up his thumb "Making progress!"

But they were too focused on their job to notice him.

Scratch had given up on a surrounding wall to protect themselves, if this little two-meter wide experiment was already this much of an undertaking. But it was good for keeping them busy.

-

He looked at a tree that he wanted to try to hit. He placed a pebble in his sling and started to rapidly swing it around, holding both ends in one hand. With every revolution the object amassed momentum, until he relaxed the strength of his grip and let the rope end without a knot slip out, which released the pebble and send it flying with skull-piercing speed.

There was a loud noise, somewhere, but it wasn't at the tree he had been aiming for. The target hit was a bush almost completely to the right of him, that was by how much he had missed.

Did I make it wrong, or am I just a bad marksman?

He was on his way back when he saw Biter getting up to him.

The kid was direct and straightforward. "Water."

"You're thirsty, huh? Go ask who else wants to drink and we'll organize an expedition."

The little goblin nodded and ran towards his brothers.

"A goblin attack? So late in the year?" Margaret showed a disproportionate amount of interest in the guild receptionist's offhand command.

"They called it a goblin attack, but according to their own words it was a single goblin, I'm afraid" She said politely.

"But still, where there's one goblin, there's an army. Right?" Eagerly the adventurer pressed the issue.

The receptionist dropped her polite demeanor. "Listen. During the winter month goblins die off, during spring their numbers boom and then we have the culling event."

"But the-"

"It's one goblin that wandered off after his tribe died. That's it."

Margaret sunk back dejectedly.

The receptionist looked up and down the adventurer. She seemed to be about a mid-level warrior. Not the type to go on world-saving missions but still someone head and shoulders above the common folk. She had become the number 1 subject of local gossip in the few days she'd been here, everyone knew her name. It wasn't often that an adventurer of her caliber visited a place like Eston.

"I get that it's boring. But it's your own fault for coming to such a low level region during the off season."

Margaret made a croaking sound while circling the stains on the guild desk with her fingers. "I'm here with my partymember. He wanted to make a detour through where he grew up."

"Your partymember grew up in Eston?" The receptionist asked. It was not like she had a lot of better things to do, seeing as she worked as a receptionist for the Adventurer's Guild in the least adventurous city in the world.

Margaret's eyes lit up. "No. Do you know where he grew up? The woods. He was raised by the Hidden People! Isn't that amazing? You know they say he was a child prodigy and that a goddess-"

The receptionist tried not to roll her eyes as Margeret went into her rant. Up to that point she had looked up to the adventurer for her power and prestige, it was a bit dissapointing to see her gushing like that. This party member sounded like a Hero. It wasn't like she hated Heroes, their culture was filled with things directly attributed to famous

Heroes, like outdoor bathing, and various food recipes like mayonaisse. Plus, the world relied on Heroes to fight back the terrors of the abyss. It was just that their parties tended to be more like fanclubs than actual comrades. She felt some regret at having asked.

"-bought both our freedom and exposed the baron's son to the-"

Margaret was still talking. She decided to interrupt her.

"So he's not here right now?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah. You know. Can't expose the Hidden Village, so I stay here while he goes upstream. He's so responsible, did you know he left to become an adventurer when he was only-"

The receptionist buried her face in her hands. This was a torment of her own making.

"We can't keep making these excursions." Scratch announced, when he had collected everyone.

"They were your idea." First said challengingly.

"Hunting is fine. Is hunting not fine?" Scratch looked at Yeller to confirm. Yeller gave a thumbs up and Scratch continued "Hunting is fine. But water is too important to restrict like this."

"Well, I hope you have an alternative." First (whose vocabulary had grown considerably by now) responded.

"Have I ever failed you?"

"you made fire and enemy found us." Dumb said, like it was a pop quiz.

"You're growing up way too cheecky. This won't be anything like that."

"Tell us what you need." Teeth said.

"I want to start up the fire again."

The whole meeting erupted in talking and noise, Yeller and Quiet had to do their best to get everyone to calm down.

Some distance away from the group Drool, who was leaning against the cave wall, was getting some joy out of the disruption. He had been getting the feeling that authority was slipping away from him. Scratch's gaffe made him crack a smile.

-

"Ho now, guys. Listen. We needed cooked food if we're going to survive anyway. And with fire I can make clay tools. Look."

He motioned towards the clay his expedition had collected during the last water trip, they had travelled all the way to the river to dig it up and shape it into cups and vases together.

"After it's been fired it won't go soft again and we can use it to keep a water reserve."

The ones he had made the objects with in the first place, Quiet, Yeller, Kicker, Biter and Slow would be eager to see their own work pay off. But he needed to convince the other half of the clan. As the smoke from a fire endangered everyone.

The older First demonstrably turned to look at Drool, who was still the leader. The rest followed suit.

"No fire." The patriarch declared.

Lifecycle of a dungeon

Wyrm shards emit an evil aura that scares away mundane animals, therefore, weak monsters tend to collect around it to protect themselves against predators. Such a phenomenon is called a Monster Nest, the monsters in a Monster Nest are the weakest of their region. In low-level regions clearing out a Monster Nest is an F-rank mission, while in high-level regions the danger can climb up to C-rank.

If a Monster Nest isn't cleared by adventurers it will grow larger, eventually attracting stronger monsters that wish to feed on or rule over the smaller ones. At this point the area becomes a Monster Den, which is a bigger challenge to face and a danger to nearby settlements. Monster dens will send out raiding parties or scare away low rank monsters towards inhabited areas and cause chaos. Supressing Monster Dens is an important responsibility for which the Adventurer Guild was founded.

If a magic using monster gains control over the Wyrm shard or the shard is possesed by an evil god a dungeon can form. The monsters will be organized to form a protective guard for the shard and the shard user will use its power to cast the surrounding land into shadow.

There exist ancient dungeons. These were once dungeons that caused chaos in their surrounding area but their master was slain. Even though the shard is not used to its fullest extend anymore the dungeon was large enough for a stable monster ecosystem to form. Adventurers must occasionally enter these dungeons to find treasure or to prevent bad actors from activating the shard.