"I want you to imagine a pyramid shape in front of you, like this." Scratch had equipped the entire group with pointy objects and was instructing them on how to fight with them.

"What's a pyramid?" Biter asked.

"Just. Just look at my hands. Follow what my hands are doing." Scratch was miming the four lines coming from his body and colliding into a point in front of him. "This is your pyramid, your reach. Now then, there's slashes and stabs..."

He proceeded to instruct them with his knowledge of knife-fighting. He wasn't very knowledgeable about swords and bows, but street fighting he understood from his time on Earth. Daggers weren't exactly switchblades, but they were close enough. Still, the most important piece of advice he had, that he kept repeating to his brothers, was to run away when things got dangerous. Don't be a hero.

They practiced through the twilight. It was routine to have these fighting classes after all chores had been completed, but even more priority was given to self defense when they were now mere weeks from the killing event. Or, as the bandits had referred to it as, the 'culling'. They had assured him they had no part in it and that is was organized by something called the 'adventurers' guild', which seemed to Scratch a bizarre union of a medieval cartel and a murderous scouting association.

"We have been ousted from regular society." Lydia had explained. "Adventurers and mercenaries are free to kill us, like they are to kill you."

It dawned on Scratch that by making peace with the bandits he was still no further to gaining the acceptance or tolerance of the governing powers of the land. That element of his burden had to wait, with help of Cyclophan, the evil god (Christ Almighty, what a title), he could get some distance into acquiring creature comforts and power. If only he could find a way to absorb some more information about the world from the bandits, without having to tell them too much about himself, he would be able to better predict and understand the coming challenges too.

When fortune wishes to bring mighty events to a successful conclusion, she selects some man of spirit and ability who knows how to seize the opportunity she offers. He thought to himself. Macchiavelli said that. So many able men are never given opportunity, and so many opportunities are wasted by the incompetent, I have been given plenty of gifts already, I must make use of them.

When the practice session was over Scratch ordered everyone to sit down in half a circle in front of him.

"We're doing something extra today." He told them. "Straighten your back and close your eyes."

"Why?" Most of the goblins did as he said, but Dumb demanded and explanation first.

"Follow my instructions, I'll explain as we go." He waited until everyone had followed his command. "Now then, you're all in battle mode. You've been fighting each other, moving about, and getting yourself hurt. So we're going to bring the energy levels way down. No, keep your eyes closed."

Dumb quickly closed the eye he had been peeking through.

"Breath in very slowly, like this.." Scratch mad a very loud 'breathing in' noise, making it last a few seconds to show how slowly they had to fill their lungs. "... and out, just as slowly, like this." This time he made a 'breathing out' noise. Then he sat down where he stood to do the exercise with them.

The kids had to practice a few times in order to not breath out or in immediately and then hold their breath for the rest of the time period, but instead breath at a slow, deliberate pace.

-

"Breath out your stress, your pain." Scratch instructed. "Breath in pure air, calmness, cleanness."

He could see some of his brothers, like Kicker and Biter, had trouble with the abstract language, so he repeated it a few times.

"Let all feeling flow out of your body... Anger... Happiness... Regret... These feelings are not a part of you, they come from outside, and they'll pass over you. What remains is only you, unchanged and unaffected."

The goblins did their best to follow the highly spiritual instructions.

"And... open your eyes."

With that they were back were they had sat down, the cleared area in front of the tower. Some of them looked disoriented to realize where they were again.

-

"Can anyone say why we did that?" Scratch asked.

"Yes." Dumb answered. "You can."

"Care to guess, buddy?" Scratch said bemusedly.

"You don't want us to have feelings." Said Second.

"Close. Very close. Feelings are fine. Feelings are necessary. Your emotions will help you analyze the world around you and make decisions. However, only as an adviser, never as your master. This exercise is about gaining control over your emotive state, so they don't take control of you."

There was some nodding of understanding among the group, but Quiet looked at Scratch with an expression of faint pity, which he chose to ignore.

-

"What's something that gave us a lot of feelings, but that we shouldn't let change us?"

"Teeth dying?" Fat said softly.

"Teeth. That's a very good one. Sadness does not serve any purpose we strive for, so we can discard it." Scratch breathed in and out. "Teeth made us happy when he was here, but now he is not, lingering on the past does not help us. At most, you can remind yourself to appreciate and protect the brothers your still have."

"Oh. OH." Dumb raised his hand.

"Dumb? You have one?"

"Yeah. The explosion of darkness."

"The... yes Dumb. To be honest, that one is still kind of fresh."

-

Behind at the other side of the tower the tendrils of immaterial miasma were still visible, swirling around like noxious fumes from a polluting factory. They had burst forth out of the opened up tunnel and driven the goblins from their home.

The whole disaster had taken place only a few hours earlier:

The sand had been propped up by handmade wooden scaffolding, properly tarred ones too, to prevent rot. The result was a tunnel into a dark yellow mass, wooden arches overhead like the ribcage of some giant beast. At certain parts the sand had fallen away to reveal the stone walls of the natural tunnel, but for the most part it was a tunnel through the sand.

Scratch had ordered the blockage in front removed and for digging to resume. When asked about his decision he said he had to see if something he had dreamt was real. Which was a completely unsatisfying answer.

Most of the tribe was on the surface, finishing the perimeter, but Scratch himself was eagerly digging alongside the prisoners.

"I think we're breaking through to the other side." He said, sticking his finger into a little hole that seemed to lead to an open space. "Help me with this."

They dropped their shoveling implements and started breaking down the last remaining sand wall with their hands.

-

The mine had been very dark, but what lay beyond was completely sealed off from any light at all. Creating an ever wider hole, the goblins, whose eyes were made to see in the dark, saw a beam of faint light shine into the space, highlighting the floating particles of dust. Only a night creature would be able to see them as they darted around at that place, in a stuffy hole, deeper underneath the surface.

"Hello?" Scratch climbed out of the sand and into the surprisingly damp cave. "Anybody there?"

There was no answer.

As the four climbed down into the tunnel further it became increasingly hard to see, even for them. Scratch did see the tunnel veering of to the side slightly, exposing a vein of native gold in the earth. He stroked it briefly before continuing on his path to find Cyclophan.

-

Eventually they stumbled upon the dungeon core. It was an organic looking shape, the main body being a dark orb into the far wall, with three spines coming out of the back and lining the wall in a triple helix shape. Its shape fitted the walls so perfectly that no mistake could be made, this is what had dug the tunnel, as a drill it had dug down in a spinning motion and carved out a worm-like hole for itself.

"Can you speak?" Scratch approached the thing cautiously. "I'm here to-"

The floating dust particles in the air started vibrating. Air rushed in and out of the cave, like they were the lungs of a dragon, whipping up smoke and dust and knocking the excavation party to the ground.

From the center of the core came a substance of pure darkness that could not be seen through. It expanded outwards, enveloping parts of their bodies.

The children all screamed and ran out of the tunnel.

The substance followed them closely, rushing out of the mine, into the side rooms and up towards the foyer.

When rushing out into the surface they encountered Quiet, who was carrying a plate of fish sandwiches. They dragged him with them as the explosion of darkness bust into the open behind them.

There, in broad daylight, finally the tendrils shirked back.

"What was that!?" Quiet screamed, raising his voice to audible levels for the first time in days.

"It's a long story." Said Scratch. "And I don't know it."

The darkness hadn't hurt them, but they had clearly felt the danger of it. Now their entire cave was filled with it.

"Look. I know how you guys feel about the otherworldly tendrils of pure darkness. I can assure you, I'm going to have a talk with those connected tonight, then we can have this thing sorted out."

"How?"

"I don't know how it works, I just will."

Scratch sighed. It was a complication to be sure. Still, I don't think Cyclophan tricked me, he was eager to stipulate we stay around. Then again... he did say trickery was what he was the god of... If he had tobacco on hand at that moment he would have relapsed and gotten the goblin body addicted to it too.

"Will that cure Digger too?" Laugh asked.

"Cure Digger? Of what?"

"Digger is made of stone now."

"Digger is... wait, hold up, when did this happen?"

"This morning after the darkness explosion, he wasn't with the class because of it."

"Show me."

-

The prisoners lead him to the petrified body of their friend, near the chicken coop. Digger was a goblin statue, staring in shock at something invisible.

"I thought everybody had seen it."

"Well, everybody but me." Scratch rubbed his temples. "Was this when we fled the cave? Did you see him turn to stone?"

"N-no." Laugh admitted. "We just found him here."

"So it's possible then..." Kicker posited. "That someone carved a statue and stole away the real Digger."

Biter elbowed him in the ribs for making jokes.

"What happened to the chicken coop?" Fat asked.

"Dumb, I hardly think that's-" Scratch began, but he stopped himself. "...Yeah. what happened here?"

The little fence had been broken open and the bird was nowhere to be seen.

"Did the darkness do it?" Fat suggested.

"I highly doubt it, something with mass has knocked it over. I wouldn't be surprised if whatever destroyed the coop also petrified Digger. Not a tendril of blackness, but a creature of some sort."

"Petrified..." Fat tasted the new word in his mouth. "Maybe he caught them trying to take the chicken?"

"I thought so too." Said Scratch. "But the remains of the enclosure are scattered towards the outside, not the inside. Someone didn't break in, they broke out." He kneeled down. "Experienced trackers, take a look at this."

Kicker and Biter, who had both done more hunting than all the other current members combined, came to stand next to Scratch.

"Bird feet?" Biter wondered.

"Too deep." Kicker commented. "Too large."

"A larger and heavier chicken." scoffed Scratch. "Sounds like a dream come true."

"But one then that turns people to stone." Kicker shuddered. "Why? How?"

"Evolution..." Scratch murmured. "Laugh, you told me about rabbits evolving, tell me, what about other animals? What about chickens?"

Everyone turned their attention towards Laugh, who got very nervous at being put in the spotlight. "I... I don't..."

"It doesn't matter." Kicker straightened his back. "We can't go to sleep as long as it's still around and within the perimeter."

That's right. Scratch thought to himself. The perimeter stops creatures from wandering in, but also from wandering out. That thing is still among us. And as long as it is, I can't safely doze off to meet with Cyclophan.

"Okay." He clapped his hands to get everybody's attention. "We're splitting up in groups of two. As soon as you see it, or someone turns to stone, give a yelp and the rest will come running. Is that understood?"

Everybody nodded.

"Isn't it better to just set up a trap?" Dumb said.

"Or... that. Let's do both."

The boys split up into groups.

Dumb and the surviving prisoners were to construct large snares near the huts, Kicker and Biter would scout the edge of the perimeter, Fat and Quiet the inside of the huts around the square and Scratch and Second in-between that, near the tower. Not that it was a particularly large amount of surface area all together, the groups could clearly see each other when lifting their gaze, but the consensus was that the creature was not going to proudly parade itself and the search needed a close look between nooks and crannies. Searching as many places at once would decrease the chance of them missing the creature by moving around.

-

Scratch had intentionally grouped Second and himself together. He was having a conversation while prodding moss and grass tufts with a spear.

"I can tell you're disappointed with how things have been."

Second didn't say anything.

"I can see our group is shrinking too. All the warriors, and now Digger too. Do you think it makes me happy? Because it doesn't."

"It's just..." Second couldn't find the proper words.

"Yes?" Scratch insisted.

"It's just that I thought you would protect us. But you're not. You're... trading lives."

Once more, Scratch was impressed by his brothers' ability to use the language he had taught them the literal meaning of in such an abstract way.

"Second." He let his gaze move from his own spear to Second's side, who was staring at his own task with a hurt look on his face. "I can't protect against everything. Death is a part of nature. Even if..." He thought about a good hypothetical scenario. "...all humans and orcs dropped down dead and we had more food than we could ever finish.

We would still die eventually."

Second looked at him questioningly for a moment.

"Age." Scratch explained. "Your body just starts to break down after a while. It's inevitable." Come to think about it, how long do goblins live?

"Then what's the point?" Second asked, his voice cracking. "If we're all going to die anyway."

"The point isn't to live forever. It's to live while you're alive. Do you understand me?"

"No."

"Hhhm. How do I say this. I want... I want us not just to survive, I want to live with dignity, the way to achieve that might result in some dieing earlier, but others will live worthwhile lives."

"What is dignity?"

"Dignity is... put it like this: we sleep in a warm bed, eat cooked food at a table and drink clean water. We don't crawl through the mud like animals, scavenging for our next mouthful, that gives us dignity."

Scratch mind was transported back to the past, as a human on Earth. There he had rejected poverty at a young age as an indignity, no crime or betrayal could ever be bad enough to lower his dignity to that of someone begging for money and sleeping in the street. He had become part of the criminal underworld in order to preserve his pride as a human being.

Kind of funny then, that I was deemed to have to live a life below a human. He didn't fail to see the goddess' intentions.

-

They were both over thinking his words when a scream came from the square.

It was Dumb's voice.

When they arrived at the square Dumb was tied up in a rope that had been tied to the roof of the lumber storage. He had gotten constricted in the material, and as he struggled the loop pulled in tighter and ensnared him. It was working exactly as intended, save for the target.

Four goblins were busy trying to get him out without cutting the rope. Laugh and Scream that had been making the thing with him, and Fat and Quiet who had been nearby.

"Good to see you goofing us and distracting everybody from their work." Scratch complained as they stepped into the little goblin town.

The group turned to look at them and wildly waved their arms. "No. Nonono."

"What are you afraid of? Does everybody now think I'm some kind of-" Scratch stepped into a pile of leaves, which dislodged a rope from its locking mechanism and allowed a counterweight, in the form of an earthenware pot filled with dirt, to pull a snare tautly around his ankle and yank him upwards against the side of the blacksmithing hut.

Unlike Dumb he didn't scream. But his eyes went wide with surprise. He dangled a bit before talking. "To be honest, I'm just really impressed by this trap."

Laugh came to help Second get him down.

-

While they were busy getting out of the traps Kicker and Biter arrived, alarmed by Dumb's initial scream.

"Where's the chicken?" Kicker almost yelled, holding out Teeth's old sword.

As they were about to explain what the commotion had been about he quickly cut Dumb out of his constraint, which shifted the conversation towards complaints about ruining a perfectly fine rope trap, leaving the two ever more confused.

With Laugh and Second trying to coordinate over Scratch's predicament and heavy arguing going on at the other side of the square the many voices drowned each other out and became unintelligible.

"Stop" Said Scratch, receiving no attention. "STOP!" He yelled angrily.

Everyone fell silent.

"Why..." He started. "...is Digger here?"

Digger, somewhat befuddled by the commotion, was holding up his own coat, folded around a living, squirming object like a bag. "I've got the chicken."

Yeah, petrification is only temporary. Cyclophan explained that night.

"I see you're back to that form." Scratch commented, looking at the small viper.

Hey, it's your imagination.

"I mainly want to discuss the darkness though."

Cool, isn't it? I bet you've never seen so much powerful magic in your life.

"Get rid of it."

Get rid of it? My unique ability as the god of Trickery? But it's my primary weapon against invaders.

"It's your primary weapon against your own people, you've got to stop it. For the sake of our agreement."

The snake grumbled. Fine.

"And the chicken evolving? That was you too?"

A cockatrice. The first weapon in what's going to be an extensive arsenal of weapons.

"We were using that chicken. Turn it back."

What? Why? How are we going to get a strong dungeon without monsters?

"I promise I'll get you more goblins. Just... just why? Why do you need to become a dungeon so bad?"

I told you already. I need to protect myself, humans and demi-humans that serve the main gods make it their mission to cast out evil gods.

"And how are they able to find you?"

It's a human thing. They form organizations for finding dungeons and sharing information on it between themselves. It used to be a holy order, now it's an adventurers' guild.

"And you see nothing circular in that logic?"

Huh?

"Have you considered that if there is no dungeon, there won't be any adventurers send to destroy you?"

The evil god was perplexed. A secret dungeon... That would certainly fit the god of Guile and Trickery.

"Now do you see the foolishness in protruding great tentacles of darkness and filling the land with dangerous monsters?"

Hey. No. Wait a minute. You're a goblin den, you'll attract adventurers anyway.

"What? Will they just sniff us out with their goblin senses?"

Yes. I mean no, but... every year the adventurers' guild organizes a goblin killing event in Eston, it's to prevent goblin overpopulation, for newbie adventurers to prove themselves, and to feed the slimes that are coming out of hibernation. The whole forest will be crawling with newbies, they'll stumble upon us eventually. And if you manage to fight them off, that's it, you've become an official monster den in the guild's paperwork.

Scratch scratched his imaginary chin. "I'll find something for that. But in the meantime, Cyclophan, don't make it worse. Keep it on the down low, okay? Nobody came looking for you while you were buried beneath the sand."

Aye-aye, boss. Cyclophan said sarcastically, visibly annoyed at taking orders from his champion.

"Are you going to change the chicken back?"

Uuhm... no. The cockatrice can live underground, and its eggs are larger. It only turns you to stone if you look into its eyes, so don't do that and you're fine.

Scratch groaned. "When are you going to evolve me?"

I have to gather my powers before doing anything big.

-

"Well, anyway, I should probably wake up."

Yes. No, wait. I forgot to tell you last time, you don't actually need to be asleep to talk to me.

"I don't?"

In the palace ruins of the last goblin king you'll find a pipe. He used it to smoke blue grass, which gave him the ability to speak with Bolgos, god of Gluttonous Indulgence.

"Blue grass?"

You can find it anywhere, it's grass that's blue. Magical creatures look down on it as an inferior magical ingredient, but it can give non-magical creatures a short burst of mana to do simple magic, like communing with a god.

"And if I do that, will I be able to hear your answer?"

Yes. For as long as the smoke is in your lungs.

"Alright, thanks for the tip Cyclophan."

Sebastian clutched his briefcase of ground up fairy wings. The illegal reagents would finance his household for a year if he managed to sell them to Eston's thieves' guild.

He stuck his head out of the carriage window. "What's taking so long? We should be on the road by now."

The bandit guarding his vehicle gave him an annoyed sidelong glance. This greatly offended Sebastian, how dared this footfolk look down on a baron's son like himself? It was true that he had fallen on some hard times and had to resort to selling illegal substances in order to not have to marry to a rich merchant's daughter, but he was no better, he had been exiled for his crimes and even worse, he was a peasant.

"Tell me now, bandit." Sebastian demanded of the guard.

"We're investigating a plume of magical darkness, smuggler." He snapped back.

Magical darkness? Oh, Rhada have mercy. Sebastian plucked a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe his forehead. I knew this route was too close to the witchwood.

-

"Huck. Huckabee." Another bandit approached, waving her hands. "The magic went away, Harkness says to just continue."

"Roger." The bandit slapped the side of the carriage and Sebastian's driver spurred the horses to continue.

"You know..." The bandit said from the outside of the window. "...you wouldn't have to wait like this if you had just sold it to Nestor."

"Mind your own business, peasant!" Sebastian said angrily. Deal with that thug? He refused to give blackmail material to a peasant like him, he was already under suspicion by the duke, unable to travel the main road without being inspected, as other baron families could by just showing their family name. There was no doubt peasant scum like

Nestor would demand money not to reveal the eldest son of the Tanner house had been dealing in fairy dust. If that ever happened his father would have to deny knowledge and he'd be banished, becoming a bandit himself. No, he had a trustworthy buyer in Eston's thieves' guild, a noble like himself.

"Now we have to make two trips." The bandit whined. "First you and then Nestor."

Sebastian huffed. Suited him right for being a bandit.

Cockatrice

Family: Bird

Threat Level: F

Reward: 3 copper pieces

Cockatrices are pests, usually ignored by adventurers of level E and up. Their ability to petrify regular people with their gaze makes them a nuisance in any place they turn up in, this is a weaker form of petrification that lasts only an hour or two. They can be recognized by their chicken-like bodies, with reptilian features around the eyes and feet, protruding between their regular feather bed are also a few bright green feathers.

The cockatrice's beak and green feathers make for useable alchemy reagents.

Except when mating, cockatrices prefer to be alone and are not usually found in flocks. They are omnivores and prefer environments with little plant life, such as caves and deserts, scavenging for dead animals.

Beside their ability to petrify, cockatrices have sharp claws and a beak, which render them slightly more dangerous than the average chicken.