"Noooo!" Mac's scream of grief was long and drawn out.

He was kneeling over Dumb's body, unable to awaken him.

Scratch could see Kicker and Biter get annoyed at the youngling's emotional reaction. They had known Dumb for much longer than he had, there was a certain status as mourner associated with that. It seemed presumptuous of the boy to react so much more to the loss than them, as if he cared more.

Most of the family stood around awkwardly. They had just been woken up from the magic induced sleep, the permanent loss hadn't set in yet.

"Guys. GUYS" Scratch clapped his hands to get their attention. "We've lost Digger, Laugh, and Dumb."

"I'm- I'm still alive." Digger stated, he was standing at the back, holding his broken arm.

He went on without blinking. "Regardless, our manpower has been reduced, to now wallow in grief is suicide. I order you to regain your composure."

He could see most of them repeat his meditation exercise, closing their eyes and focusing on their breathing.

Although it seemed like Benjamin was falling asleep on his feet, Second was making no effort and instead clutched his dislocated shoulder in pain, and Mac was too heavily affected, sobbing too hard to be able to even meditate.

He walked up to the young goblin and grabbed his face with both hands. "What are you doing, huh? Do you want us to feel sorry for you?"

"Nuh No-o-o" The boy's speech was affected by his hyperventilating.

Scratch kneaded his cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears. "We don't have the luxury of this weakness, okay? You're a danger to yourself and others when you're like this. Be strong."

Before Scratch could continue his arms were pushed away by Second. "Let him be. Scratch."

Scratch brought his face close to that of his younger brother. "Are you challenging me? Are you telling me what to do now? Do you know what I just-"

"Stop!" Fat yelled. "Stop! We don't need this. Not now."

Abruptly Scratch entered a warm demeanor again, turning away from Second. "Fat is right. We need to stay vigilant. Kicker and Linus, you stand guard. Fat and Second, you're in charge of the bodies, there are more downstairs. Fyro can show Biter how to treat his hand. Mac, go wash your face. I'm going to bed."

Cyclophan immediately took the opportunity of Scratch's dream to talk to him.

They were all liars. Not a single day went by without one of them telling a lie. I could see them coming from miles away!

"And yet..."

And yet you were blind and deaf to my calls. That's my champion, a creature so weak, so absolutely devoid of magic, it can't even hear the god it's championing.

Scratch sighed. The scenery of the dream was the riverside next to which the orcs had been slain. Cyclophan, in viper form, crawled around a pile of different looking bones.

"Well, I'll ease your mind. Your champion is leaving."

What? Leaving? The snake popped out of a skull in confusion.

"From the very beginning, you have been deceiving me. First you string me along with this evolution business, then you conceal the fact the location of your shard is common knowledge."

W-wait. You can't leave. Where would you go? You need me.

"For what? Protection against wandering wolves? I'd rather have wolves than superhumans."

No. The shard is still a secret. That guy, Albin, he kept it a secret because he wanted to control the dungeon. I don't know how he found out, maybe he invented a spell-

"I'm done gambling on this, Cyclophan. I should have realized sooner that that was what I was doing, now half my goons have gotten whacked."

You, you can't leave me. I'm your god! I... I have some more magic in me, I can use it to help you.

"... Like what?

Gubok rubbed his painful knee.

His situation had pivoted so abruptly and so completely he still hadn't adjusted.

After the breeding women had escaped, the well of humanoids was running dry. Every day he lost more servants to roving bands of the larger subspecies.

The greenskins didn't seem to produce females, so they couldn't grow their population without prisoners. An oversight in their creation. Orcs, at least, required a species weaker than themselves to breed, but these things needed to imprison those stronger than themselves.

He looked around the nest, the population had almost halved since then. He now had to take an active role in defending the territory, lest they be overrun. Even the daily requirements, like gathering food or repairing maintaining their shelter the wretched creatures couldn't do on their own. In orc society, men of all professions are also warriors, but the strongest warriors have no other professions. It was humiliating doing work for such weak creatures. Was this his punishment for not returning to Kubar when he could?

-

His train of thought was interrupted by one of the creature yelling out an alarm.

With a dissatisfied grunt he grabbed Garak's old equipment and stood up. He would have to go defend his cattle again.

The commotion came not from the larger humanoids attacking the camp this time. Instead, a different tribe of the green skinned creatures had tried to snuck in and swipe the food.

The beings didn't possess the intelligence to know when they were outmatched, and they had to be starving. The constant stream of attackers made hunting and gathering a whole lot more dangerous, and any reserves were lost when they had to flee their home.

The invaders were holding clubs and large rocks, but were wearing round helmets of orcen make, and their leader wielded a long dagger made of the same black steel. These were inheritors of Kubar and Grat's tribe taming project, they had armed humanoids to earn their loyalty and exterminate others, creating groups like this one. The tribe Gubok had taken over had been armed a lot better though, and were already encircling the desperate creatures when he arrived at the scene.

Gubok was about to let the events take their natural course, but he then realized he had been complaining about having less of the creatures around and now more had arrived.

If they really were servants of the orcs, perhaps they had been taught to speak.

Gubok stepped over one of his own servants, and struck the enemy leader with his hammer to the side of the helmet, killing it instantly.

"Bow to me!" He yelled at the others, keeping in mind their likely limited vocabulary.

They understood, and they complied.

A grin appeared on his snout. This could work.

After counting the casualties it was understood that twelve-and-a-half goblins were still alive.

Dumb, Laugh, and Scream had all died, and Digger was out of commission after breaking his forearm. They had tried to reset the bone, but it was clear the fracture wouldn't simply heal, as the flesh around it became swollen and discolored.

So, as was the goblin lifestyle, their lost numbers needed to be replenished.

This time Scratch did take the lead, although he was opposed to all candidates crowding around in the same room. Just to appease him the goblins that were not Barbara's children waited their turn to take her at different hours of the day, while the others resumed their duties.

-

Scratch went first, in the morning.

The woman was silent and complacent, a bit more than would be expected from the limited training. He still didn't trust her, but he knew she wouldn't try anything radical in her current situation.

She opened her legs to him, and he would need to do very little, just surrender himself to the primal urges his little body shot up into his brain with its hormones.

Still, he was surprised at how little stamina he had. A few thrusts was enough and the process was complete. A goblin didn't need any more, he supposed.

-

Not too long after, Quiet got his chance. Which he took with uncharacteristically loud fervor.

Only Scratch was disturbed by the grunts.

Second had an uneventful session too.

In early noon it was supposed to be Biter's turn, but their schedule was interrupted by more human invaders.

-

A quartet of humans crossed the perimeter from the front. All the minimal armor, maximal armaments types. One of them was a woman.

The guards spotted them immediately and were able to react appropriately.

A loud scream sounded to alert the others, and the ballista had them in its sight from the start.

It was the ideal scenario for their defenses. Which was a stroke of fortune, they still hadn't altered their strategy after losing so many the day before.

One human deflected an arrow from the tower ballista, only to be hit be a crossbow bolt to the stomach immediately. Two other fired back, but their projectiles were rebuffed by the battlements.

So compromised were they by the tower's strong suppression, that they weren't able to avoid being surrounded by the spear wielders on the ground.

-

"Catch the woman alive!" Scratch called over the screaming and grunting. "We can use her!"

It was a lot harder catching a person alive without being hurt, that it was killing them.

The woman knew what was waiting for her, and swung at the goblins surrounding her with her large metal gauntlets ferociously, even when her team mates were dead, breaking two spearheads in the process.

In the end they compromised by slicing at her hands and feet, the extremities, to hurt her without killing her.

-

After she was disarmed by this treatment, three goblins jumped on her to keep her down.

Scratch picked up a saber from a fallen human off the ground. It was too big for him to carry very far, so he planted in the ground and leaned against it. "What's your name?"

"Nggg, raah!" She protested against the capture.

"Can't she talk?" Fat asked.

"She probably can, but she won't. Fat, you and Mac strip her and put her with the other. The rest stay here, there must always be a lookout."

Biter made himself heard. "Uh, I was-"

"Yeah, well... make it short."

Stiff with adrenaline Scratch paced up and down the perimeter some more, making sure there was currently a shift keeping watch, then he went back to the cave.

The village was almost completely destroyed by the dark sorcerer and his minions. The only things still standing were the well and the fireplace. If they wanted drinkable water they had to boil it in a kettle.

Biter was just outside, washing himself next to the well.

"You done?" Scratch remarked in passing.

"We had to tie up the new one." Biter said. "She's a wild animal."

"We'll get her to calm down."

-

Inside, Fyro an Mac were done preparing the ingredients for their new project, they had laid them out on the wooden floorboards.

A few feathers from the cockatrice had been ground up in a bowl, the tongue of a human was presented on a small plate, and large reserves of water and salt stood to the side.

"He's here." Said Mac as he saw Scratch enter the foyer.

"What's all this for?" Asked Fyro, gesturing towards the display with his unhurt hand.

"A magic potion." Scratch stated. "Let's start at the beginning, put up a kettle, we're boiling the water."

I can take you away from this world. Read the words on the computer screen. I can make you an old soul, like us.

He slurped the cheap microwaved Japanese pasta while over thinking his next move. He had been catfishing the enemy for weeks now, pretending to be an innocent soul, helping their investigation in token ways. It still wasn't his expertise, but at least is was safer than going out and personally destroying evidence.

If he plans on meeting up, I may need a stand-in. Just as they destroyed my source of cheap labour. Just the week before the ringleaders of his human trafficking operation had been found burned to death at their own dockyard. It was better than seeing them arrested and interrogated, but he still lost a major business.

He put down the food and started typing. What does that mean?

The response was quick. It's a potion. An elixer. I drank it myself on the world Zynthas, and I became a champion of the goddess. Our spells do not hurt old souls, if you're captured, we can destroy your captors without hurting you.

Old souls... he had heard that term before. He was eager to obtain protection against the enemy's primary weapon, but he remembered to stay in character. I'm afraid This is all so strange.

I want to protect you, the potion is the way to do that.

Bingo. What do you need?

I don't need much. Just some purified water and some ingredients from powerful lifeforms, but me and my fellow warriors can provide those.

Provoid. Thank you for everything.

You're welcome.

It was a desperate move, but these were desperate times. Once the individual had created this so-called magic potion, he would have to find a way to take it for himself. Hopefully he could corner and isolate him somewhere, or lure him into a trap.

Cyclophan had promised to use the dungeon's directed magic flow to help the goblins fight off invaders. However, as with everything he did, before it could work the goblins had to make the necessary preparations.

After the water was boiled and purified, they poured some of it into a clay vase, normally used for water carrying. They added salt to increase the density of the liquid, it had to be at a point where the human tongue could be suspended within the liquid. When they went too far and the tongue rose to the top when submerged they knew they'd gone too far and more water had to be added to dilute the solution.

Once they were done they chopped up and crushed the tongue into a paste, mixed it with the feather powder, and poured out most of the salt water until the vase contained a volume equal to the tongue paste. Then all contents were mixed in the face and it was sealed off tightly with a piece of cloth.

"What does all this do?" Fyro would ask about the different steps in the recipe.

"I'll be honest." Scratch would respond. "I haven't the foggiest."

-

The last step of the process was exposing the mixture to Cyclophan's magic.

Fyro and Mac followed Scratch as he carried the thing downstairs, to the crystal at the far end of the cave.

They stepped over the chicken coop. The core had been digging into the stone, growing the tunnel. Soon they would need to move the birds' habitat back or install a back fence.

"Here's your disgusting brew." Scratch said, putting the vase against the crystal. "The rest is up to you."

"What..." Mac asked.

"Nothing. It's just... this shard thing. It's what's been protecting us."

-

While they were waiting for Cyclophan's magic to create their secret weapon, Scratch agreed to tell them what happened while they were unconscious.

The goblins with the free time to listen to his anecdote were Fyro, Mac, and Biter, later joined by Kicker when he came by for his turn with the captured woman.

"We stood no chance in combat." He explained while leaning back. "Our only plan was to find some way to make the enemies fight each other for us. Not that we had to do much means for that either, perhaps a treasure for them to fight over, and the darkness of course."

"Why the darkness?" Biter wanted to know.

"Why indeed? If you don't know what's next to you, it's safer to assume it's an enemy. Some paranoia and uncertainty is a main ingredient in the recipe for turning people against each other. In that way it's a microcosm of our reality over all, I suppose. You never know what other people are thinking, that creates tension, an incentive to 'get them' before they 'get you'."

"Hhmm." Fyro pondered, scratching at his wound. "A microcosm is... the same-

"-but smaller yes."

"Then you can do it big too."

"What? Sow discord? Absolutely, it's a common tactic for those that want to sabotage a system or group."

"Can't we do it with all adventurers then?"

"No. Well... maybe."

Barbara sat in her room, staring at the door.

She felt like a child being disciplined, being confined to the cell like this.

Rationally, she understood that the goblins were mistreating her and keeping her against her will. But emotionally, Scratch managed to make her feel like she had acted ungratefully.

At least she wasn't like that anymore, like the woman currently tied up by all extremities and attached to the wall.

"Hhhhmpf. Hhhmpf!" She proclaimed through her cloth gag.

Barbara slowly turned her head to look at her. The room was currently illuminated by the dim light of a home-made candle, and both could see each other's faces.

"I'm not allowed to take off your gag." Barbara whispered. "But I will, if you don't scream."

Without waiting for some form of confirmation, she untied the material.

"Help! We're captured! Help!"

"No!" She quickly balled up material and pushed it back in. It wasn't so much that she'd be punished for this particular piece of conduct, but there were kids sleeping in the room directly next to them. They had been staying awake for long periods of time to keep watch and only got a limited amount of sleep each day.

"There's nobody around for miles, I've checked. So keep your voice down. Now... what's your name?" She took out the gag again.

"Ngg. Ugh. My name is Brittany, I'm almost a level E adventurer. This can't be the end of my story, not goblins. No way."

"It doesn't have to be." She glanced at the door. "Listen, the leader of these goblins is some sort of magical being. I had smuggled along a vial of mana toxin when I came here, but has confiscated it. If we can get our hands on that vial, I think together we-"

*Bang*

The door shot open.

"They're talking." Said Kicker the goblin. "I knew they'd be talking."

"We'll separate them, as Scratch said." Responded his tribesman, the injured Digger. "I'll leave you alone with her."

He then dragged Brittany along by her bindings.

She screamed loudly and pulled on the bindings, until he had to threaten her with a knife.

-

Two more goblins used Barbara's body to breed that day.

She had gotten used to it again, her short vacation from goblin slavery was over now and she entered her disassociated routine again.

Without Milly and the others this time. But who knows, perhaps after they had 'domesticated' Brittany to their satisfaction they'd let them room together again.

The next morning the goblins opened up the vase.

Over night the liquid had expanded in volume and undergone some remarkable changes in consistency, becoming more viscous and cream-like.

"Digger, you'll be our guinea pig." Scratch said, as he and Abel lifted the thing up to the foyer.

Digger looked up from his drawing.

The injured goblins were kept inside. Each had been handed a piece of charcoal and a ripped out page from a book with a blank side, and they were busy sketching the likeliness of the dead adventurers with the severed heads standing model.

-

"Hold out your arm." Scratch ordered, as the goblin dutifully trotted up to him.

Digger painfully lifted up his broken arm, it was discolored and misshapen, it looked painful.

The rest of the residents stopped doing what they were doing, just to observe.

Using a spoon scratch took a scoop of the magical concoction and unceremoniously chucked it against the painful seeming area.

As soon as the liquid came into contact with the skin, it attached itself to it and changed colour to match it.

"Uhm. How do you feel?" Scratch asked, looking at the the layer of extra skin that was wrapped around Digger's forearm like a piece of cloth.

"It doesn't hurt anymore." Was all digger could say.

A magic to remove the wounds of your warriors. Cyclophan had promised. He had gone to great lengths to avoid calling it healing magic. And the way the material attached to the skin like that didn't make it seem like it had reset the bone or anything.

"Hhm." Scratch thought about it for a moment, then he shrugged. "Fuck it. Everybody form a line."

The potion allowed them to form a stronger force over the following day.

Which was good, since they were attacked by humans on two separate occasions.

First in the afternoon, by a party of six, two of which had healing abilities.

More battlements on the tower and better use of shields by the goblins allowed them to quickly kill the healers with minimal injury, but two of the remaining humans fled.

This worried Scratch, since he thought the location of their base would quickly spread, and that that would attract more enemies.

Kicker remarked that Dumb would have said it could deter them too.

The second attack was just before sunset, when they were caught be surprise by an adventurer sneaking through the long shadows. Eventually he was killed by Benjamin's spear, but not before he had demonstrated for them that flesh healed by the potion no longer could bleed.

A disturbing fact, but no cause for alarm. In fact, this was useful, the chance of bleeding out was diminished.

-

Once the sun set all drawing were complete, and the boys spread out into the forest to enact Scratch's plan.

"It's also Fyro's plan, in a way." Scratch said.

"I'm a tactical mastermind." Fyro concluded.

"'In a way' means not at all." Was Linus reaction.

The three were one of the teams set out to set up a single notice board. Fyro was carrying the planks, Linus the paper.

"What was the point of my plan again?" Fyro asked in an embarrassed tone.

"We're sowing the seeds of discord and distrust." Scratch answered, looking around. Then he pointed at a small hill. "That's a good place, nice and visible."

They quickly went to work, attaching the planks together into a reasonably sturdy board and digging a hole to plant the post in.

"But.. see... how?" He wanted to know, while they were working.

"Well, it's a long shot, I admit." Scratch said as he pinned the drawings to the board with knives. "But we don't need them to believe it, only to suspect others of believing it."

Each of the papers was a wanted poster, modeled after the adventurer requests shown in the children's book from the farm.

-

"EXTERMINATION REQUEST" stood above the portraits of the four powerful adventurers. "REWARD: 2 GOLD"

Scratch had tried to estimate what would be a reasonable reward for a dangerous assassination mission, but with only one trading partner he couldn't make a proper estimation. He decided to go for a high estimate.

Next to these stood some fake instructions, burned into the wood. "Any participants in the culling have a bounty on their heads by Beatty. Turn in the heads of goblin slayers at the following location for monetary compensation: "

The simplified map of the area showed the location of the bandit camp, in the hope that any investigative sleuths would come across a very real enemy encampement and not immediately disprove the ruse.

-

"If the humans think there are human hunters, they might try to attack first when they see other humans." Linus explained to Fyro somewhat condescendingly.

"And even if they are certain the notice is fake, they might be afraid others are not. Necessitating them to strike first before the others do. And so on."

Fyro seemed unconvinced.

"It's a longshot, I admit. But it's something. Let's go home."

The messenger felt a certain apprehension approaching the high ivory spire.

It used its momentum to swoop upwards, and flapped its wings a few more times to come up to the highest window, it tapped its beak on the glass to be let in.

"A message, master, from the east." Spoke the shrill voice of a servant, as he let the bird in.

The messenger looked on in fear as the back of the master rose up from the news. He was even bigger in person. The legendary monster that ruled these lands, the ravenous lich. He could only hope the message he'd brought with him was good news, or the master of darkness might take out his displeasure on him.

The servant untied the parchment from the messenger's claw, read it, and summarized the contents. "It seems like Albin has died, sir. Trying to claim a dungeon."

"Good." The lich's voice was far deeper than any natural creature could make, it sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder. "Yanis wouldn't have forgiven me, had the ingrate been able rise to power due to me."

"So that's those ends tied up?" The servant asked, rather forwardly.

"Not yet. The stolen knowledge contained the location of an unclaimed core, not a dungeon."

"I see. One to watch then, I suppose."

"One to watch indeed."

The messenger was released without coming to harm.

Martial Class

The martial artist is a close combat role, in many ways similar to the duelist. But where the duelist hones singular excellence with a specific weapon, the martial artist makes their own body a weapon.

Adventurers registered as martial artists have access to martial equipment from the guild store and personal combat training.

While not as capable of dealing direct damage as a duelist, martial artists train in dodging incoming attacks and escaping difficult situations, allowing them to adventure without support roles very easily.

Not all aspiring adventurers have talents necessary to become a martial artist, it is a relatively rare class nowadays.