"Did you see what they did to him?" Barbara asked.

"Not very well." Scratch admitted. "I was on the tower, we were doing an ironic music thing."

The two were staring off into the forest where the twin enforcers had dragged off the former guild leader.

"I just wish I could have seen his face." She clenched her fist. "I can almost imagine his stupid expression at being betrayed."

"Haha, okay." Scratch rolled his eyes. He looked down on people that held grudges, but he didn't feel the need to antagonize her over it, so he simply changed the subject. "Are you content with the exchange?"

"You mean the shop?"

"Such as it is."

With Fyro gone relations between the thieves and the bandits was now handled through the sisters. Correspondence was still by the same carrier pigeons, but it was Barbara that ordered supplies and sold smuggled wares to the Eston underground. To conduct this business she had been given her own storefront, a shack with a counter. That the bandits would have to use as a middleman in order to buy and sell goods.

Currently it was being manned only by Linus, who sat behind the counter writing down orders and selling supplies to all residents that came by.

"It's a start." The woman answered. She looked over at the small hut, seemingly minute next to the tall perimeter walls and just as bare and unpainted. "I just know that this isn't a selfless gift, you have an angle."

"You do know me." Scratch smirked. "Everything has two reasons. As it happens, your sister is in a precarious situation. She sold out her family's head to the other leaders, she wouldn't be the presumptive replacement without a unique ability. The arrangement being what it is she can tout her special relationship with you. The same way you're our gateway to Eston, she's Eston's gateway to us."

"What? What's your relationship with my sister then, that you want to prop her up?" Barbara frowned, still bearing resentment towards Mabel.

"Come now." Scratch laughed. "You're smarter than that. Why do we want a leader in the thieves' guild whose power depends on us?"

He eyes widened. "A puppet. Mabel has to do whatever she can to keep us happy!"

"I had told you that I wouldn't ask you to trust her." Scratch explained. "We don't build our lives on people's willingness to please us, but on their need to."

-

Discussing their strategy thusly they walked up to the shop and entered.

"Back from our smoking break. Oh? I see there's a line." Scratch commented.

The goblin in front of them was dressed up in decorated pelts and feathers. Functionless wraps tied with lace encircled various parts on his body, including the feet, where they protected the soles but left a hole for the toenails to stick out. He turned around, and it was Fat, who had been their liaison at the tree tribe for a while now.

"Ah Fat, it's you! Ain't you fine and dandy." Scratch patted his shoulder and looked him up and down.

"I am!" Fat proudly displayed his adornments. "It's a reward for good work." He looked at Scratch's one long sleeve.

"You too?"

"Eh, this is nothing. What brings you here man? Homesick?" Scratch changed the subject.

Fat shook his head then puffed out his chest. "We're building a water tower. I was send to the Promise to trade materials."

"The promise?" Scratch asked. "Did you name this place already, Barb?"

But the goblin mother shrugged questioningly.

Fat looked a little surprised, but then explained. "Everybody calls this place the Promise. Because of what you said."

Scratch looked lost.

"You know? 'This is a promise-' when we chased out the killer."

Scratch clapped his hands together. "Oh, I see now. When we promised to protect the tribes. That's a pretty literal interpretation."

"It makes sense." Barbara commented. "That's what the whole wall is all about, isn't it? To protect, like you promised."

"Well, it's as good a name as any." Scratch shrugged. "I don't think just calling it 'the village' is sustainable with all the villages we're springing up around us."

-

The two goblins continued to exchange anecdotes about their lives while Barbara separated from them to check up on her son's efforts.

Linus was busy transcribing the tree home's orders onto Scratch's arcane bookkeeping system. His desk was low to the ground to service both humans and goblins and required the users to sit on the ground on a pillow.

"Is- Is this double-entry?" Barbara raised her eyebrows at the vertical lists of numbers and accounts.

"I have to credit and debit." Linus explained. "Debit is 'to-be-received'. Because they don't have the money yet. But credit...."

Barbara wrinkled her forehead. "When you debit, that's increasing a liability or decreasing an asset. I think? So you decrease the value of the gems and bricks we have."

"But we don't have any gems and bricks yet." Linus complained. "It's an order for the future."

"Then... increase the amount on to-be-delivered. That's a liability I think... Wait, are expenses a debit or a credit account? It shouldn't it be credit?"

"Guys. Guys." Scratch wrestled himself loose from Fat, who was just demonstrating the new fighting techniques he'd learned. "If there's no exchange, there's no accounting post. You just write it in your 'to-do' list."

Barbara leaned her elbow on the low table, the had to bend her spine more than she had expected to do so. She looked uncomfortable but didn't correct her posture immediately to make it look intended. "Why are you making him do this complicated stuff? Do you know what double-entry bookkeeping is for?"

Scratch didn't grasp her meaning. "For... keeping books?"

"It's a technique used by nobles to detect embezzling. We don't use it for small businesses. How can you know how it works but not what it's for?"

Scratch waved the question aside. "It's not that hard once you get used to it. Linus is one of the smartest kids I know. These are the kind of skills that will benefit him in the future when he gets a career in upper management."

Barbara and Linus looked at each other and smiled bemusedly. The idea that they would ever be administrating accounts belonging to nobles seemed preposterous.

"But if you're done with Fat's orders I have a big one for you. And this one's an accounting post, because I'm paying upfront."

"What's that?" Barbara asked for Linus.

Scratch pulled a piece of paper and a pouch of gold out of his sleeve. "The first home construction of the village. The Harkness estate."

"Oooh." The others poured over the small fortune.

"Does Beatty approve of you spending his gold like that?" Barbara asked.

"It's a home loan, he understands. We don't have any banks to supply those around here."

"Well no... And even if there were, banks don't hand out loans. That's not something a bank does." She commented.

He looked her straight in the eyes with a blank expression. "Silly me."

"I heard there were baby dogs." Fat suddenly said. "Can I go see the new dogs?"

"We'll all go together once Linus is done with this order." Scratch decided. "He needs help walking. Then we'll go pet the puppies."

"Huh?"

"Puppies is what baby dogs are called."

-

The new wall to the cave was coated with plaster, giving it a smooth pastel colour.

The heavy wooden door and cat flap besides it stood out in the mellow background.

The flap was large enough for the wolves to fit through comfortably, it was installed with them in mind. Yet when the brothers arrived a pair of the canines sat outside eying the entrance.

When Barbara pulled open the person door they slipped through, their tails and ears pointed downwards and keeping the non-wolves in the corner of their eyes.

"Is that what we got this thing for?" Scratch called after them through the flap. "Ingrates!"

Inside was an altered foyer. It was less of a living room now, most of the soft furs and furniture had been moved farther into the tunnel while the front had been exposed to the open air. Only a few shelves with loose paper remained. On one chair next to the downward stairs Benjamin lay sleeping, his spear and shield slumped to the sides of his body.

"Did you get to see the renovations?" Scratch asked Fat.

"I was only here for digging out the rubble." Fat answered, it had fallen unto him to support Linus and help him walk, so the two shuffled through the door while Barbara held it open.

"We moved everything back." Scratch explained. "You'll see. It's on our route."

-

The lower level was cooler and more comfortable for goblins. There were just over a dozen side rooms splitting off from the tunnel now, servicing as living spaces, workshops, or storage. Not all of them had doorways as neat as the first four.

At points the column-like side of a cylinder would intersect with the tunnel walkway, narrowing their path. Chimneys carrying black smoke from the deep caverns out towards the surface.

"I helped cut the tiles." Linus bragged, referring to the mosaic stone floor that gave them level footing.

"It's very nice." Fat flattered him.

The end of the tunnel was unaltered since the last time Fat had visited. The stone stopped and was replaced by a wooden staircase, that led into a wooden room. A decorated negative sphere with plank flooring that had polished round holes in it to hold bedding for the wolves.

Not much of the floor was visible under the backs of countless black wolves. Normally the beasts didn't gather in the hall for most of the day, the small embers that the goblins kept in metal bowls to light up the room wasn't enough for the creatures to see clearly. Now that there were new lives in the den they had more of a reason to congregate.

Still, the sheer volume of quadrupeds surprised Scratch.

There was a faint but deep murmur in the cave, as the animals conversed with each other in their own language. It drowned out the gentle clattering of the underground stream.

"Mom?" Linus asked. "Are you coming?"

Barbara stood frozen at the top of the staircase. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of animals. "I can't see sh- anything.

You go look at the puppies, Linus. I'll be right here."

"You're becoming a real mother, aren't you?" Scratch whispered to her as they began to step down.

"Shut up." She whispered back.

-

The wolves had gotten used to goblins moving through their artificial home, but the mother growled at them when they approached the bed she'd made for her puppies.

Wendy, Cyclophan's wind wolf, put her nose in the mother's neck to calm her down.

"All mothers are protective of their kids." Scratch said. "So observe the etiquette, hm?"

"If only that were true." Fat commented.

"'If only'?" Linus mocked his use of language.

The puppies were small and stocky. Their legs stubby and their eyes almost completely closed.

"Aww." Linus cooed, an unlearned and involuntary response.

Pentajo, the goblin that had moved in with the wolves as a package deal was in charge of the mother's health while she neglected it to focus on her children. He just came by to deliver a bowl of fresh water. "Don't- oh!"

He had recognized Scratch as a high status member of the community and altered his tone to be less aggressive.

"Please be careful."

"It's good to get them used to our presence at a young age." Scratch invented on the spot. It sounded like it was probably true.

"How long until they grow up?" Fat asked.

"A pup becomes big in three months." Pentajo stated sagely. "But they're not- uh..."

"Mature?" Scratch helped.

"Mature. Before 8 months and 8 more. Wendy," he pointed at the wind wolf, "is many many months. Older than me."

"Older than 'I'." Scratch corrected him.

"Yes. That too."

"No health concerns? I thought all of them were related." Scratch inquired while the others petted the puppies.

Pentajo shook his head. "The... father... is not related."

"It's not one of those two, is it?"

Two of the warg wolves, Nico and Bello, were dobermans that had been altered by the dungeon's magic. Their minds were still childlike, like a dog's.

"No. The new pack."

"New pack?"

"Didn't you notice?" Linus asked. "New dogs came from the forest. They follow Wendy."

Scratch looked directly at the wind wolf, who calmly stared into the blank darkness. She had left the mother to converse with the two wolves they had let in.

"No wonder they didn't know how to work the dog way." He remarked dryly. "How many wolves are here now?"

"I don't know... big numbers." Pentajo said apologetically.

"Well, give it your best shot. As much as there are goblins? More? Less?"

Pentajo's face scrunched up as he tried to match a wolf to each goblin in his head.

"With these ones it's 5 times 10." Linus helped.

"So fifty." Scratch answered.

"And a bit."

"That's great!" Fat roared. "Wolves are so fast, you can travel between the homes, take carts and stuff."

"Eh." Scratch shrugged. "They aren't horses. They're fast with just a goblin on their back, but they can't carry much, and they can't pull a carriage to save their lives. Besides, they've got their own little will. Except for Nico and Bello they won't carry you at all if it's not for something drastic."

"... Can we give them a name?" Linus asked, looking at the puppies. "You gave Wendy a name."

"Tell you what." Scratch decided. "If you can get one to do what you want, you can give him a name."

Pentajo tugged on Scratch's sleeve. "With so many dogs, the cave is small..."

"Yeah. You take that barking horn and you tell them that the next time they plan on expanding the horde, they should check with us if improving accommodations is convenient for us."

"Conve- So will you?"

"I'll put it on the list."

Below the growing town on the surface, underneath the dark burrows of the goblins, down the wide open depths, and above Cyclophan's core, the steel mill was still in full operation.

Its noxious gases were captured in a tall pillar that entered the cavern's ceiling into a drilled pathway towards the top of the dungeon.

The iron from the higher caves had been exhausted by now. Lacrima had given them another magical item to procure more.

The thing had arrived via Mabel, a test of her loyalty, during the regular transaction of contraband. It looked like a mundane three-pronged tree branch, but when firmly grasped by two ends it pointed its user towards pockets of iron in the stone. Scratch had referred to it as 'magnetic'.

Scratch had also suggested that they stockpile the lighter gray stone that surrounded the lines of pure iron they dug up. The ore was heaped up in an increasingly large mount next to the forge and had no practical application.

When digging up new pockets the goblins would install temporary mining camps. Wooden pathways branched out to reach the new areas where they encircled holes in the ground and walls and supported basic shelter for tools. This spreading architecture gradually tamed the foreign rock and turned it into a known place, the deep home.

The goblins weren't paid for their mining work. Part of the promise to new mothers in the human-goblin alliance was supposed to be that the children would form a single large household for the mother to oversee. Barbara's children staying below the surface for an enterprise that didn't benefit her and that they did not receive compensation for her to spend was a violation of that agreement. She didn't seem interested in pursuing the issue and if anyone did, they could be told to take it up with the witch.

-

No imperative from Lacrima existed to cover up the side entrances to the cavern like Cyclophan wanted. Scratch made some empty promises to the evil god that he saw through immediately. Cyclophan reminded Scratch of his duties once more, Scratch reminded him of his needs, and eventually they came to an agreement that the forge cave would be walled off 'eventually'.

"Eventually, we're going to have to wall off these side paths." Scratch mentioned to George while they and Fyro were inspecting a diverging hollow. He was looking up at the arch cleaving the rock face into a shaft leading sharply down. It was on the opposite end of the cavern from the forge and the dungeon core, facing away from the sea.

"Why?" George wondered.

"Keep some people happy. Keep some monsters out..." He trailed off. "How high is that, anyway?"

"How much was a foot?" George asked.

"A foot is this much." Scratch held his hands thirty centimeters apart. "If you mean the unit, not the body part."

"I think it's got to be, like, twenty times that." Fyro said.

"It's about as high as the forge chimney." Scratch estimated. "But it'd be a lot wider, blocking this off would be the largest wall we've ever done."

"You want to build it all the way to the top?" George asked. "Because of birds?"

"Birds would come from the other end, at the sea. Here it would be bats."

George stared off into the dark cave. "Fyro went in the day before yesterday."

"What? I didn't hear about that."

"I didn't see any bats, but I saw water. There's a river down there."

Scratch furrowed his brow. "I'm confused. Is there already a rope ladder down there then?"

"I climbed down on the rocks." Fyro answered. "There's lots of stones to hold on to."

The uncle looked slightly annoyed. "So you risked your life."

"No... well, not much."

"Was anybody there to get help if you'd fallen?"

"Yeah. George was there, right George?"

George shrugged. "I was nearby."

Scratch sighed. "I'll chew you out later. Let's throw this thing down and have a look.

-

Rope ladders using important human-made rope were reliable and strong. They just needed an equally strong anchoring point.

Having left the wooden walkway and treading the cold stone the trio nailed the rope to the edge of the descending tunnel. Then they rolled it out through the unseen depths, hearing it rattle against the curving stone as it unfolded into a stairway.

"After you Mr. Explorer." Scratch gestured for Fyro to take the lead.

"Thank you." He responded, not detecting the ironic tone.

The crack in the stone resumed horizontally after the sharp. drop-off. The rope ladder was slightly longer than necessary, its end was spread out horizontally on the floor.

"Gimme the crossbow." Fyro demanded as they had reached the bottom.

"Do you do everything Fyro tells you?" Scratch asked his nephew as George exchanged the weapon for the cinder lantern.

"If he wants to carry it he can carry it, less work for me." George shrugged.

"In that case you can have the dowser." Scratch handed over Lacrima's gift to him and took the lamp for himself. "Go see if there's any iron around here. Anything big, we're not expanding down here for scraps."

The space they were in narrowed down quickly with distance from the entrance. It was a jagged tear into the stone.

"I don't see any bats or water." Scratch commented, peering off into the darkness. He held up the lantern to see, the glowing embers in the casing gave off enough light for a goblin to see.

"Just a bit further." Fyro took the lead, the crossbow slumped over his shoulder.

Hidden by the texture of the rock were several side passages, splitting the rock into a web way of diverging and conjoining paths.

"I'm not feeling anything." George said as he followed after Fyro, firmly grasping the iron finder.

"We have to get our iron somewhere." Scratch insisted, likewise treading behind.

"We already have a lot. We just don't know what to do with it." George countered. They were following a criss-cross path through a small maze of tunnels that Fyro was laying out.

"What do you mean?"

"We keep making steel. But it's really hard to turn it into metal suits. Every time we try it breaks, or it becomes too thin, or something else. So we have to smelt it again."

"I see. Experimentation can only get you so far. We need a real blacksmith to help us out."

George thought a bit about the way Scratch had phrased and then agreed. "...Yeah.

"Here it is!" Fyro proudly displayed a tiny stream of water trickling over the stone floor.

"No iron." George stated, waving the magic item above it.

Scratch was similarly unimpressed. "I guess that's it. Let's get out of here."

"Hey wait." Fyro protested. "There's more."

"More water?" Scratch scoffed.

"Just come look."

Around the bend the stream led into a proper underground lake. A shallow pool with a low ceiling and a shore of dry floor on the other side.

Small scaleless reptiles swam through the clear water.

"There's plants in the water." Fyro claimed. "It's like the doghouse, it's-"

"Wait a minute." Scratch held his hand in front of his lantern. "The water, it's light."

"Yes."

"No, I mean there's light coming from the water. There's something underneath..."

He began to wade through the water, kicking up dust to get a closer look at the strange shining bottom. With the soil out of the way a powerful glow shone through, bathing the room is refracted green light. It was intensely hot, scalding Scratch's legs and making him recoil back onto the shore.

"Wow..." Fyro said, taking in the light show illuminating the cave.

At the other end of the pool, a part of the wall stirred. In the bright magical light what had seemed like stone was revealed as clearly alive.

A hulking ape heaved itself upright, still leaning on its enormous forearms. It had a human quality to it, a head of scraggly hair with curling horns and the face of a man. But its body was closer to that of a great ape, with fists the size of its head.

From where they were standing the goblins couldn't make out the creature's facial expression, but a tension filled the space as the two parties sized each other up.

The monster made some aggressive grunts and immediately Fyro released the crossbow bolt. It flew straight and hard, right into its shoulder. But instead of penetrating the skin it deflected to the side. It left only a deep cut, hurting rather than crippling it.

The monster released a thunderous and furious yell. "Ngaaah!" And began to storm towards them.

It ran like a gorilla, propelling itself forward and storming through the shallow water like a snow piercer.

"Run!" Scratch yelled, and the three fell back into the web work of tunnels.

Fyro released another shot before turning the corner, hitting the nose and cutting open the face.

"I think we can kill it!" He yelled while reloading. "I think we can win."

But the screaming from inside the cave multiplied as countless of the creature's family responded to its calls and came rushing after them.

"Run run run." Scratch kept repeating, and they did run. They put the whole of their little bodies into the act of sprinting, feeling the stomping of angry behemoths catch up to them.

When they reached the rope ladder they had so much adrenaline and momentum that they scaled it instantly.

Fyro was last up the steps and could feel the air pressure of a 500 pound bulldozer leaping towards his back. The body heat of the beast touched him as an enormous hand encircled his leg.

But before it could close around him George gave him a good pull and Scratch smashed the crossbow against the rope ladder, snapping the rope and dislodging the nails.

The monster had been holding on to their rope and plunged into the depths as it gave away. They could hear it scream in rage as it smacked into the jagged floor below.

"Hah Haah." Fyro panted. Death had been close enough to touch him with fear just then, when the beast was about to drag him down.

"What a shock!" Scratch laughed. "They can't climb up here, can they?"

"Stones are too loose," George responded "... I think."

The three began to back away from the opening.

"Where's the dowsing rod, George?" Scratch looked at him up and down.

"Dropped it. And I'm not gonna go down and get it back."

He nodded in understanding. "Very wise."

Troll

Family: Subhumans

Threat Level: D

Reward: 15 copper pieces

Trolls are a special type of subhuman. They are equivalent to ogres in their threat, but instead of on the surface they live underground. Trolls can be recognized by their large forearms and curly horns. Their skin is gray. They bother human settlements at night in order to steal food and kill livestock, but return to their caves before morning, except in alpine and polar zones where they wander about even during the day.

Trolls are fiercely territorial within their underground lairs. They live in gaggles of up to twenty and possess the fearless trait, causing them attack anything that moves. Exterminating a troll lair is a party quest of level D that can result in a promotion to level C.

Like most subhumans, trolls can see in the dark. They pose an excessive danger within their caverns, which is what makes exterminating a lair a promotion quest.