"Hands up fuckboy, your money or your life and all that." Four hand sized sub-machine guns wielded by three overconfident muggers pointed at the crimelord's face.

The weapons were extreme overkill for their current use, but on the street those days they commanded more respect.

The target scoffed. "You walk in here waving guns around and you think you can get away with it? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

"You're a nobody. Nobody's on your side anymore." One thug boasted, grinning ear to ear.

"What're you talking about?"

"He's saying you're a bitch... Bitch."

From between the firearms he looked disapprovingly at the mugger and almost intimidated him.

The leader decided to explain. "Bumpy on main street, he's with the triads now. Our Jerome switched over to selling crack just so we didn't need to buy from you fam. Shive and Slicky Mickey are going legit and the money plane crashed. Patty McNeil and the Sterling boys turned informant. I mean, I could go on..."

"Alright alright," he wildly waved his arms, "you're obviously highly informed. Fine, I'll buy you off this time"

Reaching in his back pocket he almost set them off but it was just his wallet. "How much do you need?" He counted money bills in the hundreds.

One of the boys snatched the whole wallet out of his hands.

"My cards are in there."

"Shut up." The leader elbowed his quick fingered comrade, "we're not here for that. You open up the safe, the one behind the picture of the boat in the back."

His face lost all expression. "How do you know about that safe?"

"Bitch, never mind you how we know." The eager flunky spoke up again, "ain't nobody gonna protect your secrets when you sell kids, when you talk to the feds, ain't nobody gonna get your back when you disrespect the capos, ain't-"

"No more talking, open the safe." The leader licked his lips, showing equal amounts nerves and anticipation.

There was an unnatural calmness around the kingpin. "Very well, follow me."

But as soon as they even slightly shifted to follow him to the safe he abruptly threw his head back and grabbed the leader's arm. Before they had even had time to react he'd twisted the man's body into a vice grip, making him a living shield between him and the other two and preventing his fingers from squeezing the trigger.

"Yo, what!" The other robbers pointed their machine guns even more threateningly if possible.

"I suppose it's the destiny of every new generation to disappoint the one before it," the crime lord complained, "you too good for regular handguns? You think you're playing gta?"

"Yo, let me go and they won- Aaah!" The lead thug cried out in pain as the don strained his elbow to the breaking point.

"Now since neither of you look like boots to me, it's my guess you have no idea how to control those Uzis. Especially you Rambo." he nodded at the guy duel wielding, who readjusted his grip while sweating. "In fact, I''m willing to bet my life on it. So here's what's going to happen, in two seconds I'll break this guy's arm. He'll scream, you guys shoot reflexively, having no grip or upper body strength you'll randomly spray 9 millimeters all over the inside of my beautiful shop, except at my face. Then I kill you. I call the police and the whole thing is written off as a robbery gone wrong, is that acceptable?"

"That-"

*Crack* "Ngaaah!"

As predicted the two flunkies instinctively squeezed their triggers, sending their hands flying like out of control garden hoses.

The crime lord took the Uzi from the limp arm and delivered two short and pointed bursts into either of their foreheads. They were dead.

Then he turned the weapon the whimpering third man, to his dismay the hostage had received some of the stray bullets into his torso. "I don't like seeing them suffer so I'll do you in quickly, but first tell me where how you know about the safe."

"F-fuck you." He cried while cussing.

With a sigh the crime lord lowered himself onto the thug. "But you know what? This is a real wake up call for me. Disrespect the capos, huh? That's what your friend said." He poked the man in the forehead with the tip of the gun for emphasis, he flinched every time. "When it comes down to it, all that other stuff is just an extension of that. They think they're Arthurian knights, you know. They all got their little territories, their shared 'code of honor'." When he said that last thing he put on a silly voice to mock the concept. "I should have known I couldn't enact a new vision with an old guard in place. No no, when a prince conquers a new city, he must strive to make everything new. Those that aid you in your travels, are not those that can help you keep the place once you get there. I've got to re-think this whole thing, recruit new people, change the titles and territory borders. You've given me a lot to think about, thank you."

Then he killed him.

"So we can just pass through?" The duelist put the hand on his weapon suspiciously.

"My man," the goblin laughed, "if I say we can pass through, we can pass through."

"Come on Langley, Mite hasn't steered us wrong yet." The bard punched him in the shoulder.

Having dismounted the cart and leading their draft horse by hand, the party walked past the tree home.

Indeed the goblins held their weapons and let them go by peacefully.

Scratch, who was going incognito under the name Mite, exchanged waves and gestures with one of them.

"You knew those goblins?" Langley asked, once they had left the range of the archer towers surrounding the place.

"My brother works at the tree home," Scratch smacked, "administration."

"I swear to the gods, if you're leading us into some sort of trap..." Langley suggested threateningly.

One of his team mates spoke up. "Langley, calm down."

There were four of them, a duelist, a bard, a mage, and a paladin.

In battle, they were perfectly in synch. The heavily armored paladin would act as a shield and healer, the bard and mage were able to hide behind him as they picked off the swarms of goblins, while the duelist would rush ahead to face whatever bandits were controlling them.

Outside of battle, they did nothing but bicker.

"Yeah, Langley, relax. I just wanted a ride to the Promise."

Scratch climbed onto the modest wooden cart, it had no roof or cargo space, but it did have a seat for a driver. The horse now being led by the hand, this elevated seat was free and he perched himself on top of it, tucking his feet under his legs to protect him from the freezing cold. Him being fully grown now, the jute bag was was nothing more than a long shirt and his extremities were painfully numb.

It was so cold that even a goblin could feel it. The adventurers knew it and had come prepared, wearing thick gambeson and woolen caps.

"From here on out it's straight ahead."

-

"Something's wrong..." the mage remarked after a while.

"What's the matter?" The paladin quickly scanned the area.

"An ambush?" Langley grasped at his duelist's epee.

"No, not like that just a... a darkness."

"If your vision's going dark that's a sign you should eat more vitamin A," Scratch remarked from his perch.

His comment went ignored, "this is just like when we entered the kobold dungeon. Even before we arrived, there was this unnatural silence."

They listened for a moment, "I hear plenty," Langley shrugged. Any possible sounds of the forest were drowned out by distant fighting and marching.

Scratch came with another clever comment. "If your hearing's going out-"

"Shut up."

"I know exactly what you mean," the paladin continued the conversation, "there's this feeling of uneasiness. Yeah, a darkness."

The bard strummed her lyre, "if there's a dungeon in the Promise, all of this won't be over when we kill Papa Scratch."

"Worst comes to worst, we'll have a repeat gig," Langley clenched his fist, "as far as I'm concerned, this is only good for us."

"You're here to kill Scratch?" Scratch tried to sound casual.

"Papa Scratch, yeah. He's your king isn't she?" Langley bellowed, "when we defeat him they'll have to promote us to rank C. They'll have no choice."

"More importantly," the paladin wagged his finger, "we'll be stopping the raids on the farmlands."

"Hhm." Scratch leaned back in thought. He hadn't heard much about the ranking system the adventurers used, but he grasped the achievement model. More accomplishments meant a higher status, and probably better gigs as well.

"Wait-" Langley held up his hand.

"More darkness?" Scratch quipped.

"A cargo sled."

A large handmade sled was being pulled by the stout donkeys of the hill colony, not fifty paces from them.

There wasn't much in it. Some residual firewood and trader goblins that had found a place inside the emptied interior after a successful sale.

They noticed the adventurers too and cautiously reach for their slings and axes.

"We're saving our mana." The mage insisted.

"I can do it without mana," Langley responded, as he drew his sword.

"Whoa, hey," Scratch protested, "Papa isn't gonna be in there, is he?"

Langley gave him a side glance, then he and the paladin stormed off.

-

Not much later they were back and counting their money.

"Seventeen gold and eight silver, not bad, not bad at all." The bard grinned after counting.

"But can you split it four ways?" the mage pondered aloud.

"Four ways? I didn't see you anywhere in the fight."

"How dare you? We've gotten this far because of me."

"We've gotten this far because of Mite too, want to split it into five?"

"How generous of you," Scratch remarked dryly, "you've been raiding a lot of these traders?"

"They're becoming rarer," the bard answered, "that's why there's been no real incursions into the area for the past two weeks, not much to grab anymore."

"We're not bandit raiders," the paladin said defensively, "it is the right of adventurers to take the spoils of their enemies. To support a lifestyle risking our lives in service of the country."

"Sure, sure. I'm not accusing you of anything," Scratch rubbed his hands together for warmth, "gotta make a living."

The paladin didn't believe him. "We're not the same. Goblins are monsters, we have to suppress your numbers. When goblins raid our homes and steal our children, that's not divine duty, that's malice. We're fulfilling a duty."

Now the goblin did get slightly annoyed, "I said I wasn't accusing you of anything, didn't I? If you've got such a chip on your shoulder about murdering for a living, then stop doing it! Don't invent some random justification. Those goblins raiding your homes are three month old urchins scrounging for food, they probably think you can't punish them with anything you aren't doing to them already. And they're right!"

The paladin shut up and the duelist reached for his weapon.

"I apologize." Scratch eyed the blade, "please don't kill me." Neither the apology nor the request for mercy were sincere. Rather, he was shaming the man for his threatening body language.

"I said before that I wouldn't kill you," Langley let go of his weapon, "but that changes if you become a threat."

The goblin looked at him mockingly. The idea of the little fodder enemy threatening the group of seasoned adventurers was laughable.

Scratch had to negotiate peace between the party and settlements on the way more than once. Neither side would typically have anything to gain by starting conflict, yet still a mutually familiar mediator was needed to avoid it.

Eventually, he adventurers obtained so much trust in Mite's mediation that they were willing to pause and stock up in the middle of a roadside goblin colony.

"What are you doing? Who are you traveling with?" One of the brood mothers asked him, just out of earshot of the four man band.

She was bent over uncomfortably to bring her face level with his. Her entire attitude towards him had become demure and respectful.

"I picked up these troublemakers all the way back at Nadia's," he whispered, "they're giving me a ride home. You know how there's this whole rebel army on the loose, right?"

"But do you know them? Can you trust them?"

He eyed them from the side. The bard kept a deliberate distance from all things subhuman, she was the only woman after all, and the paladin made threatening signs to scare goblins away from the cart. "You can't achieve dangerous things without gambling on dangerous people.

That's how our families ended up together, isn't it? So yes, I trust them."

"And once you're at the Promise? What then?"

"Then we kill them. I mean they're psychopaths." He took a swig of the water she was offering him. "Do you have anything for me to put on? I'm freezing my dick off. Also, if you have blue grass..."

"The procession east cleared us out, I have most of my own kids go without shoes as well." Behind her the goblins were huddled together for warmth. "You don't hold it against us, do you? That we didn't fight back?"

He pinched her cheek like she was a child. "You're wise to stay neutral, it wouldn't have made me happy either if you threw the kids' lives away fighting a lost cause."

He looked over his shoulders and saw the party already leaving. Hurriedly he hobbled after them, in a way betraying the fatherly mien he had exuded moments before.

-

Scratch climbed up via the back of the cart and up high on the driver's seat.

The paladin nodded at him that he was noticed and permitted.

They traveled in silence for a few minutes when he began to sing.

If I could escape -escape-

And re-create a place that's my own world -own world.

And I could be your favorite girl forever, perfectly together

And tell me boy, now wouldn't that be sweet?

The bard joined in with the music of her lyre and he hummed the right instrumental tones or her to mimic.

When they got to the repeated Wee-Who's of the pop song Langley began to get annoyed. "What is this song even about, a goblin breeding slave? Cut it out."

"I'm just distracting myself from the cold." Scratch said.

With an annoyed grunt the duelist took off his thick winter coat and draped it over his goblin guide.

"Thanks Lang. You know, I never caught all of your names. Are you all from Eston?"

"Eston?" the mage asked.

"That's the port city," the bard told him, "it's where the local guild hall is." But she didn't answer the goblin.

"And you don't need to know our names," Langley said sternly, "after today we'll never meet again."

Scratch breathed into his hands trying to warm them up. "That's fine. It's just kinda awkward telling my friends they can trust you when I can't say your names."

"You have friends in every tribe, do you?" The bard asked.

"We're all family, in the end." He explained, "all of us descend from the same few hundred goblins that were in this region last year."

"Yeah, from 'Papa Scratch', aren't ya?" The paladin added. "However, we are here specifically to kill him, to return balance to nature. You'll have to make peace with that."

"Pfff, balance." Despite himself, Scratch dismissed the words out loud.

"Yes, balance. These forests are supposed to be a rank F zone, safe for rookies, but now it's two threat levels higher. If there really is a dungeon..."

"We put our energy on the area boss," the mage insisted, "we're not equipped to clear an unexplored dungeon just yet."

"Of course, I wasn't suggesting that we-" the paladin stopped himself, aware that he was getting defensive.

"What's all this about bosses and dungeons then?" Scratch wondered aloud.

The bard shrugged. "We're a rank D party, Lydia Harkness has been identified by the guild as a rank C boss. We're not actually allowed to take on rank C quests, but if, in our mission, we happen to kill her too, they'll have no choice but to promote us. The dungeon, if it's really there, hasn't been identified at all. We don't even know its location and size, it could be rank B for all we know."

"Yeah, I have no conception of what letter stands for what." He pulled the padded jacket tightly around himself like a blanket.

"Of course you don't, can you even read?" Langley scoffed.

"A goblin- or a slime is rank F, because even a child can kill a slime," the bard explained. "But for things like a direwolves and hobgoblins we need trained adults. Adventurers."

"Rank D."

The mage laughed.

"Uh no," she continued, "those would still be rank E. Rank D is... is like an orc. An orc is about the strength of a human knight, which is more than most people can take."

"Harkness should be as strong as a human knight too," the mage added, "but she has her monster servants, so the quest to defeat her is a rank higher."

"And with a higher rank comes a higher pay, is that it?"

"Naturally."

"Who pays for it?"

"Hm?"

"Who pays for these 'quests'?" The goblin leaned in out of genuine curiosity.

"Uh, normally it's the people submitting them, like, exterminating this new goblin lord was requested by the local church. But the guild can commission special quests itself too."

"We all send some money home for our families to pay for suppression quests," the paladin added, "nowadays its costs money just to live peacefully."

"So instead of everybody protecting their own house, they pay each other to protect each other's. And the guild takes a nice percentage, is that how it works?" He had never felt he understood this crazy violence filled world as much as he did today.

"No!" The paladin was appalled, he quickly came up with a reason to fight the diagnosis. "It serves to... distribute the power to the right places. That's all. The strongest adventurers will end up in to the most dangerous zones."

But Scratch wasn't done. "And if a group somehow comes under the impression that they don't need protection, you need somebody to come over and remind them. Right? Give 'em the old once over?"

"Intimidate them? Never. The guild is a force for good in the world, they would never allow that."

"Why not? It's their income too," he teased, "and they have special quests to commission."

"You think humans are that corrupt!?" The man responded accusingly.

"Don't take it too personally, it's a compliment really. It should be obvious that humans, just like goblins and orcs and all the rest, will put the well-being of themselves and their close ones above some abstract principles of integrity, or unknown strangers. That's how it's supposed to be."

"So you do hate us," the bard grumbled, "well, we are primal enemies after all."

He exhaled through his nose. "You've got it all reversed, hatred is the opposite of acceptance. It's the unrealistic expectations you have of the world that drive your frustrations. All you need to do is accept that all people act out of self interest all of the time, and your hatred will melt like snow in the sun. Believe me, I know."

"Maybe goblins are like that, but not humans." Langley concluded. "We have heroes."

-

They rode a few miles farther along the mud path, at increasing frequency they had to scare off or kill small war parties of spear goblins.

Scratch had made the deliberate decision not to explain the civil war situation to the adventuring party.

Eventually the trees stopped, an area Scratch knew as forested had been cleared and their range of vision became unobstructed.

The small goblin parties around them had gotten so dense that they were now in the middle of a very large goblin army. Directly in front of them another wall, much like that of the Promise's perimeter rose up, the army was attempting to bash open the gates while being fired upon by other goblins from the top.

"Straight ahead you said?" Langley complained, "how are we gonna get past this?"

A number of soldiers in their immediate vicinity had orders barked at them and turned around to box them in with shields and spears.

"Let me think about it, I'll get back on that...." Scratch quipped while they were driven closer and closer together by the threatening spearheads.

-

"So what do we do?" The mage asked, "abandon the cart?"

Without answering the bard strung her lyre, a soothing chord rocked through their bodies and the goblins surrounding them slumped over.

And so did Scratch, falling backwards onto the wagon, it was by pure luck that he was cushioned by the borrowed coat, otherwise he could have cracked his skull.

Where are you now?

Two miles west, why is there a wall?

I don't know. It must be the border of Harkness' controlled territory.

Yeah, everywhere up til now has been filled with raiders and marching bands, everybody's with the insurrectionists. Lydia's been driven completely into a corner?

There are simply more rebels than loyalists, all the loyal tribe mothers have moved their families into the deforested stretch around the Promise, but they're stretched thin just defending it. Half the hobgoblins aren't on her side either, they're with me and Ada.

Ain't nobody got your back when you disrespect, huh?

What?

Never mind. Use your magic, send someone. I'm knocked out right now.

Mind your tone with me, Scratch. You may not consider me your master, but I am not your servant. You know that I can't control people, only the beasts of our dungeon.

So...

Oh!

Basking in a sort of effervescent light sat five humanoid figures, perfect and generic in appearance, three male, two female. They were gods.

Rather that turned to each other they each faced towards a different direction of infinity. Not really acknowledging the others' existence.

Yet, one spoke. "Like, why are we even here?"

The goddess was dressed in a timeless sort of fashion, a form fitting toga that shaped around her body as sensually as possible without showing too much skin.

She never took her eyes off the small mirror she was using to apply make up to her face.

"Well gee, Dither, why'd you think?" One of the male gods bit at her. He stood with his legs wide and arms crossed, dressed in several layers of thin fabric and sporting fingerless gloves. "Maybe because we're all waiting for Benesant?"

Dither looked away from her reflection for only half a second to show her disapproval at his tone.

"Listen," a third entered into the conversation, he was dressed in warrior's clothing, with a weapon resting on his hip. "how about you leave her alone?"

He held up his hand authoritatively.

"It's no use Dronk," a fourth stated, looking up from a large tome and adjusting his glasses, "Dither and Walgis have been at each other's throat since we were first created, five-thousand-two-hundred-and-thirteen years ago. In that time they have agreed three times and insulted one another twelve-"

"I don't want to hear your numbers right now dude." Dronk interrupted him.

"I was just saying-"

"I don't, bro!"

"U-understood." The glasses wearing god buried his face back into the book.

"What are you even reading man," Walgis pointed an ungloved finger at him, "aren't you the god of knowledge? You're supposed to know everything, aren't you Vreem?"

"That's not... no. Dither is the goddess of love, and she doesn't love everything either." The bespectacled god stammered.

"Don't you two nerdotrons involve me with your stupid conversations," Dither said humorlessly while applying eyeshadow, "I just wanted to know why Benesant wants to talk to me all of a sudden, and why she's *late*."

"The goddess of light has made a mistake," the last goddess stated mysteriously, she had her knees pulled up under a hoodie that was several sizes too large, "she has herself transposed a soul from Cradle to this world."

"Dude, then she's found out where heroes come from." Dronk drew his weapon. "We should prepare to fight!"

"Ew, put your thingie away you psycho," Dither cussed at him, "what are you even talking about? You know a god can't kill another god."

"She who rules over the nations of the overworld is still ignorant of our true purpose," the hoodied girl spoke, "she was inspired by nothing but herself."

"Guth," Vreem asked, "how do you know all this?"

"Because I do know everything." She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Whoa whoa," Walgis wildly swung his arms around, "Benesant is taking souls from other worlds now? How long has she been doing this?"

Guth chewed on the inside of her cheek. "That I cannot say, since the five of us are bound to this one world by simple virtue of-"

Before she finished her sentence the effervescent light was pierced by a blinding one.

Instantly, all the five gods returned to their positions as if they'd never spoken.

Then, Benesant appeared.

"Well met, fellow stewards of the world of Hallow. We have much to discuss."

"Well met, Benesant, goddess of light!" Dronk was the only one to formally greet her back, standing up straight like a soldier before a superior officer. "The divine forces of war and justice continue to intertwine closely in the realm of Blurich."

"Dronk, god of War." She did a little curtsy for him, "your power flows through the most dedicated of our order."

Then she turned to Vreem.

"Vreem, god of knowledge, I smile upon you as well."

"Y-You too." He responded.

"Dither, goddess of love, whose domain intertwines so closely with my own, and Guth, goddess of magic, who holds the line against the encroach of dark sorcery," she greeted the other women, "you too are dear allies of mine."

"Sure..." Dither did not look up from her mirror, still committed to the paint on her lips.

"Thanks Benesant." Guth whispered.

"And you..." she turned to the last god, "Walgis."

"Whatever."

Rather than address the hostility between them, she raised her voice for a speech. "I have asked you to be here to discuss a growing problem within Hallow."

"What about your flunkies? Don't they want to hear this?" Walgis quipped.

"The elemental gods have been informed." She answered dryly, "this concerns the presence of a disruptive element in Rhada's lands."

"A disruptive hero?" Dronk asked sheepishly.

This question befuddled Benesant, "that... no. Quite far from a hero, this concerns a reincarnated individual."

Dronk looked out of place for a bit, "yeah-" But he was cut off when he saw Guth shake her head at him, bidding him to stay silent. "So... uh. Some sort of troublemaker?"

Benesant had not noticed Guth's signing. "A troublemaker indeed. Sorrily, I must admit I had a hand in the creation of this problem. The soul hails from Cradle, a world that I have recently established myself in, I had left him within a goblin's body on Cradle. However, his influence seems to be growing rather more quickly than I had accounted for."

"Really, a goblin? That's what you called us in for?" Walgis spat.

"This one possesses a vile cunning, he has obtained power of a wyrm shard."

"One wyrm shard? There's like a hundred wyrm shards." Walgis put his hands under his armpits.

"One-hundred-and-fourteen."

"Thanks Vreem."

"Of which thirty-eight controlled by dark sorcerers and fifty-five housing evil gods."

"I said thanks, Vreem."

Benesant put on a fake smile. "I understand that our attention is spread thin battling the evil-"

"We're not."

"I beg your pardon?"

Walgis smugly licked his lips, "we aren't sweet cheeks. This whole 'good gods versus evil gods' thing was something you came up with, not us. Dronk here has more demon worshipers than human."

Dronk pressed his lips together and avoided eye contact with Benesant, the lack of denial was confirmation.

"You're the only goddess of goodness here," Walgis continued, "none of us are farming for your sake. Maybe Rhada and her bunch are fine being your flunkies, but we're free. We, like, serve no master, man."

Feeling somewhat attacked, Benesant looked around to find support elsewhere. "Now listen here, never have I asked any amongst you to subordinate yourselves to me. I come humbled, asking for favor. Simply because my conscience can not rest easy being the cause of injustice..."

As she moved her gaze over those gathered, they hid from her eyes. Vreem buried his face in his book, Guth put her hands in front of hers, but Dither finally looked up from her mirror, having completed her make-up.

"Like, he's a skunk and all, but Walgis is right. I spread love, okay? Love is not all selfless and stuff, there's selfish love. Some of my greatest champions were obsessives."

The four other divinities all nodded, seemingly very aware of who specifically she was referring to.

Looking hurt and rejected, Benesant stiffened her body. "Well then, I know who my allies are. As you have chosen to align with evil, I will be expecting you to oppose me."

Walgis put his hand in his face. "We didn't say that, we're just... Dronk, say something."

"Benesant, there will be just wars, and there will be unjust wars. That is... the nature of war."

Walgis rolled his yes, "very helpful. Not." But Benesant did seem to consider it. Then she turned to leave.

"Please wait," Guth suddenly said, "I wish to say something."

Benesant gave a sigh of relief, "yes?"

"Hallow is not a playground. In the future, I must ask you to please resist the temptation to use it to reward or punish old souls. It is not an afterlife for you to use."

Benesant made an angry little "hrm" sound before disappearing.

"Hallow is not a playground? That's a good one Guth." Walgis scoffed.

She pointed her nose in the air. "Do not lambast me for keeping alive the deception we must all bear weight to."

"It's 'bear the weight of', you stupid bimbo. Don't try talking like some ancient oracle when you're dressed like a lost child."

"That- Sod off asshole!" She angrily raised her voice, "by the way what are you even talking about? 'We, like, serve no master, maaaan.' I mean, talk about a suspiciously specific denial. Jeez!"

"Should we tell the boss what she did?" Vreem asked. "Benesant I mean."

"Like, no way." Dither had taken out a handkerchief and was cleaning her own face. "He'll get angry again. I don't want to piss that guy off, are you crazy?"

"Sure, try to ignore your problem again Dither," Guth said mockingly, "maybe this time it'll go away."

Dither had grabbed her things and was just starting over. She didn't consider the other goddess worth a look. "Bitch."

"Whore."

"Dude. That's enough." Dronk yelled out. "Even if she did incarnate someone-"

"She did." "Yeah man, why would she lie?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Even if she did, bro, that's just one guy. It's in the past now."

Walgis shrugged. "Whatever I guess. Then we can all go back to our corners and pretend this never happened."

"Yes," said Dither, "starting with you. Toodles." She waved her fingers through the air.

"Ugh." He was gone.

Not long after, so were all the others.

Goblin Warrens

Size: Medium

Threat Level: D

This area is under the control of Lydia Harkness, bandit knight.

It is typified by an extreme density of goblin nests. These nests are enhanced by walls, arrow towers, and deadly traps, combining properties of goblin nests and bandit camps.

Paths through the area are obstructed by goblin gates and watch posts, and all travelers will frequently encounter patrols of more than twenty armed goblins, including hobgoblin commanders. Therefore, the area is considered above the skill level of rank E adventurers.

Rescue within the warrens is highly discouraged by guild staff. Brood mothers are likely to be servants of the area boss.

Daily protection and suppression quests to be posted at the farmsteads bordering the territory, marked red on the map.