"You've got some nerve standing me up." Mac said as he entered the office.

The former alchemist's apprentice half stood up and then sat back down. "T-thank you for having me."

He couldn't help but notice the scorch mark around the old man's neck as he took a seat across from him, even through his many gold chains.

"Don't mention it. Have you met the twins? They're here to oversee the shadow bandits." The twins with the earrings stood to either side of the brewer, cracking their knuckles.

"My name is-"

"Shut up. George and the boys roughed you up before bringing you here, yeah?"

"...yeah."

"That's because you were being difficult. If you stop being difficult, we're not going to have a problem anymore, understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Mac took a glance at the sister, "he's a good kid, does as he's told. I just gotta tell you, kid. You don't work for Mabel anymore, you work for me from now on."

The young man grit his teeth. "I never worked for anybody. It was me, it was all me from the start."

"Sure, like major hustles just pop out of the ground." Mac took a sip of water as he retrieved some document from his desk. "Let's see... from now on Swell Crimson- was that its name?"

"Sweet Crimson."

"Sure, Soot Crimson. Only to be sold at these locations." He showed him a list of his own gambling establishments. "If we find it anywhere else... we know where to find you. And it won't be George next time, it'll be shadows."

The young man scoffed openly.

This soured the old man's expression. "What?"

"Oh nothing. Just you... talking like they're your dogs. That's funny to me."

"You wanna be funny!?" The brother slammed the desk with his hand and then manifested a claw of shiny elemental magic around his hand, pressing the knife-like thumb against the young man's cheek.

He had to turn his face away not to have his skin pierced.

"This is not a joke." The dark sorcerer hissed threateningly.

"Everybody can see..." the brewer began, waiting for the knife to be withdrawn.

It wasn't.

So he accepted it in his life and continued regardless. "...that they aren't marching under your orders. You are under theirs. It's the liege that really pulls the strings here."

To his credit, the guild leader maintained his poker face. "I assure you, kid. It's only because of me that he hasn't slit your throat yet. My leash."

The dark sorcerer widened his eyes to look even more dangerous and evil.

The young man's eyes remained fixed on Mac however. "But George and the others don't work for the liege. They work for you, for the clubs and the casinos. Did you really expect them to keep following you after you sold out to some foreign lord?"

There was a banging at the door, and the staff of the casino was making their voices heard.

"Boss! Come out, it's over."

"We just wanna talk."

The old man banged his fist on the table. "Weren't you listening? I don't need them. I told you it won't be George next time it'll be-"

"Shadows are over with in Eston!" He now stood up triumphantly and was shouting despite himself. The twins grabbed his shoulders but he did not sit back down. "Why do you think I chose this moment to come to you? To occupy the dark sorcerers while the shadows get dragged into the streets!"

He was thrown over his chair and onto the hard wooden floor. He could have broken his neck, but he hardly felt it through the ecstasy of victory.

"What are you talking about!? Who is dragging who?" The male twin shouted.

"Be sensible," the other said to her brother, "it's a bluff. There are no traitors who could name all of our troops."

"The god of deception could," he grunted.

That changed her expression. She used some unseen magic and snakes emerged from between her hair. "Scratch! You ungeziefer you work for HIM!"

"Wait, a minute, what's happening?" Mac protested, "a god?"

The twins ignored him.

"He must have told the king's dogs." The brother said, looking up at the ceiling in the direction of the streets above. "We don't have much time, we must secure our master's holdings."

The sister was more occupied with their captive. "Oh I've got time to kill you. I'll kill you like I killed the old Harkness, how'd you like that?" The snakes creeped further and further out of her head and towards his face.

Some of the brewer's smugness melted away, but he was saved by Mac's own goons busting down the door.

"It's over Mac. There's knights all over the district and they're taking people in. The Liege's ousted, we lost another one."

"Old Man. You will not fail our pact again, contain these lowlifes." The woman said.

"Back. Now." Mac held up a crystal amulet from his much adorned neck. "Liege or no. I am still a leader of this guild."

"Nah," one of the boys said, "you're done fo-"

A beam shot out of the crystal and the young enforcer's skin began to rapidly deteriorate. He withered away and turned to dust before he had even hit the floor.

The others held up their hands and dropped their weapons as Mac pointed the magical artifact at them. "To think I'd have to use this on my own-" he staggered and the weapon fell out of his hand. "...on my own..."

"Feeling disoriented? Trouble breathing? That'll be the poison." The former alchemist's apprentice grinned as he climbed to his feet. "Of course I couldn't slip it in myself..."

"Sorry boss," George sighed, "it's just the way it is, you know? I mean you're always saying weakness gets you killed in this biz."

The dark sorceress righted herself. "I say we kill them all."

"We really do not have time for this." Her brother said.

"Well we won't let you kill the Sweet Crimson guy," George said, "not without a fight."

"Ugh," she groaned, "we're out of here."

"Wait..." Mac gasped for air, "I'm dying."

The brother gave him a slight glance of disdain, then the two began casting some magic.

"Walgis' Escape!" one chanted, and they turned into orbs of light that flew through the doorway, up the stairs and out into the street.

"W-who are you?" Mac asked his poisoner.

"Me? I'm just Lucky."

"And that'll be about approximately how it happened." Scratch recounted.

"Master, I shall take your word for it." Youthere smiled. "And this leaves you in control of all illicit dealings of Eston?"

"Yeah for the most part." The goblin rubbed his back against the rough stone of the boarded up well, "the organized parts anyway. The sorcerer pair has fled the city, and there's always random unaligned grifters, but the Thieves' Guild are all our grubstake... I think that proves that I don't need your demonic torture and sex magic to claim a city."

"Now to prove you do not need lich torture and death magic to defend your own."

"Yeah I-" Scratch was ripped out of his train of thought by the unpleasant comment and gave him an annoyed look.

Youthere put on an air of fake contrition. "My apologies, I had assumed you expected conversation of me."

"Eh... I guess you're right," the goblin patriarch returned to his self-satisfied boasting, "I'll have to get around to shutting that fortress down soon.

Shouldn't be too hard now that I've got the city down, after all, that Linel character was implicated with something, and as we've learned from last year, an army relies on supply lines from the civilized world..."

"But wasn't it you, master, that stressed how a lord from an outside territory can not simply be defanged by securing the local power? And you can not have forgotten that the Liege's most powerful enforcers are dangerous enemies in their own right, even without their cadres..."

It was the second time in short succession that the familiar had interrupted his happiness with inconvenient logic.

Instead of getting angry, Scratch breathed in deeply and then out again, releasing the tension.

He stared happily at the dancing lights in the night's sky. He'd made it.

He'd regained a human standard of living, banished most immediate threats to his life, and now he controlled a crime circle again. Benesant could shove it up her big fat cunt.

"...master, there is a real threat of fairies." Youthere insisted.

"Okay, what is your problem?" Scratch fell out, "you're only ever this doom-and-gloomy when you're hoping I'll do something fucked up to fix it. So what is it? Do we start a wildfire? Salt the earth maybe, so no fairy plants can grow?"

"Nay, I-"

"Oh, let me think... we let you have sex with the fairy queen until she turns into a gibbering mindless beast. Am I getting warmer?"

"Master, please. My reminder of your inherited enemy was not one of greater contextual framing, nor was it meant as underpinning argument for my general advice for your managing and strategic doctrine- however strongly I continue to believe in it- it was meant to alert you to a more present, that is to say, more in-the-moment, immediate-"

"Just say it."

"The fairy threat is here right now!"

As he said it, the swarm of lights that had seemed like firebugs suddenly parted and rushed at them.

"Ah shit, ah fuck, ah shit!"

-

"Papa, what's going on?" Jasper stopped halfway into tying his leather straps to help his father hold the door.

The hobgoblin's strength was considerably greater than his, so Scratch let go and took a step back. "I don't know. We just got swarmed, I- what are you wearing?"

"This?" Jasper looked at the mail and greaves he had been putting on, alongside hunting trophies in the style of the colonies. "You said to put on something good looking."

"Yeah, I meant something fancy. Not like you're going to war!"

"Open the door!" Lydia demanded, she held up her fingers like a ring and puffed out her cheeks in preparation for her fire breath spell.

Jasper swung open the door and jumped aside as a swarm of glowing wasps rushed in and were promptly assassinated.

"Fairy beasts." She said, "Lacrima warned me this would happen. They start by sending wild animals."

"Look at your son," Scratch insisted, "do you approve of this?"

She looked at him up and down. "Yeah. You look good. Tighten those straps."

"Really? That's how men dress on a dinner date where you're from."

"Not in Linefort, no. He's dressed like he's from the Promise."

"That's right, and I am from the Promise." Jasper nodded happily.

The mother then turned her attention back to the outside. "I should go. The fairy beasts will be attacking other villagers."

"Absolutely not. If it's just beasts we leave to our own beasts." Scratch said, "hand me the barking horn."

The instrument allowed him to recreate the barking sounds of the warg wolves, and he gave a signal of alarm.

Immediately there came a yowling answer from within the village.

"Alright, jeez, just making sure," he complained, then he turned to the others. "They already knew."

"It's being handled?"

"Of course it is. What do they have? Some bugs, a pig? We've got wolves, goblins... and those bat things... I think a cockatrice won their respect or something? Anyway there's one of those running around. They'll be fine, you go have your dinner."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure, take this opportunity, get to know the ladies. I'll talk to Lacrima about getting an advanced notice like you did."

Only once they were completely at ease and had left the manor to go to the troll garden did he check up on Youthere, who of course had been stuck in his cage and unable to escape the swarm when Scratch had fled.

"You there, alright, are we?"

"Oh master..." the demon slowly turned around, to reveal the extend of the damage. "They took my eyes..."

Scratch winced looking at the open eye sockets, bleeding profusely and carrying only the remains of two scratch out eyeballs.

"How could I not approve of such cruelty!" The demon grinned widely.

The relationship the elves had with the dungeon master was transactional.

For every step they would make towards building a relationship with the hobgoblins, their living conditions were improved.

The plan hadn't been very successful so far. The women had too much pride to sell themselves so easily, and found strength in each other.

But small progress was made in the form of a dinner date.

They were given a rare feast of meats and fruit, and all they had to do was tolerate sitting across from their captors while eating it.

A long dining table had been brought down via the cables, which were completing their conversion into a fully functional cargo lift.

Presented on a platter was a two-headed goose the size of an adult man, plucked, stuffed, and roasted. All other food items were garnish around the poultry.

The dining experience was completed with comfortable chairs, tableware, and a sunscreen to provide atmosphere.

However, the even was stripped of its magic by one of the parties severely lacking in table manners.

The hobgoblins had been raised by a knight and another adult, they were holding their silverware properly and eating without spilling.

But the elves had subsisted off of fresh pickings and mushroom bread for all their lives, they were used to using their hands.

So two broad strategies were employed by the women. One was to awkwardly attempt to mimic their hosts' eating style, clumsily clutching their forks and stabbing the bird as if it hadn't yet been killed. The other was to proudly defy their expectations and bring the meat to their mouths using their hands, staining their fingers with grease.

Either way, their aura of elegance was broken.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Constantine blurted out, "that's not how you're supposed to eat!"

"Ahem," his mother interrupted him, "Farith, how do you like our cooking?"

The elf froze up right before biting down on an oversized hunk of meat. She gently put her food down and regained her composure. "It is... acceptable."

"Dig in. It's yours. The Promise is a rich center of trade and agriculture. Whenever you wish for something. Say it. We can determine a price."

"Can I wish for my kin to be returned from death?" The elf next to Farith bit. "Can I wish for our mother tree back?"

"We offer you luxuries. Beyond which you ever knew."

"Thee offereth us slavery! To be bred until we break."

"No." The knight insisted. "Motherhood is not like that. I have birthed hobgoblins and-"

"And they're monsters! Look at thy spawn, mother of monsters! Bloody mongrels in pelts and weapons!"

-

And so the evening had very little in common with a date and more with a heated political debate.

Though the complaining did not prevent the captives from filling their bellies copiously.

"I hate this, why are none of you getting angry?" Ada complained, "she's being so mean."

The insults on her species had really affected her, though she was pretending to be tough.

"She's pretty..." Constantine just said, as meager justification.

"Pecorath had a partner," Liorin, who sat directly across from them whispered, "and thee killed her. Thou expect her to be grateful? When thee have only taken from us?"

Constantine bowed his head. Some of his friends had died during the battles with the outside as well.

"Papa always says we should be rational and serve our own best interest," Ada insisted, "and it's in your best interest to be nice to us. So just be nice."

"Pecorath will accept any deprivation not to please her captors." Liorin explained, "thine policy of rewards will break her. And I will lose another dear friend of mine."

"When you are nice to us, we don't just give you a reward," Will quickly invented, "all your friends too."

"Uh-hm," Constantine affirmed, "you could save her."

"I... I couldn't..." The youngest elf said hesitantly.

Lacrima still had not been able to obtain a lock for her front door. But a little bell hanged on a string to alert her should anybody come in.

*ding*

"Ah, the goblin father, just in time."

"Happy to see me? That's unusual."

"You and I are allies now," she wrung her wrinkled hands together, "united in our service of Guth."

"What were we before?"

She ignored his question. "Take a look, do you recognize this face?"

"No... wait that's your apprentice."

The young green haired girl stood motionless in the middle of the room, her eyes a vacant stare.

The witch nodded, "Alpheba has the blessing of Guth, so I was able to pass her off as a witch's apprentice. It took a lot of maneuvering to return her to my possession after my exile."

Scratch didn't look at the girl but at the woman. "...you know you have a lot in common with my familiar. You two should talk sometime."

She pursed her mouth, which had the same meaning as rolling one's eyes. "I am no servant of evil, Scratch. Unlike you I have never dabbled in dark sorcery."

"No you just... mind control people."

"Exactly. The children of the orphanage were to be my soldiers, and Alpheba was my prime weapon. She carries in her the most powerful curse I have."

Scratch took a step back. "Like a bio-weapon? She's not gonna go off, is she?"

"Now then," Lacrima turned around and clapped her hands as to change the topic. "The fairy queen has send magical beasts after you, has she? That's why you're here?"

"So you saw."

"Lucky guess, fairy queens have a similar way of operating all over the world," she walked passed him to a shelf of things and began rummaging through her belongings. "When their reach is short, they enchant wildlife to fight in their stead. 'The denizens of nature will defend their home' I do believe I've heard it described. Then, once the feybloom blooms and their power extends, the plants will do her bidding next. A sea of thorns and kudzu overtaking your buildings and industry..." she paused to look forlorn for a second, then she continued, "and finally the fairy army arrives.

Mantis knights, fairy dragons... forest giants..."

Scratch sighed, "I gather that we want to nip things in the bud before that happens."

She turned around, "you gather right. We must steal the next feybloom before her power increases any further. And now that we're allies, I shall trust you with my most powerful weapon to do so."

She presented him with a golden trinket on a chain. It had the appearance of some predator's boney jaws, locked in an open snarl.

"I thought you said the girl was your greatest weapon," he said.

"She is, take her." She urged him.

Reluctantly, he plucked the jewelry from her ancient palm.

"Now you are, ignorant, but you do know what a werewolf is." She stated.

"Looks like a normal dude, but gets that time of the month?" He said sardonically.

She pursed her lips again. "My Alpheba possess the power to transform at my command. Stand back."

With a wave of her hand the life returned to the young girl's eyes, but it was a panicked life, a shudder of fearful emotion.

She pulled at her hair and screamed, and within a second, the mass of her light body bulged out of her dressed and a thick fur had sprouted.

Landing on all fours was a massive wolf, as large as a horse at least. Its massive nails dug into the floorboards and the inferior wood splintered as it pounced.

Thin green wires tightened around its body and it was reined back, growling angrily.

"You're not so easily shaken are you?" Lacrima praised Scratch as she was casting the magic.

It occurred to him that a fight or flight response would have aided his survival chances had the threat been real. It was the goblin brain failing him once again.

Her praise made him feel like a massive suicidal idiot, but he decided to smile and take the compliment.

"So you can turn kids into animals... I think that's been established," he said, "the first thing you did when we met was turn Ada into a frog."

"This is no hex. Alpheba has been cursed." As she said it the wolf froze up and shrunk back down into a girl.

"Well what's the difference?" Scratch complained.

"I am not keeping her in her wolf form, it asserts itself on its own accord. And the mana it uses is hers." Lacrima said, "the wolf spirit and its host are forever locked in a battle of control, each fighting for dominance of the mind and form. That is the curse of lycanthropy."

"Okay? That's kinda impressive I guess. But what's the practical application?"

The witch tapped her foot impatiently. "Chaos, death. What do you think? The lycanthrope is a murderous beast that is transported unknowingly into the beds of your enemy."

"The beds of... the fairies?"

"I should have known you wouldn't be able to appreciate the goddess' gift!" She snatched the item back.

"Well help me understand. You put a lot of work in this?"

"Yes."

"You plotted and schemed for years, passing her off as a student and protegee."

"Indeed."

"And you did this so you could release a single larger-than-average canine behind enemy lines."

"No."

"Then I don't get it."

"Of course you don't. You're just a goblin, how could you? Lyanthropy is a spreading curse."

"I... see?"

The witched sighed deeply. "The goddess Guth has gifted me a curse that will create copies of itself in victims of the carrier. Alpheba is merely the initial carrier. From her curse, many more will spawn," she held up the teeth, "through her bite."

"That's her bite?"

"Sympathetic magic. Anybody pricked by these teeth is, in effect, bitten by Elpheba's wolf. So you can spread the curse." She put it in his hands again.

"That's..."

"Now you see its potential, don't you?"

Scratch looked at the item uncomfortably. This bitch is crazier than I am.

Werewolf

Family: Demon

Threat Level: E

Reward: none

A beast-like spirit taking possession of a human. Werewolves spread by biting and transforming others.

Afflicted individuals can be recognized by a change in personality, making them more irritable and aggressive.

When the spirit is at the peak of its power, it will take control of the body and transform it into that of a hulking direwolf. In this form, the demon is at its most dangerous.

There is no listed reward for killing a werewolf, as adventurers do not have license to freely kill them. A werewolf must be brought to a church and exorcised, saving the unfortunate host. Only in cases of dire need may a guild member slay a werewolf, as they might with any other kind of person going berserk.

That is not to say there can be no compensation for dealing with werewolves, individual quests are posted at a local level.

It is not unheard of for bandits to wield this demon as a weapon. There are bandit towns in Blurich populated entirely by willing werewolves, who transform to travel and raid.