A couple days later, Elf Guy is back, and seems to be all business. He walks up to the front porch and speaks clearly to nothing. “Dungeon Thedeim. The Dungeoneer’s Guild would like to officially declare your intention as we understand it, and treatise with your Dwellers. Please bring forth your Voice, so it may be heard.”

Fine by me. Teemo, if you would? My rat scion just nods from the shortcut he’s in, and soon scurries out from under the porch.

“Ok, I’m here. What do you need?” he asks with his typical lack of decorum. The elf simply looks to him with enough solemnity to make up for it, and speaks.

“The Dungeoneer’s Guild does hereby declare you to be a Cooperative Dungeon. We recognize the benefits you can grant, as do we recognize they are not simply free. Your mercy has been noted, and in appreciation, the Guild will attempt to inform delvers of the rules as we know them.”

Teemo just grunts at the flowery language. “Ok, what’s that actually mean?” Tarl smiles and squats down to be more on Teemo’s level, dropping the formal act, his declaration apparently finished.

“It means that as long as you don’t just kill delvers because you can, the Guild will do its best to make sure they behave and don't make a mess.”

My rat nods at that. “Good. That’s pretty much all the Boss wants.” I nudge Teemo, reminding him of a question I’ve had. “Oh yeah, he also wants to know what would happen if he expanded into the town?”

Elf Guy gives him a confused look. “Is he planning to?”

“Not exactly,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just one of the options, apparently. Part of why he expanded down a while ago was he didn’t know what would happen if he tried to expand out more.”

“Ah,” says, the inspector as he takes a seat on one of the stairs. “As I’m sure Thedeim can guess, it’d be complicated. Everyone would technically become Dwellers. Some would approve, some wouldn’t, and some wouldn’t care. The mayor would probably be upset, and it’d cause political ripples through the kingdom.” He shrugs. “I’d recommend against him expanding outward, at least on the surface. He’ll be stepping on a lot of toes if he does.”

Teemo just nods at that. “That’s about what he figured, yeah. Anyway, you wanted to talk with the Ratkin, too?”

Tarl nods and stands. “Yeah. I have a formal treaty to normalize relations with them and the Guild, and by extension the kingdom and even the world. They’re sovereign, technically. Dungeons are their own territory, which is why expanding outward would be complicated at best. The treaty basically just says they’re recognized as such and offers trade deals.”

Teemo sticks out his ratty tongue in mock-disgust. “That sounds like politics, bleh. Better them than me. You can head to the Enclave on your own. That Ratkin enchanter came by the other day and cleared the magical traps out.” He pauses for a moment before speaking up again. “Actually, I’ll escort you. The Boss is also working on a new challenge.”

The elf’s eyes light up at that. “Oh? After the labyrinth, that sounds intriguing.” The two talk as they head into the house, and Teemo hops on Tarl’s shoulder to make it easier on the both of them. He explains the concept as he guides the inspector, who seems confused at my sudden embracing of traps. I notice Tarl looking around the rat nest in the basement, trying to be subtle as he walks. I should see if I can’t leverage that desire to get something out of the ODA… though I have no idea what I’d want.

Before I can get too deep into thinking of what I’d want, though, I feel new feet at the manor gate. Why are most groups trios? Maybe it gives the best balance of versatility versus splitting loot too many ways. They look a bit… off, though. I think I’ve seen most of the local delvers before, and these three don’t look local. Their armor and clothes look like they’ve seen a lot of miles, and are expected to see a lot more.

The leader seems to be a troll of some kind: kinda tall and lanky, purplish rough skin, beady eyes. He has a pair of shortswords crossed over his back, with chainmail underneath. I’m thinking another melee damage class like that one elf a while ago, but with swords instead of a spear.

It looks like their designated mage is a druid? And a halfling, too. I’m pretty sure she’s a druid, at least. She’s riding a wolf and doesn’t have weapons like I’d expect a ranger or something to have. She has a gnarled staff with bones, teeth, scales, and feathers hanging off it. I would say it looks hand-made, but I get a good sense of power from it. And, come to think of it, probably everything is technically hand made. I don’t think there are magical factories around.

The last member is an olive-skinned elf, which is interesting. Is that a wood elf? Or is that a regular elf and the other elves have been eladrin? Maybe he just has a good tan? Eh, I’m going with wood elf until told different. He’s dressed in hide armor and seems to have a bunch of boomerangs, of all things. Taking a closer look, though, they’re metal and look to be really sharp. He wears thick gloves to protect himself. I would think that’d mess with his aim, but with how his eyes move, I get the feeling that’s not going to be a problem.

The wood elf speaks up first. “So this is the new toybox?”

The halfling shrugs. “Looks like. Unless you think big creepy mansions have infestations of adventurers to go with the spiders and mice?”

The elf glares at her, but the troll speaks up before they can get a proper bicker rolling. “Cram it. I heard that gnome priest got one hell of a prize from beating one of the scions.” That gets the other two to shut up, and also makes me squint at the small party as he continues. “So we just gotta find a scion to beat up. Not the spider. I want a fresh chest. You spot anything, Hark?”

The elf, apparently Hark, looks around before looking up. He grins as he spots Poe up on the chimney. “Raven scion up there, Vnarl.” The troll looks up, using a hand to cover his eyes, and grins.

“Perfect! Mlynda, help him draw it down here. I don’t want to fight it in its lair.” The halfling and elf nod. Hark tosses one of his boomerangs, while Mlynda summons a thorny vine out of my nice lawn, and has it throw thorns at my Marshal.

Poe just looks at them with contempt as their attacks either fail to reach him, or are easy for him to duck without even getting out of his nest. As they continue to try to draw him out, I wonder if they’re very stubborn, or very stupid. Almost none of their attacks are actually on target, thanks to the distance and the height. Poe has the high ground, and there’s not a whole lot they can do about it.

Except get frustrated. Which they do. I wonder if the ranged barrage is their main tactic. The boomerangs always come back, so their ranged fighter never really runs out of ammo, and the druid seems to be able to coax an infinite amount of thorns out of that vine. The troll, however, is getting bored and frustrated, but soon spots something to take it out on.

One of my ratlings has an armful of wood from the maze, and Yvonne is helping it. I guess she wanted to get up and do something, rather than just read books all day with her down time. Vnarl, however, seems to just see two walking sacks of experience. He darts forward and cuts down the poor ratling, much to the surprise of Yvonne. She gives him a glare before speaking up.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

He just grins and slowly steps forward. “I heard you died, Yvonne. Let me help you with that…”

While the raven had been content to ignore the pests when they were just bothering him, he doesn’t appreciate them hindering the ratlings in their duty. He especially doesn’t appreciate the threatening tone and stance their leader has towards Yvonne, and neither do I. Stop them, Poe. And try not to kill them.

The caw Poe gives as he spreads his wings is otherworldly in its menace, and I can practically hear a certain evil red genie declare that you’d be surprised what you can live through. It draws the attention of the other delvers around the manor, and the unwelcome party all grin as they finally get a rise out of my raven scion. Ravens and crows circle around and blot out the sun over them, and Yvonne takes the chance to slip away.

Poe is looking significantly more bad-ass than I expected. I check his status and see something I hadn’t before.

Poe, Raven Scion

Lord of Unkindnesses

Marshal of Murders

…when did he become a raid boss?