Rok sat at his desk, holding one of a few communication stones he’d been given. From the other end, one of the higher ranking guards stationed to watch the entrance. After it’d been revealed the potential value of the Dungeon, the guilds had outfitted Rok and his staff much more thoroughly, a good thing too, since Rok had been receiving a series of rather worrying messages ever since the morning.

“Rok, we need advice. There’s a ship on the horizon, headed right towards the hole. We don’t know what they want, they won’t respond to any signals. They’re a good few hours out, so we’re continuing the shifts until they get closer. Do you know who they are?”

A short few sentences that already had Rok on edge. He answered he did not know, and as far as he was aware, there was to be no ships headed there, anyone should be making their way to Gil. Even those brave few looking to develop around the Hole had to first arrive at Sleepy Gills and take a much smaller vessel in that direction.

He shook his head and grumbled, hoping against hope they were merely uninformed travelers, or better yet just a captain hoping to create a bit of a ruckus. It wouldn’t be too farfetched, it had only been a few days since news went public after all, there were bound to be those out at sea without the news for months to come. He just couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to it. Sadly, he was right, as two and a half hours later, another crystal glowed.

“Rok, they’ve stayed course for us, from what we can see it’s a galleon from Craynor, but there’s something wrong about it, there’s only the one and it looks pretty beat up.”

While Rok wasn’t overly familiar with the specifics of a naval fleet, he remembered his time in Craynor, and how aggressively sea-faring they were. With a vastly overdeveloped navy, they were one of the most superior surface navies he had knowledge of. To send a galleon, regardless of the condition, this close to the Dungeon so boldly was an insult at best.

He was certain that when news of this got out, there’d be a huge political mess to clean up, and with his track record, he’d be right in the thick of it. He was already considering contacting his newfound superiors for the second time in a week when the third of his emergency lines lit up. It was different this time, instead of the hustle and bustle in the background that the past two messages had contained, there was a panicked din that his contact needed to shout over.

“Rok! The Dungeon is under attack! A po-”

This was not what Rok wanted to hear, and he immediately responded as his heart sank.

“Craynor really did it?”

“No, Rok, their galleon was wrecked by a pod of marauders which suddenly came from the Deep, and they’re trying to get in the hole now.”

Rok pursed his near nonexistent lips, doing little more than showing off his pointed white teeth even more. Marauding orcas, why were they anywhere near here? It was well away from anywhere they should be, the waters too warm and shallow, the people too many, it just didn’t make sense.

“How many?” Asked Rok after a moment of contemplation, hurrying to get as much information as he could before the stone ran out.

“Twenty, no young, we can’t drive them off!” A crash punctuated this statement, the sounds of splintering wood and floundering surface races sounding from the corner of the building.

Rok was more than a little concerned, marauding orcas were overly aggressive, prone to wreck ships and destroy structures on a mere whim. They were B threats on their own, at best, but their coordinated group tactics and deceptive intelligence made them much worse to fight than their brutish looks would suggest. Thirteen meters in length and solid bulk, just one could do a number to an unsuspecting ship, and it wasn’t beyond the abilities for a large pod to scuttle a galleon with time, even if it was composed of Craynor’s famed ironwood.

From the sounds he’d overheard, the mana-enriched redwood they used for the entrance hall was even less suited for the multi-tonne terrors. With sixteen working in tandem, they presented a sizable threat to quite a few of the sapients, especially those which were susceptible to the Burn. With the protective building that kept them dry being ripped apart from the outside, there was a genuine risk for even the strongest to perish, should they allow the chaotic mana inside themselves.

“Focus on keeping them away from the Dungeon, and the hall. Keep as many terrestrials dry as you can, don’t prioritize saving the Burned until you drive them out or kill them all. And for the love of Vol, do not let the Dungeon get hold of one.”

The stone burned out shortly after, transitioning from a call to a mere recording of what had been spoken, something to be played on loop when more mana was fed to it. Unfortunately, from the sounds of things, it didn’t seem that Rok would be getting live updates any time soon. He was sure that with the few groups of amphibians and atlanteans that were there waiting, as well as the dozens more unaffiliated with the guild of admittedly questionable quality, as soon as the chaos wore off the creatures would be swiftly dispersed and killed, but the longer it took them to focus, the more the orcas could dismantle the building and put those within at risk. He grumbled in annoyance, the sounds of a rumbling hiss leaking outside the door, a signal heard by Kelly to promptly turn around and swim back from whence she came.

He’d already started writing up a draft report for what he’d have to tell the guilds, everything from Craynor’s possible invasion force being wrecked by a completely out of place group of marauders, to how them being cheap with their building materials would likely end up costing the lives of at least a few seasoned adventurers because they simply can’t swim properly in the Reef.

On top of this, there would almost certainly be ramifications politically. The superpower that was both guilds would likely come calling for Craynor, the friends and family of those lost would call for his head or the Dungeon’s core, and somehow it’d come back to the dungeon town and him, despite being kilometers away from the site.

All of this sounded beyond frustrating, and call it an instinct, but Rok knew it wasn’t over just yet.

“Uhh, Rok, the marauders were killed, but we lost more terrestrials than you’d like. Also…”

Rok could feel his desk cluttering, and wondered what the next paragraph of his report would be. The possibilities were as endless as his paperwork, and he would be forgiven for not waiting with baited breath.

“Before we could stop them, a couple merc groups rallied and rushed for the hole, screaming about putting the guilds in their place. About fifteen, twenty aquatics made it in before someone was made an example of. They've been in there a few minutes, might not have gone far. We could catch them if we went now. What do we do?"

Rok was nonplussed, certainly, but that wasn't the worst outcome. Hopefully they weren't too much stronger together, and they may well wind up just killing eachother for profit inside.

"Just leave them, lock up anyone who comes out, then send them here. Beyond that, spend the rest of the day cleaning. Nobody enters until tomorrow."

"Got it. I'll let you know how it goes later."

Rok began writing anew, passing time until his prisoners arrived. He shook away the morbid hope that maybe, just maybe, the dungeon could make his workload lighter instead of worse. And besides, that place had never passed up an opportunity to make things hard for him before, why would it start now.