Krystal's caravan had spent about a week in Ogon. The normally bustling village had somehow become even more lively than the last time she had visited. People were running back and forth, transporting materials and messages between the swamp and forest. Wyrmtail swamp was rich in clay and minerals, making it the perfect place to harvest materials for building as well as weaker metals and shiny stones. The shiny stones were never taken, however, since the namesake creatures of the swamp would rise up from the mud and from within the ancient willows to reclaim them.

The locals referred to precious stones that naturally appeared in the muddy banks and puddles as Wyrmstones. Peasants were never very creative in their naming skills... A greedy person could get away with a few stones if they were willing to pay the price. The wyrms would overlook a small theft if the thief left a companion behind for them to devour.

If one asked any of the locals in the few taverns about it then they'd have the pleasure of hearing one of many stories about greedy bandits who would kidnap people and bring them to the swamp to trade for Wyrmstone. One of the bandits sometimes betrayed their companion and left them along with the kidnapped person just to be able to claim twice the amount of stones. Others tried to take more stones than promised and ended up upside down in the swamp, with only their pale feet sticking out of the moist ground like a macabre imitation of flowers.

Apparently, that story stemmed from the sturdy flowers that sometimes bloomed out of the moss, stretching waxy petals with a skin-like texture towards the sky. Some poor fool must have seen them and mistaken them for feet and then spread the rumor of burrowed thieves.

Krystal took another sip of her ale as she recalled the first time someone had told her of the Thieffeet flowers. She had had nightmares for her entire stay in the village. Of course, she hadn't told anyone about that though.

Being the leader of a caravan was a demanding job. She needed to look stern and confident to inspire her group and to dissuade any bandit scouts who might run into her. If the caravan leader looked like they could tear your head off and feed it to the horses without batting an eyelash then that would be enough for most people with ill intentions to turn around and look for easier prey.

Not that she'd ever feed her horses a head, they'd get sick and slow without a doubt. She had bashed in many heads with various items, however. A stray hammer or walking stick, a bag or misplaced bucket, she even threw a spare wheel at a cocky bandit once. Smacked into his head like he was an overripe tomato. His companions turned tail and ran before his body hit the ground.

What unnerved most people was the fact that she was a woman. The usually physically weaker gender didn't get much credit in a world of combat with the exception being mages. Magic was something anyone with the right affinity could learn to use and on average more women than men reached the highest rank of magic users.

Krystal was one of few exceptions to the former rule, being a well-built human who could crack just about anyone's skull with one of her knees made her practically famous within her line of work. She didn't let it get to her head though. Only a fool would believe they could protect an entire caravan by themselves so she made sure to hire adventurers to escort her group on every journey.

During this particular journey, she had hired a total of 5 adventurers. One of them were a smug warrior with a condescending grin permanently plastered on his face. His name was Chow and 2 of the other adventurers couldn't be called anything but his minions without giving them too much praise. Krystal couldn't remember their names for the life of her. It didn't help that they seemed fully content to redirect any glory to their o so strong and just leader Chow.

The other two adventurers were a bit less of a pain in the ass. Noa and Johna were peaceful and competent, never picking fights with the merchants or bragging about past victories like another trio of idiots.

Noa was a big man with a shaved head to make up for the ridiculous forest of hair that was his eyebrows, beard, and mustache. He was always smiling and asking how he could be of use to her so she liked him quite a bit. He might have been a bit on the unsure side as he constantly asked for permission or opinions on his actions. His companion was the polar opposite of him.

Johna had long blond hair and was rather skinny and lean for a man. He acted carefree and laidback and would sometimes mock the insecure monk for being 'a mother duck'. He got along well with the other travelers and had yet to fall for Chow's provocations. While Noa's Class might have been a bit rare, monks being a humble and low paying job, Johna's job was practically unheard of among his fellow males. Dancer was, after all, a mainly feminine Class and Chow had immediately made it his goal in life to bully the smaller man for it. Johna had yet to bit though, Krystal silently applauded him for his patience and self-confidence.

The name of the Class was misleading for many. While Johna could certainly put up a pretty performance by spinning around and waving his fans in the air, the movements all had other uses. Upon closer inspection, it would be revealed that many thin knives made up the frame of the fans instead of harmless sticks. The quick turns and sweeping movements could be used to slash at windpipes and sever limbs with the right timing and force, something many missed while they were snickering at a man having a woman's job.

The monk-dancer combo was perfect for undercover jobs or for simply looking harmless to bandits who would go for them first and go down first as a result. The monk made use of his strong build and proficiency in unarmed combat while the dancer danced around the carriages cutting people down as he went. They were quick and efficient.

Krystal sighed into her cup as she yet again lamented over their disappearance the other night when the bandits struck them in the forest. The only excuse she managed to get out of them was 'Johna ate something strange and feels sick.'. At first, she had suspected them of some funny business when they withdrew into one of the carriages. Krystal had personally stormed into the carriage after the bloody battle with the bandits to demand answers for why they'd stayed in there during the entire fight. She'd stopped in her tracks when she saw the tired looking monk sitting on a big box. He had tried to hide a bloody gash along his left arm with his robes and given her a challenging look that was so unlike the usually calm monk that she had left without a word.

She hadn't seen the dancer in the carriage but the hissing and scratching noises that came from within the box had reached her despite the monk's tries to drown them out with a faked coughing fit. She'd decided to ask one of her trusted merchants to keep an eye on the carriage and notify her if anything strange happened but it never did.

The next morning both the dancer and monk had reappeared, walking alongside the carts. They'd both looked tired but other than that nothing was out of the ordinary. Krystal had thought long and hard on what to do and decided to just leave them be. If the monk had for some reason assaulted the smaller man then it was up to him to inform Krystal of it. If there were no obvious signs of abuse or funny business then there was nothing she could do about it.

She could demand that Chow and his goons guarded the back of the caravan while the other two guarded the front to give Johna a rest from the bully's comments, however. The cranky warrior hadn't been too happy about it but orders were orders and people damn well follow them in Krystal's caravan lest they want a beating.

A loud crash made Krystal spill her drink and rudely interrupted her thoughts. Whatever fucknut dared interrupt her me-time at the bar would lose an-

"Oh."

On the other side of the tavern, a table had been toppled over and still sitting idly on the bench that had been robbed of it's furniture-buddy was Johna. Noa had shot up from his seat and was now trying to calm the angry villager who was throwing insults at the uncaring dancer.

The villager sported an impressive beard that threatened to swallow the rest of his head if he shook it anymore in his small outrage. Krystal spotted the hints of a smirk on his face and firmly confirmed her suspicions. The villager was a hotheaded asshole looking for a fight and the tiny outsider had caught his eye.

Krystal didn't pay much attention to the exchanged words after the monk's first apologizes had been met with a couple of variations of "your mother fucked a goat." by beardface. She called a barmaid over and ordered a new drink. By the time she got a new cup of ale beardy had decided it was time to smash the man who was so nonchalantly ignoring him.

He faked another outrage and swung his fist towards Johna and for a second the busy tavern turned silent. A second later beardy's left ear hit the floor with a wet thud. Johna lowered his arm and the knife-fan that had been inches away from cleaving the man's face in half made a red arc in the air as the blood got flung off onto the ground.

Time seemed to remember to flow again after beardy realized what had just happened and began wailing in pain while clutching the side of his head. Blood splurted everywhere as he curled up on the floor swearing and crying in pain. Johna stood perfectly still while glaring down at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Krystal got a glimpse of the usually brown eyes turning a deep red as the monk sprung to action and ushered his companion outside. Noa threw a couple of coins on the bar as an apology for the mess before they both disappeared outside into the rain. It was something about the way they both acted as if this was all normal to them and they just moved out of habit. They still made the necessary noises of regret and apology to get away with it but Krystal's experienced eyes noticed the small strain in their act.

The caravan chief whistled once and then drank the rest of her ale before ordering another one. The wailing man got taken away by some of his buddies and a distressed barmaid set about cleaning up the blood. Krystal had to change her opinion on her two adventurer-guards. Johna certainly wasn't as weak as she'd first thought and Noa was at least not squeamish of blood.

Her vision blurred a bit as she downed another cup and let out a satisfied burp. Trigger happy dancers, what a time to be alive.

A fair distance away and a couple of hundred meters underground another odd group were tending to their own problems.

"The roof isn't right..."

"Yeah, something is definitely off."

The ground rumbled as the stone structure in front of them reformed itself.

Is this better?

Mikvel scratched the back of his head while staring intently at the sloping stone roof of the entrance to what was supposed to look like a castle.

Fanv shook her head, earning another hiss from the Arachne who was trying to braid her long hair.

"Sstand sstill."

"Sorry, Sam."

A groaning sound came from both the stone walls and Sam as they restarted their work.

Maker's body was currently floating in mid air a couple of meters above the ground. Her usually cheerful face was scrunched up in a frown as she concentrated. Mikvel was busy using a chunk of charcoal to draw a fancy castle on the ground. He'd always been better at drawing than telling stories and for once his talent was of great use as he drew and planned the structure of what Maker called 'The big castle of wonder and amazingness that will make humans not attack us'.

Pohc and a small group of rodents were guarding a smoldering fire. From time to time the bravest of them would dash forward, snatch a piece of coal and dart back with it. If it was usable for drawing then they would bring it to Mikvel, if not then Pohc would toss it back into the fire making the rodent that fetched it sigh in disappointment.

Some of the rodents had sat down next to Mikvel and started drawing on their own. They mostly just made squiggles and dark shapes that they eagerly filled in completely. One of them had managed to draw a perfect circle somehow and the others had danced around it as it stood in the middle while chanting 'Circle! Circle! Circle!'. It was both cute and ominous as hell.

"It looks kind of empty does it not? The stone is too flat-"

ARGH!

Maker's body flung it's arms and legs out and spun through the air a couple of times. No one paid her any attention though since she had just made the wall explode all around the cave, giving way to giant oak-like trees with black leaves and gray bark. The trees grew and twisted around each other at unnatural speed and soon they covered the 'roof' that Maker had struggled with for almost an hour.

I HATE ROOFS! ROOFS WILL BE TREES FROM NOW ON!!

"That looks kind of good actually."

Sam and Fanv nodded in approval to Mikvel's comment. The thick canopy of black leaves that mingled with the stone pillars and half broken walls of the castle entrance looked sort of like an ancient ruin reclaimed by nature. Red glowing flowers bloomed among the leaves and cast a mysterious red light over the humongous cave.

Oh, you are right. Let me just make some adjustments.

The dull gray stones then turned white and smooth. Spots of gray moss spread along with the white that quickly crept along every exposed surface of the building. The hard stone ground cracked and split and gave way to dirt and gravel. The gravel moved into concentrated patch before sinking down into shallow pits. Water welled up from the ground and made the pits into ponds.

The onlookers clapped their hands/paws as Maker worked on her masterpiece. They had spent a long time on this project and it was finally looking the part. The entrance to the dungeon 'village' needed to look impressive as it was the first building any outsiders would see. The plan was to encase the surface area of the dungeon in a tight hedge of bushes and trees to mark the edge of their territory. In the middle of the dungeon-forest, the castle entrance would stand, informing anyone who'd missed the fact that the nearly colorless plants and trees meant they were no longer in Feytale forest. The castle entrance would the lead down through a tunnel into the throne-room where wide tables and the mandatory throne would stand.

It was decided through a major vote that Fanv would be the owner of that throne since Maker wanted her core as far away from the outsiders as possible, no matter their intentions.

Fanv had refused at first, claiming she would be too embarrassed to sit on a big fancy throne and act like an important person. Pohc had argued that she did just fine when she acted important in front of the bandits that took Mikvel, something that in turn led to Pohc describing the heroic rescue the Great one had performed.

The final argument ended up being that 'your cave is the closest and you are the strongest one in this area.'. The Bansheep had their lair further back in the cave system and while a Glowshell was strong, it still wasn't stronger than Fanv nor the Bansheep and that despite the long time that had passed since the opportunity to grow sentient it was still dumb as a rock. 'And putting a dumb creature on a throne would make the entire dungeon look dumb.'

The throne-room would serve as a meeting room and a place to throw parties as well. Explaining 'parties' to the rodents was an adventure in itself. Dessi had dropped by and listened for some time, stating that 'having fun and eating lots of food' sounded like an everyday hunt to them. Sam had gotten excited when they talked about fancy clothes and banners and decided to make a banner for the dungeon.

Behind the throne-room would be Fanv's living quarters since she was the vanguard of the dungeon. After much discussion and an idea from Mikvel, they changed the plan a bit and decided to put the lake-cave between Fanv's cave and the throne-room so that the Fright crows could act as a natural alarm for intruders. The birds could keep pretty much anyone busy if they wanted to, although they only 'spoke' to intruders. There was a sort of unwritten rule that the birds wouldn't mock the other creatures and the other creatures, in turn, wouldn't pick fights with the birds which resulted in the birds not uttering a single word to anyone but outsiders.

A snitch mouse also informed everyone that the already foul-mouthed birds had recently learned some swear words. Dessi, the main suspect of swearing in front of the birds, quickly escaped with the excuse of having lots of things making her busy, very busy indeed, too damn busy to stay there right now yes.

It was agreed that about 100 birds all screaming "TWAT" at the top of their lungs while laughing like maniacs would serve as a good alarm.

Maker would make some caves for Mikvel and Sam to use as a workshop and living area behind Fanv's place since anything that could get past a raging Visvarg would be running too fast to avoid getting sniped by the resident Arachne.

The rest of the cave system would be left as it was until further notice to avoid disrupting the ecosystem too much. There was a no-kill-fellow-creatures-rule set in the Areas where outsiders were allowed. Personal lairs were an exception and the owner of said lair could do whatever they pleased to uninvited visitors in there.

The planning-meeting was temporarily paused when a rat managed to set itself on fire. Everyone except Fanv and Mikvel calmed down when the burning rat's spine and front legs snapped and its head melted only to reform seconds later in a new shape. The rat eventually stopped burning and grew to the size of a small dog. Its fur turned black with sizzling embers peeking out under it at the joints and folds of its skin. It walked on two legs and had a pair of stubby antlers. Maker declared it an Imp and named it Terra for 'terrafying Fanv and Mikvel~'

Mikvel and Fanv both shot Maker grumpy glares as they drew the outlay plan of the future dungeon-castle-forest-areas on a wall.

Little Terra ran around celebrating its new form while other rodents congratulated it and cheered.