"Full Heal!" Margaret's spell erupted from her chest and struck a skeleton square in its ribcage.

For half a moment it seemed like it had done nothing, when suddenly nerves and tendons erupted from the bone.

The monster slowed down as masses of organic tissue began to entomb and weigh it down.

Muscles, teeth, eyes, all the features of a man began to form around it.

Lastly, skin.

Sinking to its knees was an unspoilt human corpse. Now rendered completely inert.

"It's a good thing healing harms the undead," her rival said, "since I would never dull my blade on these inferior foes. The paladin can take care of them."

"Are you too good for an honest day's work?"

"...yes."

Margaret sighed.

There were five members in their group. Previously they had all stuck together to be around Laurus, now that he was indisposed it became increasingly clear they had no glue sticking them together.

The paladin thought the duelist was conceited, the duelist looked down on the paladin, the mage considered them both children, and the martial artist never spoke.

"Laurus..." She sighed again, *he would know what to say*.

"Don't act like you're the only one that cares about him," the woman flapped her kimono, "we all want to save him. But it's up to Augusta now."

Augusta... the name sounded like metal on chalk to her. Another woman circling him.

It wasn't proper for her to despise the knight, as she was the one who would help Laurus escape these murder charges.

But still... it wasn't often now that she wasn't gripped be jealousy.

"Really... none of you are questioning this?" The mage's powerful voice rang from behind her scarf.

"What're you on about?" The duelist said.

"We have come here, with Laurus, in order to defeat the goblin warrens and avenge the elves. But rather than goblins, we're fighting skeletons, and even though the proving's done with the adventuring stay's still going."

"There was a bone spire and the lands are still overrun, so what?"

"So, we're being led on, love. Shit's bloody political, innit?"

The martial artist punched her fists together. "Shit's fucky."

"What's say we go back to the city, an' try for another round with Beauregard. I'm sure she's got more to tell us."

As she spoke she pulled a large stick insect out of her sleeves.

"Ew," Margaret recoiled, "what's that!?"

"It's my familiar. The only reason I came along today was to find out more about our enemies. But since we're banned from entering..." the bug took off and began buzzing towards the forest.

"This one will have to be our eyes and ears."

"You can see what your familiar sees?"

"It can record its sight for us to watch later."

"That's freaky."

"That's magic. Now... off with us."

Margaret watched the magical creature fly off. These other companions sure were impressive, *but they haven't shared a moment with him like I have.*

Flying high over the forest, the familiar was able to record rows upon rows of ruins.

Abandoned goblin nests overrun by spreading kudzu.

Already, more powerful fairy creatures were conglomerating in the north, having come from the witchwood.

But the plant matter hadn't yet reached beyond the outermost perimeter, which protected the favored territories.

The bug's eyes calibrated and refocused when the sea of leaves suddenly tore out from under it and the warrens came into view.

Though there were rows and patches of trees, this was no longer a forest. Huts, cabins, and brick houses made up a sprawl of civilization.

There were quarries, animal pens, and stretches of farmland to make up the industry of a self-sufficient nation.

And towering against the cliffs of the sea was its capital.

The Promise was protected by a wooden and stone wall. Outside was a purple field of potato flowers, and a small grove with a tree tier up in countless ribbons.

The stick insect hovered low, and then landed on the back of a horse being led through the gate, into the town.

From its street level view, it was able to take in the center of commerce by the gate, where a bandit woman distributed goods from her shop. And the rows of warehouses storing private and public property.

It was brushed off by the horse's tail and began to fly low, towards the manor and the water tower.

There were beginnings of branching streets from the main road, but most of the homes the bandits lived and slept in were alongside that path towards the center.

There was a little square between the wings of the manor, that had once contained a well, but now only a metal manhole cover, and some mossy tiles.

-

"Say that again..." Lydia Harkness turned her ear to the warg wolf and listened intently.

The wolf seemed a tad embarrassed, but it relented and barked a line of warg wolves.

She was silent for a moment, then transformed the structure of her throat and barked back. "I understand! It's speaking... it's just like words."

Scratch had stopped beating a rug to watch her, "yeah... they have their own language. That's why we have the barking horn."

She looked looked at him with a sideways smile. "Grienicians have their own language. They say 'mira', or 'merde'. And peasants and nobility have different language. The nobility uses more elegant speech patterns. This is beyond language. The words are in a completely different order.

The sounds are completely different."

"Oh- Hmm... There's nothing like this anywhere on the world? Everybody can pretty much understand each other?"

"Of course. That's what language does. We were gifted speech by the gods. We use it to understand each other."

Scratch swatted at the stick insect buzzing around his head. "That's amazing. You know, orcs have a whole language of their own too."

"Truly!?"

"I reckon there's tons of languages out there in the world."

Lydia partially transformed to rush over to him and tackle him to the ground.

She buried her face in his neck.

"The world is so much larger than I believed. I... I have traveled under many skies, tread upon countless territories, and known the presence of all manner of beasts. But I know now that I have been blind to the world around me... I have seen not one whisker of its complexities." She withdrew,

"no... that was..."

"Shush, shh..." he put his hands around her face. "Let it happen, give Wendy her space, don't let it become a back-and-forth like with the witch girl. Flow into each other."

She nodded obediently, kissed him, and then took on a fully wolven form.

The wind wolf herself now stood over him, she turned her face towards the wind and called upon her pack mates. And they began to run together.

Scratch climbed to his feet.

An owl snatched the stick insect out of the air and sat down on the hanging rug to kill it.

"She's surrendered all control to me," Scratch said to the owl, "your curse works wonders."

The owl transferred back into a woman, taking a stand behind the suspended weave.

"That is not how it's used," she crushed the familiar in her hand, "but you seem to take a perverse joy in using magic outside its intended application, don't you?"

"I didn't think I'd offended you, madame Lacrima. Let me apologize, offer a cold drink maybe."

She pushed some air through her nose. "Heat's died down too much for cold drinks, so I'll extend my graceful nature. If only for my own convenience. But you musn't forget that I am your first and true patron, even when we submit to the lich for his power."

Scratch held back a grin, pressing it into a mere smile. Lydia with her bandits had been his real first patron, but some engineered desperation had reversed that dynamic. Lacrima, too, was becoming increasingly reliant on the Promise's cooperation. "How could I forget a holy mission by a goddess," he said. "This peace is only a set-up for that. It'll allow us to rebuild our numbers, and then fight back the fairies. Ritter's magic will only help you there."

"You have a plan?"

"Sure," he picked up his carpet beater, "well... after a failed rebellion and all those incursions we're working on replenishing our supply of brood mothers. There should be other bandit refugees available but... it's a sensitive subject."

"Mhm..." she nodded, "I should mesmer them. Keep them in a catatonic state while you use their bodies."

"That..." Scratch looked uncomfortable, "maybe for a plan B. I've kinda done my best to talk the position up, you know. I think that would, huh... diminish... the prestige. Which is already kinda far-fetched. And we rely on the mothers to raise the boys as well. That's what started this whole thing."

Lacrima looked frustrated, but then caught herself. "If you have the goddess' faith, then you do mine, Scratch."

"Wonderful," he gestured at her to step away from the rug so her could continue beating the dust out of it, "then you can make peace with our new roommate?"

"Make peace? How can I? What possessed you to bring that monster into our home?"

"That's the lich's power we're submitting to. He was here with us, you know, after my talk with the count."

"I trust your talk went well?" The skeletal minotaur said.

"Trust, do you? I saw your eyes in the skies. I think you know exactly out it went."

"It went well."

"Indeed."

"Please," Ritter extended his arm towards Scratch's own home, "come inside. I wish to congratulate you."

Inside, Lydia and the hobgoblins had already been seated at the dining table.

Lydia was still disheveled then. Holding her face and muttering to herself.

A duo of skeletons were holding up the strategic map of the area they had been using, only it had been framed.

No, it wasn't framed, the frames were the bones of the monsters themselves, clasping the edges.

The body of Feylina Dieless was there as well, the deathly energies had been removed from her body and she looked peaceful.

The lich had made the macabre choice to give her a glass coffin and display her on the table.

"I must say that in my many centuries I have never been able to escape the persecutions of the human kingdoms, I commend you for that." As he spoke he wiped the marking representing the army off the map, freeing a whole region. "And it is good that you did, as this region covers the second wyrm segment."

He replaced the army with new markings, a trail of stars, forming a snaking constellation from the rolling hills through the witchwood and ending at the Promise.

"It's... dots?" Constantine asked.

"This is one of the thirteen remains of Malsidious the Wyrm." He announced dramatically.

The revelation came to bitter little fanfare as the hobgoblins were only confused, and the bandit was more horrified than enthused.

"Perhaps you can provide some context." Scratch suggested helpfully.

The skull moved expressionlessly. "...Very well then. Let me not presume a general worldliness. Malsidious is... There are twelve gods. First are the gods of fire, air, water, and earth that preside of the worldly nations. Their balance shapes the balance of the world. Gods are much like elementals you see, they care only to expand their source of power. The nobility of Reddington may worship the fire goddess Rhada, but Rhada would bathe all their lands in everlasting fire if she could. The more fire in the world, the more powerful she is."

Will turned his head to his mother when her goddess was mentioned, she had seemed tense and on-edge ever since the lich had entered their home, but name 'Malsidious' had drained the blood from her face completely.

Lydia didn't seem eager to defend her faith, "and there are other gods," she said.

"Indeed! There is also Noruk, god of beasts, and Sonma, god of machines. The gods of love and war, Dither and Dronk, and Guth, goddess of magic-"

"And someone called Malsidious." Scratch interrupted him from reciting the whole pantheon, urging him on.

"There once was." Ritter said. "A thirteenth god, a god of evil."

"The one that was killed." Scratch leaned forward, attentive now, "how do you kill a god?"

"That is part of the general knowledge. Even the beastmen of the yellow wastes tell this story to their children. In his eternal battle with Benesant, Malsidious took the form of a Wyrm and descented from the celestial plane unto our skies to eat the world."

"And he was defeated a hero from another world." Lydia said through her hair, "but that's just a fairytale."

"It as true as you or I. We are standing on the remains of the wyrm right now!"

There was the sound of scraping chairs as they all looked down. But there was just the hardwood of the manor flooring below.

The lich managed to show some exasperation with just his arm movements, where his expression lacked. "Your dungeon is dug out by a wyrm shard. A fragment of the great wyrm's body, piloted by a fragment of the great wyrm's mind."

"Cyclophan." Ada said, he had appeared to her before.

The lich nodded, "one of many. When Malsidious' body was shattered, so was his divine essence. Now each aspect of his power is ruled over by a small god. Evil gods, they're called, for 'kishin', the ruinous powers. Your Cyclophan controls one of the shards of the second segment. I serve the god of death and undeath, Pinchin, and it is he who commands the winged shard of my tower. There are many like them, and they vie for possession of the limited known shards."

"Aha! So these are all dungeon cores just like we have!" Constantine jumped up and pointed at the stars on the map.

The lich righted himself, and an aura of imposing magic encircled him. "Over many years I was able to determine the location and scatter of just a few of the great wyrm's segments. You bear witness to the most precious treasure map in existence. Dark sorcerers on all inhabitated planes of the world would gladly give their right arm just for a hint on where to find a wyrm shard."

"Can we talk to this Pinchin directly?" Scratch asked, "if all of this comes from him."

"You are speaking to him," the skeleton bend forward, allowing him to gaze into the emptiness of his eyesocket. "The god of undeath is able to see whatever the skeletal undead do, hear, whatever we hear. His presence is with us, and he speaks through me. So... speak, what words do you have for the god of death?"

Put on the spot, Scratch arched back, "uhm... uh..."

"What do you want from us?" Ada said.

"It is the ambition of all kishin to rejoin into one being once more. To become Malsidious. But for that, all shards must be united, and the great Wyrm must be remade." He tapped the map, "it is now clear that the location of the second segment is not as closely guarded as we believed. The goblin warrens will be tasked with protecting it."

There was a stunned silence.

Lydia was aghast. "You want to bring back the great Wyrm? That would destroy-"

"Leave it to us." Scratch said over her, bowing sycophantically.

Ritter's pomp deflated somewhat, "this was the most close-guarded secret in existence. If it has managed to spread into the earth, it must be torn it out by the roots. Tear down the remains of that little shadow organization, and present me their heads."

"S-sure."

"In the meantime, I want you to build up and fortify these shards. Make use of their power."

"So we'll have more dungeons? With more magic just like this one?" Ada asked.

"No. Not like this one. Properly. My apprentice is already here, he shall guide you on the proper exploitation of dungeon magic."

"He's already here? Where?"

A large bat released itself from the ceiling, it uprighted itself with two flaps of its leather and then landed on all fours on top of the glass coffin.

It hissed right into Scratch's face. "You are dead. You vere blind to your own surroundings, vere I a real enemy zhis vould have been zhe end for your leader."

"I smelt your rancid blood the moment I came in here, vampire." Lydia said.

Her dagger was pressed against his throat, as she had seen him coming.

The bat withdrew, he threw his leathery wings backwards and they became a cape.

A small man dressed in aristocratic black and red stood where the bat had been, "zhat doesn't count," he blushed and averted his eyes, "I vouldn't have given you an opening if I vere a real attack."

"I shall introduce you. Promise, meet Noss Fleder. Noss, these will be your hosts. Noss is a pureblood vampire count."

"Nice to meet you Noss. Kids, say hi to Noss."

The hobgoblins obediently muttered some pleasantries, and Scratch made a fake smile, but he had a mistrust in his eyes that the vampire could certainly pick up on.

-

The vampire quickly made himself at home, and started commanding the goblins around like they were his servants.

"Zhis will be my room, zhen? I vill require thicker curtains, and zhe bed must have a spring mattress."

Scratch took Ada apart, "you can see what's going on, don't you?"

"Yeah, he's totally bossing us around."

"And not for nothing. Listen, Ritter clearly considers us his property. Using the death spire has cemented that. He's not leaving this pipsqueak with us to help us with the shards, he's planting a spy. Everything we say or do around him will be reported to top brass."

She looked over her shoulder, "oh, he's a weapon. So we should kill him?"

"Of course not. As soon as you get the chance, slip out of here and wake up Barb."

"Barb? Barbara."

"Tell her the walls have just grown ears. I don't want to risk her being loose with secrets before we have a chance to tell her."

"The walls... Ew."

"It's just a saying."

They parted to hide their conspiracy.

Still... Scratch said to himself, he's got us on the ropes. First with the army, then with the weapon. He's always working on a way to subtly bring us down. I can't let anything he does go unscrutinized.

-

Before leaving, the Lich took the vampire to the roof of the mansion, to speak in privacy.

"You realize for what purpose I have left you with these people?"

"I do..."

"To make some friends, Noss! You're over a century now, and I am an old man. It is time you learn how to socialize."

"Friendship... is a veakness. I must study magic further, to-"

"Fleder. The strongest magic is the kind you develop for yourself. You and I both know you will never be a mighty warrior, learn to cut loose a litte. You have many centuries ahead of you to embitter you, don't you start early."

"...Understood."

The lich looked out over the small town and its farms, "I have not chosen this place for you arbitrarily. Goblins live like you do, they avoid the sunlight, and their homes will be made to your scale. You will be right at home."

"Among goblins."

"These goblins are intelligent, Noss. I have shown their leader my generosity, and he has never taken advantage of it, or demanded more than his share."

"I suppose it be rewarding to have some minions finally..."

"Friends, Fleder."

"Ugh, Friends."

"Good man."

With the Promise receiving warning ahead of time, some of the more sensitive business could be move downstream to Eston.

Had the situation been different, the bandits receiving a new identity could have been thoroughly informed ahead of time. But as it stood, they received their new names only once entering the city.

"Melbourne, from the western barony," Scratch said to Huckabee, "you're already enrolled in the tanners' guild."

"Melbourne... really?"

"I didn't come up with it. Here are your papers."

They sat in a port warehouse during the night, and should have been rather safe from onlookers, yet it seemed to Huckabee that Scratch could have shown a bit more unease hanging around the works of man without a disguise.

"I'm sure you know all about your comrades that already have a position. Stanford is a cobbler in your district, he still uses healing magic on thieves' guild members. Wounds they wouldn't be able to explain at a church, you know the kind."

"He's still working for the guild?" One of the other bandits asked.

"Of course, did you think your negotiating position has changed now that you're here? You just have more to lose, don't you? Anyway, here are your house keys... Bree, the house keys."

The massive troll carefully plucked the items from a bundle laying in the palm of her hand, using her large fingers.

"We're just taking what we were promised, okay?" Huckabee said uncomfortably, "we were only ever here to become citizens again. So... if there aren't enough bandits left to manage the territory..."

"We're working on attracting people again," Scratch said. "We lost some connections getting rid of parts of the guild, but they can be repaired, with enough money."

"Ah," Huckabee was put at ease, "well you've got enough gold."

"That isn't spending money. The gold at the Promise is there to back the paper currency, I'm banking for the broodmothers. The spending money will come from selling insurance, and you're going to sell it for me."

"You're putting us to work," one said, "that wasn't part of the deal. If you think you can extort us-"

"I could extort you as much as I'd like." Scratch spat, "but I can promise your lazy ass you won't have to lift a finger for this one."

"What then? Are we bound to paying-"

Huckabee calmed him down with a gesture. "Tell us the rest of the arrangement Scratch."

"Thank you. I should have prepared slides, but here goes nothing. It's about risk spreading."

"Risk spreading?"

"Exactly. As you know, I have been funding drug trade, scamming operations, and robberies all over the city. But prospective guild members are still held back by the risks of failure."

"Of course."

"Of course, you say. But for me, if I can fund ten operations, knowing that one will fail, but not which, I will gladly do so. The dividends of the nine will make up for the loss of the one."

"That's easy for you to say..." a bandit replied, "it's a static cost. You're not gambling with everything you have."

"Exactly. My risk is spread. This can be achieved for individual entrepreneurs as well, if they participate in an insurance fund."

"...Ensurance?"

"Insurance. All participants pay a static amount, and those that fail receive a bailout from the fund. You know... bribes for law enforcement, money for a new identity... paying off loan sharks. That way, instead of an unknown person between them losing everything, they all lose a little, still making a net profit. Then the insurance manager takes a commission, and he uses that to pay for women, that's how insurance works."

The goblin shrugged deeply, and sighed.

"But these people don't understand abstract financial instruments, so I had to dress it up a little differently. It's a warranty. A no-good-money-back guarantee now."

"For what?"

"For you guys. I'm making each of you the official Thieves Guild Excellence Coordinator to your own criminal sub-organization. Criminal masterminds will pay for your consultation, in making sure nothing goes wrong."

"Scratch..." Huckabee whispered, "I don't know anything about planning crimes or... co-ordening excellence or such things."

Scratch waved away his concerns, "I know that, you know that, and your clients definitely know that. They'll hire you for the warranty, the official

Promise by the guild leadership that if things go wrong, we'll have their back. So you see... it's no work at all. You just attend a couple of meetings, report to me if they do something I wouldn't like, and there's no trouble."

The bandits looked at each other and nodded. The terms were acceptable. "...okay then."

"Okay Then!" Scratch clapped his hands. "You probably can't wait to check out your new digs. Well, go ahead then. I'm cutting you loose. If there's any problem, send a pigeon, or better yet, go through Mabel... Good luck!"

-

But Huckabee stayed behind when the others left.

"There's something I've been wanting to show you..." he said. "A whisk card."

"Whisk cards... a world memory." Scratch nodded, "yeah those things are creepy. Make me feel like I'm being watched at all times."

"See... it's the boss." Huckabee retrieved the card from his pocket. 'Lydia Harkness, bandit leader' it said.

The picture on the front was of a version of Lydia that didn't exist anymore. Perched on a tree branch, knives at the ready, her face full of smug confidence.

"The lycanthropy must have made her a new person. Don't these usually take two weeks-?"

"I found this two months ago."

Huckabee pressed the card into Scratch's hand.

"It was just after you returned from the dead. I think you can guess why she wasn't a 'bandit leader' anymore. If I had let anyone else seen it, they would have guessed that as well."

Scratch jaw clenched as he looked at the card again.

"The Promise as it is now works, it protects people," Huckabee said. "But if the people knew Lydia isn't really in charge anymore, if they knew for certain they were taking orders from a goblin with no adult to keep him in check... I don't know how many would accept that."

"But now she's made a further transformation."

"There will be another whisk card. It will probably say 'broodknight', or 'goblin wife' or something like that. If you replace that one with this, nobody ever has to see it."

"Huckabee... you're a good man."

"I'm only paying back what you have shown us. I don't know what we would have done after the guild staff first obliterated our camp if you and your family hadn't been there."

Scratch pressed his lips together, knowing full well that among the other whisk cards locked away in his secret box was one that depicted him and his brothers framing the bandits for killing adventurers, causing the attack in the first place. "Good man."

Vampire Count

Family: Undead

Threat Level: A

Reward: 5,000 gold

A noble with the rank of count that has fallen to vampirism. Although vampires have the ability to pass as humans during the nighttime, vampire barons and counts will be notable enough to be recognized by face. The adventurers' guild is not generally relied upon to report on the presence of such high level vampires, as their corruption will be public knowledge, and a pureblood vampire born to them would be as well.

Once a count embraces vampirism, their title and status as a human is revoked, and they are to be considered monsters for extermination. However, these vampires can manage to hold their castle and the loyalty of a small group of followers. These vampire castles are legally considered dungeons, and can be cleared by adventuring parties of rank A.

The natural servants of any vampire are ghouls, but vampire counts can also have vampire knights and barons among their minions, as well as living people. Besides the martial prowess of higher nobility, they possess vampiric abilities, such as hypnosis, shapeshifting, and the bloodrise form.

As with all vampires, vampire counts are most vulnerable to light magic and sunlight. Their body is controlled from the heart rather than the brain, and it is the heart that needs to be removed for the creature to die.

Important notice: as of the twelfth year after the end of the Grienician monarchy, consorting with vampires is punishable by exile and death. Acting in the name, command, or general best interest of a vampire noble is to be treated as the highest taboo, for which there can be no redemption in any of the four realms.