The windswept warriors could never settle down in one place.

The steppes were too infertile, too unforgiving.

To survive, they trekked around, preying upon the minor settlements in the bone dry desert that was the Yellow Wastes.

But that was what made them strong.

Whenever it was time to move on from a long camping spot, the leader, the vanguard flier himself, would sit the children down to explain all of this.

"In this desert, there are those that cling to the once promised rebirth of the kingdom." He would say, "they believe that they can rebuild society with their and tamed monsters. But this is foolishness. In these wastes, only the strong survive, by taking from the weak."

He gestured at the bones of the former inhabitants of the tiny adobe village.

"These people were halfway to starving to death when we found them. And if we were to stay here, we would become like them. The winds have changed, and it's time for us to move on again towards our next destination."

"Will we see the sand worms again, father?" His middle child asked him.

"Aye, and this time, we'll have an extra rider." He looked at his eldest.

"Ahem."

The leaders of the windswept warriors closed his eyes as if he was in pain.

It was the youngest that had spoke up.

The tiny infant, less than a year old, had sat herself alongside the older kids with her legs crossed, listening with a critical ear to his speech.

"You are clearly of royal blood yourself," she said, "to be able to command such creatures, and to be able to father one such as I. Yet you choose banditry above the destiny of ancestry?"

"Shush," he elder sibling said, "you're a baby."

She ignored him.

"What have you done to live up to Benesant's blessing, father?"

The leader looked stern. "You may have some sort of memory from a previous life, child, but you are still my daughter. You will follow the ways of our people, for your blood and for your survival. Now-"

"No." The child said.

"What?"

She stood up, reaching not much higher upright than seated. "I do not have memories from a previous life. I have memories from many previous lives, all of them dedicated to the mission of Benesant. I have observed the ways of your people, and it has become clear to me that you are among the corruptions that are to be cleansed from this world. In my previous lives I have mastered many spells, which make me chief among her warriors. Of all Benesant's champions, I am the one that gathers her strength the quickest in each body. Though my mana is still lacking I am confident..."

The family stood around her, guarded. There was an indescribable menace coming off of the toddler. She had been silently casting a spell while speaking.

"...that I can destroy you."

The father charged, the children stood frozen, and she shouted. "Every sin a flame. Incinerate!"

Immediately the man fell to his knees, as his skin was vaporized and flesh thoroughly cooked in an instant.

An unrecognizable corpse flopped onto the dry sand.

Not all the children reacted at the same time, but the eldest son let out an awkward pitched wail.

She turned to him. "Incinerate."

Fire shot from his eyes and lines of burned skin ran over his chest, killing him too.

She swung around, hand outstretched. Everybody evaded her gaze, and began to run away.

"What is going on?" One of the adult warriors rushed over to the meeting.

"Incinerate."

Dead.

Warriors, parents, children.

"Incinerate."

Dead.

Every single member of the windswept warriors was subject to her cleansing fire.

Until at least a scared boy sat huddled in a corner, barely older than herself. He was crying and he'd pissed himself.

"Incinerate." She said.

The boy squeaked but nothing happened.

"Hhm... it seems that you are still without sin. Very well, then I shall let you live. Tell me, boy..." she lifted her chin to look down on him, "which way is Reddington?"

She left him alone there, heading east. The yellow wastes was a vast western landmass, and Eston was far east of the continent.

The boy would eventually die there, of dehydration, cuddled up against the charred corpse of his mother.

"That!? That's your crush?" Scratch threw back his head and swirled around like muppet. "Are you insane- don't answer that."

In the line of Quiet's increasingly unsure index finger stood the guildmaster.

The three goblin brothers and their demon familiar were looking out the highest window of the cliff-side manor, and the streets through which the remaining adventurers organized themselves were spread out before them.

Including the statuesque form of the mage administering them.

"Her name is Puella. She's smart and strong..." Quiet whispered.

"Yeah, no kidding. She's some sort of super-being, Quiet! You don't have-"

Suddenly the woman's head turned to look straight at them. All took a step back.

"You have nothing to worry about, young brother of the master," Youthere grinned, "seduction is my utmost expertise. As a point of order; I must say that all three of your ambitions fall within the purview of seduction of a woman."

Scratch and Second gave each other a glance.

"I'm out." Scratch threw up his hands and turned around.

"Wait! Master, you must let me finish." Youthere clung to his arm, "of course I do not mean for you to take my words so literally. What I mean is this: you mean for her to share you into her conspiracy, you must convince her that she wants you there."

He hesitated.

"Master, you said you would let me convince you of the power of persuasion. You've said before that you trust my wisdom, if not my motives, trust it now." Youthere said.

Scratch turned to Second. "I guess you've come along to keep a suspicious eye, haven't you."

"I also want... the wisdom." Second said.

He had lost friends before staging a minor coup just trying to get rid of the demon's influence.

"I shall take you away from listening ears for a dark sermon." The demon proclaimed, "and since the youngest brother is not allowed on the surface, it shall be in the darkness. Come now."

-

The darkness meant the basement. It was about a ten minute walk until they found a relatively remote yet spacious storage room.

Youthere spun around. "Now then, little brother goblin, how about you pretend that I am your lovely paramour? Come on, do your best, seduce me."

"Oh! Uh..." Quiet stammered, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Hi. I'm Quiet."

"Louder Quiet," Scratch said.

"HI I'M QUIET!" He yelled. "PLEASE HAVE SEX WITH ME AND HAVE MY BABIES THANK YOU!" So that a perceptive ear, pressed against the outer door of the basement, would have been to pick it up.

"'Have sex with me'? So you really want it, don't you?" Youthere's persona didn't seem at all turned off by the incredible forwardness.

"Yes."

Youthere leaned in. "Are you willing to pay me thirty copper pieces in exchange for my body?"

"Yes?"

"Then take me to the devil altar, we can do it there!"

Quiet's eyes darted around, not sure what to make of the situation. "...yes..."

Youthere dropped the act and pushed him away. "Now. What went wrong here?"

"You just agreed to show an outsider the inside of our dungeon." Second said.

Quiet blushed.

"It's the first rule of negotiation," Scratch said, "don't be too eager."

"Negotiation, very good very good," Youthere nodded eagerly, "that can be our starting point. The negotiating position is weakened by revealing the intensity of your desire, isn't that correct?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

Scratch opened his mouth and closed it again. "Well... how would you put it..."

"It's 'cause now she knows she can get more in return," Second said, "so she can start off asking for more and not climb down as much."

"You got that from Barbara?" Scratch asked him peevishly.

"I got it from you."

"Indeed." Youthere said, "a person's behavior comes down to their principles, mood, and knowledge. Of these, the most simple to influence is mood, and the most powerful upon them is their principles, but the knowledge... their knowledge is most effectively wielded."

"You did that," Second said accusingly, "you lied about what you wanted so Scratch would keep you, and you lied about what would happen so he'd get rid of me."

"And that same power can be yours!" Youthere spread his arms, with no visible acknowledgment of Second's brimming hostility. "Whether it's to gain access to a woman's body," put his hand on Quiet's shoulder, "to her secrets," he looked at Scratch, and then at Second, "or her money. The demonic house of temptation provides the art of guiding her actions."

"So that's your lesson?" Scratch said. "Lie? I think we kn-"

"Master," he said politely but insistently, "I believe we've left Cyclophan's art of simple misdirection on the battlefield. Where my teachings saved you from the Reddington army, didn't they? So please... lend me your ear before your lip and let me illuminate you with further wisdom."

-

The demon proceeded to teach them five principles of undetected influence. From among the, according to him, one-hundred-and-seven principles the demonic house of temptation maintained.

The first one was to identify the subject to be manipulated, and establish a sense of what their values and current base of knowledge were.

"Some," he said, "can be determined by common sense. Quiet is a goblin, an outsider will know he will have no real status within society, but she will not know the extent of magical power you keep within the dungeon. Other things require research; does she know about the thieves' guild? Can she perceive magic? You may have to ask around for this information, but don't underestimate a human being's eagerness to talk about herself."

In practice, it was an undertaking getting her to talk at all with Quiet, who she considered a lower goblin no different from Barbara's rabble. The house extended a helping hand by including him in budget negotiations, and liberally serving drinks.

She remained sober, but did drop some implications of knowing about the dishonorable circumstances of the last guildmaster's retreat. Which left constable Harkness the only person in the meeting completely in the dark.

Cyclophan's vetting of her words filled out the rest of the picture. A powerful adventurer that respected only strength, had refused to marry into nobility, and did not feel beholden to the platitudes of patriots. And not too interested in the conspiracies of weaker peasants.

"A victory," Youthere called the evening, after Quiet had expressed disappointment for being so easily dismissed by her. "For this was not the time to make our final move. Not the time for battle, so to say, but for scouting terrain. Once the subject's frame of reference has been established, the influencer can know which lies and implications fall within the boundaries of the credible. And you did very well not to take center stage as much."

-

The reason for that was the second principle of undetected influence, which was to keep one's true goals as understated as possible.

"From now on, your interest in the woman must remain a secret," Youthere said, as they dressed Quiet up for his new position.

"Shouldn't I admit that I like her and ask her out?" Quiet asked softly.

"Not at all! The less obvious it is what you want, the less noticeable it is when you scheme to get your way. In this case, your new job assisting the mage in clerical administration might conjure resistance if she knew it existed solely to bring you two closer together."

"She wouldn't like it?"

"A human is ruled by their pride, master brother. She would not accept a romance that was pushed upon her! She must come up with the idea herself, and be master of her fate."

"Instead, she'll probably believe we're putting a spy in her office, the Baronet trying to meddle with guild business." Scratch stated wryly. "I guess it's fine... doesn't cost us anything."

"And then?" Second asked, "how will she come up with the idea? Just by herself?"

Youthere took a step back to admire Quiet in his new guild staff uniform. "Of course not. Does that sound like the strategy of a demon of temptation? Nay, we must guide her thinking and ideas. But in a way that does not betray our hand."

The third principle was Youthere's oft repeated principle of self image.

"Everything that humans do, is existential. You know this." He said, during the winding route towards the underground port. "Your precious Lydia is locked in an eternal death struggle against shame."

"But we're not going to meet Lydia, are we?" Scratch asked.

Youthere gave Second a meaningful look. "She and her kinsmen share the same culture. The heroes celebrated in the realm of the fire goddess were protectors against monstrous threats. Consciously or not, those that came after measure their own virtue by their similarity to them."

"What kinsman, who's he talking about?" Scratch asked.

"...Barbara." Second said. "Barbara asked me to help make her bazaar, but now she acts like it's all hers. I wanted to have a say and I wanted to have a cut. So I asked You..."

Scratch huffed, "You do have leverage he-"

"It will be a good exercise," Youthere said, "we have the information regarding her knowledge, and we have not yet spoken the ambition. So now it is time to appeal to her pride."

Scratch shook his head, "you have it all wrong. Barbara is a go-getter. If anything she's too ruthless. I don't see sentimentality getting in her way."

"Too soon you are, again, to assume others are like you master. You may put notions of chivalry aside, but only because you idealize a different sort of hero. Barbara is not so lucky, though well hidden, her pragmatism is punished by the inner voice. Ah, we are here."

Scratch would have argued further, if they weren't now at Barbara's developing underground market.

A collection of rafts on the solid stone floor, hustling and bustling in activity by moving cranes of cargo.

Barbara was at the top of the bustle, overseeing the activities in a lonely crow's nest. She hadn't seen them yet.

"So... I should make her feel ashamed for not making me overseer, but I shouldn't tell her that I want to be overseer..." Second thought out loud.

"Ah-! Not quite young brother master. In this instance, I shall provide detailed instructions."

-

Barbara came down from her lookout post.

Trade hadn't slowed down from the smugglers having to exchange coin for the Promise banknotes, but it hardly mattered. The treasure chest was filled with cloth vouchers instead of gold.

She had become acutely aware of the limitations of her positions. She was still the goblins' brood slave, just with a wider range of travel and fancier things.

But it wouldn't do to run out on them either. Becoming a nameless peasant in some far off realm was if anything a step down from being captured by day goblins. Even more limited.

This whole line of thinking brought her onto the idea that everyone is a prisoner of some kind to their circumstance, which she quickly dismissed.

Wandering through the bazaar she nodded at people and shook hands, making sure to remind the patrons of her presence as the one making all of this possible.

But before she knew it, they had involved her in a commercial dispute.

"Now see here, he took my money but did not deliver the saffron. I demand this trade be nullified-"

"I delivered! All who where there saw it. Miss overseer, it was his own weak grip that released it to the dragonbats."

"What was that!?"

At her gesture a man came in and separated the two smugglers.

"Give the gentleman back his money, Richard." She said sweetly.

"You can't do that, it's extortion! It's-"

He paid back the money.

"Thank you Barbara, I knew I could count on you." The other man said.

She gave a little bow. "The word of a bandit king goes far in this place."

He chuckled contently. "Good then, just as I was losing hope in this place. I suppose I will return with our spoils then, especially if your new overseer fixes this monster problem."

She paused, "...overseer?"

"Weren't you getting one? I'm sure I overheard- Well it does not matter. You have a wonderful evening." He tipped his hat at her.

-

"The other man was richer, wasn't he?" Second asked afterwards.

She startled slightly. "Oh. You."

"You chose the side of the one you want to keep as a friend."

"Of course I do. Now do you mind? The lifts are finished so you're no longer required here." She prepared to move on, but he stopped her.

"The ropes are no good."

"What?"

"I said the ropes are no good, the dragonbats got to them. You have to replace them."

Barbara groaned deeply, so that the surrounding traders looked up. "Why are the dragonbats getting to anything? Can't Scratch keep them away?"

Second shook his head. "Scratch says the market is yours so he's not helping. He says he only uses the dungeon to protect his family."

She didn't notice how rehearsed his speech had become because she was hit by its contents. "His family? Aren't my goblins his family too?"

Second left the question hang in the air as she became increasingly distressed at Scratch leaving her kids to cave predators.

But the idea of hiring an overseer had just been planted in her mind.

"Say..." she said, "how about I make you the overseer. You're Scratch's family. How about you and your friends get a job under me, eh? Replacing ropes, repairing the walkway, that's basically a full occupation by itself."

He turned his head to eye her from the side. "What do you want from me?"

"I'll give you an official title, in exchange you make this place your home. Come on."

"What's in it for me?"

"Gold. Silver. Twenty silver monthly, how does that sound?"

"..."

"Twenty-five. Final offer."

"Okay? Sure!" He quickly shook on it and ran off.

Barbara wrung her hands. The compensation was on the high end, but it was worth it putting dirt in Scratch's eye.

He wouldn't be too happy to find out he had to provide free protection to her enterprise to shield his brother from dungeon beasts.

She finally got one over on the little miser.

The fourth principle was the principle of commitment.

"Once a deal is closed, it is closed," Youthere advised, "a person is disinclined to contradict themself, and disinclined to restart settled arguments. Unless the outcome is just that disagreeable to them, once they've said the words they need an excuse to break them."

"They think they'll lose trust within the community." Scratch said.

"Perhaps, but mostly because they don't think. Humans want to be manipulated master. They will take the path of least resistance every time. A closed deal does not require further thought."

"That's clearly not true. I've gotten druggies to sign shit before they knew the implications, you need a knuckle-breaker to enforce that sort of thing."

Youthere wagged his finger, "only if it is new information, or the consequences are too severe. A gentle recontexualization will not push the mind from its grooved path. For this exercise I want you to commit miss Lacrima to a path she knows beforehand grants you privilege, but for which the power that privilege grants is not salient."

"What are you saying?"

-

Not too long ago, Noss Fleder had developed the energy-ingesting-and-excreting magnosilican artificial manabladder.

A device for supplying spells with a continuous flow of mana.

It had proven unproductive for the ambitious goal he had envisioned, but now found new life in a more compact form. For the first time regular goblins could make use of spellrods, if only for a few seconds.

A goblin called Yuki, one of Barbara's older spawn, was practicing with the device when Scratch came into Noss' workspace.

A mote of elemental fire burst from the rectangular metal box in his hands and nearly burnt Scratch's eye-patch right off.

"Eek!" The goblin quickly put down the item as if he could pretend it hadn't been him.

"That's the new energy-ingesting-and-excreting magnosilican artificial manabladder?" Scratch asked.

He nodded.

"Needs a pistol grip, you'll lose it while running if it's shaped like that."

"Zhat is a prototype," Noss came flying down, miffed as if he was the one having narrowly avoided third-degree burns. "Zhe final version vill be more elegantly designed, naturally. I hope you are not here to ask for a siege harness again."

"Of course not, 'course not..." Scratch plodded around, idly observing the nightmare of metal and crystal that had spurted up in the vampire's den, scarring the basement floor of the dungeon with a patch of mad science.

"So, vhat do you vant?"

-

"A ministry of magic?"

Lacrima looked up in surprise at Noss' relaying of Scratch's demands.

"Supposedly the blessing of Guth is exposing goblins to zhe errant curses and enchantments of zhe wider vorld. Zhey come to him vith questions vhether zhis or zhat is important or dangerous. Now he's redirecting zhose matters to us."

The old woman straightened out her wrinkles. As a servant of Guth, she had long sworn to protect regular people from forbidden magic.

The goddess had relaxed those demands upon her however. It was no longer of her concern if the people of the region would experiment with dangerous, ugly magic. It didn't matter...

Though somewhere it did, if not by devotion to the goddess, then by standards of good taste.

"Ve vould be given a ministry headquarters in the vitchvood, zhe Promise treasury paying for our materials. A bribe."

"Well..." Lacrima dredged up her sweet old grandmother demeanor, "I suppose that's perfectly fine. How nice, our own headquarters."

"If the baronet is villing to pay money for it, it must be benefiting him some vay..." Noss theorized.

"No doubt. He will be wanting me out of the way within the dungeon, won't he? But soon, we won't need the dungeon anymore."

"You mean-?"

"The hour of the bloodmoon is steadily approaching, Fleder. Soon the fruits of our magic will bloom supreme."

The two locked hands. "Truly, I am blessed zhat I may live to see it."

-

"The last trick," Youthere said, "is the most difficult. Especially for you, master."

"Do I really want to know what it is...?" Scratch put his feet upon the manor table. "Alright, you can tell me."

"It is to withold celebration."

"What?" He became annoyed and put his feet back down, "whaddoya want?"

"In the coming weeks, the mages will realize that they cannot hide the broader strokes of their machinations with you if you must underwrite and ship every component and artifact they need. When they do, you can not gloat."

Scratch avoided eye contact, "so what? I don't gloat."

"When you reveal the intentionality of your schemes, you risk fumbling their rewards. Prideful heads will rebel against your victory. Instead, always present yourself as a passive party, feign weakness where you have strength so to say. This will preserve your relationship for future manipulation."

"Sure, sure, I always do that."

"Master. No. Gloating."

"All. Right!" Sheesh.

There was a temple being built within the Promise's central perimeter.

The unexpected attack on the town by the siege harness had ruined some homes, and that space now begged for new construction.

As housing had been taken care of elsewhere, someone had jumped in reserved the location for the church.

That someone was Lydia Harkness.

"What's going on?" Scratch asked suspiciously, seeing the heavy foundations being laid.

She gently gestured towards the constable observing the proceedings. "If we are to keep the favor of the kingdom, we'll do well to show off our piety. You said before that getting an adventuring

guildhouse here increases the investment the people have in our existence. Well... the same is true for a temple."

"There aren't many pilgrims as there are adventurers. I refuse to believe it." He said.

"No Scratch, but clergymen and healers have an influence of their own. And let's not forget that it is considered blasphemy to damage holy property even in war."

"I don't know what what your religious practices are Lydia, and frankly I don't care. These are the people that said I was an enemy of the gods. No, officially declared it."

She smiled. "So you think there's no hope for you with them."

"I don't know, maybe I just got my feelings hurt a little bit and I don't want to suck up to them."

"Let's try something. How about you go directly to the top and set the record straight?"

"What?"

"The statues are already in place. If you go there, you will feel the gods' presence."

She gestured for him to enter the half theoretical husk of a church, but did not make to follow him.

"It's a personal experience."

-

What was to become a church already had alcoves with the gods' likeness.

Statically posed humanoid forms, made distinct by the items they wore.

Despite Lydia's claim of divine presence, there were no strings of magical energy that he could perceive. Only dead rock.

The woman holding the orb and staff had to be Guth.

"You're gonna come to life?" He asked.

No answer.

"Your girl is a real headache to me you know..." he petered off. Nobody was listening.

"So you know about Sanadora. No matter."

He spun around, because a different statue had begun speaking. The woman holding the sword and burning wreath.

From where he stood, he could see only the head move, and magic, if it were there, a distant beam stretching into the infinite sky.

"Once my champion reaches this place, she will destroy you once and for all." Benesant said.

"You're so persistent!" He straightened himself out and faced her with dignity. "Are you still on about Cyclophan and the witch? I mean, it's hardly a capital offense."

"Impertinence! Your crimes have only increased thousandfold since I lest held you in my grasp."

"Oh. Crimes," he waved her off and turned his back to the statue, "what crimes? So I sell a bit of dope, fence some hot wares, that's what poor people do. See here the humility you asked for."

"You shall know for what sins you stand accused, villain," she fumed, "consorting with an evil god, the slaying of righteous men and the sparing of unrighteous men, the proliferation of ungodly magic, corruption of the innocent, and the perversion of rule of law."

With his back to her, he counted on his fingers, "that's all?" he asked.

Her face was a snarled grimace when he turned to look. She bend towards him, but it was clear that the statue would not serve as an instrument to crush him with. Her movement was too limited.

"Whatever other sins you've cultivated in that dark hole of yours will come to the surface when the incineration spell once again turns them to flame. This time, burning not just your body but your soul as well."

By saying this, she revealed to him that she had no knowledge of his pact with the other major goddess, or the council of dungeon lords.

"Oooh, scary." He grinned, by riling her up he could salvage some sense of control in the situation. "That must be a desperate move, couldn't get your church guys to do it for you, huh? Don't they have statues of you? Maybe they forgot to include the wrinkled nose and you can't get a connection."

She noticed his mood and deliberately drew back into a superior disdain. "Your mission is to annoy me with your last few months of life, go ahead. I have more worlds to concern myself with, and soon I will be purged of your putrid soul in my celestial domain. Then I will longer have a sinner like yourself able to call upon my presence above the ability of my true believers."

He side-eyed the door and open spaces as inconspicuously as he could, but there were no witnesses to the small miracle in front of him. "My mission isn't to annoy you," he lied, "believe it or not just I want for us to bury the hatchet."

The falsehood awakened Cyclophan to their conversation.

"You did some stuff, I did some stuff. Let's say it roughly evens out and we learn to live with each other, huh?"

"There is no negotiation to be had here. You are damned, and you shall know damnation."

She was about to return to the formless abstraction of divinity, but he jumped in there with an incendiary comment.

"Why, 'cause you're jealous?"

"..."

"You didn't take away your blessing on these bandits, did you? You still believe in them, but they'd rather follow me than you."

She scoffed, "you consider yourself a rival in exaltation to *me*? The goddess of light?"

"Of course not. That would be preposterous wouldn't it? To think the goddess would take such a personal interest in wiping me out."

"You are nothing to me. NOTHING!" She very nearly screamed. "A gnat!"

"Because you would rather silence me, than try to win them back. That's the real story, isn't it?"

"Your rotten, indulgent soul could never hope to see the shadow of the real story. I swear that they shall denounce you."

He cocked his head playfully, "not by martyring me, you won't. That's not what happened last time."

"Then... you shall live to see your feeble demogaugery eclipsed by my sun."

He stuck out his hand, "It's a deal then. I've gotten you to call off your hitwoman."

She came to her senses. "No. You will be destroyed, and that will be that."

Fumbling the reward. He sighed.

-

Lydia hadn't expected Scratch to magically become converted from one visit, but when he exited the church he told her to build it larger, "make it so they all have their own rooms."

A rumbling explosion rocked the forest.

Tina withdrew her staff, as the siege harness had been defeated, its eight limbs scattered through the wider territory.

"I've never seen a siege harness like *that*. Almost like a spider." Margaret said.

"Spend much time studying siege harnesses then?" Tina asked sardonically.

"I simply worry, that's all. We're really committed to it now, aren't we? Fighting off foreign invaders to protect our way of life. We can't return to being adventurers after this."

The mage shrugged and simply continued her way back. "I'm not looking back, and neither should you. We have Laurus now, and the baronet is committed to funding us."

"The baronet brings us food and service for as long as we remain useful," Margaret caught up to her, "for as long as there *is* a Baronet."

"Yes? So what?"

"Nothing it's just... let's make sure to keep our combat ability up, huh? Just in case this sort of thing keeps happening. We can't rely on Laurus' strength anymore."

Now Tina looked at her, and she nodded. "I understand what you're saying. We have a family now, let's protect it. All of us."

"Right."

A smile crept up on her face. "Though I know one thing you've been keeping up training for... stamina."

"Wha- Oh, naughty. Naughty!"

The two fell into a playful slap fight as they returned to their bathhouse, where they would continue the communal subjugation of the man they once worshipped.

Devil Altar

Dungeons controlled by a dungeon master may sometimes contain devil altars. These must be destroyed or avoided.

Devil altars can be recognized by glowing ambient light, with no clear source, and their central location in a dungeon's path.

You may expect a devil altar if the dungeon is filled with demonic monsters, such as imps or hell hounds. As the devil altar is used for demon summoning.

If adventurers are not able to clear the dungeon, destroying the devil altar is highly encouraged.

Devil altars are one of the five main tools that rank B and higher dungeons use to cast the surrounding lands in darkness. They can be used to create minions, create cursed artifacts, and curse nearby communities.

In order to destroy a devil altar, adventurers need to destroy the slab that forms its center, and any depictions of the presiding evil god that have the site within view.