Having sworn off the protection of her god, the wolf was now under the control of Cyclophan.
It had a peculiar effect on her behavior. She would speak, but only when spoken to, and insisted on remaining downstairs, protecting the fowl.
The others of the pack had to be brought down to meet with her.
"Is it really you?" One of them asked, carefully picking up her scent and eying her rejuvenated colour.
"It is." She stated curtly, sitting up straight like a trained dog.
"It is. it is!" Nico and Bello yowled happily as they danced around Cyclophan's new asset.
Her pack mates were uncomfortable with her few words. "Then you have chosen the man-things as your masters?"
She stared off in the distance for a bit, then life came back in her eyes. "I have chosen them as our servants. We have kept bipeds to clean our fur and to treat our wounds for generations, but they are capable of so much more. Look at me, I have been reborn!"
Nico yapped in general agreement, though he didn't understand fully what was beings said, and Bellow continued jumping from place to place in excitement.
"Go out," she told her pack mates, "retrieve the others, and show them our new home."
The two looked around in the dark damp cave, a dripping grotto with water flowing through it and monstrous birds nestling in the back, "and you will stay here?"
"I must protect this demesne. I will have our new friends construct a fitting nest for our family."
This was the first time a wolf had referred to a nest as a place to call their home, they were a nomadic species. Her lackeys couldn't help but feel the unnatural undertone of the situation, but they complied and left to unite their pack.
-
The humans had to be alerted that wolves would now freely enter and leave the gates. The pack was as apprehensive of the humans as vice versa, but with insistence of their elder members they were able to overcome that fear and meet their transformed leader. Establishing the cave as their new home base.
Barbara's sons, led by Yuki, who had the most experience in crafting among them, were assigned cave duty. They alternated widening the lower riverbed with laying bricks and carving wood. Over time the cave became closer to the upper tunnels in terms of polish. The riverbed became a brick road with a channel. And the open space became a wooden floored plaza, sporting fur bedding and clay bowls imbedded in the tarred planks for meat to be stored in.
While the goblins worked the wolves layed about, Pentajo and Mac taking care of their needs. Mac was able to learn from Pentajo, about grooming and cleaning wolves, and the two became a team of animal tenders.
The eldest wolf was protective of the fowl in the cave, preventing the others from harming them, but allowing the goblins to take the eggs. She stayed in the cave even during the day, when the younger members left the town walls to walk the forest. With the security of a meal in the evening they could wander far and hunt animals outside the silent forest.
They took their spoils back to the cave, sometimes requiring multiple to carry it in their mouths. And the plaza was soon adorned with many bones and trophies celebrating their kills.
The pack leader encouraged this behavior. "I have a vision," she would say, "a mighty pack, many dozens strong. Wolves as plentiful as there are trees in this forest. We will grow our pack, and we will flood the lands before us, the turfs of the small bipeds, the buildings of the large ones, and one day the cities of the man-things. That is the destiny before us!"
These inciting speeches were not hidden subterfuge, and could be heard loud and clear by the goblins that worked in the cave and the river below. Or at least those that could understand the language.
----------------------------------------
After two days of mining the goblins had widened the exit of the river enough to be able to glimpse the sea.
"What is that? Water?" Second was in awe.
"Let me see." Scratch wormed himself in front of the opening. The last portion of the tunnel was still narrow and cold water heaped up at the bottleneck, making it hard to catch sight of the blue expanse. By the look of it, the tunnel ended several stories above sea level. "That's the ocean alright."
"We went to so much trouble for water, and it was here the whole time."
"No luck. Oceans can be assumed to have salt water. I think. Though with all the magic and critters... Besides, were you going to just heist it up in a bucket?"
"Maybe. With a pulley."
"A pulley?"
"When you throw the rope over a rolling-"
"I know what a pulley is."
"Huckabee taught me the word for it."
"Well," Scratch handed his pick to his brother, "let's just dig to the end of it so we can install a grate, we'll think about pulleys later."
He then left the others to finish the job and observe the brick-laying in the opposing tunnel.
Cyclophan's shard now dug the other way, against the stream of the underground river, and into softer soil.
Having learned from their experience laying roads at the surface, the goblins were now paving that floor with a sidewalk and a waterway next to one another. Wooden planks had been heated to curve with the wall and stud the roof against collapse.
So little sunlight entered the area that even the goblins made use of lanterns, of a kind. Glistening embers from burnt charcoal caste fain light from within standing clay bowls. To a human this would barely be a glint in the black, but for them it was just enough to work by.
All those working here were the direct spawn of Barbara, and socialized to obey their mother. But even their eagerness to please her didn't help them keep up with the crystal's prodigious digging pace.
Scratch padded the workers on the back with half-hearted encouragement while passing them by and progressing through the cave. The further he got the less build and the more organic the tunnel became.
He could still hear the workers shuffle and ring behind him when he stood in front of the crystal.
"You better slow down, we can't catch up."
Without the magic of the pipe, Cyclophan couldn't answer him.
"Remember when you first called out to me? You were buried under a buncha sand."
He lifted his feet out of the icy cold water and selected a bank of mud to sit himself down on, then he made something that looked like a cigarette appear in his hand. Another demonstration of the sleight of hand aptitude the god had given him.
"I'm trying something new, stay right there."
The cigarette was hand-rolled from cigarette paper out of the Eston supply, the inside was nothing other than blue grass. He lit it in one of the lanterns.
-
Roger, roger, can you hear me?
I can hear you, and my name is not roger.
So it's just the grass. The pipe itself has no special properties.
Pipes are more dignified.
Scratch rolled his eyes. I was going to ask you some questions.
Why would I expect anything else from you. Cyclophan complained like an unappreciated housewife, but he got no acknowledgment of his whining.
How much of what the wolf said is you speaking?
I can only control temperament. I do not even undestand the noises they make, if I could not detect lies I would not have believed you that they communicate.
How come you were never able to 'control' any of our temperament?
Who said I didn't?
That last comment gave Scratch pause, but then he continued. Well if it's you making it come up with these plans of conquest, stop it. We're laying low, remember? And more to himself he thought, and all of this belongs to me.
It is natural for a boss monster to have the power go to her head. The dungeon keeper is the one that's supposed to keep them in check, you. But if you're too weak-
Her? It's a female? I thought it was like an alpha male or something.
Huh? No, the strongest of the pack is the alpha, that can be male or female.
Jesus, I'm beset on all sides by them.
In any case, goblins and warg wolves can live symbiotically, it's a classic co-operation. And if she can grow her followers enough, chances are greater we'll find ones among them that can be evolved.
None of these?
That's why she's the alpha female.
Hhmm.
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Scratch had never in two lives been with a woman that wasn't afraid of him.
He had been a dealer in human bodies, habitually stripping women of their rights and dignity. The meat wasn't for himself to partake in, but a healthy relationship with the opposite gender wasn't supported by his chosen lifestyle.
Flexing the riches from gang activity could attract any vapid eye candy to parade around at the arm. These women were attracted by the money and power of a made man, but they weren't part of the life, they didn't have his respect.
Lydia Harkness intimidated him. She was stronger than him, had better connections, and didn't need him as much as he needed her. As a business partner this put him in a disadvantaged position for which a closer personal relationship was a partway solution, a step in the right direction. But as a lover it invited comparison between them, and he began to feel humiliated.
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"Don't do that, I can't control myself if you do that." He would complain, when she pulled him tight and pushed their bodies together.
His body was made to breed quickly before it was killed by a predator, close proximity to a woman like her clouded his mind.
"Then don't."
She on the other hand seemed to greatly enjoy the difference in power between them.
When she first made her advance on him after their last meeting with the thieves she had felt a trepidation. The union was unholy. She had already once before indulged in those desires, and it had cost her everything.
But now that she had crossed that line, she was no longer afraid. The guilt she had felt for all these years was burned out, and she didn't feel it anymore. She did all the things she had done before her fall, doting upon this goblin as if he was a child and mixing care-taking and sexuality in a confused goop of affection.
She would help him dress and undress, invite him to sleep with her in her tent, and cuddle during the night.
"Come on baby, let me take care of you."
They mated again, in a way more likely to conceive this time. Being no great lover he was exhausted afterwards, and the two laid in her bedding, staring at the tent ceiling.
-
"Thank you." She whispered sweetly.
He smirked. "I've always claimed to be a ladies man, but they've never thanked me before. You're the one helping us."
"No. You... You're giving us new life." She stroked his hair. "We had given up hope that life would ever change for us, this isn't a sacrifice, I want this."
"Funny, it's like you're possessed. I'm used to the hard-nosed lady with the short sentences."
"Yeah..." She thought for a bit. "When I came here, since I'm of higher birth, everyone looked to me to lead them. It's like you teach your goblins, emotions are a burden. I have to be stable, a rock."
"That's not what I teach them at all. Emotions are very useful, they're tools with which we perceive the world. It is just business not to be controlled by them. Like that Aimone fellow."
She smiled at the fitting characterization, but then she became serious. "Am I doing it wrong? Am I a bad leader then?"
He didn't answer at first. He stayed quiet for so long she thought the conversation had ended. But then he did come with something. "I believe there are two kinds of stoics. There are real stoics, who can live without emotion, and there are fake stoics, who bottle up their emotions. And I think you are fake."
She sighed. "It's probably no good being a fake, is it?"
"It's fine. It sounds uncomfortable, but it's fine. Don't you think you're going to boil over some day?"
She layed her head on his chest. "I think I just did."
----------------------------------------
It wasn't long before the bandit leader had a protruding pregnant belly.
She hadn't been with child before and was surprised by the tax on her body. No longer did she limberly jump between trees and buildings, now she ambled slowly between her tent and the building sites, avoiding bodily labour.
Huckabee brought it up to his new battle brothers from the republic.
"Did you see the boss?"
Aimone cursed. "Mannagia, don't remind me." He had dropped his weapon and was fiddling with gemstones on the ground.
Gildo laughed. "She did warn us! Didn't she say that? That she would take the lead or what was it?"
Audace hummed in agreement.
"You know what?" Aimone looked up at Gildo, "this is all your fault."
"Que? Me?"
"Who came up with that setting an example crap, huh? It was you."
Gildo clicked his tongue. "Pshaw, I don't control the crazy knight lady Aimone, she makes her own choices."
"Yeah, whatever." He returned his attention to the gems.
"You don't think it's a good idea?" Huckabee asked.
Gildo shrugged. "Eh, what's a couple more goblins. This place is overrun anyway."
"It's filthy." Aimone commented, "but not for long." He pointed at the gemstones. "I had to practice a bit for it to come back to me, but I'm managing. I'm putting the water cleaning spell into the crystals."
"Did you get permission to use those?"
He waved the question away, which was a very clear 'no'.
"Still," Huckabee pondered, "things will be different around here with hobgoblins around. I just hope she can control them."
"What!?" "Hob-" The others cried out in surprise.
Huckabee raised his eyebrows at their unexpected ignorance.
"Yeah, you know... That's why they're the subhuman family, 'cause there's a lesser type for every human standing.
Goblins for peasants, hobgoblins for knights, ogres for barons.... lemme think... I thought it was darkspawn for dukes, but for earls..."
"Hold up." Aimone interrupted him with an unhappy chuckle from his nerves, "you're telling me the whore is about to deliver us to a bunch of hobgoblins?"
"I... yes?"
"Goblins are weak," Gildo explained to Huckabee, "but a hobgoblin will overpower the average person with a bit of luck. That and these wolves..."
"They're bad news." Audace affirmed.
Huckabee shook his head. "They're just children."
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After allying themselves with the tree tribe the cave tribe had been able to learn the location of other former orc vassals.
Diplomacy with these deprived groups was easy, goblin tribes were teetering on the brink of extinction at all times. With no ability to take what Scratch's family had by force, they accepted the superior force's terms.
Every day now, envoys and pilgrims traveled between tribes to exchange goods and information. They were occasionally bullied by wild animals or the wind wolf's pack, but they were sufficiently armed to fend them off.
The tree tribe was becoming sophisticated, Brittany's parenting and Kicker's training had turned it into a small fortress against adventurers. The tree roots were like a keep, stone flooring and a fire hearth inside, while around it was a paved square protected by battlements and various work stations. The residents were armed and armored from trade and their own crafts, and could withstand any adventuring force Eston could be expected to send in the near future.
The wild tribes in contrast were hardly different from before. The trade gave them access to better materials and weapons, but they had no fire or crafting for themselves. It was Scratch's ambition to hand these settlements over to bandit women to develop.
Harkness aided his plans by talking to a few of her women, and some were coming around to the idea that to have a future they had to become one with the forest.
However, long before the envoy could take a woman out to the forest, it brought one back.
-
When Quiet and Benjamin brought back their sleigh from the river tribe, on it was seated an indeterminably old woman.
The wolves, aloof to humans at the best of times, wagged their tails eagerly and let themselves be scratched behind the ear by the crone as she had herself be pulled along by the goblins.
Huckabee stood a bit slack jawed, more so than usual, at the sight. He stood guard alone that day, and wondered if he had fallen asleep at the post.
"Why don't you help an old woman up?" The old lady commanded.
Quiet pulled on her arm to help her rise to her feet, while Benjamin looked at Huckabee with an almost apologetic expression. 'I can't make sense of it either.' Was the message.
"You there, boy." She pointed at the man. "Is the monster tamer at home, or the knight lady? Let's say you bring me to her."
Huckabee was unsure. "Is she- Can we-?"
The goblins shrugged.
-
Not much later the guest was seated in Harkness' tent, on one of the more comfortable seats. She had been served a cup of tea and a wolf was curled up at her feet.
Behind her Huckabee and Audace kept an eye on the proceedings, while facing her sat Lydia Harkness, leader of the bandit troupe and former 'knight lady'.
As it happened Scratch had been with her when the sudden meeting was called and stood next to her, his hand squeezed in hers.
"Ah, that warms the old bones," the crone complimented the drink, "you have a nice place here, my dear."
"Thank you, Ma'am." Harkness responded politely. "We hope it's to your liking."
Scratch was less polite, he eyed the wolf. "I would've expected them to tear you apart."
"I would say the same to you," she chuckled, "warg wolves aren't fond of large groups."
"I was referring to the goblins." He insisted.
"Baby, hush." Harkness whispered.
"Och, how rude of me," the crone sighed, "I haven't introduced myself! You see, my name is Lacrima, and I am a witch. So you see, there is no need to worry about my safety my boy." She looked at him up and down. "My little birdies informed me about Fyro's goblins, but seeing you myself- Only now do I believe it."
"What do we owe this pleasure to, ma'am?" Lydia strained her face to make a polite smile.
Lacrima sipped her tea. "I think you know. Unhappy with your cousin, are you?"
The colour drained from the bandit leader's face. "Ma'am, I want to say-"
But the witch interrupted her. "I noticed how unsurprised you are to see me mention the thieves' guild, girly. I take it some blabbermouth is spreading all our secrets. But then you must know as well that someone like me would never visit on the account of someone like him."
Lydia fell silent.
Then Lacrima turned to Scratch to explain in more detail. "You see, I run the orphanage in the city, and I serve the public as a witch. But secretely, I am a leading member of a hidden society called the thieves' guild. Lydia here tried to make contact with one of Fyro's other clients, but I was the one who found the note." She looked back at the leader. "Tssk, tssk, very sloppy. A member of the thieves' guild should not spread indiscriminate messages"
Lydia held on more closely to Scratch's arm. "Then what is your business here?"
"Girly, you don't know how good you have it," the witch began to lecture, "here in the forest you can do whatever you want, be with whoever you like, and nobody will attempt to control you. For me it's very different, I must observe my status in the community, stay in line, be an example. I cannot deal in anything I want."
"Could you get to the point?" Scratch complained.
"Don't rush an old lady. Now where was I? Oh yes, you're very lucky to have a partner like Fyro, even if he's an old blowhard." She laughed at her own words. "Most bandits must live on plunder you know."
"In other words," Scratch pried his hand loose from Lydia, "don't expect too much."
"Scratch." The bandit leader hissed through her teeth.
"That's why you're here, right? You saw the ad and you're coming to us with an offer."
The witch smiled coldly.
"Now, let me not assume you're wanna step on anyone's toes here." Scratch licked his lips. "You're not here for smuggling, the whole structure of the guild is to stop you from taking each other's business. So what is it, the mine?
Under market gold, is that the idea?"
"You're smart, but you lack patience." Lacrima pouted. "If you would have let me tell my story, you would have heard the idea by now."
Lydia pulled the goblin on her lap to pacify him. "Please do not take offence. We wish to negotiate."
The crone grinned through the teeth she had left. "Steel."
"S-steel?"
"There are few things I can not obtain legitimately, steel is one. At least," she chuckled, "in the quantities I require. Your family is possessive of the material, no?"
"Who do you wish to arm?" Lydia asked, a bit more forward than before.
"That is another mistake when working with thieves, my dear! Too many questions!" The witch laughed.
"Then how about another question, do you have a supplier for this steel?"
"I should hope so. It's you! You have the workforce, and the mine."
Lydia frowned. "But we don't know how to-"
"What's in it for us?" Scratch interrupted.
"Ah-ha, you can't eat gold, can you?" The witch scratched her chin and pretended to think for a moment. "I do not have the access to goods that Fyro has, let me see, there must be something you could want... Oh yes, how about you don't have to rely on dark magic anymore?"
One of the guards gasped.
"The false flesh is cheap and effective," she hummed, "but the drawbacks are manifold. Some proper magic should clean this place up."
Alarmed by the mention of dark magic, Lydia squeezed Scratch tighter. "Be more specific."
"I am a witch, deary. Elixers for healing, plant growth, combat. That should be a substitute for Fyro's food and weapons, shouldn't it?"
"And how should we make this steel then?"
Lacrima shook her head. "You lot just provide the work, let old Lacrima take care of the recipes."
"Lacrima," Lydia put Scratch down and stood up, "thank you for your company. I invite you to stay and partake in our food."
"Oh no no," the old woman stood up with the help of the pregant woman, "I should return, before I am missed. I will take a pigeon with me, for future letters."
"Of course."
"Toodeloo, dearies!"
The wolf stood up and led her back into the forest.
-
"So she's a witch. That's out in the open." Scratch said.
"Yeah?" Huckabee, who stood next to him, answered.
"But buying steel, that's a nono."
"Yeah. So?"
The goblin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nothing. I just... It's nothing.
----------------------------------------
By now the creation of new goblins was a known process. One day of pregnancy and three days until maturity.
However, Lydia Harkness was pregnant for a full week. A clear indicator that her spawn would not be regular goblins.
When she did go into labour, after seven days, she received more care than the other mothers had before her.
A tent was cleared out as medical room, towels and warm water were provided for her, and two of her subordinates stood ready to provide her every need. Stanford, the healer, and Denise, who was a mother herself.
The birth went smoothly, however, and after a few moments she had a litter of four in her arms.
The babies had orange skin, their teeth were fully grown, and they had crowns of reddish brown haird but no horns yet peeked through the skin of their foreheads.
"They're hobgoblins." She whispered to the father, who had come to visit.
"I know, what do you want to name them?"
"Their names..."
"You're their mother, you decide."
"I never thought I would be a mother... But I've been thinking about it, and I had some boy's names in mind, Angus, Jasper, Felix, Duncan... But one is a girl."
"A girl," Scratch stroked the baby goblin's cheek, "I didn't know that was possible. We better keep her out of trouble with the boys."
Just as he said that the infant opened its mouth and bit him hard in the finger.
"Ow! Little monster! We should call you Biter."
"My grandmother was named Ada." Lydia suddenly mentioned.
"You want to use that one? Angus, Jasper, Felix, and Ada. Good morning babies, say hello to mama."
"Mah-mah." The small ones imitated the sound.
"Ah!" Lydia nearly melted at the sight, she truly felt like a mother, and felt nothing but love for the vulnerable little creatures.
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Witches
Type: Demi-Human
Rank: C
Witches are powerful magic users. To become a witch a girl must be born with the gift of Guth, extraordinary magical potential.
Witches pass their knowledge on from master to pupil, only after completing the final test of her master can the student call herself a witch.
Witches have a history of being persecuted. Before the rebellion of the dahlia hero witch covens were hunted and burned. Since that time most realms acknowledge witches as wise keepers of magic.
In Blurich witches have a special status, given higher privileges but also restricted from exerting power over their society.