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The Elf-sheep slipped from the cave tunnel and peeked around a large rock into the huge cavern.

Ahead of her was a permanent encampment, this being the second floor of the dungeon it was a common stop-off point for levelers. She was surprised to see it not as it was when she had last been here however. The camp which normally held at most two dozen people, and that only rarely, had swelled to over a hundred. Wooden palisades had been put up around its perimeter and it buzzed with activity amongst the uneven rows of tents as levelers rushed around preparing for… something. An expedition if she had to guess. She was shocked, it was rare to see such a large showing in a dungeon because organizing levelers was like herding cats.

Her eyes quickly found the reason why this had come about. An Inquisitor with a fearsome pair of horns crowning her head strode through the camp, shouting and commanding people. A red haired girl rushed to keep up in her wake, a terrified and sleep deprived look in her eyes. She noted with curiosity that the Inquisitor appeared to be missing part of her arm, only a bloodstained bandaged stump a little after the elbow remained. She pitied the one who had injured the Inquisitor, Inquisitors were known to be viciously sadistic in their retribution.

She decided she would rather avoid the Inquisitor’s attention. An Inquisitor was not to be fucked with after all, and this one especially judging by her barely restrained fury. They were one of the few who did not require being very highly leveled to command others, instead relying on the authority and threat of the Queen. Not that she suspected this one was low leveled, the Inquisitor held herself far too assuredly for that.

She noted that the group she was seeking had come with the expedition, a dozen Lamia with their own set of large domed tents had cordoned off one corner of the camp for their own use. 

She turned behind her to where the pregnant Lamia was delicately holding onto her hand and peeking past her shoulder with curiosity, the pair of Humans behind her looked on warily.

“We made it, you’re safe now. But I want to hold the invisibility for just a little longer, it would be best if we avoided attention, it looks like something important is happening and I don’t want to get caught up in it.”

“Oh darling, of course, anything for our wonderful Rescuer.” Beamed the Lamia.

“Is-is it really safe? I can’t believe it, this is like a dream,” said one of the Humans fearfully.

“Yes,” said the Elf-sheep. “There's a huge camp of levelers just over there, I’m sure they could take on and defeat just about any monster or monster tribe in this dungeon comfortably. There’s nothing to fear, I promise.”

One of the Humans started crying and clutched at the other. 

“Th-thank you! Thank you for rescuing me! I can never repay you for this, you saved my life!”

The Elf-sheep waved it off. “It’s fine, I did agree to help you pro bono, not that I wouldn't have without an agreement anyway.”

“Oh dears, dears, I am so sorry you had such a time, I should have helped, this is partly my fault. My Half-goblin children listened to me, had I known you were so unhappy I could have said something. My apologies, I just wish I could turn back time. Listen, I need to make this up to you, come live with me while you recover and ah, give birth. I am fabulously wealthy and I’m quite happy to spend it to make you two comfortable in this trying time.”

“Really? I have nowhere else to go, that would mean so much!” said the dry eyed human who was now looking a little less dry eyed.

“P-please, if you can hide me until I give birth, I- I don't want my husband to see me like this,” said the one with streaming eyes.

The Lamia scoffed. “Your husband is a fool if he cannot love you despite this. Silly Humans. But of course I will be quite happy to put you up no matter the case.”

The tip of the Lamia's tail slithered around the crying woman until the tip reached her head, The Lamia then wiped away the woman's tears with her tail tip.

“Lead the way Lyra, let us away!” said the Lamia, nodding at the Elf-sheep.

“Yes, just remember to hold on tight, it would be awkward to become visible at the wrong moment.”

The chain of four, with hands linked, slowly and carefully made their way around the rock and descended down onto the grassy cavern floor.

Several dirt paths lead away from the camp. The paths had enough traffic that Lyra decided to take them over the grass and avoid them altogether. They neared the palisade warily. It was not that tall but tall enough that three pregnant people did not have a hope of climbing over it. After a moment of consideration Lyra led them along the wall and they neared a gap where a dirt path led inside. 

“We’re going to have to slip by the guard. Care not to break the invisibility, it’s fragile. We’ll have to hold to luck that they aren’t on the lookout for invisible levelers.”

The three nodded in determination and Lyra slunk forward. The entrance was being guarded by a severe looking Elf and a Human, each fairly highly leveled and well off judging by their gear. She paused and let a man with a heavily laden handcart pass and then slipped into his wake. Fortunately, the man was slow enough that her own procession didn't have any trouble keeping up. 

The Elf's sharp eyes paused on Lyra for a moment as she passed, did he know? Elves had an aptitude unlike others to sense the use of magic. A pair of magical spectacles with violet lenses hung on a chain around his neck. He would only need to lift them to his eyes and pour mana into them and he would be able to see straight through Lyra’s invisibility, all four of them instantly laid bare to his sight.

The Elf furrowed his brow causing Lyra’s breath to hitch. The Elf’s hand began to move toward the spectacles, but the Human suddenly motioned to something behind them. A cart being pulled by a number of Goblin slaves had stopped by the path as one of the Goblins had fainted from exhaustion. The Human guard began to approach the cart and the Elf guard followed.

Lyra let out a breath of relief and quickly shuffled her pregnant procession on into the camp.

They snuck amongst the rows of tents. The tents differed as it seemed that the Inquisitor had rallied from the locale populace of levelers. They varied from small tents, to medium tents, to large expensive tents owned by the highly leveled. People bustled between them and Lyra had to navigate through the gaps and least busy areas. 

A clopping sound caught her attention and she turned her head in time to see a particularly large female Gnoll type Centaur heading toward them, she dragged the group out of her path in alarm as the Centaur trotted oblivously by. Curiously a black cloaked figure rode on the Centaur’s back, their face obscured by a wooden mask. They weren't the only ones to notice and the Centaur attracted stares.

“My, what is that Centaur doing? Allowing a person to ride her back? Scandalous!” Whisper hissed the Lamia. 

“I couldn't tell you, it is odd though, I thought Centaurs hated allowing others to ride them unless they absolutely had to.”

“They certainly do, oh, I’ve seen a Centaur demand a duel to the death just for a drunk fool attempting to climb atop them!”

“Hrmm. Maybe the Lamia will know, and more to the point maybe they will know what this whole thing is about.”

They continued along behind the tents, by coincidence following the Centaur. Lyra kept a careful eye on her, wary of where she was going, she did not want to be accidentally trampled by the strong looking leveler. While her lower body was that of a wild mare the upper body was that of a powerful looking Gnoll, muscle rippling beneath her coat. She had a grumpy look in her eye.

As Lyra watched the Centaur suddenly came to a stop in front of a Human. Lyra had to take a moment to take in this new Human as he was jarringly large, over seven foot she estimated. He was extremely muscular with arms like tree trunks and long black hair and a fearsome black beard that hung over his chest, braided at the edges with silver rings. One of his eyes was covered by a black and silver eyepatch. A fat black cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, he rolled the cigar between his teeth as he eyed the Centaur from beneath a heavy brow. He sat on a wooden throne which creaked beneath his muscular bulk, that someone had gone to the trouble of dragging it out to the camp an indication of the man’s power. His large ring bejeweled hand rested on the head of an actual real Hellhound by his side. The Hellhound’s eyes glowed red as it observed the Centaur with its master. On his other side a six and a half foot long black greatsword was thrust into the ground, although it could barely be called a sword, more a rough slab of brutal looking iron.

This Human leveler had a fearsome aura about him, as though he could crush any who approached with ease, a dominating presence that made others hold their breath and mind their manners while around him, scared to even come under his gaze.

Lyra knew who this was. 

It was the town Ranker.

The grumpy Centaur scowled. The figure on her back remained silent and still.

“Why are we out here Bane? I’m not even part of your town.”

The Ranker stared at her silently, dark smoke curling from his mouth, spiralling lazily into the air.

“Because the long legged bitch demanded it.” He gravelled, his voice like heavy dark stone. “Had it been anyone else I would not be here and I would have put them in the ground for trying to tell me what to do.”

“Then she incited who she works for as a threat right away? Damn, what happened to make her go so far?”

“She hasn't said. Some monster, that was made clear enough by her commanding a lockdown of the dungeon.”

“And now we’re stuck here? I heard some talk of a multi-evolver, can’t say I believe it, or maybe I just don't want to believe it.”

“She’s hiding something and she’s new. No doubt she fucked up and lost her arm to one of the nastier regular monsters, a Panthara perhaps, and all this is just bratty revenge.”

“A Panthara? Ugh great. I’d rather not spend the next few weeks hunting all over for one of those hateful fuckers.”

“Feel free to take it up with her...”

The man lazed back in his throne, smoke curling through his beard.

“I'll pass thanks. She looks mad enough to bite my head off.”

The Ranker raised an eyebrow but then looked away, disinterested. His gaze passed over where Lyra hid and for a fraction of a second she felt irrational panic. Had he seen her? But then, thankfully, his gaze moved on.

Lyra swallowed, her throat dry. She tugged on the Lamia’s hand and they crept away.

The invisible procession slipped between a row of tents and came out in the small area that the Lamia had cordoned off as their own. The tents were markedly different from the others, mostly due to them being of much finer more ornate quality, far larger and all round in shape instead of the wild variety in the rest of the camp. 

A pair of Lamia with coiled tails played cards outside one of the tents as another group sparred with spears in a small sandy clearing. 

“Oh! It’s my brother cavorting over there, he will be pleased to see me!”

“Please my Lady, I am to see you to my commissioner first of all.”

“Yes, yes, let's be done with it then.”

Lyra eyed the group then scanned the tents until she found the one she wanted, the largest and most expensive looking one.

She pulled at the Lamia’s hand and the group followed. She approached the tent and looking around she surreptitiously pulled aside the tent flap. Inside was a large space containing a full sized four-poster bed as well as a full sized writing desk, absurd things to bring into a dungeon, but then Lyra’s commissioner was quite wealthy. 

He sat at the desk writing a letter, his black and red scaled tail draped and coiled around his seat.

Lyra made sure the last two Humans were inside and let the tent flap flop closed.

The male Lamia’s head jerked at the sound of falling cloth and turned to look at the entrance. Of course there was nothing to be seen and he furrowed his brow, his chiselled jawline clenching slightly as suspicion rose. Then after a moment he seemed to realise something.

“It’s you, isn't it? The Rescuer I sent out to save her.”

Lyra let the invisibility drop and the four of them were revealed. 

“Target acquired, service rendered my Lord, all in a day’s work, I know, I am quite brilliant. Your Seers were correct as you surmised, your wife lived and survived despite the naysayers who declared her death. May I present your erstwhile captive wife, Lady Glyrieth!”

The Lamia, Lady Glyrieth, clapped her hands together and cheered.

The Lord only had a flat stare for Lyra. His gaze moved to Glyrieth’s very clearly pregnant belly.

Lyra coughed lightly into her fist. “Uhm, is that okay?”

His emotionless gaze moved back to Lyra. 

“What happened to the two I sent with you?”

“Oh, uh, about that, In the process of, uh, rescuing I might have been slightly captured myself.”

“Slightly.”

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“Y-yes, and sadly the two mercenaries you sent with me refused to be restrained, they were killed in action. Very brave.”

“...I see.”

“Oh don't be a stick in the mud Wranvyre! She did wonderfully, it’s all quite adventurous, being rescued, although admittedly a tad unnecessary.”

The Lord frowned. “What do you mean... unnecessary?” 

“It’s not how we thought! I descended from high society to slither and adventure amongst the dungeon, oh what did I think of the tribal monsters, I expected mindless wordless creatures incapable of anything but barbarism. But no, they showed thought, reason, and an interest in learning. I would have eventually come to an understanding.”

“I, uhm, tracked her down to a Half-goblin tribe, she had been there for some time I believe.”

The Lord's eyes narrowed and he moved from his seat, his long tail uncoiling itself and lifting him up.

“You mean to tell me.” He slithered closer. “That this pregnancy is the result of monsters?”

“Oh hush, it wouldn't be the first time I've lain a clutch with another, nor your self having lain with another and openly parented a few bastards, nobody cares, no Lamia anyway.”

“With levelers, Glyrieth, not monsters. Never filthy monsters.”

“I’m not sure that there is that much of a difference these days, at least with the tribal ones.”

“Words I abhor to hear just came from your lips Glyrieth.”

“Words that are true! Whether you like it or not things are going to change around here and I intend to see that is the case. My half Goblin children will be an excellent example to show society once I birth them. You’ll see, their tribal memory is nothing to underestimate. I intend to form a movement, I have a cause!”

“A cause.” Wranvyre’s eyes glittered. 

“Quite. My companions,” she gestured at the two Humans who flinched. “Will also both birth-”

“Do feel well Glyrieth?” he interrupted. “Perhaps your pregnancy and ordeal has had an effect on you and you are not yourself.” He slithered closer and took her hand.

“Hardly. I enjoyed the experience, it made so many things make sense and click into place. Plus, you know, monsters can be quite interesting lovers, I think you could learn a thing or two husband.”

“You compare me to monsters?” The Lord's brow rose.

“In the art of pleasure there is always mo-”

A black knife appeared in Wranvyre’s hand and punched into Glyrieth’s throat. A wash of red ran down her chest as her eyes widened in shock. She tried to scream but only a wet gurgle was produced as more blood burbled from the wound. 

The others froze, the attack had been so sudden and violent that it took more than a moment to process what had just happened.

The Lord spun as one of the Humans opened her mouth to scream and his hand shot out, the knife leapt forward like a bolt from a crossbow slamming into her eye socket. She slumped down dead.

As the blade hit and the woman died the Lord's tail snapped out at the same time. It slithered up the leg of the remaining woman who was turning to see her companion die, her face ashen. She tried to cry out but the tail reached her head and the tip wrapped tight around her throat preventing her from making a noise. 

Glyrieth slowly sunk to the ground as the light went out of her eyes.

Lyra backed away wide eyed. She raised her hand to use her invisibility skill.

“Stop. Or the girl dies.” Wranvyre raised his hand. 

Lyra paused, the pregnant woman's desperate eyes begged for help as she clutched at the tail squeezing around her neck.

“I, I don't have anything to do with this you crazy bastard, nor does she!”

“You did not have anything to do with my wife’s insanity. Her decision to try and suicide bomb my reputation and standing was hers alone.”

“Then let us go!”

“Unfortunately Uxoricide is not looked well upon. Her family would seek to harm me for killing my wife.”

“Well you shouldn't have done it damn you! She didn't deserve to die, you should be punished for what you did!”

“As far as they will know I did not kill her. You hold the knife that did the deed after all.”

Lyra blinked at him then looked down at her hand. Her hand held the black blade that had formerly been embedded in the pregnant woman's eye socket. Somehow she now held it, her hand was even spattered with blood.

“I- what? H-how?!”

The snap crack of a breaking neck made her look up and she only had a moment to cry out before the dead body of the other women held in the Lord's tail was flung toward her with all the power of a high leveler. The pregnant woman collided with her brutally and she was blown out of the tent flap and sent tumbling across the ground, knife flying from her hand to go skittering across the dirt. She collided with a Lamia’s tail in a heap.

She clutched her arm, the impact had been hard enough to bruise bone and she winced and hissed breath between her teeth as she gathered herself. She looked up to see that the Lamia she had rolled up against was Glyrieth’s brother.

“What’s this now? Are you okay?”

“Hel-”

Before she could finish however Lord Wranvyre burst from the tent and drew all eyes. Lyra was amazed to see he barely looked the same person, tears ran down his cheeks and his body language was stricken. 

“She came back, she came back! But we’ve been betrayed!”

“Woah, hold on now, calm yourself Wranvyre, what are you talking about?”

Wranvyre jabbed an accusing shaky finger at Lyra. 

“That freak Mutt, she- she brought Glyrieth back, we were momentarily reunited, but this thing, this wretched criminal demanded a hundred times the payment, and when we denied her she murdered Gylrieth in hot blooded retribution!

“NO! No! It cannot be so!”

“Glyrieth’s dead body is incontrovertible, she was slaughtered by this money hungry wretch.” He ripped aside the flap to his tent showing the body of Glyrieth in plain view of the entrance conveniently arranged to show her bloody neck.

A hand grabbed at Lyra’s hair and she was dragged up into the air, the furious brother got in her face, then he grabbed her arm and held up her blood covered hand.

“What have you done!” screamed the brother.

“I-”

“Hold her still, I’m going to end her, I cannot allow this sub-sapient trash to breathe a moment longer.”

A green fireball began to coalesce in Wranvyres palms, it was smaller than most, just the size of a marble, but it gave off a frighteningly deadly air.

“It wasn’t me! He did it!” cried Lyra, although none of the watching Lamia looked like they believed her. 

“Lies! She has a heart as black as any monster. A defect of her mutt birth. Just look at her bloodied hands, the hands of a murderer!” roared Wranvyre.

Glyrieth’s brother held her up, a cold look in his eyes.

Lyra could only stare as the green flaming marble darkened and Wranvyre prepared to throw it.

This was the end, she was sure of it. She had come to this dungeon town hoping to start a new life only to be caught up in another plot.

She closed her eyes, there was nothing left to do, the Lamia who held her was far above her level and his grip was as iron. 

Mother I am sorry, I couldn't amount to much.

A hilt suddenly and unexpectedly materialised in her hand out of thin air. The black knife!

She didn’t hesitate. Her arm whipped around and she stabbed the Lamia who held her. The knife sunk deep. She pulled it free as the Lamia screamed and plunged it in again, and again, leaving a dotted row of wounds up his tail and abdomen. The Lamia dropped her as agony made him lose control of his faculties.

Lyra used her Skill faster than ever before in her life. She vanished. The green fireball shot from Wranvyre’s hands like a straightened bolt of lightning, stabbing through the air where Lyra had been visible a second before. It hit nothing however and snapped into the dirt leaving a small smoking hole.

“Healer! Get me a healer!” cried Wranvyre. 

“Fuck the healer, kill the mutt,” groaned the brother, as he sunk down to the ground, his hands trying to cover the bloody puncture wounds.

A healer pushed through the forming crowd and rushed up to the fallen Lamia. The commotion was large enough that it had drawn levelers from other parts of the camp as well as the nearby Lamia.

“You all saw it! That mutt not only murdered my wife but also tried to murder my brother in law!”

The crowd was angered.

“I want her dead, no, I need her dead! The first to bring me the Rescuer’s severed head on a gilded platter I shall reward twenty, no, Fifty Thousand Gold!”

The crowd roared.

Lyra looked back at the crowd in dismay as it disintegrated and began sprinting through the tents with weapons drawn, randomly jabbing at the air. Her arm clutched in pain, the black blade clenched in her fist, she hurried away, praying fervently that her invisibility would hold true.

 

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