The Heart Grows

Dungeon Status:

Tier 1

Level 2/10

Heart 6400/6400

Experience 100/1600

Workers 5/15

Monsters 0/16+1

Traps 26/25+4

Rooms 33

Food 400

Timber 1403

Iron 14

Steel 0

Charcoal 0

Mana 47

Rock 1643

Gold 2000

Leather 455

Leather Sludge 300

Lava 51

Glass 500

Explosive Runes 10

Triggered Explosive Runes 8

Quest: Have 10 adventurers in the dungeon at once

Quest: Get 10,000 gold

After two weeks of waiting, and building out his interior like crazy, Travis was relieved to find out the caravan of supplies had arrived in Northridge. They'd not been idle, of course, digging, digging, and more digging. He'd also experimented with more magic, but apart from hitting his mana limit of 40—and triggering a mana storage room—there were no new surprises.

Almost a third of everyone's time had been spent out cutting wood. Katelyn, of course, had been hard at work meditating so that she didn't get a mana headache every time Travis boosted her mana, in the moments that she did brave being stuffed with ten kobolds worth of mana, she produced enough runestones that they were flush with them. Again they'd had to stop processing leather sludge because they had so much of it.

A timber mill had been built near the entrance, because dragging logs down stairs had gotten old the first time anyone had done it. The donkey and its supplies had been moved near the door too, as well as a set of rooms had been excavated for Brayden, Fife, and Jack to live in when they were in the dungeon.

The first cartload had been entirely iron. All the iron the poor little donkey could pull. Robert and Katelyn had gone to pick it up, but Penelope went back for the second load. While she was out of the dungeon, Travis asked the others to do as many buildings and upgrades as they could. Nineteen new warehouses and a bunch of doors placed carefully to hide things that adventurers shouldn't be seeing.

The moment Penelope led the donkey and cart into the dungeon, however, Travis got a new notification.

New building unlocked due to firearm-equipped minion.

He was so excited to find that he'd just unlocked a gunsmith building that he almost missed the dozen people stepping into the dungeon behind her. "This is the exploration group?" he asked Penelope.

"Okay!" Penelope gestured down to the left after entering. "I need to drop this lot off, so I might as well show you the bar, our storage dropoff, and our accommodations for non-dungeon employees. If you guys want to show some of them down there, I'll show the rest the more hidden parts."

One of the inspectors cleared their throat and turned to Brayden. "This is a live, dragon-typed dungeon. We were led to believe it was pacified." He gestured to Penelope. "I thought—"

"Think what you like. Listen to what we say, that goes double for Pen there, and you won't have a single problem finding your way around this place safely and be out before sunset." Brayden looked like he'd said the same words over and over again already. "This, down here, is our quarters when we're working near the dungeon—or if Fife gets too drunk to walk back to Northridge."

While Brayden unlocked the secret door that led to the quarters the dungeon denizens had made for them, Penelope unlocked another. Both doors had appeared like just another stone wall in the dungeon, which was the whole point. "In here's our warehouse where we drop stuff off. It's built so things never get stored here."

Four of the inspectors followed Penelope, one looked around the empty storage room and asked, "What do you mean, drop off? Who carries it from—"

Unhooking the donkey, Penelope tipped the cart and let all the goods on the back slide to the floor of the warehouse. The moment the bars of iron and steel, bags of grain, and books touched the floor, they disappeared. "Magic. Dungeon stuff. No idea. We dump it, it ends up stored deeper in."

"Why are you trusting us so much?" Another of the inspectors asked.

Travis paid close attention to them, now. The one who'd asked the earlier questions had looked kind of young and bookish to him. They had notepads, rather than wax tablets, and seemed to be perpetually pulling a pencil from a new pocket to write or draw with. The new one asking questions looked a lot older and a lot more world-smart.

"Because it's worth it. If we're classed as protected, we'll be off-limits to adventurers." Leaving the cart for now, Penelope walked the donkey back to its stall and got out the brush to give it a quick brush down. "We keep spare grain in the next room. Feel free to look around if you like, just don't enter the maze. We have traps in there that you wouldn't survive."

The younger and more studious one said, "We must map the entire—"

Sighing, Penelope seemed to focus even more on the donkey. "Look. We use proximity-triggered explosive runes. I can show you the entrance and exit of the maze, and any other trapped sections, but if you enter them—you'll die."

"They sold you explosive runes?!" the older guy said, only Travis thought he seemed more angry than shocked.

Rubbing her claws through the donkey's coat and whispering a quiet thank you to it, Penelope turned to face the man. "No. We have a wizard kobold who is making them. I would suggest not raising your voice to her, though. Her element is fire and her temper matches it." She didn't care that it was all a lie, she didn't owe them the truth.

It had been far too long since they'd left their dungeon—their old dungeon. "Keep moving! It's around here somewhere!" The spell wasn't energetic to maintain, but it required focus, and constantly concentrating on it made Short Claw irritable.

"Creatures ahead. A big one, big as a human. Three small. Smell like dragons."

It was an unfavorable matchup, Short knew all too well. Smaller ones, kobolds, were always guarded by the much bigger ones. That they only had one bigger one with them probably meant it was a dungeon boss of some kind. "We need to circle around—this isn't our dungeon."

Short Claw's swarm had started with three other spirit shaman like him, three dozen goblin hackers, five big orcs, and one ogre. Now he was down to just ten of his hackers, two orcs, and the ogre—and he had no other shaman with him.

It took two days of careful movement to edge around the dragon dungeon. Circling so far had pinged a second dungeon to him, but he hated the feel of it—cold as a grave. Goblins had no love for the undead, and the opposite was true, but the way the abominations just kept coming ruined a goblin's survivability.

Continuing to sweep around the city, Short felt another dungeon's presence just as his scout reported a group of adventurers. "What are they?"

The unnamed scout just stared at Short. "Adventurers."

Smacking himself in the face with his free talon, Short Claw reached out and grabbed the goblin by the back of its neck. "Show me where they are. I need to know what their classes are." Where they were turned out to be several low hills away. When Short crawled up onto the last to see the adventurers for himself, he saw them literally standing outside a dungeon. "Lots of magic. We don't want anything to do with them but—"

A swarm of bugs leapt out of the dungeon and charged for the magic users. One snapped his fingers and the swarm burst into flames, leaving behind a green sludge that burned the grass.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Short Claws' eyes glistened with excitement. "This is perfect. Poison and bugs means poison and goblins better. Let adventurers clear it, goblins move in."

It was getting toward nightfall when the adventurers left the dungeon. They came out covered in muck and Short Claws could hear them clearly laughing. It both pleased and stung him that they would treat one of the dungeons that way—there would be significantly less bugs now.

Shimmying backward from the edge of the hill, Short stood up and reached out for the nameless goblin hacker. "You did well. This is going to be it, Sharp Eyes." A name was a badge of power and honor to goblins. As a shaman he could grant them, but they must be earned. "Tell your brothers—we move-in tonight."

Running back to camp, Sharp Eyes stood proud and strutted the last few steps. "Short Claws told Sharp Eyes to say, we move-in tonight!" The cheer Sharp Eyes got had them cheering too, but also checking their weapons.

"Sharp Eyes get name from Short Claws?" Axer, the ogre of their swarm, asked. His name, of course, was due to the axe that was as big as two goblins stretched out. The blade was filthy from where he'd used it to butcher the various game the swarm had collected.

Nodding, Sharp Eyes held out his little dagger to the ogre carefully. "Bless?" The tiny knife disappeared in the huge, meaty fist of the ogre. Holding it up, Axer stabbed the little weapon into a particularly nasty boil he'd been nursing for just such a situation. When Sharp Eyes got it back, the green-black gunk on the blade was dripping down the handle and had coated the whole thing well. Excited at such a bountiful gift, Sharp Eyes took the knife. "Smells good!"

Short Claws returned to their group to find Axer petting Sharp Eyes on the head. "Ready?" The reply he got excited Short's blood. Their fervor was contagious. "Then let's take our new home!"

Marching out, they reached the dungeon before nightfall and Short Claws extended his magic into it. Excitement made him want to charge in. The dungeon hated intruders, but they wouldn't be intruders soon. "Those adventurers cleared the way. Axer, in front of me. I tell what turns to take."

Just stepping into the dungeon had a dampening effect on the goblins. Several started to cough, and Axer's pus-filled and poisonous boils began to grow larger still. Yet, it didn't slow them down. There were so few bugs that Axer could deal with most by just stomping his way in, and the few venomous things still alive couldn't get through his thick hide.

Short Claws kept calling the direction at each intersection. He couldn't afford to burn his mana on an actual spell, but this dungeon hated intruders so much its fury sang to him and guided him. When he finally felt it so close he could touch, he shoved at Axer to speed the big, slow ogre up.

The heart room was still on the first floor, and it glowed with a menacing green that reflected in the eyes of all the goblinoids. Walking right up to it, Short Claws pressed his palm against it. For a second his eyes glowed green in sympathy with the dungeon heart. "Soon. Soon you will have a mighty horde of goblins. These insects are nothing compared to an army."

Showing not a hint of sympathy, the heart strained to create more minions. Its breeding pits churned and the few nests of larger pests started filling with eggs as it poured resources into driving the newest threat out.

"Perimeter. You know how this works. Guard me, don't let anything distract me from the ritual." Short Claws started reaching into his various bags and sacks that hung from his person. Dipping talons into them, he started drawing symbols on the heart, on the stone around it, and on himself. The last substance he added to both hands acted as a spiritual conduit for his magic, and when he braced both palms against the heart and started chanting, his magic echoed in the runes.

"You will be stronger with us, I promise." The heart, rather than listening, fought against Short Claws.

Axer wasn't the smartest goblinoid in their swarm, but he was the smartest ogre. He was also the only ogre. When the first rush of snakes slithered from a tunnel, he moved over to put himself between them and the smaller goblins—giving the things a good stomping.

"There! Over there, Axer!" Sharp Eyes called.

Turning, Axer saw a large scorpion, about the size of a dog, sinking its tail into one of the goblin hackers. "Gutwrench! Kill that!"

Raising his shield and cleaver in his hands, Gutwrench the orc stomped over and smashed the scorpion's tail with his shield before driving his cleaver through its back. "Get up!" he shouted at the goblin, but shrugged when it didn't. "Tighten ranks! Protect the shaman!"

Axer knew that was exactly what Short Claws had already said, but there was something special about the goblin hackers when they heard an orc screaming at them—the little guys seemed so motivated.

The first hour was rough, though the dungeon was running on basically no resources. None of the deadlier venoms were used, no brain-rotting toxins, and nothing that could stop an ogre or orc in their tracks.

Swarms of tiny bugs, handfuls of bigger ones, and everything in between was thrown at them. All that happened was piles of bodies built up around the heart room and Short Claws got further through his ritual.

One hour stretched into two, then six, and finally twelve. In the small hours of the morning, as sunlight dared to slip into the entrance of the dungeon while two orcs, an ogre, and three goblin hackers still fought—Short Claws felt his ritual finally beat down the defenses of the dungeon and the first tenuous bond formed.

The dungeon heart was scared, panicked, and unsure. It could sense a lot of threats within it and only a few brave fighters gathered around its heart.

"See, goblins are much better than snakes and scorpions and things." Short Claws petted the heart, feeling its warmth. But, there was confusion there too. It was unsure of what to do with all the monsters it didn't recognize. "We'll protect you. We'll build you bigger and stronger." Leaning his forehead against the heart, Short Claws smiled. "We'll be your minions, your workers, your army."