Muste was oblivious to the plan he was about to ruin with his query, and blinked as the serpentine monster turned towards him with spite in her eyes. "Um, what are you-BLBLBLHHH!" Despite having slightly slippery skin, he was successfully grabbed in the headlock, his tentacles flailing comedically like an octopus caught in a net, some of them lightly slapping around by instinct as he was choked into silence. A telepathic message of panic-stricken urgency to cease her hostility pinged in her mind a couple of times, but in the moment it was as strong as a phone beeping in one's pocket.

Finally, the illithid was released, and the pencil-necked nerd coughed while holding to his neck with a tentacle, causing some ink to drip to the stone floor. "The room? Was there something I missed?" He asked, having missed the lie she had made for Zoppy. However, she then afterwards rejected his offer, demanding clean bones. Muste questioned why the bonecrafter cared about such, but figured it was more a matter of pride than practicality at that point, and conceded.
"Very well," he answered in a hoarse voice, bowing his head in an apologetic way. "My apologies for interrupting. I'll get clean bones for you." He proceeded to use his facial tentacles to horrifying effect, melting the flesh to a malleable, goo-like viscosity, before slurping the bones right out like chunks of chocolate chips from jello pudding. The tentacles swiped the bones clean in an almost tongue-licking movement, before they were once again offered to Sal. "Clean bones, as per your request."

After the offer was made and possibly accepted or rejected, Salbjörg moved on to address the Schnupfen and the alarming discovery about the pendant, which the Oracle had enchanted himself with. Despite still reeling from the wrestling maneuver, Muste nonetheless showed life in his eyes, and hurried over to inspect the item once the long-nosed phantom had pried it off with an implement. "Fascinating. It seems the amulet possesses a potent, if chaotic magical effect." He lifted the artifact telekinetically. "I could study this artifact, and see if I could learn it's secrets. Of course, I will also contribute to the dungeon expansion effort."

Having finished speaking with a slightly strained breath, he took off his hat and coat, placed them neatly on the bed, and then sat next to them in a cross-legged seating. He focused his mind, and telepathically controlled several pickaxes, using them to dig and aid the other monsters. He also took breaks to research magic such as the illusory walls, the crystal core, and the artifacts like the amulet, writing down notes with his pathetically small quill. After he ran out of his papyrus, he moved on to using the available leather as a new canvas. He also pondered about reading the room, and came with an idea to confound adventurers who would arrive, with a trap made entirely of ink.

At first, it didn’t seem as though the skeleton was going to accept the offered item, but just when Zoppy’s hopeful smile was about to dissolve into a disappointed frown, it plucked the bell out of the goblin girl’s scrawny hands and presented her with a rather large, boney ring. While not made of gold like the ring from her dream, this one boasted a very large and very shiny (and very familiar) jewel. “Dankz lotz!” Zoppy told her “customer”, before taking the ring and placing it around her wrist. While a bit too big for her finger, it made a crude, but still very acceptable, bracelet. With that bit of business concluded, the enterprising little goblin set about seeing what else she could sell, and to whom she could sell it to.

A moment later, a pebble generated by the vigorous excavation efforts bounced over to strike Zoppy’s deformed foot. With a squeal of delight, she quickly scooped it up. Now to find a customer. Her attention was quickly drawn to the tentacled figure sitting on the newly conjured bed. Scampering up to him, she tripped and crashed into the thankfully quite soft mattress. “Hi! Hi!” she greeted the illithid, blissfully oblivious to the fact that he was deep in concentration as she smiled up at the unnerving creature. “Ya wanna buy a lucky stone?!” she inquired, holding up the pebble in her non-deformed but merely emaciated hand. “Zoppy’ll gib it ta ya fer some shiniez!”

The Oracle’s donning of the amulet resulted in it just standing there for a full minute while in beetle form just sort of… vibing while being a biological life form.

It felt small and cold mostly, and then started to feel stiff from the complete lack of motion. These were all things it found more interesting than uncomfortable however. What really threw it for a loop was being able to see in two directions at once due to having two eyes with a big ol horn blocking where the two cones of vision would overlap.

Moving was even more strange, as bits of it squished and stretched to make its beetle limbs tippity tappity on the floor, turning this way and that. Strong limbs, for their size and dimensions (though not that strong).

It was clear, then, to it, what it was meant to do with this gifted form. The Oracle, not even considering the fact that it was kind of stuck like this, squared up, faced down one of the walls of the core room, and promptly charged it head on before slamming its new horn into it.

Stone chips flew as the bug bodied being stumbled backwards, an odd thrumming thumping feeling in the head of its beetle form it did not comprehend nor have a reference for. As a result it promptly charged again. And again. And again.

By the time the others got around to doing something about its current state, the Oracle had knocked itself out cold as a result of these repeated concussions. This did at least mean it was very easy for Schnupfen to pry off the amulet, as the current wearer was in no state to do anything to get in the way.

There was a moment where the universe held its breath, before the beetle’s body started to vibrate and then exploded back into the form of the Oracle, which promptly took up far too much space once again, limbs clipping through walls and all that.

“Hmm? What?” It asked vaguely as it glanced around in confusion. Its lack of brain had cured its head trauma instantly, but that didn’t mean the loss of consciousness had not been disorientating.

It glanced around, met the staring Schnupfen‘s gaze for a moment, and then looked down and found the amulet sitting on the floor.

“Oh. I see. It fell off” it said, entirely ignorant of how it had been bailed out of its fate, before glancing towards the wall it had been ramming and beginning to say “and I had been making such good progress too” only to find the wall in question to be dented at most.

“Ah”

There was a long pause, before it pressed its palms together and said to the heavens in prayer “thank you, oh humbling fate, for showing me the plight of those of the flesh. With this newfound wisdom, I shall redouble my efforts to aid the most needy of your children"

But how best to do so, it asked itself, while taking up a floating pondering pose as it thought hard about the matter, entirely blind to the amulet being taken away for study as it pondered.

Sal only looked at Schnupfen with contempt ash he moved about. Smugly look at her, failing to even touch the pendant, darting away. The only thing that moved were Sal’s judgemental eyes.

…

What did get her to move was when the beetle began to ram itself into the wall. Part of her wanted to stop it. "Wait!" Her eyes were wide open with panic. "We’ll get it off before long!" But her words either didn’t reach the Oracle, or he didn’t care. Because he kept on ramming. But after some consideration, she understood that he was using his new form to smash through the wall. Even when he was a four, he still thought like a ten.

By this point, Muste had finished the revolting task of removing the bones from the bird. For someone who considered themselves an intellectual, Salbjörg was a little perplexed by his choice of material. Bird bones were lightweight, largely because they were hollow and lacked much substance.

The bloodied bones hovered into the air and melded into a single mass. She flicked her fingers, and the mass started to take shape. It wasn’t too fancy, just a cylinder with a small hole to insert the pen. The blood did create a pattern on the outside, but that was hardly something Sal tried to manufacture. The inkwell fell into Musette’s hands while Salbjörg finished a pen for him. This was a much smaller part, but it took just as long to get the tip correct. With the pen complete, she flicked her fingers and it landed in the empty inkwell. With that taken care of, she turned her attention back to Oracle.

She was standing far enough away that his sudden expansion didn’t smash her or anything, but she did wince as dust and wind blew past her face. It was enough to kick up her hair, if only briefly. She sneezed once the dust settled, and not long afterwards the Oracle began praying to fate. "I don’t mind having a corporal body." She said to herself.

With Muste distracted by the little goblin, Sal was free to do… something. It seemed like the next step was to dig. With any luck, Muste would put that quill to work and draft a plan for the place.

While she walked, Sal noticed a tiny rat looking up at her while holding a soggy piece of bread. She had no idea what this creature was doing, and was about to continue on her way when she thought a bit more. Then she leaned down and picked the rat up with a single hand. She gave it a light squeeze. Yes, it was warm. She nestled the rat into her chest before continuing to walk towards the pick axes. The glue would hold it’s back in place for the moment, provided it didn’t struggle too much.

After eyeing up the picks, she reached for one of the larger ones. Salbjörg was strong for her size, but still didn’t have the arm length of an ogre to make swinging a larger pickaxe. She made a mental note that in a few more weeks, she wouldn’t have to work with all these other fives and fours any more. At least, not doing physical labor. After finding a spot that looked good, she swung her pick at the wall, and some stone burst free. This would be time consuming.

"Klein?" She called between swings. "Do you know anything about the bony cadaver in the other room?" Did that even make sense? She would have to find a way around her speech impediment eventually. But for the moment, she dug.

Muste was concentrating on the excavation project when an interruption in the form a slight shake to the bedframe opened his clear blue eyes, followed by a slight sway of his facial tentacles, like a colony of lethargic worms. His eyes looked down to see the less desirable goblin, whom he recalled was called Zoppy, offering an exchange of goods. The illithid did not believe in superstition like good luck, but the offer nonetheless intrigued him: sometimes mana was imbued into natural elements in great quantities, resulting in naturally enchanted items. It was not an avenue of study he deigned too small to ignore. He has also observed the tenacious nature of the mutant, willing to engage in commerce even when starting out with empty pockets. Such optimism and determination was to be nurtured if the dungeon were to succeed.

"A shiny, you say?" He asked, and reached into his pocket, where he kept the feathers from the small bird. He inaudibly mumbled a spell, and then brought out one of them, presenting it to Zoppy: the feather gleamed golden, emanating a gentle light. "This should suffice for trade, yes?" A simple spell of light, but even a simple enchantment had value in it. "I will trade more of these for anything interesting you may obtain in the future."

Regardless of if Zoppy agreed or not, he would continue with his prior duties, glancing with a raised eyebrow at the rat stuck in Sal's cleavage. "Strange place for storage...Oh, thank you," he noted, grasping the filthy piece of bread from the offering rat. He concentrated his mana, and used the piece as a component for casting Create Simple Food: a plain loaf of bread barely the size of a fist. He took a piece bigger than what the rat gave, and handed that back to the rodent. "Share this with the other rats. The less time searching for food is more time working on the dungeon."

To Zoppy’s delight, the tentacle-faced person did wish to purchase her lucky pebble, and he had the shiniest shiny she’d yet encountered to give her for it. “Yep! Yep!” Zoppy confirmed with several rapid nods when the strange creature asked if his payment would suffice. “Dankz lotz!” she told him with a toothy grin once the exchange had been made, the golden feather miraculously not being dropped by the clumsy goblin girl in the process. “Zoppy can git all sortz o’ stuff fer ya!” she assured the illithid, overjoyed that she had found such a loyal customer.

It was only after that bit of business had been concluded, that the deformed goblin finally became aware of the rat offering her the tiniest of bread scraps. “New stuff?” she asked aloud as she took the offered crumb, since, obviously, this was a new shipment of inventory, not a goodwill gesture. “Huh, wot’z diz…?” the confused goblin wondered, carefully examining the strange item. It looked like a pebble, but was soft to the touch. Then, her green eyes lit up and she whirled around to face Muste once more. “Hey! Ya wanna buy a squishy stone?!”

When the rats had brought over a piece of bread, Kleine accepted it without much hesitation.

"Oh! Why thank you!" She said to the rats. Though the more she looked at it, the less and less she wanted to touch it. After pondering for a brief moment, she hatched a plan. By instinct, she mimicked washing the bread in a water-filled basin. Of course, it was simply an illusion. She didn't have any sort of water source yet. But what she pulled out of the basin was another illusion--one of a clean bread. She "ate" her illusion and handed her portion--in the same condition she received it--back to the rats as a "thank you".

Then came the question of the hour from Sal.

"Ah, well..." Kleine paused to think about her words, her fingers nervously tapping together. "That was the previous dungeon master."

She paused.

"Oh, don't worry about desecration or anything like that. Anything that was them had been burnt away long ago. Right now, it's just a pile of bones."

---

---

It wasn't easy to carve out the halls of their dungeon. In fact, in their few days of labour--though, it was difficult to determine any sort of marker of time within the dungeon--it felt like they had carved out about a third of their plan. It was as though the dungeon fought back against being carved out in such a way. Every so often, when enough people would look away, walls seemed to reform in an instant. Likewise, filling in parts of the dungeon--with stone, dirt, and gravel from their digging--often resulted in the piles simply vanishing when nobody looked. Rarely, the piles of loose stone, dirt, and dust would simply be replaced by a slat of cavernous stone as if it had always been there.

The dungeon was a gaslighting mistress, apparently. And a difficult one, judging by their struggles.

First, the cabal of dungeon masters had realized something rather important: they couldn't quite move the entrance or exit. The crystal simply refused to move, while the entrance refused to be filled and, no matter where they dug--even right beside the initial entrance--a new entrance wasn't created--it was simply more rock which made little sense.

Second, the Oracle's attempts to create an octagonal shrine were... tentative, to put it lightly. Every time it attempted to fill in the dungeon room, the stone simply vanished. It was expected to some degree, but one would expect after the dozens of times it filled in the corners that there would be at least one wall created. But as if penance for rolling quite well, its attempts to terraform were shot down.

Nonetheless, they had a slightly better looking dungeon. Incomplete and still needing traps and the like, but it at least had enough space where they could have their own private areas.

Exploration outside of the dungeon had been... not quite fruitful. It was simply wilderness out there, no matter how far most of them went.

Though on the last exploration survey by the rats, they had been instinctually drawn to a mysterious smell. Moving through the wilderness, they had stumbled on something rather important: an outpost of humans. It seemed newly formed as the only structures were some tents staked into the ground. Of course, they did find what that mysterious smell was: some dried meat jerky covered in spice. They managed to snag a few pieces before being chased away by a large human woman with a broom. Thankfully, they managed to adeptly dodge the broom--but they knew if that broom had hit them, they would have not been able to return home.

Muste's testing of the polymorphic amulet was. It seemed beyond his knowledge, at least for now. He couldn't figure out a reason on how or why it worked. The most he could gather about it--and some cursory studying of the other magical objects they pulled--was that "they simply did" as if the rules of the world had a bespoke section carved out specifically so that these items can function.

---

After a moment, the curse inflicted upon the Oracle by the detestable magical amulet wore off, restoring the otherworldly being to its (un)natural form in explosive fashion, so it looked like Schnupfen's efforts did the trick. Unfortunately the Oracle seemed ignorant of the efforts Schnupfen went to in order to dispel the polymorph. Before he could set the record straight, the Oracle began to spout off its adulation for the vicissitudes of fate. With his attempted correction drowned out, Schnupfen quickly gave up and left the oversized siphonophore to its own devices and turned back toward the excavation team to gauge their progress. He paused only to shoot Salbjörg a rather quick look, which managed to convey his smugness despite his current lack of eyes and mouth. That cold-blooded osteomancer could look askance at him all she wanted, but now the shadow had several wins under his belt, several more than her in fact. Schnupfen didn't mind being in the middle of the pack and taking orders from more qualified individuals, but even if he wasn't very prideful, why would he humor Salbjörg's snarky attitude when she only barely edged out Zoppy from last place? If she insisted on disdaining him, she would soon find that when it came to looking down one's nose at people, there was no one more practiced than Schnupfen.

Of course, when it came to sneezing at the dust kicked up by the Oracle's reversion, Salbjörg and Schnupfen were very much alike.

After wiping his massive nose on his rags, the shadow turned to go check on the diggers, only for one of the rats to accost him. He bent down to see what the little fellow wanted, only for his nose to scrunch up and the proffered crumb. He stared in wonderment for a moment, then attempted to hazard a guess as to why a rat might seek him out with such a morsel instead of simply eating it. "...An offering?" he hypothesized. As gifts went it was a rather squalid, not to mention unnecessary for a being such as him, but Schnupfen had to assume this was the product of good intentions plus harmless naivety. "How...thoughtful." Rather than simply inform his considerate companion that he needed no sustenance, though, Schnupfen saw an opportunity to be dramatic. "You are too kind, little one. But you and yours have far more need of its nutrients than I. It is yours to enjoy."

With other matters out of the way, most of the dungeon keepers turned their attention toward excavation. It was already painfully clear that progress would be intolerably slow, even if the physically incapable team members lent a hand. At the same time, though, he reached the same conclusion that Salbjörg had: with the dungeon in this state, there wasn't really anything else he could do. He couldn't fashion rubble into structures or decorations, so until the keepers actually had room to work with, there would be little to occupy Schnupfen's time unless his lent his meager strength to the dig. With a hollow, ethereal sigh, like the death rattle of a mortally wounded soldier resigned to his fate, Schnupfen floated forward to help. He couldn't offer much, but it would be hard to do worse than he did the first time.

---

Throughout the next few days, Schnupfen was consistently in the running for coveted title of 'most miserable monster alive', his claim only hindered by the ambiguity of whether or not a shadow could be considered 'alive' in the first place. Unlike most of the dungeon's laborers, he didn't have muscles to tear, or bones to break, or lungs to gasp from exhaustion, but the shadow suffered in his own way. For a weak but cerebral entity like him, the task was not only mind-numbingly boring, but agonizingly frustrating. Despite his best efforts, his lackluster strength made little headway against the unyielding rock, no matter where or how he applied himself. And as if the interminable drudgery wasn't bad enough by itself, the stone seemed to actively resist its assailants, rebelling against them in puzzling and frankly impossible ways. As such, Schnupfen's first and foremost contribution to the project was complaining, which unlike digging was something he happened to be extremely proficient at. While he seldom cast aspersions at his fellow dungeon keepers or his hard-working subordinates, everything else was fair game. Even if the others failed to find an inspiring sense of unity in their commiseration with him, at bare minimum his more sadistic colleagues might find solace in knowledge that Schnupfen was having a truly awful time.

After an abundance of blood, sweat, tears, and mental breakdowns, though, the motley crew of horrors and halfwits had something on their hands that could actually pass for a dungeon. Maybe. Improvements and renovations would be a constant as long as this glorified warren existed, but for now at least it wasn't as shameful a hallway as it had been to start with. Unfortunately, even this failed to bring Schnupfen much joy. The shadow was glum and disconsolate, the concentric collapse of his bulbous eyes slow as molasses, their neon colors deep-fried. When actual rooms took shape in the dungeon and keepers began to stake their claims, Schnupfen quickly made it apparent that there would be no such thing as 'privacy' with an entity like him around, to whom walls and other barriers were mere suggestions. Of course, some of his peers found that they could counter him by threatening him with magic, after which he graciously decided to give them their space. Schnupfen claimed no territory of his own, of course; as he told Muste before, the darkness was his mattress, and the cobwebs his sheets.

Of course, now that there was actually room to work with, the main task that concerned him -and those among his coworkers who were capable of rational thought- would be strengthening the dungeon's defenses. Schnupfen could finally peruse the place for the best spot to put down his beloved pitfall trap. He wanted to put it somewhere that intruders would be forced to contend with it, but not so close to the entrance that they could get around it before Kleine alerted the keepers. Schnupfen needed to be around, after all, if he was going to push invaders down that hole, which he wanted more than almost anything. No matter how dangerous an adventurer might be, a long fall would be a one-way trip to Mother Void. Furthermore, the hazard's mere presence nearby would make other tricks and traps much more deadly. A standard force blast, inconvenient but harmless, would be lethal if pointed at a pit. A ranger or rogue could avoid an arrow trap with a well-timed evasive maneuver, but with a hole around to punish panicked dodge rollers, things would be more complicated. If only the keepers had an oil slick, instead of a glue trap! The mere thought of bumbling buffoons sliding straight into the depths brought a spark of joy to Schnupfen's lifeless eyes.

Unfortunately, there was a problem. In a fit of pure, unmedicated genius, Muste had planned out branching paths through the dungeon's center, which meant that prospective intruders could simply choose the pitfall-free path. Having not scrutinized Muste's dungeon blueprint thanks to its unpleasant magical aura, Schnupfen realized the problem much too late to do anything about it. There was also the issue of one way to the dungeon core being much, much shorter than the other, but Schnupfen had his priorities. "This is reprehensible," he muttered, hovering around the central chamber M11 with indecision and displeasure worn on his sleeve. "Perhaps...here?" He loomed over K10, reasoning that he could potentially hide just out of sight at K9 and wait for adventurers to attempt the easy route toward the core. A quick push mid-jump, or even a surprise pull on someone about to jump, could score a kill or two and force others to take the longer alternative route. Then again, the core's proximity would be troublesome, since the defenders would probably amass in the large room just beyond it for their final stand. There would be no room for ghostly subversion with a pack of galoots in plain sight fifteen feet away. "Argh," Schnupfen grumbled, turning around to pass through a north-south wall. Maybe the pitfall at P6, and he could lurk, ready to shove, at P8? But then what if someone did pull an oil trap? Then the hole should go at P7, and the slick at Q7 so that simpletons could slip right into it.

Decisions, decisions.

The snake woman had made sure not to over exert herself while digging. It would be pretty bad if she hurt her pretty face in this environment. At least, she assumed she was pretty. But no one seemed to treat her with the benevolence she deserved, save the Oracle. Even that big nosed ghost who she found increasingly difficult to remember seemed to look down at her. At least that was what it felt like. It was difficult to make out his features, and it wasn't as if either of them spoke much.

The days were a slog to get through regardless. The most interesting thing to happen for days was for rats to come back with some cooked jerky. She doubted they were able to do that themselves, so it made sense that there had to be humans nearby. Yet they hadn't found a reliable way to communicate with rats yet, which meant more renaissance was necessary. This, was something that fit squarely in Salbjörg's are of expertise. Or at least she had an ability that lent itself to that.

Either way, it was an excuse to avoid the others for a while, so she'd take it.

Salbjörg approached the rats and made a bone sign between her hands. During the dig, Sal started to find it easier to save her breath for swinging a pick axe and use her placards for any conversing.

Care to show me where you found the meat? Maybe we can get more of it.

And maybe there would be other items too. Sal really did need to find something to see her reflection in. The idea that her beauty might pale in comparison to the goblins weighed heavy on her heart and mind.

Over the last few days, a certain pecking order had been established.

There were the regular monsters at the very bottom, most of the dungeon-owners in the middle, and then Muste at the top, solely for a particular ability he possessed: the power to multiply food.

Who could do without food, after all? Who did not appreciate the near-infinite supply of bread that could be made from taking one piece of bread, doing some weird magic stuff, and then creating a full loaf of bread out of it? Zogi certainly appreciated it, even if he cut down on his own ration of rat-found bread for the purposes of making sure his fellow labourers got their share too...though it seemed like the kobold and naga were both more interested in the rats that delivered the bread, rather than the bread itself, while the treant was perpetually bemoaning the lack of a nutritious environment.

Indeed, while the other dungeon-owners cackled and schemed and pretended to work or didn't work at all, Zogi was noticing that in the frenzy to get the initial floor plans done...they hadn't actually gotten much done AND the regular monsters were getting extremely displeased. Though still loyal to the cause (no doubt because they too were bound to this dungeon), every call for a shift of digging to being was met with groans and moans rather than enthusiastic 'Got it, Boss!'s, and every shift after work was spent sullenly chewing on hard, unnatural bread before slinking off into a barren den to curl up and rest. It didn't make for a great mood, and from there, the goblin could see the opportunity.

There was loyalty to the dungeon, loyalty forced upon them by the shard of Authority...but there could also be personal loyalty too! If he could fulfill their needs, they would look upon him more favourably than the others! And with that, when the Green Tide came? Certainly, it would help if the common monsters sided heartily with him, not to mention the general benefits of high morale at the workplace to begin with!

Thus, after speaking with each monster in private and locating their centralmost complaints about the state of the dungeon, Zogi approached Muste as boldly as he could: keeping a low profile, plastering on a sycophantic smile, and clasping his hands together like a proper servant.

"Boss," he began, voice a pitch higher than normal, "Y'see, the lads n I were wondering. It's pretty dangerous n all heading out to the woods, what with all the adventurers n all muckin' about. But Tall Frankie's missin' the green something' fierce, ye? An' we been short on sticks fer a fire too. Can't warm this place up without n, and cold bread's tastin' real old now. Now Johnny Scales, y'know him, snake-types love bakin', he says he'd keep the fire goin' on his breaks, so maybe, uh..."

He had just polished his nose for this, and his teeth had been scrubbed to a pale yellow too!

"Could ya let us spruce up one o' dem side chambers? Few little trees, some rotted logs, patch o moss here n there? Keep the morale up, get somethin' relaxing for the eyes, and make the boys grateful ta serve the dungeon, see?"

The end result of the Oracle's pandering had been prompted by the rat’s bringing of a morals of food to it. After declining, it had recognized that it could provide "sustenance!" to the people as well.

Unfortunately, it could not do so consistently for two reasons.

One was that, of course, what it produced was random, and as the results of that randomness got lower, the risk of the food actually being actively harmful became more and more likely. Obviously a two was a no go, or at least it was after the kobold got food poisoning after eating the dubious food. But was five ok? A seven? Was it worth checking when there was perfectly decent mass produced bread around? Probably not. The triple layered, octagonal wedding cake produced when it rolled eight ones? Obviously a trap despite the Oracle insisting that because 8 was holy this minimum possible roll was actually really good.

The other issue was that the Oracle was trapped in a perpetual war against the dungeon itself in its attempts to adjust the shape of the dungeon core’s room into an octagon, one that produced alternating bouts of rage and despondency. The Oracle could often be found raging at the dungeon for its lack of piety, or, inversely, floating upside down like a dead fish in a defeated morose, bemoaning its abandonment by Fate.

Suffice to say the rambling triad that anyone who interrupted these mood swings would be subjected too was likely not worth a roll of the Oracle’s dice.

It was also safe to say that it did not get a lot of mining work done during all this, but it did do a lot of rubble clearing by accident as waste rock was repeatedly devoured by the core room, leaving the rest of the dungeon relatively free of earthen detritus.

Before rats got back with their report, it had gotten so furious at its failure as to fly into an actual fit of rage, blasting scorching rays across the core room walls as if to punish them for their refusal to be expanded.

Then, all at once, the ranting and raving that had accompanied this had stopped, along with the scorching.

A few moments later, and the scorching began again, along with a pleasant humming. If anyone came to check in on it they would find that the Oracle had begun to, instead of trying to build up the walls, carve into them. Slowly but surely, it began the task of covering the walls and floor of the room with octagonal patterns that were ever so pleasing to its eye, and thus, it believed, also pleasing to the eyes of their god.

It also filled some of these shapes with diagrams of their misadventures so far, with Schnupfen dropping a rock on a child’s head sitting pride of place among them. Said scene had been embellished a bit to also show the kobold skewering said child through the heart at the same time. Plus the spectre's pictographic representation was 90% 👃, but still, the deed had been memorialized nonetheless.

Muste was beginning to get mildly frustrated due to a number of complications in his grand plans for the dungeon and it's operation. For one, building more chambers and hallways proved difficult, with the dungeon itself seemingly resisting attempts to mould it. He hypothesized that because the Crystal of Authority has been split into separate Shards, and with the holders of the Shards having different views and motives, the power of dominion over the dungeon itself was divided and weakened. Still, some progress was made, though his attempts to fulfill the Oracle's requests were futile, the Core Room refusing to comply to the blueprints. In the end, the upper management settled on carving unholy symbols and records of their achievements, which pleased Muste. He just wished his tentacles looked less like a weird, fleshy beard in the hieroglyphs. He enchanted the carvings with a minor illusion to give them small motion, giving life to the core room's atmosphere.

Another point of resistance was with his magical studies. Though he failed to understand the artifacts they had, he gained enough of an understanding to deduce that their power came from a uniform, infallible source, and that they could always be used exactly as previously determined, with no deviation aside from the various forms given by the Polymorphing artifact. The illusory walls, another point of study, were controllable by Kleine, allowing them to be moved or created according the the core's limitations. Small victories, but the illithid took every one he could.

As he was pondering on the types of magical traps that could be made and excavating the dungeon, Zoppy would occasionally offer trade in various little knick-knacks she would have. And just as promised, Muste would continue to trade in enchanted items: not only feathers, but also other small animal parts, like a rabbitt's foot, a fox tail, and so on. Any pieces of bread would continue to be converted to new loaves, and eventually a small stream was found in the wilderness, allowing him to use Purify Water to create drinkable water in bone cups and buckets. However, he wished to build a proper well and piping to provide water throughout the dungeon for various purposes. Something to add to his numerous designs.

The monotony of their everyday life came to an end when Zogi came up to him in the midst of his work, having made proposals for the dungeon's development trajectory. The illithid raised a curious eyebrow, followed by facial tentacles curling into a shape resembling a smile. "Ah, is that so, Zogi? Truth be told, I had not noticed." He tapped his chin with a hand tentacle. "A chamber dedicated to flora and agriculture would not only improve employee well-being, it would also provide a handy source of components for my research. I have been intending to survey the adventurer camp anyway, so we could also begin procuring the requested materials. Zogi, you are a reliable and hard-working employee. Thank you." He left the bed, and made a tour of the dungeon. "Would anyone like to accompany me to procure items for a dungeon-grown Grove?" He asked the other monsters.

To Zoppy’s great joy, Muste not only bought the squishy stone, but was more than willing to purchase whatever else she offered him, and soon she had amassed quite a sizable collection of shinies. Of course, there was more to do than just make sales. She needed to find a suitable location for her shop. The current dungeon layout might not have been entirely conducive to facilitating this, but the deformed goblin eventually settled on creating a small space for herself just outside the main dungeon core chamber (around H6). Most of the others were hard at work digging in their own areas, so Zoppy borrowed the smallest pickax she could find and began setting to work herself. This was as slow and ineffective a process as might be expected. Just taking a single swing, which struck the cavern wall with all the force of a gentle whisper, would so exhaust the emaciated goblin girl’s meager energy reserves that she would have to take a nap immediately afterwards. This process repeated itself many times, with only occasional interruptions to sell some lucky pebbles, until she was awoken from her latest nap by Muste making an announcement.

Hobbling over, Zoppy raised a deformed hand, once the illithid had finished speaking. “Could ya bring Zoppy back sum lucky fingz, too?!” the goblin girl inquired hopefully. She had already found lots of wonderful items in the dungeon itself, so she could only imagine what wonders awaited in the forest that lay beyond its entrance.

Salbjorg, led by 7 rodents, carefully moved her way through the forest to find the source of the meat. Though, their walk was a little strange. Every so often--when Salbjorg would focus on the rats--the numbers seemed to shift. From seven, to ten, to five, to eight, back to seven. Was it illusions of the light? Would rats just become sidetracked and go pursue nothing for a brief moment? Mysteries were abound in the forest.

And there they stood out of view of the human settlement. Though, to call it a settlement was a bit much. There were a few tents and a few humans who had been going through their routine. A large older woman at the largest tent stood by a large crock heated by a smouldering fire. Boxes of preserves and tables were within the tent, though this time there were rat traps to guard the boxes. A few older men were nearby as they smoked deer, prepared poultices, and did other such activities. A priest sat on a rock, though they didn't seem to be doing much besides lackadaisically watching leaves fall with the good book resting on their lap. The younger men were staking out fences along the perimeter, though they did so at a snail's pace--one born from laziness rather than actual difficulty.

Of course, the sight of all of these humans. In spite of them looking like nothing special, Salbjorg and the rats knew in their heart that each one of them would easily dispatch the monsters. But of course--that was only if they knew that they were monsters.

---

The other monsters agreed to Muste (and really Zogi's) plan. Fauna and detritus, even if temporary, were better than living in a stone cave all one's life, after all.

Crossing the boundary into the wilds, the more astute of the dungeon masters (see: anyone who wasn't Zoppy) noticed something rather important once they crossed: the monsters immediately were beset by a worse fatigue than what everyone else experienced. The kobold, despite his muscles, seemed to hunch and trawl as he walked. Larger movements resulted in him huffing and puffing for air. The treant, despite being in tune with nature, seemed to be completely alien to this environment. The naga labourer, strangely enough, was the least affected. Though, it still wasn't a pleasure judging by the look on their face.

Still, they were able to tough through it. Muste predicted that they could handle it for about an hour.

But an hour was what they needed. They scanned the nearby forest for what they could gather. Though, there wasn't much special. Simply trees, ferns, dirt, rocks, and through the sheer dumb luck of the kobold almost falling down a small cliff, a couple of wildflowers growing out from a cliff.

---

Inside the dungeon, Kleine had thrown down her two cents in an effort to placate Schnupfen's neuroticism.

"I wouldn't put too much stake in it right now." Kleine said in a rather nonchalant tone. "The people who are going to come to a no-named dungeon like this are going to fall for the simplest traps, so it's easiest to just put them down on the few choke points. Oh, and using a treasure chest and trapping that! Young adventurers are like flies. Er... That's what my training said, anyways."

It was a mystery what a dungeon spirit's training entailed.

And surprisingly, with the Oracle, his patterned mural managed to stick into the wall as if some cruel joke. Though, it would have probably been crueller joke if his piece had vanished into the ether like all of his efforts for an octagonal room. He could thank whatever dungeon god there was that it didn't. Or he could curse that god for wasting his octagonal efforts.

Either way, their dungeon core room now had an interesting little mural.

---

When Kleine found Schnupfen, he'd just managed to add a sixth potential option for the all-important placement of his precious pitfall trap, without definitively eliminating any of the other possibilities he'd come up with. Second-guessing didn't even begin to describe his thought process; by now he was third-guessing or even fourth-guessing. In his mind, though, this was no laughing matter. It was difficult to oversell the important of this particular impediment to him, not just because of its potential lethality, but also because he had no idea if any trap could be moved again once someone placed it. If it couldn't (how could one expect to simply 'move' a hole in the ground, after all?) that meant that his pit would become a fixture of the dungeon going forward, around which the labyrinth's structure ought to be tactfully arranged. That potential permanence, combined with the dungeon keepers' very limited options right now, made this one pitfall an indispensable asset, hence the shadow's stupefying indecision.

Kleine's interjection stirred Schnupfen from his choice paralysis. He mulled over her advice for a few moments, one clawed hand curled into a fist upon which he rested his colossal snout in a contemplative manner. "Hmm." After a moment, the shadow gave a sagacious nod, then tapped the side of his nose with an index finger to signify that she was right. Although the little creature looked like a young child's stuffed animal, it seemed that her harmless and huggable appearance belied a keen intellect. There was wisdom between those fuzzy ears, and if he had a lick of cents himself, Schnupfen would have offered a penny for her thoughts. "Ah, you're a smart one, Kleine. Though valuable, this trap is only my first step toward building a better dungeon. For now, I should make a choice that's good, without worrying too much about what's best. Then turn my mind to other matters. Hesitation is defeat, after all!"

Resolved to take quick and decisive action rather than waste time bogged down in a mire of overthinking, Schnupfen turned and floated further away from the main entrance, headed south. As the presence of Kleine reminded him, he was part of a team, and didn't need to outdo the others by trying to pull far more than his weight. That kind of thinking was a pitfall in and of itself! Any place that played to his trap's strengths would work well enough; realistically, a single hole wasn't going to be the load-bearing defense mechanism that the dungeon's safety depended on no matter where it got placed.

After a couple more moments, Schnupfen took a deep breath and cast the trap crystal down in the center of the dungeon's first side chamber, at S11. He then loomed over it for a few moments, staring down into the abyss like a proud parent with eyes full of admiration. Strategically laid down in the center of the alcove, it dominated the room, creating a hazard that any intruders who entered would need to be wary of at all times. Unless, of course, they happened to be distracted. Kleine's comment about young adventurers being like flies got him looking at one of the dungeon's many light fixtures, around which a handful of gnats and moths from the forest outside were flitting. The best way to get marauders into his pitfall's proximity would be to lay down a little bait, and nothing attracted adventurers like a little treasure.

Schnupfen darted back toward the dungeon core, where he spotted an item that he remembered seeing before. "There you are." He laid a half-dozen hands on the empty chest, then began to drag it across the dungeon. It was rather difficult, especially with all of his underlings gallivanting around the forest with Muste and unable to help him. After a little while, though, he successfully dragged the trove to T11 and propped it up against the wall, where it would be clearly visible from the doorway. Anyone who paused in the dungeon's center for a quick look around couldn't miss it. There didn't even need to be anything inside the trunk, as long as adventurers went to check it. Once they spotted the chest they would no doubt hustle over, initially wary of the pit in which Schnupfen himself would by hiding, invisible in the gloom. Once the raider's cautiousness subsided and they knelt in front of the chest, it would be the shadow's time to shine. He could emerge from the pit, silent as the grave, then pull the hapless hero into the hole! Or better yet, he could be hiding inside the chest, the pink-and-cyan glow of his eyes reminiscent of enchanted gemstones or potions! Then it would just take a sudden push to bowl the greedy galoot over backwards.

Very pleased with his scheming, Schnupfen cackled to himself, his claws wiggling in anticipation. After a moment, though, he turned his nose downward to stare into the abyss again. Eye boggled out of either side of his head, their feeble illumination not penetrating the darkness beneath him. He then scratched his nose, his eyes narrowing. "Wait..." he murmured to nobody in particular, thinking allowed. "Is this pit the bottomless kind? Or not...?" Though this might seem like a complete non-issue to the others, it was actually kind of a big deal. If the pit was bottomless, any invaders who fell in would be gone for good, but that also meant that the dungeon keepers couldn't loot their gear. On the flipside, if the pit had a bottom, it could potentially fill up some day. Or even be too shallow to kill anyone! If Schnupfen's enemies could just climb out of the hole again, it was no longer a failsafe deathtrap, but a minor inconvenience. He quickly reached a decision. "Better find out for myself." After manifesting more arms, the shadow dove in and began to climb down.

The seconds ticked by as he descended, his downward progress slow but steady. As he made his way farther and farther, he couldn't help but be gnawed by the same fear that built up to a breaking point during his exploratory wandering. It was irrational this time, since he could always just use his dark vision to look upward and confirm the dim light overhead, but the unease proved difficult to suppress. Schnupfen tried to distract himself by measuring the pitfall's depth. Twenty feet, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five.... He also kept a couple eyes on the pit walls in case the hole happened to explore an ore vein, but saw nothing of value. Probably for the best, it would be nigh impossible to mine anything down here, anyway.

At one hundred feet down, Schnupfen stopped, decided that this depth would probably be enough to kill any human, and turned around. He climbed back up the wall, much faster going up than down, and hauled himself out onto the dungeon floor after a few moments. With a long, heavy sigh, he floated back up into the air, his extra arms disappearing. He put his hands on his hips and looked around, wondering where to go from here. It was then that he spotted a loose bit of debris from dungeon excavation, and an idea hit him like fastball. "Oh! Of course. How could I be so foolish?" He stooped to pick up the pebble, unceremoniously dropped it in the pitfall, then waited. A few moments passed in dead silence before the clack of rock against stone echoed up to reach him. Schnupfen nodded, crossing his arms. "So it has a bottom, after all. Good to know." He then looked around at the empty room, then sighed again as his eyes de-manifested. "...I must be losing my mind."

With that, he began to float back toward the dungeon core to see if there was anything else he could do.

Zogi kept an eye out for his fellow monstrous brethren, after all. Being but a pot-bellied little goblin, he possessed an inexhaustible amount of energy that saw him scramble from one place to the next, helping the kobold, treant, and naga all with hauling and foraging for various forest stuffs, while ensuring Muste, of course, that little ol' Zogi would handle picking up all the stuff that their tentacle-faced overlord wished for them to!

It was hard work, but honest work, and the sunlight felt good in a 'this was pretty novel, even if the dank dark of the dungeon was far more comforting' kind of manner. The shiny-nosed goblin did what he had to do, picking up rocks and sticks, leaves and branches. He took exceptional care with the few wildflowers that the kobold discovered, ensuring that they were mostly still stuck in the patch of soil they grew from. And in the meanwhile, what he REALLY wanted was to look for thick mats of moss that he could gather up and bring back, as well as any fallen logs that may be hiding some marvelous fungi treats. Perhaps those depressing little things could grow even in the absence of the sun?

"Alright, boys, les wrap it up here. Good job all around; let me handle the fancyin' up of the place once we get back home!"

Sal and Rats were hidden behind a tree line. Yes, their enemy was strong, but maybe they’d have better luck if they took a stealthy approach. She made another placard and held it in front of Rats, who seemed to be able to read.

I will try to get some items out of the camp. Remain hidden and keep to the back of the tents. If I find something, I may be able to sneak them to you so that you can get them away. I may be able to take care of those rat traps so that you can gain access to the boxes. We’ll have to adapt as the situation progresses. Remain hidden.

It wasn’t much of a plan, and Sal wasn’t sure if she could get much of anything. There was so little she knew about the outside world. The camp looked much like how she figured it would, with a lot of hunters and food being prepared. The fence was a bit troublesome. If they were building here, they likely planned on being here for a while. And then there was the priest. That didn’t make sense to Salbjörg. Was there a church around here? Was everyone here because of the church? Was this related to that boy that came into the dungeon? She wasn’t going to answer any of those questions just theorizing.

So she shifted her form. Her highlights disappeared. Jet black hair strands seeped into amber browns. Her eyes went from neon yellow to hazel. The bones and scale that made up her uniform became leather and cloth. She became more petite, with all of her dimensions shrinking, and her outfit became more modest. Then her accessories popped out of her outfit. A cape to cover her back, leather pouches along her belt, and a scabbard with a sword that was purely for show. Sal had turned into a young traveler, if not an adventurer.

"How do I look?" She didn’t expect a response, and after thinking about it, she likely wouldn’t get one that she could understand.

While Sal was tempted to transform into something a little bit more exotic, a little easier on the eyes, she had decided that this form would allow her to enter the camp without much issue. It wasn’t every day you saw a princess, but a traveler was far more common. Unfortunately Salbjörg was too vain to not tone down her appearance, and did everything she did to push how beautiful she appeared. Her outfit, while a great deal more modest than what she normally wore, still contained a lot of form fitting elements. Her pants hugged her legs as tight as they could, and she couldn’t resist giving herself a large gold brooch to hold her cape together. But that was fine. So long as she kept to herself, she’d likely only get a look or two from everyone before they went back to work.

"Hey handsome!" Salbjörg, or Rosalie as she decided to name this persona, waved to the young men. She intentionally looked at the group of them and waved, careful not to give away which one in particular she was looking at. Who she was talking to was something they could argue amongst themselves. "Oh wow! Look at all that meat!" Again, it was unclear where Rosalie’s eyes were looking. Maybe it was the deer they were preparing, maybe it was the men preparing the meat. She decided not to cat call get the priest’s attention, though she did look in his direction as she approached the crock, and the large woman standing near it. "Oh! Now that just looks divine!" Rather than the mush that the older woman was making, Rosalie was referring to the fire. The dungeon was cold, the weather was cool, and now there was something that threw actual heat. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she pretended to sniff the air. With that out of the way, she turned to the woman. "Oh, hey, I just kinda barged in here didn’t I?" She laughed, it somehow didn’t sound awkward. "I’m Rosalie! I was going to set up a campsite nearby and I saw the smoke! I wasn’t aware there were other people out here."