Mibbet returned to a very different scene than the one she left behind. The invading force were looking somewhat shocked, like they had seen a side of themselves they had never faced before. (They had, being confronted with the ugliest and most monstrous side of oneself requires proper bracing if you are to adjust to it. Suddenly having it shown with no time to fool yourself leads to reflection. Even the ugly bits you like to pretend don’t exist. As you can imagine such a sight was not one you can adjust to easily.)

To make matters worse for them the very canines they had spent the past few years taking out all of their bile on, and blaming them for all their problems on were actually helping them by hauling them out of the pitfalls they had fallen into. (There is a particular joy to be found in making those who made you feel bad about yourself think you are selflessly helping them. As the old expression goes Love your enemy and heap burning coals upon their head.)

Of course every once in a while they would encounter an individual too hard headed to reflect on themselves, who like a cornered beast chose to lash out and blame their intended victim. They were quickly shoved back into the hole to do some more thinking, and everybody was fairly sure eventually they would manage to scuttle off to some dark corner to mutter and mumble, except this time nobody around them would quietly tolerate their crap. Hate festers best in silence after all, and when it is yelled at loudly it can’t really hide away to do more damage behind the scenes. But with any luck this time it would take a lot longer than usual to appear once more. (In the end that sort of nonsense is a grown up tantrum where nobody can be put in the corner so it gets worse and worse until it gets to the absolute worst of a person. People seeing under that mask makes a world of difference.)

They made their way back up to the side gates, figuring that there was little point using the main entrance in these circumstances, and Mibbet was greeted by a rather warm nuzzle from a somewhat battered hellcat.

“Good to see you too kitty, where are the others?” She asked (as if the cat was going to answer, and no a cold stare is not an answer and Mibbet didn’t speak tail swish well enough to understand, “how the hell should I know?” Though if she had she probably wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway. Rascal was somewhat distracted by a helmet they were batting between their paws, (it was best not to ask where they got it from, as it was a fairly safe bet the original wearer would not be wearing it in the foreseeable future anyway.)

Mibbet was surprised to see several of the dungeon guards having a drink with the system “heroes”, who were easily identified by their unique apparel. While a few of them were off dashing about, chasing chickens. For some inexplicable reason most of the damage to the city infrastructure was entirely localised in such places, and a young man being watched by several guards was working his ass off on cleanup. Every time he stopped he was glared at until he resumed the job.

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Jake really didn’t understand, the attack had failed, but why the hell was he doing all the repairs by himself? Sure he’d been in on it, and the coop related coup attempt had been largely on him (hey when your skill involves making things go boom but needed very specific stuff you use it where you can. The ingredients didn’t grow on trees, and was it his fault that such places were fertile grounds for his skills?

Well his distraction had definitely been distracting enough, and it was hardly his fault the gates didn’t open was it? Well he had been on the losing side, meaning he didn’t even get paid for the job. This sucked.

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Mawri was pondering what to do next, she had heard reports of the system still existing, but it didn’t seem to be able to make trouble any more. Magic though was not her races greatest skill. What the hell could they do with such a thing, could they even sustain it much less use it?

Several Humans and Garuw had approached her about this, the system had become something fun to them over time, and now they had it contained. Could they turn that into a good thing, maybe even a sport of some kind. The smiths who had teamed up with the furniture makers to make the “Wiffle weapons” had been rather keen on the idea, apparently the weapons were selling well amongst the adults and the pups even now. Which was a bit weird to her, but to each their own.

Everybody wanted to be a hero at least a little from time to time right? But not everybody had the aptitude. That was how it had all worked, if they could harness that it could be a real boon to tourism. It would mean making a separate prison for actual convicts, and designing some sort of support framework for the boxes. But as an Alpha that was literally her job, it had asked for sanctuary.

Gaaaah, how the hell was this so confusing? The system at peace was bringing her as big a headache as it ever had as a weapon, though far less diplomatic catastrophe, which was a welcome change of pace. For now what she needed was a distraction while she figured out what to do.

A feast sounded good, but the problem with feasts is that folks start suggesting they become an annual event. They could always do a one off contest for the Garuw, they had a perfectly good arena. That would also draw in crowds from outside, show they weren’t a threat. That sounded good.